I think tonight’s entertainment may well include the idea of telling punchlines to jokes without telling the actual jokes. Like, “When mommy goes the store, honey,” and, “Garrrrr… It’s drivin’ me nuts!”

I find myself in a weird, weird mood today.  A little bouncy, a little out of it, a little bit country and a little rock ‘n’ roll.  And I think it’s the reappearance of the carrot on the stick in front of me.  The promise of better times.

I heard (and copied here, not too long ago) that false hope is better than none.  And I do believe that, but I also am realizing that enough promise taken away is the source of cynicism and — worse — pessimism.  Sometimes the promise is given freely by others, sometimes the promise is created by one who needs that promise to keep going — but either way, every let-down leads to a little more doubt, a stronger expectation that next time is not going to end any better.

In having this discussion with someone who needlessly got defensive with me on the subject — methinks the lady doth protest too much, Keptin — I tried in vain to make it clear that, in the end, for me, it’s not really about placing blame for the false hope.  On the one hand, it might be nice if the other person could always be at fault; the worst part about where I’m at right now is trying to figure out if there’s actually cause for excitement, or if I’m manufacturing it all in my head because I really need that right now.  But on the other hand, I’ve practically perfected the art of misinterpretting the subtle signals of humans over the last 34 years, so this may just be picking nits.

I know that if you cry wolf enough, you eventually get eaten when the hungry bastard actually shows up.  But what if you, as the one who hears the cries, are so desperate to believe that the wolf has finally come along? How long will you keep the faith then? Can you go on forever, not having to worry about anyone other than yourself calling you gullible and naive? Or does the crush of failure eventually knock that out of the way?

Once again, I say comfortably: For all that I have learned in my years, I don’t know shit.