My number four son said to me the other day, “You could just write about songs, nothing else, and would never have to worry about material.” He likes that song, How to Save a Life and keeps trying to give me a Cold Play song, I Used to Rule the World. He's succeeded. But. . .
I never have to worry about material. It’s everywhere.
If I did, I would start with You May Be Right, I May Be Crazy. . .the Billy Joel song, a feel- good, accepting song about mental disarray. I just wish I knew what that word, crazy, means. We tend to frown upon it, this word.
Which brings up House.
If all we did around here was scour media for material, we'd have to credit Hugh Laurie, who plays the irrascible Dr. House for destigmatizing depression, especially. He might say,
"I'm angry and depressed, and the most cynical person on television, not an easy job. So screw you if you even think about taking that away from me."Hugh Laurie is doing a one-man show to depathologize and destigmatize mental disorders, which is a very cool thing. His I’m depressed and I don’t give a d___ is loveable, and millions love him, which is why I've been telling people to tell people about their depression. They love us more for it.
To a point. I personally hate the show, btw, but love a man and his grumpiness. Take me as I am: the dark side.
We could just focus on AOL or Yahoo news, of course, real personalities who get into trouble. My kid in Hollywood (finger on the pulse) asks me, "Are you writing about Rhianna and Chris Brown?" Not today, Bubbalah. Maybe one day. All I know is that Chris released a statement to the press after allegedly pounding Rhianna, telling us that he's talking to his minister and his parents, hoping to get help and guidance from them.
Don't go to therapy, Chris, whatever you do. This is my first sarcastic comment, maybe since 2006, so don't spleen me, people, it had to come out, and it is not snarky. I'm saying it for his own good.
Another way to find material for the blog would be to listen to National Public Radio. Yesterday NPR ran a story on green toys, cheap and environmentally safe. We're all buying cheaper things for children now that we're broke, something we tend to encourage anyway around here, you know, especially around the holidays.
Kids need you, basically, not toys.
But cheaper toys include winder toys, those little plastic jobs with turn-keys that you wind up to make the bunny hop, the chipmonk bang the cymbals. The older ones in metal are more imaginative. Before taking down my birthday post (too many identifiers) I confessed that I love these things. Now I read there's an association between loving winder toys and schizophrenia. But I heard about it on the Internet, and you know you can't believe what you read out here.
So that was a good story, the NPR winder toy story.
And today we have Bonnie the Ape, who wants to whistle, therefore she whistles. If you don’t know how to whistle, I am suggesting this as a treatment intervention.
Whistling is something my older brother taught me before I could speak. It is a feel good thing. It just is.
Learn how to whistle. Bonnie taught herself, fyi.
National Public Radio has feel bad stories, too, but after that last post on How to Save a Life, I just can’t go there. And we're not through with that one, you know. There is a Part Two to How to Save a Life, and for more on duo-diagnosis and saving lives, you can read my post on The Second Road. I talk about you yapping away on my voicemail.
Maybe next week we'll do Part Two. But I've also promised a favorite clergyman something on ego, and there's the polar bear post. I just don't know.