A Rant from the Desk of Edd

From the Desk of Edd

Rant 1: International day of WHAT? … and the man bun.

For many years, as I grew up, there was a day or remembering this or that. We had the forefather’s celebrations for which we got the day off from school… well in my time we did. We always got Martin Luther King, Jr. Day off as well. We got the major shopping holidays off and we could not wait for Christmas break to happen or spring break for that matter. And for Pete’s sake, who did not wait for the only day on the school calendar that mattered… the last day of regular classes. Summer Vacation starts. Now that was a day to celebrate.

But, alas…

Now it is a different time. We have an international day of the cat. Dog appreciation day, fish appreciation day, moon in retrograde day, Aquarius in your future day, coffee drinker’s appreciation day, and trust me if that last one actually exists, I am all for taking that one off from my day to day in my office. Now if you ask a cat, or if you think you can ask a cat, they think that every day is international cat appreciation day. Don’t believe me? How cranky is your cat? Do they really listen to you if you tell them to get off the back of the couch, the counter, off your head? No, they simply plan your ultimate demise as they run to the planning area under the bed. Dog lovers who have no cats in their lives have no idea what I am talking about.

I wonder… do we have an international day of appreciating a celebrity? I mean, they are appreciated every day it seems. Hell, I get to meet with them often and while each one is great to their appreciative fans, signing this, taking pictures, I wonder if they would like to take a day and just not be appreciated. Or get away without someone snapping a picture of them when they step out of the confines of their homes.

International celebration of whatever we can throw at the calendar that day and make stick. How about an appreciation day for those who do not need an appreciation day? The ones who get up every day, go to work, WITHOUT WHINING ABOUT IT, do their jobs, come home, cook, clean, get ready for it to all happen again the next day. Oh, wait… those folks have all retired. We call them grandma and grandpa. They didn’t need all of this either. As a matter of fact, they knew that you were appreciated without the use of the internet to prove it by how many likes you get on a post for doing something right.

You know, I grew up knowing Mother’s Day, Father’s Day, Thanksgiving, Memorial Day, Labor Day, Halloween, Certain president’s birthdays and MLK Jr., Valentine’s Day, New Year’s, St. Paddy’s where everyone is Irish for the day and green beer is a must. Etc. Etc. but never have I seen the explosion of days that have taken over places like Instagram, Facebook, and Twitter. Hashtag this or that each day and do something to show you appreciate this or that. Quite honestly, I do not need Mother’s Day to think about my mom. Or Father’s Day to think about my Dad, I do all the time. I do appreciate that people think of me on my birthday but it is not necessary to spend money on me. I actually would rather you did not. I do not need an international appreciation of whatever we have to celebrate now because-we-can-days on my calendar since I appreciate every day.

I feel that the reason for this overload is due to one of two if not both things; Participation awards, and/or No Child Left Behind. Now, I could be off base here but it is quite frankly and maybe likely due to this particular set of individuals as well… and I anticipate any hate mail coming my way, please send it directly to Richard Pruitt at TBK. He will see that I get those and toss them in the trash. Wait… I just had an image of me doing that while laughing at some of the things you can come up with… what was I saying? Oh yeah, hipsters with man buns which quite seriously are incredibly stupid looking… that is unless you are, in fact, a feudal Japanese warrior, you should not have the douche bun. Sorry but it looks ridiculous and while it is my opinion, I polled several quite in the know women who all felt it was the most moronic things that a man could do with his hair AND all of them said the same thing… most men with those things are bound and determined to treat women poorly or be a player. Follow me, playa? Even the women you think you are impressing, are not impressed. If you want long hair, own it. If you want short hair… own that. Don’t put your hair up in a man bun and think you are the cool kid in high school. You’re not. You are likely the asshole who gives the teacher a hard time. Yeah, the one who is failing but has mommy and daddy’s money to help you out of any jam. Now watch, more of them will do it since I said it is uncool. (Once again, send all hate mail straight to Richard Pruitt at TBK).

But who am I? I am nobody who knows fashion, I did not grow up in the Millennial generation, although my wife did, my son did, and many of my friends did. So, could it be that they feel that since the Gen-Xers who raised them and worked all the time to provide them with: PlayStations, Xboxes, Games, Internet access that was far superior, Satellite TV with five thousand fucking channels of nothing to watch, Cellphones with more capability than the computer I am currently typing this on, and cars at sixteen years of age – when they had to buy their own – did not give them enough appreciation growing up? So, what did they do? They went and created all of these days in the year to know that they did something outside the box? Perhaps. Perhaps not.

In my own mind, if you did not win at the game you played, that was not necessarily failing at life. It was losing and you learned how to win the next time. You did not get a small trophy because you came to play. Talk about wasting money. You know each one of those little shiny bastards is likely one of the reasons why it costs so much to play sports now? It’s not just the equipment and all, it’s the participation awards. Where are they? Did you win it for coming in second? NO! You “won” it for being there. Wait? What? I’m getting off track here. This will be the topic of a new rant I am sure.

International/national appreciation day of what-the-fuck-ever. I want to see that on my calendar for next year. How about one year from now we celebrate that? What say ye, old masters of the new reality we are forced to live in? Can we make August 29, 2019, this day? Then I too may be able to get a participation award for my trophy case with the ones I actually placed on the podium for. Oh, wait… I don’t have a trophy case. All my trophies are long since gone because I grew the fuck up and got a job. Oh, and I didn’t ever get a participation award, nor an appreciation day when I did it. I just did it. Because that’s what we do. Whatever we have to. And we do not complain that we are not appreciated for being ourselves, we do not bitch that nobody understands us, we don’t need an award or a special day on the calendar for that. What we need is it to stop. There are only 365 days in a year, barring the leap year and I cannot see hashtagging something stupid and try to do my part to bring awareness to a cat or a dog or a bird or a something every single day of the year. I will, however, celebrate Earth Day, Nurse appreciation day, Teacher appreciation day, not any doctors cause realistically, they already get enough of my fucking money. I will appreciate authors. But enough is enough people. Not every fucking day on the calendar is special. Some are just days that end in “y.”

Rant over.

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Edd Sowder

Most people know Edd as the overactive and imaginative husband of novelist Kindra Sowder, or as the person the boss at TBK brings on the show that cusses a shit ton. He is a self-admitted asshole most of the time. Little is known of his writing prowess as he keeps it quietly to himself most of the time by helping other, far better authors with his editing skills on their novels… that being said, nothing read in the posts TBK allows him to have are edited professionally. Edd is not an idiot by any means but he has stayed in Holiday Inn Expresses at times. He prefers the country life and escapes to his family farm from time to time in Tennessee where he admits to having little to no cell phone coverage and loving it. He lives in South Carolina where he is chained to his desk most days and into the wee hours of the morning. Every now and again, he is able to fidget the lock enough to break loose and run amok amongst the common folk.
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