Too Much From Too Many

Thursday July 7th, 2011 - Cary, IL

   I have to admit, my morale is a little shaky these days. I’m trying really hard to maintain an upbeat outlook and positive attitude, but it isn’t always easy. I’m getting overwhelmed with all kinds of people telling me what to do, how to do it, but most of them don’t know their bung hole from bubble gum quite frankly. Most of them mean well, but ENOUGH.

   Why do people take it upon themselves to play doctor when someone else has an illness they know nothing about? I’m getting all kinds of people sending me applications for new diabetes blood test equipment and miracle drugs and sending me to all sorts of conflicting websites that have cockamamie cures from voodoo chicken foot rituals to pixie dust balls.

   I’m only exaggerating a little, and while I appreciate people’s well intentioned concerns I have to say I just can’t handle it anymore. I’m to the point of overwhelm and beyond but everyone who has an uncle, friend or beagle with diabetes is chiming in with a diagnosis.

   Not only that, it seems to be a challenge to tell me elaborate stories of people who’ve all had much worse experiences than I have, and how I need to just shut my mouth and Jesus will handle things and everything will all be better in heaven. That’s getting a bit tiresome too, and it sure doesn’t lift my spirits to hear of someone’s cousin born without a tongue.

   I know my problems aren’t the worst of anyone’s. Not by a long shot. There are a bunch of suffering souls doing way worse than me, and my heart goes out to all of them. I’m just trying to mind my own business and do what I need to do to get myself up to speed again.

   Then there comes the matter of hate mail. Apparently there are still a scattered few that remain pissed off about some things I did years ago and just will not let it go, namely the infamous ‘Crisco pack’ I sent to a local club owner in Milwaukee who’d screwed me out of $400 for some shows I did. That was twenty years ago now, but a few won’t let it die.

   Am I sorry I did that? Yes, it was unprofessional and it cost me work. Do I still think of the guy in the same way? Absolutely. He was a total scumbag, and exploited comics with no remorse whatsoever. I needed that money then, and I earned it. I still haven’t gotten it. I don’t say how I handled it was correct, but at least I did have the guts to sign my name.

   The hate mail I get always comes from some anonymous email address with no way to answer even if I wanted to, and I don’t really want to. It’s nobody’s business but the club owner’s and mine, but again some seem to feel a need to butt in where they don’t belong. In the end, that guy’s out of the business and I’m out that money. Who won? Nobody.

   I’m learning to let a lot of stuff go too. It’s hard when it’s so personal, but that’s how I chose to take it. I don’t think it was, he screwed a lot more people than me. I was just one of a long line. I learned a lot of lessons from that incident, and I want it to be over with. If I could change it, I would. If this is my payback, maybe I deserved it. But I don’t think so. I think it was a wake up call and if I stay strong I can inspire others. But it’s a daily fight.

Posted via email from Dobie Maxwell's "Dented Can" Diary