An Oxymoron

“Now wait a minute,” said my friend Beverly in reply to an email from me.  “Did you write:

...and we’ll help each other stay sane. Did I tell you I’m going to Las Vegas in January?…

“I’m sorry,” she continued, “but this sounds like an oxymoron. If I’m supposed to help you stay sane, then I think I must suggest you rethink this.”

I had indeed said I was going to Vegas. It’s an alien concept to me as well, but this will not be a typical Vegas trip, and it’s going to be epic. I’ll be sharing more about it later.

But to Bev I replied,  “You’re right. That is a perfect example of an oxymoron. Or maybe I’m a perfect example of a moron. Or an ox. Or someone who has been deprived of oxygen.”

Anyway, as Walt Whitman said, Do I contradict myself? Well then, I contradict myself. I am large, I contain multitudes.

Or Emerson: A foolish consistency is the hobgoblin of little minds.

And Oscar Wilde: Consistency is the last refuge of the unimaginative.

Okay, enough with the highfalutin quotes. The honest truth is that I am a desperado, and I long ago left reason behind. Sometimes I flail about to stay afloat and I shout to keep from crying. It’s a little like that.

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