You don't tug on Superman's cape........

As you've observed, my brain is kinda like the old video game "PONG"....... it goes here, there, nearly every damn where.

Aretha, as in R-E-S-P-E-C-T.  One of my friends, a HS classmate actually, suggested of me (and she) that we have  nonconfrontational tendencies.  I've long admired this person.  She has wonderfully measured (so as not to hurt) speech... and... her chosen occupation.. .well. that would expose her, let's just say she led a very damn impressive career in care.

Me and nonconfrontational tendencies can only go so far. I have a big keyboard. I responded to a Facebook post that basically stated young people, inferring perhaps due to us, are poorly educated, have no skill, no ambition, an no realistic expectations of what it means to go to work.  Every day, I am amazed by the youth I come across.  I feel quite the opposite of the above, daily marvel at how young people are so good, nice, to this old person (me).. I replied to this post, SPOUTED same (youth of today are remarkable, my shoes anyways.)

It's (posts I really really disagree with) as if they put me in a room....  just me and the room.  A table.  A chair.  And a plate of Cascone's Lasagna.  I'm like, "BE FOR REAL!.. YOU EXPECT ME TO NOT DEVOUR THAT?" (ie, respond offering opposite opine about our youth?

So I did, and of course, I felt like crap all day about it.  Went with friends to a cool joint to eat. Indigestion. Tossed and turned in bed last night.  After a cuppa coffee this am, I Googled "Does speaking your mind make you feel better?" Like Duh Victor, hell to the no, you've felt like crap.  I read something on 7 reasons why you should and not a one of 'em placated me.

So............ of course my blog idea PONGed to The Steeplechase.  Like life, obstacles.  Differn't ones.  I read the rules.  You can trip over obstacles.. you can land IN the water.. but as long as you get thru, over, it's all good.  Uh huh, yeah.

So........ I shoulda gone to The Supremes "STOP (don't respond to posts that upset you) IN THE NAME OF LOVE."  But nah, this wasn't about a relationship.....

Then Mr. Croce's song came to mind.  Robert's Rules of Order.  Sign, sign, everywhere a sign.  "Doc, it's hurts when I do this" Then don't do that.  How can you have any pudding when yer don't eat your meat?

You don't tug on Superman's cape
You don't spit into the wind
You don't pull the mask off that old lone ranger
And you don't mess around with Jim

Life will bring you (steeplechase) obstacles.  Do this, don't do that, can't you read the sign.  Or Victor, mebbe self control?

I don't pay attention.

Like, I never really paid attention to the actual lyrics of the song, it's certain, I turned it up in my car, probably sang the wrong lyrics, and went about my day.

Turns out, Big Jim got his butt kicked by another dude, Willie McCoy, a pool shark from Alabama.

Well, a hush fell over the pool room
Jimmy come boppin' in off the street
And when the cuttin' were done
The only part that wasn't bloody
Was the soles of the big man's feet
Yeah, he was cut in in 'bout a hundred places
And he was shot in a couple more
And you better believe
They sung a different kind of story
When big Jim hit the floor

Now I'm confused as hell as to........... whether one should speak up...  whether or not you don't mess around with Jim, spit into the wind, pull the mask off that lone ranger... or, take two Rolaids, a nap, then a Red Bull... or, what....

Reading more about Croce brought me sadness.. . I knew he'd passed away young (30).. I'd thought it was a plane crash... was...  way too soon.  Interesting life he packed in just 30 years.  (Victor, are you PONGing again?  Mebbe, sorry, kinda, not really.)

Grew up in Philly... went to Villanova where he finally kinda started to take music seriously.  Was a leader of the Villanova Singers, played in bands at fraternity parties, coffeehouses, other colleges around Philly...toured the World (Africa, the Middle East, Yugoslavia, etc) with the V Singers... sang in English ("if you mean what you're singing, people understand.")

Met, married the love of his life. Croce's parents were intent he get a job (outside of music) via his education (majored in Psychology, minored in German)... his folks loaned him $500 (Equivalent to 5K today) to produce his first album, with the understanding "After it fails, then, get a job in your field."

It didn't fail. He did odd jobs to make ends meet.  One, was selling radio ads any, everywhere around Philly, including to a pool hall in a 'not too good' of an area in Philly, where, he'd sit, watch, get to know the folks, including Big Jim Walker, a pool shootin' son-of-a-gun, and, a shark, seeking, and getting, revenge on Jim, the real life Willie McCoy.. 

Oh the talent.  In addition to You Don't Mess Around With Jim, there's Time In A Bottle... and who could forget "Bad, Bad, Leroy Brown" and so many more.

It all ended ever too soon.......... Croce, and five others were killed when their Beechcraft A18S crashed into a tree during takeoff from the Natchitoches Regional Airport in Natchitoches, Louisiana September 20, 1973.

Sad.

So......... You don't mess around with Jim, but, Willie McCoy damn near kilt' him.

So..... I'm surmising...... the rest of my life I'll continue to trip over steeplechase obstacles... fall into the water... spit into the wind...  show my ass...get indigestion..  but........ feel better, then worse, then better, then worse.

PONG.

Love, Victurd