Light at the end of the Boulder Manor tunnel

DEMAND ACCOUNTABILITY, STOP ENABLING BAD BEHAVIOR!

By Max R. Weller

It’s been a while since I did a regular post here, focused on my own thoughts and feelings, so for what it’s worth:

I found a recent Jack Reacher novel by Lee Child on the bookshelves here yesterday — A Wanted Man — and I was so starved for a good story to become lost in that I read about 250 pages in a few hours. I’ll probably finish reading it today, and it surely beats Hell out of sitting in a rocking chair by the Nurse’s Station and listening to the constant badgering of staff by Wheelchair Bully (another stroke survivor, and my guess is that he brought it on himself by smoking crack cocaine).

BTW, it’s the most egregiously bad casting ever from Hollywood to have the short and skinny Tom Cruise play the character of Jack Reacher, described in the novels as being 6′ 5″ and 250 well-muscled pounds, and this is yet another reason why I avoid all movies made from books I’ve read.

I’m NOT really interested in staying in Boulder, in fact I hate the thought of being stuck there any longer, and I may take a chance on finding a suitable campsite in Longmont. Ideally, it would have a view like this:

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Mt. Meeker and Longs Peak as seen from Longmont, CO

With friends in Longmont nearby I would be in a much better frame of mind, and much safer. Remember this post from two years ago: A near-death experience. My illness this past April was no picnic, either, since it led to a week in Boulder Community Hospital and five months (by the time I leave) effectively trapped in the pesthole which is Boulder Manor Progressive Care Center: Recuperating.

As an indigent person here in Colorado, assuming I remain here, when the time comes my remains will be cremated at public expense — I have no desire to hasten the day, but it’s coming in a few years regardless of my wishes. One thing I dread is having my ashes interred in some local potter’s field with the riff-raff I couldn’t stand in life; so, I really want to be scattered in some attractive place with a view of the mountains at a distance and perhaps horses or cattle nearby.

There are worse things than death, believe me . . . I swear I’ll come back and haunt anyone who dares to mention my name in a so-called homeless people’s memorial service; being exploited to raise funds for a worthless homeless shelter / services industry in Boulder, CO would be more than the Homeless Philosopher’s ghost would allow to slide.

Mea culpa. It wasn’t my intention when I sat down at the computer to become maudlin, and I can’t even blame it on drink. Perhaps it’s because of the decaffeinated coffee served at BM.

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