Some days I have to really consciously "strap it on" (shamelessly borrowed from Stephen King's "Lisey's Story") in order to get through my day. Those days are what I used to call my fat days or as some may call them, a "bad hair day", but to me they are days of ho hum blahs and curmudgeon harrumphs. These dark days just sort of sneak up on me from time to time and before I know it I am in a full fledged fight for sanity and serenity with that damned strangling depression beastie. I'm no clinical psychologist so what I am experiencing may not even be properly termed as depression but that's the way I interpret it. A rose by any other name can still prick your finger with its thorns. Take that to the bank, Doctor Phil.
So, here I am strappin' it on one more time. Doing my best to make it through the day by staying in the moment and not giving in to the fears of the future or the guilt of past poor choices. What is is and there's not much I can do about it by covering my head with the covers or whining. So what's a guy to do except to "strap it on, Baby Love" and get to "Puttin' On the Ritz". How can anyone stay in a depressive state after watching Fred Astaire tap dancing so elegantly and ending the routine in that surreal hall of mirrors-like stage presentation? Wowzer!
Yeah, puttin' on the Ritz and shaking this bad mojo monkey off my back right here right now. Thank you, Fred Astaire and your magic cane for the inspiration to grab myself up by my own boot straps, strap it on big time and hold my head high when I feel most like crawling and hiding. Now, that's real psychotherapy, Doctor Phil, thank you very much and kiss my hairy buttocks damned depression. Amen and pass the potatoes, Vern, because you can put a fork in this hot damn Tofurkey roast 'cause she's done and ready to eat, Buddy boy.
Woo Hoo, I'm on a roll, Folks, so ya' better stand back lest some of this anti-depressant blog poo slinging gets on ya'. Of course, a little anti-depressant poo is probably good for what ails you so let's slide right on in to Taco Ockerse's original uncensored version of Puttin' on the Ritz from the early 80's. Remember how politically incorrect that music video was with the controversial blackface characters like an old Al Jolson gig?
PC or not, the campy take on the song still stirs me to smiles and makes it easy to ignore the depression beastie a while longer.
But of course, nothing works better at picking up one's spirits and stirring the warm and fuzzies on dreary depressive days than Gene Wilder and Peter Boyle in the wonderfully zany and hilarious Young Frankenstein version.
Ah, nothing like a good laugh and some fantasy to take away the blues and get things back on track. Thank you for letting me strap it on and put on the Ritz in front of God and everyone without shame. It's just what the good ol' Doctor Phil should have ordered and might have if he had been an avid Bonez reader like you.
4 comments:
I think those are awesome anti-depressants,and I bet they don't have as many horrible side effects as the pill kind do.
You got that right, Thinkinfyou, but they can be nearly as addictive (smile).
Very nice of you to cheer us up, especially when you needed it, too. I'm very glad to know you are still filling the blogosphere with sunshine and fun.
Thank you for visiting and supporting Bonez, Hope. It's always good to stop and share a smile with you. I never thought of myself as filling the blogosphere with sunshine and fun but hey, I can take a compliment when given and I consider that mission to be one of great importance and honor. Thank you!
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