A Sense of Perspective

Ever watch HeeHaw back in the '70s? It was a favorite of my grandparents. Or, as I reconsider today, it may have been a favorite parenting tool (grand or otherwise).

Kate and Ira (my grandparents) had one favorite, particular skit, and the volume was always dutifully cranked in order to enhance their enjoyment of it.

Four moonshiners, jugs in hand, would swig and croon:

Gloom, despair and agony on me (moan)
Deep down depression, excessive misery (wail)
If it weren't for bad luck, I'd have no luck at all (sob)
Gloom, despair and agony on me!

The lesson was probably wasted on us kids because as seasoned complainers ("it's what kids do," said a vampire on The Dresden Files, "they complain") we failed to recognize it as satire and uncover the underlying message: "Be grateful and appreciative for every blessing you enjoy; don't destroy what little you have because you have so little."

As I get older, however, the universe, God and Dear Abby like to throw little reminders at me to tell me how some of us have greater concerns than prolonged unemployment, annoying bill collectors, crabgrass and medflies. Tonight, I learned my beautiful, funny, talented and inspiring friend has MS. And while I grieve for her, I am grateful for my own life--medflies and all. I'd like to think I've given Kate and Ira a reason to be just a little bit proud.

Livin' Large in Zoo World

I have an addiction. No, it's not what you're thinking. It's not booze or drugs or illicit sex with tropical plant life. You might even consider it trivial, but I've got one big monkey on my back. In fact, I have several--along with a few Mandrills, Orangutans, Gorillas and over 3800 other animals. That's right, I'm addicted to Zoo World, a Facebook game.

At first glance, it looks like a child's game but make no mistake: this is a game tailor-made for the adult, unemployed masses of the world. Short on cash in your personal life? Soothe your subconscious guilt by weilding billions in purchasing power!

Concerned over those home improvement projects you've let slide? No matter! Build yourself a community with some of the world's most famous buildings: St. Basil's Cathedral, the Parthenon, the Sydney Opera House, Big Ben and more. (Okay, I admit it; I still haven't quite figured out why you would put Big Ben in the middle of a zoo but it just might be possible that animals are curious about the time, too, you know?)

I suspect that there is no current treatment for this particular affliction. People roll their eyes and snicker when they see me collect unbroken animal hearts and pass out animal treats. Their disdain and ridicule have driven me to spend hours in secluded privacy, huddled over my laptop. Mine is a lonely existence. So I've decided to help myself and others like me, to give us the power to cast aside our mouses (mice? meese?) and shun repetitive stress injuries.

I've decided to start my own 12-step program.

Step 1: I admit that I am powerless over Zoo World and that my life has become laughable.

Step 2: I have come to believe that Mark Zuckerberg (a Power greater than ourselves) could restore me to sanity.

Step 3: I have decided to turn my zoo over to the care of Zoomates as I understand them.

Step 4: I have made a searching and fearless inventory of my zoo (1592 uncommon, 1872 rare and 3 ultra rare animals from 89 uncommon, 244 rare and 1 ultra rare species).

Step 5: I have admitted to Comcast, myself, my Dalmatian and my chihuahua the childish nature of this game.

Step 6: I am entirely ready to "unlike" this application.

Step 7: I have humbly asked my roommate to remove my bookmarks.

Step 8: I have made a list of all Zoomates, and I am willing to send "limited gifts" to them all.

Step 9: I have made direct amends to such people wherever possible, except when to do so would compromise their "zoo happiness" or allow them to advance a level or two past me.

Step 10: I have continued to take hire maintenance managers and when I have received zoo gifts, sent gifts in return.

Step 11: I have sought through animal breeding and island expansion to improve my zoo happiness as I understand it, asking only that those stupid "Oops!", "Zoo Alerts" and "ultra rare animal" 99-cent purchase opportunities stop, please, stop. And what's with that muzak from the Rain Forest Cafe?

Step 12: Having had a spiritual awakening as the result of these steps, I will try to carry this message to zoo-holics, and to practice these principles in all our affairs.

On second thought, you might hear something go bump in the night later. No worries. That's just me falling off the animal feed wagon. There's a flash sale on Jacaranda Trees!

Should I Stay or Should I Go Now?

You wouldn't think that a punk rock band like The Clash would be prescient, but they had the right of it 20 years ago when they sang about being between a rock and a hard place. Clearly, that narrowly defined crevice was South Florida.

If you're a South Florida homeowner like I am, you're probably becoming increasingly aware of vacant homes, shuttered businesses and rising prices. Sometimes, at night, when I've taken a few too many Tylenol P.M., I have flashbacks to gas shortages, double-digit inflation and the droning voice of Richard Nixon exhorting his "fellow Americans" to tough it out. Frankly, I'd rather dig up LBJ to re-declare war on poverty.

There, I said it. Poverty. P-o-v-e-r-t-y. Yet the poor didn't just invade Bocahontas and her faltering sisters. They became poor just standing in place. If that sounds strange, take a look around and you'll see that the middle class is fast disappearing. In fact, it's pretty much already gone. All that's left are the fat cats with their grotesque oceanside homes (with matching boathouse on the Intracoastal Waterway) and that kid behind the register at McDonald's (the one that smells like stale grease).

Anyone with the slightest bit of insight could tell you that this situation has its roots in the heady refinance-now-and-take-out-equity days before the market waffled. Developers, banks and mortgage brokers further muddied the waters when they transformed thousands of rental units into condos that went unsold. No matter. The banks and mortgage companies got their bailouts, swallowed their bonuses and are now gleefully foreclosing on homes faster than you can say "vacant lot."

All of this leaves me wondering: what will we do when the greater Fort Lauderdale area becomes the "Detroit of the South?" No, don't bother answering. I can't listen and pack at the same time.