Paranoia Petunia

Paranoia is a funny business. You have an easy mark, the public -- always afraid of their own shadows. You have terrorists who yell "Allah hu Akbar!" while chopping off heads. You have cops that shoot people full of bullets, regardless of whether they have guns. You have Right-Wing Nuts who are so bigoted about everything that they have a hard time concentrating on any one thing that they hate the most -- and hate everything and everybody. You got fast-food joints that can't keep the e-coli out of their fresh foods.

I am like Otis Redding -- I got 10 people trying to tell me to do 10 different things, so I guess I'll just remain the same.

My friends, some younger than me, with serious, life-threatening illnesses -- heart ailments, schizo-brain problems, eating disorders, rheumatoid arthritis. Some are too fat and also too weak hearted to risk the exercise they need. Congestive heart failure is a slow, disabling descent toward death, with bunches of pills and advice, but nothing seems to help. Some are healthy looking, but they eat too much junk food, not enough veggies, too much alcohol.

America, the Paranoid. I will plant petunias. Watch them grow. Think about living things instead of dying things. I have my own blood pressure, heart arrhythmias and dietary problems, too. I know I'll die soon enough. But, until then, I will try to grow more Petunias.