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Just sitting around doing jack

I think my blog may have been hijacked. I haven’t written in forever because I’ve been writing …for my job, which may mean I’m no longer a “jobless goddess.” I may just be a regular goddess.

I love the word jack. I could use that all day. Whatever, hopefully those who want to read the blog will read. Back to jack. It’s a cool freaking word. I had a brother-in-law named Jack who pretty much personified the word “cool.” He’s gone too soon and missed by everybody.

There’s Billy Jack, get back Jack, Jack Sprat, Jack Nicholson, Jack Berry, Jack in the Box, Jumping Jack Flash. And my favorite, a little ditty my sister introduced me to, “Jack Mother.” This is a something you say when someone cuts you off on the highway. “I’m sorry officer, I was cut off by that Jack Mother in the blue Subaru.”

My brother Steve has a friend named Jack. I thought he was about the greatest thing ever when I was 12. Who are we kidding? I probably still do. Jackie was hilariously funny and I loved to watch my brother with him. They were like some in-house comedy team while I was growing up. You couldn’t help but laugh around them. I remember my dad laughing so hard he’d hold onto his chest when Jackie was telling some crazy story, like his jokes might shake Dad’s heart loose.

I’ve yet to meet a nerd named Jack. That would be like if Steve McQueen looked like Ronald McDonald. It just doesn’t happen.

Jack it up. Jack be freaking nimble. There’s Jack White and Jack Black. And don’t get me started on how much I love Jackie Gleason. I was with my daughter Cate in NYC a few years ago and I saw the statue of Jackie Gleason as Ralph Kramden at the Port Authority and cried like a baby. Cate was so embarrassed. I couldn’t help myself. He means so much.


Hopefully you aren’t someone who puts as much stock in names as I do. Hopefully you’re more focused on world peace and how to impeach Donald Trump. He’s one Jack off.  

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