“Is it selfish to be thankful for your own health?”

This question comes from Casi in Chicago and is an interesting one.

In short, no. Heck no. Totes, No. But this brings up an interesting question.. what does it really entail, this being selfish? I think we wrongly associate a healthy selfishness with too much ego.

In college, at Tech. University of Southern Estonia, where I majored in all-knowingness, my friends derided me for being so selfish as to be always planning and making goals for the gradual Zambonification  of earth. But I would try and tell them, “you are in law school and will one day make 500$ Krons just to answer the phone, I am only great  zamboni and I will only eat from the wisdom I collect in my head!”

My friend Sweet Stache is a fine actor in Estonian soap opera, “The Young and the Fruitless”.. but before his success, he was always hesitant to push his career; he did not want to come off as selfish, ego-driven, or over-ambitious.

The long and short of my point is this Casi; if you will not be for you, then who will  be for you? Why is your health wealth and success less important than anyone else’s? I am as valuable an asset on this planet as anyone else. So are you! The old Estonian copy editors have a saying, “God doesn’t need spellcheck” because you see, his gift of health to us has a purpose. And as the old Estonian spear fishermen like to say, “we will eventually all find our porpoise”

Most readers give zamboni fake name, but I finded this Casi on Interweb! So Pretty! I will give this headshot to Young and Fruitless producer for you!

Be well, all of you, in Zamboni you trust!

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Thanksgiving:

THANKSGIVING:

Like LL Cool J once said, “don’t call it a come back!…. i’m gonna knock you out, mama’s, gonna knock you out” (Zamboni’s Italics) And as Barry Manilow so cogently added, “I can’t smile without youuu..” and so I myself, the greatest and only Zamboni to ever have been spawned, return to you just in time, and thanks you all for your kind words. As the Scorpions summed up so well, “here I am, rock you like a hurricane”

On this day, Zamboni’s favorite American holiday. Zamboni is thankful for many things, including some thankgivings of the past.

-The one where the brother of Zamboni, not a seasoned gastronome, cooked a turkey without removing the little paper bag of guts and Zamboni was served this pouch alongside stuffing..Indeed a memory that is bittersweet like cranberry sauce since this brother has gone awol and cut Zamboni out, I wish him to find his path out of the woods.

-The one where college roomate of Zamboni takes pity on orphaned Zamb. and takes him to family’s house on Cape Cod and dinner is had in some esteemed colonial restaurant of New England and grey foggy walks along beach with no discernible end in sight. There were many black labs.

-The one where Zamboni and other brother performed “old man” by Neil Young- this the closest ever our family comes to the wonderful Partriges.

-The one where the man who became a grandfather to my son he never met teached Zamboni to fly cast in the driveway of mobile home in Redding, Ca.

Yet, most other of these turkey days I have spent in Estonia, looking for a bird large enough to bring these spirits back to me, and settling on entrapment of a hapless pigeon. The cavity of which, being very tiny, is anticlimactic and diffilcult to stuff.

Indeed, we are all very lucky, and me Zamboni personally, It is like I am living in a dream. My friend back home, Skitwald the Jumpy, fights with his ex-wife and yells at his children. Zamboni’s ex (I have more than Liz Taylor, but I mean the one who be-wombed my children) is a blessing and a friend (happy birthday!) for this I thanks the gods.

For my children also I am thanks. The one like a mighty lion who cries tears of joy at cliffhanging win over the Ducks- and the other who fights off a legion of demons  at every turn, and laughs at their vain attempts.

For my mom- Hi Mom!

and, For my fans and readers who without me are like a Cassandra without a Garmin on a cold lightless night on an unmarked highway- in the rain- I am too thanks to you all.

The historic day, i, Zamboni consulted an expert..

Last Home Game

Today was a perfect fall day with the sun out and the air chilled. As we came through the tunnel into the light the national anthem was just starting. We were high enough up to see the hills that were behind the campus that was behind the stadium. The entire band arranged in the letters U S A on the field, yet the song was played by just one trumpeter. He wore a propeller beanie and a tattered band jacket, oversized clowny eyeglasses. As it finished one fighter jet passed over us all, its sonic boom filling the body and the ear with a volume at once too loud and not loud enough. How do they always time it so perfectly that it flies over as the song is just getting to the home of the brave? And they cant just land in the parking lot. Where do they land?

I once dreamed I was in the cockpit, I was doing the fly-over and I remember the wonderful vertigo, and everyone the size of a million ants filling the bowl of a stadium.

What is a “kerfuffle” and how is it different from a “brouhaha”??

This question comes fro Hynder Snodgrass, of Swarthmore.

Dear Hynder: Binders that are full of women is a kerfuffle. It is a thing of light badness, funny, nothing to get your knickers in a twistee about. A brouhaha is something a bit more graver and worse- still not like fatal bad, but bad. Take for instance a hero athlete found to be taking steroids. Or the Italian president discovered to be dallying with 17 year old girls- this embroils one in a genuine brouhaha.

The first kerfuffle actually happened in 1921, to me, great zamboni while I was studying at the Sorbonne in gay paris. Gertrude Stein and I were caught making sexy time in the cafe du Dome, by Alice B Toklas and Ernest Hemingway, who both (she being in love with Stein, and he-inexorably and inexplicably being crushed out on I, Zamboni-) started quite a kerfuffle with weeping, wailing and general binge drinking and rumor spreading around the left bank.

The first brouhaha happened in caveman days. Three primordial witches stirred a pot of elements or “brew” and these elements made up laughter, or “ha ha”.

a whole other ball of frosting