Grumpy, Wise, and Occasionally Right: Curmudg Turns 25

Celebrating 25 weeks of grit, wit, and grumbling.

Well, golly...would you look at that—Curmudg has hit 25 columns. That’s right, XXV for you Romans, and “How the hell are we still here?” for you moderns.

If you’ve stuck with me this long, either you like my cranky ramblings or you’re too polite to unsubscribe. Either way, I’ll take it.

This one’s set to drop two days after my knee surgery, so on the off chance I’m not my usual wizardly and alert self, I’m writing this a bit early. And since it’s also my 25^th, I thought I’d take a moment to recap where we’ve been.

First, a giant THANK YOU for continuing to read Curmudg. Seriously. Every email, comment, word of encouragement, and even the words of discouragement matter. I read and respond to everything you send—either via email at curmudg@richiegoldman.com or directly here on Substack.

Now, about this “work.” My feelings about it continue to veer minute by minute. I’m learning to live with it, not unlike other annoyances in my life.

On one hand, I think:

“Who are you kidding with this vanity project?”

And as I think “vanity,” I’m reminded of my mother, who often quoted Shakespeare around the house, especially his musing on vanity: “To thine own self be true.” *

Maybe it was my mother’s admonition—many years in advance—to not do something like a Curmudg column. Dunno. It certainly didn’t enamor me to Shakespeare, whom I managed to sidestep even in Mr. Nemesh’s wonderful high school English classes. (Read more here: How Long Is Your Leg?)

Other days, I muse on: “Maybe this is the ultimate in Buddhist philosophy.” Detachment. No expectations. Living in the moment. Tossing observations into the universe and seeing what sticks. That sort of thing.

I’ll continue to make my best efforts to remain Zen about Substack statistics and provide observations and ministrations on life from my seat, as I promised in I Introduce Myself.

A quick stroll through some of the archives:

• In I’m Cranky, I made some observations about the way that men dressed. And clearly, The Wall Street Journal was paying attention with this Opinion piece from July 25. Coincidence? I think not.

• OMMMMM still holds the dubious title of “Least Read Column.” Which is fine—maybe you’re just not ready for my meditation wisdom. But if you’re interested in following the road less traveled, check out that column on meditation. Since writing it, I thought of something I should have noted:

  The Monkey Mind—those thoughts that race through your head, just when you’re sitting and trying to meditate—those thoughts are always going to be there. The trick to meditation is not necessarily to make them go away, but to make them much less loud. Here’s a tip: when a thought comes up, ask yourself, “What can I do about this at this moment?” The answer is always going to be “nothing,” so just learn to move on.

• In Socrates, a Circular Saw, and a Six-Year-Old, a reader reminded me that my father owned a hardware store. Talk about the shoemaker’s son going barefoot (and there’s a Men’s Wearhouse reference). Eeks. And hardware store or not, I came by my rusty tool collection honestly—we had rusty tools all over the garage in the home I grew up in.

• Somewhere along the line, I ordered a book entitled How to be a Living Thing. An autographed copy showed up in the mail the other day. In This Addiction Might Actually Help You, I discussed my reading habit. Part of that habit just comes down to curiosity. Instead of trying to figure out how that book found me, I decided to open it. Good call. Great googly-moogly, what a book! The author, Mari Andrew, must have been reading Curmudg, as she was railing about doom-scrolling. She writes: “After doomscrolling for hours, it’s so easy to believe the world is a ‘dumpster fire,’ as many memes suggest. But when we begin assuming that the world sucks, we’re at risk of behaving toward it as such.” Bless you.

In closing, my fellow Americans, please note:

• None of what you’ve read to date has a political bent. By design. You’re welcome.

• And now, the part where I beg. This is what’s known in the 21^st century as a CTA (Call to Action). Back in the olden days, we called it panhandling:

You’ve had a courtside seat to my sparkling wit for 25 weeks, all for the low, low price of zero dollars. That’s $0 in Roman numerals, as well.

I’ve done the math. If every person who is already a subscriber were able to find just one more subscriber, I could double my audience and brag about “viral growth.” So, how about returning the favor and finding one person to subscribe as well?

That’s it for Curmudg at 25. I’d like to thank my readers, my caffeine supply, and my knees—both the original models and the upgraded ones. Here’s to the next 25. And remember: if you unsubscribe now, I will notice. 😉

* Hamlet, by Shaky P.

TL;DR: Half the time I think this is a vanity project, half the time I tell myself it’s Buddhist detachment. Either way, you’ve stuck around for 25 columns—and I’m grateful.

Want more Curmudg between Wednesdays?
Check out Notes—random musings, timely observations, and the occasional revisit of an older column that still feels uncomfortably relevant.