Segarini – Laugh With Me or At Me, I Don’t Care Which …Just Laugh

I busted my ass on this column. Not complaining just …well …yeah, I’m not complaining …just trying to help ya’all get through this whole stupid mess. It ain’t much, but my skill set is limited, so take it or leave it. I love you all. Not like my Family or GF or Pink’s Hot Dogs, or a Harbour Sixty Bone-In Rib Steak, or Decent Bourbon, or my 3D TV, or a bunch of other shit, but it is genuine love. Thanks for being there. Seriously. I mean it. Don’t think for a moment that I don’t. Jesus! Quit doubting me! Fuck, Man I d …I gotta pee. Read this. Later. Whenever. Now. Sunday. I don’t care. gotta pee.

The first 600 words of this column first appeared on April 22nd, 2016

They bear repeating ….

Jared Kushner Discusses his Current Bout of Depression with a Urinal Cake

I occasionally suffer from depression.

Unlike many people,  I do not share my personal personal life with many actual friends, or acquaintances, especially on social media sites like Facebook, (which is usually littered with more personal information than a high school slam book) Twitter, or Tumblr. I simply cannot whine for the sake of whining, nor am I comfortable seeking sympathy, reassurance, or a pat on my pitiful pointed head from any of you, when I know everyone has problems of their own and do not need to add mine to their list of things to address. I don’t like to make excuses either, so, there is a reason I bring this up here and now, and once I ‘splain, we’ll move on…

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Bob’s Brain Wearing Pants and a Hat

My bouts of depression manifest themselves in the same way every time I have one. My brain, an active hornet’s nest not unlike an ADD 2 year old at the best of times, becomes magnified x 1000 and can only focus on a subject for seconds before careening off of it to another subject hinted at by the first which in turn leads to yet another thought about another thing and so on and so forth, and shooby-dooby-dooby.

I cannot focus.

Therefore…

…I cannot write.

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Normally, my train of thought remains on the tracks regardless of how many distractions, interruptions, or asides proliferate when I am focused and engaged. I can easily return to my place on the page and continue as though nothing has transpired, no momentum lost. When I am depressed, however, my train of thought is in a state of constant derailment. Not only can I not continue, I cannot even start.

For me, Writer’s Block is not the product of being unable to come up with something to write about…Writer’s Block is the result of having too much to write about.

This is why my columns are late.

This is why I have trouble getting things done.

This is why I get even more depressed, because I know what I should be doing but I am paralyzed by my inability to stop thinking about everything I am aware of.

…and there is always something new that takes precedent. Because life is not static. Life doesn’t think, “Oh, he’s busy, let’s not distract him with a new problem, or a new idea, or the latest news that might be of importance to him like…running out of cigarettes or having the last light bulb burn out, or his plans changed by someone else’s plans, or…or….”

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Prince….

Greg Godovitz and I were guesting on Bill King‘s CIUT radio program yesterday morning when the news first broke that Prince Rogers Nelson may have passed away.

Son of a BITCH!

Just got word that guitarist Lonnie Mack has passed away. Another story that needs to be told, and this time, not only the loss of an influential, albeit, under-the-radar musical giant, but someone I admired, worked with, and enjoyed great times with.

The very thing I was just writing about postpones this finished column to Monday or Next Friday, depending on a guest columnist’s Prince photo essay being ready for Monday. At least I squeezed this much out before I heard about Lonnie.

Depression is a bitch.

My sincere apologies.

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Laughter is Better Than Drugs

“Laughter is the Best Medicine” is an old cliche that contains a wealth of truth. Like ALL cliches, it is a simply stated, time proven fact, which is why it became a cliche in the first place.

Thanks to the current nightmare of the CoronaVirus/COVID-19 coupled with The United States of America being goose-stepped into oblivion by President Drool Cup and His Legion of Bozos, depression is at an all -time high and The Best Medicine is desperately needed.

It’s either be positive, take your mind off of all this malarkey, or risk taking a Dumpster Dive off your balcony or stepping in front of an oncoming bus with a note pinned to your lapel.

Don’t be stupid.

We already have enough stupid.

So, what to do ….

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It is near impossible to find a Valium, a Quaalude, a Halcion,or an affordable hooker or male escort these days, and Prozac and other Zombie-inducing drugs, although they do take the edge off, also make you about as useless as a Kentucky Senator’s brain pan. There is one solution that is inexpensive, readily available, and (at this writing) still legal.

The Gift of Laughter in all its guises. I don’t know who this young lady is, but she explains the wide swath that laughter chops through the jungle of fear, depression, concern, and idiocy, much better than I, and would make a fine addition to any team that needs someone to explain things in layman’s terms, simply, factually, and concisely.

