TRY AS I MIGHT, I JUST CAN’T SEEM TO BE ANYTHING BUT TRITE

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I’ve just about had it up to here with cliches.

No joke. I’m as serious as a heart attack. It’s getting on my nerves. It’s driving me up the walls. Everywhere you go there are people with nothing to say and all day to say it. They speak out of both sides of their mouths. I used to let it roll off me like water off a duck’s back. But now it just rubs me the wrong way. And it’s going to get worse before it gets better. There’s no end in sight. No light at the end of the tunnel.

Baseball is just around the corner. The boys of summer will soon be back at that lyric little bandbox by Kenmore Square. They’ll be swinging for the fences, giving it 110 percent. We’ll watch Manny being Manny. And when the local nine have their backs against the wall, they’ll remember that the baseball season isn’t a sprint, it’s a marathon.

But I’ll be as busy as a one-armed paper hanger because the election season is coming down the tracks like a freight train. The candidates all want to give something back to the community. They want to make a difference. They want to turn things around. Do the will of the people. They’ll give the other guys a run for their money. They’ll think outside the box. They’ll tackle the budget and we’ll all have to tighten our belts.

When push comes to shove, that’s where the rubber meets the road. When they get elected, they’ll hit the ground running. The ball will be in their court. They’ll do whatever it takes to get the job done, even if they have to swim upstream and go against the tide. But the tide is turning. They can’t just do it with smoke and mirrors, and it will take more than a Band-Aid approach. Money doesn’t grow on trees.

And they need all the help they can get. Many hands make light work. We’re not reinventing the wheel, here. They’ve raised the bar. They’ll be knocking on doors, kissing babies, shooting the breeze and chewing the fat with the working men and women. They’ll mend fences and settle old scores. They’ll talk until they’re blue in the face. They’ll form strong partnerships and it will result in a win-win.

And when the dust settles, I’m going kick back, put my feet up and take some R & R, but I’m not going to rest on my laurels. Today is the first day of the rest of my life. And I’m not going to put it off until tomorrow, what I can do today. I’ll strike while the iron is hot.

Maybe I’ll head for the hills with the little woman and the rugrats. Find a little cottage but I’ll probably have to pay through the nose. I won’t go camping. I avoid that like the plague. I want a vacation that doesn’t require heavy lifting.

Then I’ll head back to work as a member of the fourth estate. I’ll be a team player. I’ll stay out of the way. Too many cooks spoil the broth. Besides, we can’t have all chiefs and no Indians. But I won’t paint myself in a corner. I won’t be a doormat.

Most days this job is as easy as pie. Like shooting fish in a barrel. Although sometimes it’s no picnic, no day at the beach. But I’m tough as nails. And I’ll go the distance.

Well, that’s this week’s column. You may be thinking I’m scraping the bottom of the barrel, but it’s only the tip of the iceberg. And hey, it is what it is.

Dennis Shaughnessey’s e-mail is dshaughnessey@thevalleydispatch.com.