Thursday dawns dark, damp, cold and overcast here in my little corner retirement paradise. It is 63°, but it supposedly ‘feels like’ 62°. Yeah, my finely tuned instrument can tell the difference of one degree. And I am wheezing like a harmonica as the allergens of a hundred species of misery float by in their fall reproductive cycle. Some trees down here have two growing seasons in Spring and Fall, treating us mouth breathers to two wonderful seasons of clogged nasal passages and bucket loads of phlegm. I kinda knew old age was going to be painful, but I wasn’t ready for unsanitary.
And the nomination three ring circus plays on with those humble stalwarts in congress that just wanna be your leaders because, well, they would be so good to you. If anything proves just how unfit they are for the job, the judicial hearings illustrate it. We don’t draw from the top with public overlords servants, but rather from a vast sea of vain narcissists who survive by giving you bright baubles as they enrich themselves. But I rant. Hang the lot of them in a revolution, and a brand-new crop arises.
Big election heah in Texas is a frat boy from El Paso who is running as the guy you’d like to hang with, and Ted Cruz. Better the devil you know is my assessment. I still hold Ted’s folding like a tent in the Presidential primaries against him, though Trump has turned out to be a better administrator than I thought he would be and would have been the wiser choice.
The mistake I make is in thinking that politicians’ matter. I have really got to learn to become more la-de-dah. Save the whales! Global warming is real! Men are tyrants and rapists! All old white males are bigots! Boycott Israel! Legalize pot! Kill legal opiates!
Well … off my soap box.
Time for my annual has rolled around again. I think I am at an age where the rubber finger is no longer required. There is an upside to aging other than the usual dyspepsia. And my health plan has changed again in response to the failure of political ‘leaders’ to expunge that horror that they created. But at this point in life, I am thinking more along the lines of palliative care. So I become an opiate addict? I’ll merely die in a happy fog, not hurting anybody. But getting back to politics, it seems that they even want to rescue us from that comfort. Not that I am using anything like that right now, but I sure would like that to be an option.
And so tempus fugits a bit more as the morning moves on to its high point of breakfast. I have exceeded my goal of 200+ words for the day. After that, there is nothing else to conquer, so I take a nap.