You could try to crack a joke about discovering the cure 

for the blues, but then the laugh would be on you. Unwelcome 

advice about putting down the bottle or keeping sexy, no-account 

men at arm’s length is less than half the battle. Neither home 

lobotomies nor self-medicating are recommended. Remember, 

never stand in front of the mirror expecting to see beyond your 

own reflection. If the glass mysteriously shatters don’t be surprised 

to find the shards decorating your forehead. Scars make statements 

where words fail. The blues, like BBQ, has regional accents, flavors 

and ingredients. Sing it or talk it, from Chicago to the fluttering heart 

of Dixie. Just don’t be fooled when the blues blows over like the latest 

climate change disaster. It will rise again, return with a vengeance.