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Feverish Ravings of a Middle-Aged Mind

Douglas Moran

Douglas Moran
Location
Austin, Texas,
Birthday
June 25
Title
Low-level Technical Weenie
Bio
TechnoGypsy, family dude, technical writer, frisbee golfer, movie buff, political junkie, gadget fiend, computer nerd.

MY RECENT POSTS

MARCH 19, 2009 9:51PM

Curmudgeon in Chief

Rate: 3 Flag

Hi.  My name is Doug M.  ("Hi Doug!")  I'm a curmudgeon.

I don't give a rip about March Madness.  I don't pay attention to it at all.  I find all the hootin' and hollerin' to be a bit of a distraction, relatively harmless, and kind of silly.  (I haven't followed college basketball since Brad Davis played for Maryland, when my Dad took me to a game in 1975.  My Dad loved college basketball, especially during the "no dunk" era; since he died, I find it hard to work up any enthusiasm.  UC Santa Cruz has no team.)

I am a curmudgeon.

I don't wear green on Saint Patrick's day.  I don't drink very much.  I don't like corned beef and/or cabbage.  (I have been known to eat saurkraut.)  I find the whole thing absurd.  I am Irish.  My family--in the finest Irish tradition--has a long history of substance abuse.  One direct ancestor was the town drunk and, as such, was buried across the road from the cemetery where the "good folks" were interred.

I don't celebrate New Year's.  Most years, I hold my son, Joseph, who is terrified by all the loud noises and firecrackers.  One year, we had a blowout on I-10 as we were going through Houston on our way home from Granny's.  We spent New Year's Eve in a motel, sneaking our dog out for walks, watching Take the Lead on Pay-per-view.

So I'm a curmudgeon.  I think.  Even though I'm only 45.

But then again, maybe not.  I like to notice those brief moments of beauty around me.  I hold doors for people.  I overtip cab drivers, just because.  I send Sami roses through Yahoo IM.  I bring Joseph and Maggie gold flakes ($9.95 a bottle!) from the California Academy of Sciences,'cause I know Joe will love it.   I have more fun talking to other people at the dog park than most people probably do at a bar on Friday night ("What is she?  A catahoula?")   Cats like to sit on my chest and bite my nose and meow in my face.  And sleep on my feet.  My dog likes to sit on me, even though she weighs 35 pounds.  Little kids walk up to me in airports and treat me to their hard-to-comprehend babble ("ah ooh wan goo ah;  ooh gan eh tah!"  "Really?  Wow.  What did your Mom think about that?")

Maybe I'm a good-natured guy who's just curmudgeonly due to circumstances?  I dunno.  Now if you'll excuse me, Leo here is meowing at me, wanting to bite my nose.

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The world needs more curmudgeons!