Ballard Street by Jerry Van Amerongen for June 26, 2018

Blame is like sellotape. The small bits hardly stick at all.

I’m fascinated that Jerry comes up with names that are seldom used today. They fit the era they would have been named in.

Go, Neal! Do your "IT"S NOT MY FAULT! IT"S NOT MY FAULT!" dance.

Neal, if you really want to express and enhance your joy at this revelation, here’s what to do. Go perform your dance on the front lawns of the folks who are at fault for a lot more of it.

But is he part of the solution.

I’ll tell you whose at fault, Neal’s brother, Nathan that’s who.

Mans a veritable menace. Knocking over trash cans, not picking up after his dog, and only yesterday he walked right by Susan without tipping his hat! Shameful I tell you. Poor Neal, thinking he was to blame vis proximity. Tsk tsk

Always blame Stephen Miller. (Even Stephen Miller blames Stephen Miller)

I have a postcard near my desk… um, well somewhere around here….

One of those motto thingies that were popular in the 80s…

and it says

“Angels can fly because they take themselves so lightly.”

OK, right… if you really examine that premise, it makes no sense… cos, you know, angels fly cos they have, like, wings and stuff….

But I try not to overthink it….

and then it can be something to live by.

I don’t mean running out on actual accountability…

I’m a big believer in personal responsibility….

But shouldering blame for what you can’t help, or didn’t even do, or useless self-recrimination,

and overindulgence in the re-examination of minutiae for clues to your own shortcomings…

those things weigh you down.

As long as everybody else is happy…

be happy!

Maybe, especially on Ballard Street… you can fly!

I am not as spry as neal, but still kicking. Friday, I go to the knife. So please don’t worry, iI am not on here for a few more days. I will be fine. I am quite sure.

Let’s just hope that Neal doesn’t suddenly become the fall-guy…

Why am i hearing the theme music to Rocky?

Neal’s momentary leap of lightened conscious, is followed ( almost immediately ) by an hour of agony, then, a trip to the chiropractor, who happily adjusts Neal’s back, and bank account.

Oh Neal, of course it’s not your fault!

But still, they’ll blame it ALL on him.

Then he realizes all the shoe prints in that wet cement are.

Funny on so many levels. Floor, ceiling ect.