Fred Wemyss

I'm still here. There was a time when, after many days without posting, I would post an entry with the Subject Heading, "Still Extant." That almost sound like "Still Extinct."
Maybe I'm extinct.
I have a friend who says I have no instincts.
Actually, I have a lot of instincts. It's the people around me who have none, so I have to test them in order to see if they'll simulate an instinct.
I have a reduced sense of smell, so, with that in mind, I may have a reduced level of instict. People will say, "Do you smell smoke?" and I'll sniff and say, "I'm not sure." My olfactories used to be powerful, but, with the years, my ability to detect odors has declined to a dangerous level. I can't tell if something I'm about to eat is as rancid as it looks.
My instincts have been battered by people who sit and watch TV all day and think that's living.
I walked into a Starbucks one day and the guy behind the counter kept making jokes about Brittney Spears. He saw I wasn't relating and said, "Guess you're a fan of hers, huh?"
The reason I couldn't react the way he wanted is that I have had no exposure to Brittney Spears other than moments when my eye scans the cover of a magazine I'll never open. I could have told the guy, "I don't know Brittney Spears's songs and I've never seen her in a movie if she's made one. But I do know you're likely to be cruel, stupid and misogynist. Plus you're not dealing with me as a customer but as an audience for the lounge act you'll never have the energy to create."
But I didn't say that.
The coffee wasn't bad. I added milk to my liking. It hit the spot.