The Rock’s Giant Heart of Gold

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Just as much as the rest of us, celebrities like to have fun, but sometime the weight of their public status weighs heavy on them. Their publicists warn them not to do anything to silly, not to have an unattractive picture go viral on social media. The stars become glum and withdrawn. Fearful of making a lasting bad impression, remaining home-bound, finally venturing forth for only the most closely-scripted media events.

Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson feels an obligation to his fan base. He wants to appear only in ways that would inspire and impress. His generosity is legendary, though the gentle giant has gone to great lengths to keep his acts of charity a secret. Few know that he donated one of his lungs to a child who needed one. “It’s OK, you’ve got two!” was all the Rock had to say on the matter. Doctors barely stopped him from donating both kidneys in another incident, despite his insistence to “give until it hurts.”

“I don’t mind dialysis,” said the highest-grossing movie start on the planet. “Gives me a chance to slow down and read stories to kids. Or if there’s no kid nearby, I can inhale pure oxygen to help my remaining lung do its job better.”

Indeed, the only photo of Dwayne at a dialysis center shows him with tubes inserted into his massive arms, an oxygen mask on his face, and an enraptured child in his lap, listening to a real celebrity read the antics of “Curious George.”

Fun comes in all shapes and sizes, flavors and textures, and for Dwayne Johnson, it doesn’t get any more fun than this.

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Good Luck, Young Uns

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I found a news site I hadn’t looked at for a few years. It’s a Google site, and like most things Google, it already knew a lot about me and my preferences. These were news items they thought I might be interested in.

It contained many more listings that the sites I am used to seeing. As I scrolled through the long list, I wearied of ever reaching the end. Only one item caught my interest, about a recently-discovered grave of a child vampire who had been buried in Italy 1550 years ago. That got me imagining the movie that might directed by Roman Polanksy. All the other listings left me cold.

I don’t care about the marital activities of modern-day celebrities. I would be happy to never read about Donald Trump again, nor any member of his family. Brexit problems, the stock market, gold prices…all will do what they do without my input, nor am I likely to be directly affected.

I finally did it. I became an intolerant geezer who feels like the rest of the human race left him behind years ago. Good luck, young ‘uns, looks like you’ll need it.

I’m not suggesting that the celebrities of my day were any more deserving of acclaim that today’s, nor that the world’s problems are any less dire. I just don’t see my place in any of it. It feels like a party I haven’t been invited to. I’m the pauper standing out in the snow, his nose pressed against the window of a restaurant, watching the rich people eat and laugh inside. Except I’m not hungry, I have plenty of food back home, and I wouldn’t want to come inside your restaurant and make conversation. I want to go about my business in my own time, and that’s a luxury that seems dearer with each passing news cycle.

When I was twelve years old, the most important goal I could imagine attaining was to be popular. When I was fifteen, it was that girls would find me attractive. When I was twenty, it was be recognized for being clever. When I was twenty-five, I had already turned inward and didn’t care too much about what other people thought.

Now I’m sixty-eight, and having a hearty bowel movement seems paramount.