It was cool but not gloomy.  I took Happy, my Pomeranian friend, for a long walk this afternoon.  That was nice.

I’m in a good mood, because I’ve lost 40 pounds in the past couple of months.  A smattering of applause is appropriate, and thank you.  But those of you who know me realize that this is but a fine start to a longer journey.  Which is alright; at least I’m going in the right direction for a change.  I’m doing it through a clinic’s program.  If you would like information, here ‘tis.  Don’t say I never linked you to nuthin’.  

Anyway, I took my good mood into the drug store this afternoon. I just needed a bottle of water, and my gel ink pen is fixin’ to run dry on me.  They have those there, along with darn near everything else.  Including … wait for it … about a ton of Christmas decorations, and miscellaneous Christmas – related junk.

I BS you not, gentle reader.  They have a whole section of the store, near the front, and space around the doors, all infested … perhaps I mean festooned … with ribbons and tinsel, boxes of lights, inflatable Santas and elves wearing tights.

Needless to say, I was nonplussed. Flabbergasted. Off-put! I jumped back and cussed.  How vulgar, how shallow, how cheap, tawdry and callow! I mean, it’s too soon, isn’t it?  Three days after Halloween, for crying out loud. Doesn’t this just belittle the season?  We’ll be sick of Christmas stuff by Thanksgiving!  How can it be special if it goes on for two months?

I thought about saying something, of finding the boss. Grab his sad clip-on tie and then hand him his hat. But I took a deep breath and thought better of that.  

(Are you enjoying the rhymes? … OK, basta.)

I remembered something my Mom said once or twice, that a gentleman ought to be patient and nice.  (Dang, can’t help it.)  She said, “Nobody has the right not to be offended.”

How about that?  I don’t have the right not to be offended.  Well, that’s true.  And neither do you.  See, offense is subjective.  It doesn’t exist in noumena.  It is a reaction to perceptions … it’s strictly phenomenological, a twitch in consciousness.

The people in the store didn’t intend to offend me.  Their intent is to sell me some cheap shit way before I need it.  And this whole idea of getting all riled up over some stupid perceived offense is what drives fanatics to want to kill people for writing bad books.  I’m above that, aren’t I?  Of course.  So I reclaimed my good mood, and lived happily ever after, so far.