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When it comes to what makes people laugh, everyone is different. One man’s George Carlin is another man’s Dane Cook. One man’s Rip Taylor is another man’s David Grohl. One man’s fat lady carrying a ton of packages slipping on a banana peel and landing on her ass with everything scattering like friends of Harvey Weinstein is another man’s tree falling on a brand new BMW. Because of that, I must tell you that my sense of humour is not for everyone. I apologize for that, but fuck it, you can’t be everything to everybody, but if you are needy enough, you can give it a try. Jimmy Fallon and Ryan Seacrest are perfect examples of those who will do anything to win your love. Dogs are less needy than Fallon, and that’s saying something.

So If you don’t find any laughs here, go find something that DOES release the depression-killing chortles. Home videos of stupid people doing life threatening things usually prefaced by someone saying, “Hold My Beer”, or humour for people who wouldn’t know funny if it fell on them. For them may I suggest the collected cartoons of “Family Circle”, “Marmaduke”, and “Love Is”. You find those things funny, you reallly need to leave here now.

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I tried some of these out on my Facebook Timeline. Some are from other sources.

I created most of them, but some were sent by friends, some I culled from other sources. I continue to keep myself amused because I want to avoid the dive off the balcony. Many of these made me laugh out loud. Which was my goal. I hope you do too, but if your thoughts turn to your balcony …

Please avoid it as well.

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A GALLERY OF TRAGIC LAUGHS

Your Mileage may vary ….

Even at an Early Age My Bladder Control Was Iffy. This was the Great Sandbox Flood of ’46

Grade School Was a Nightmare for Me

Find the Impossible Anomaly 

I Wasn’t Very Popular Until I Could Afford Baked Goods

Thanks, Hershey, You Bastards!

Einstein Was a Big Influence. Fuzzy Slippers Make You Smarter, Like a Feather Made Dumbo Capable of Flight. Fuck You, Harvard.

I’m Here for Two Weeks. Try the Herring.

Making an Important Lifestyle Choice on Pot

The Beginning of the End of the Record Industry’s Dominance of the Music Business ….

I Always Hated Drinking With Rags. Always Complained His Beer Was Flat Compared to Mine. Got Tired Picking Whiskers Out of My Banquet Beer.

That Time I Was the Head of My Familia in Stouffville and a Rival Family Killed My Guard Duck and Stole My Neck.

I Don’t Remember Anything About This Except a Dim Recollection of Having Corgi for Lunch

WHY A FUZZY ROBE AND SLIPPERS ARE MORE IMPORTANT THAN A GOOD EDUCATION AND MONEY

That Time Jim Demonstrated the Wrong Way to Hitch-Hike the Right Way on a One Way Street

Fuck …NOTHING is Open!

One Halloween Jayne’s Girlfriend and I Played Bobbin’ for Boobies and Accidently Bumped Heads. Should Have Gone One at a Time. Neither One of Us Could Drive for a Month.

That Time I Broke Into Steven Spielberg’s Garage and Stole Indiana Jones’ Hat

Kanye’s a Tit. Bowie Went Up to Use His Bathroom

Bonham Was a Tit. I Stopped by to Use His Bathroom

Freddie Got His Two Front Teeth Lodged in the Waistband of His Poolboy’s Speedo. I Did the Wembley Gig in His Place. I Was Awful. Science Teacher, Mr. May, Sent Me Home to Think About What I Had Done.

Got Fired Because We Spelled “HULP”. Paul Sent Me Home to Think About What I Had Done.

Got Fired From This Project Too for Making Fun of Paul’s Stupid Ideas. The Lads Were Pissed Off Because They Had to Change the Artwork Because The Original Title “Magical Mystery Bob” No Longer Made Any Sense. A Walrus Sent Me Home to Think About What I Had Done

Ended Up in This Trainwreck at the Last Minute Because Julie Became Distracted by All the Lederhosen Clad Idiots Screaming “Ricola!” at the Top of Their Lungs and Was Run Down By a 200 Lb. Wheel of Cheese. 

My Big Scene Ended Up on the Cutting Room Floor. Bastards!

Me and JC Getting Thrown Out of the Bat Cave AirBnB Because We Started a Fire Doing Hot Knives on the Hot Plate. Alfred Sent Us Home to Think About What We Had Done.

Santa Passed Out on Boxing Day. A Hand-full of Percocets Will Do That To You

Be Well and Stay Safe. I gotta Pee ….

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Your Comments Are Welcome

Segarini’s current Bob columns are being written under the bed on an old Underwood typewriter by drunk Dust Bunnies

Bob “The Iceman” Segarini was in the bands Us, The Family Tree, Roxy, The Wackers, The Dudes, The Segarini Band, Cats and Dogs, and The Anger Brothers, and nominated for a Juno for production in 1978. He also hosted “Late Great Movies” on CITY TV, was a producer of Much Music, and an on-air personality on CHUM FM, Q107, SIRIUS Sat/Rad’s Iceberg 95, (now 85), and now publishes, edits, and writes for DBAWIS, continues to write music, make music, and record.