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I’m Done Being a Putz


The Photo Doesn’t Mean Anything; I Liked the Yiddish



I used to drive my late mother crazy. “You do for others and none do for you.”

“Mom,” I wailed. “It’ll only come back to me. Karma.”

She sneered at me. “Bullshit. You make others wealthy and then they drop you.”

What could I say? It was and continues to be true.

I’m a PUTZ.

As I diarized in this blog (And They Get Paid for What?!), I came up with this brilliant idea on how to promote business and solicit investors and interest in my county. It was brilliant enough to get support from my elected officials and the ear of the local philanthropist.

I went on my usual rampage to get people on board. I’m kinda known for this - I come up with great ideas for the community or to help a community and then spend all my time, mostly alone, doing things for everyone else to reap the financial rewards and critical acclaim, benefitting from my hard work.

That’s what’s known as a putz. I’m a putz, admittedly. In fact, only one person had the temerity to point this out. Unsolicited. Grandma Michele. She’s a celebrity in her own right - a successful businesswoman and now spiritual guide. When she pointed this out in a conversation, more than once, I rankled in displeasure.

But she’s right. I give away for free what others CHARGE.

Well, screw that. I’m tired of proving myself repeatedly by charlatans who never retain me. Fuck them. Just recently, I hounded the County Visitors Association to set up exhibitions at a meet and greet. I cross-referenced that meeting with the local philanthropist until it dawned on me -

ALL OF THESE PEOPLE EARN A SALARY!

Except me.

I no longer give a flying fuck whether they do this or not. I don’t give a flying fuck whether the people I meet lately know this is the home of the 1969 Woodstock Music Festival. And the hidden venues they can enjoy.

Fuck that shit. I’m buttoning my mouth unless and until someone fucking PAYS me to endorse and promote their business.

The gloves are off. No more nice guy.


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