Tuesday, January 16, 2024

Trump's World

It is dark.  It is warm and wet.  I am illuminated by the Xenon light of the laptop.  I imagine somewhere Trump eating a McBreakfast and sending out victory tweets.  The Woke are doing everything they can to get Trump elected.  There is great irony in the political parties that is almost funny.  Almost.  Republicans who pretend to value individualism vote in lockstep unity.  The democrats, who pretend to lean more into collectivism, attack one another like vipers and can't agree on anything, running as far away as they can from unification.  The right is terrifying.  The left is a freak show reveling in diversity.  Now I love a good freak show, but you know I like my white picket fence, too.  As I've said before, American politics looks like a battle between Asmat tribes in New Guinea, a never-ending war of reprisals.  

Now it's Trump's world.  I just live in it.  

We'll see.  

I made a mistake yesterday and got on the scales a day early.  I felt thin.  I thought I looked it.  I couldn't wait to see how much I had lost.  I was up two and a half pounds!  How could that be?  Sure, I have been eating more, but I haven't had any of those supposedly evil liquor calories.  Whatever.  Nobody ever loses weight permanently.  Ever.  

I just can't believe I gained back 2.5 pounds.  

"Let it go.  Just breath.  Ommmmmmmm. . . . "

So. . . I missed it all yesterday, the NFL playoff games, the Iowa caucus, the Emmys. . . it was a big MLK day and a lot to pack into 24 hours.  I DID get a photo, though, from a historic Black town.  

It was a historic place turned shady, a broken down old motel that has become a crackhouse and a place for illicit sex.  There was a big man out front missing his bottom four front teeth.  He asked me if I was the fellow who bought the place.  I said no, but I wish I had told him I had and was turning it into a big disco club.  And I wish I had taken his photo, but I'll admit I was a little nervous and a lot out of practice.  

But I DID manage to watch "Monsieur Spade" last night.  It can now be purchased on Prime, so I chanced the $2.99.  It was good.  I don't think, though, that I would recommend it to a lot of people.  It has a "certain appeal" that isn't very contemporary.  If you think that "now" is better than "then". . . .  I've always been enamored of "then."  Not exclusively, of course, but selectively.  Now, though, history has either been lost or transformed, so. . . selavy.  

I've been responding to many texts as I have tried to write here, and now it is time for me to fly.  The sun is up, the land shiny with the residue of rain, and I have a hair appointment at noon.  I must get things done before I make a long, strange drive to my very pregnant beautician's house.  Her baby daddy's house, rather.  She is doing me a favor.  I hope.  I have a meetup for breakfast tomorrow.  I will either look "fresh" or like Fido's ass.  If it is the latter, I may wear a hat.  

I look like Fido's ass in a hat 😐.  

It will be 37 degrees tomorrow morning.  I hate wearing long pants and shoes.  Just my luck.  But layering might hide my baby bump.  Nothing, though, will hide the rest.  

"I gave up looking at calendars and mirrors long ago" (Sam Spade, "Monsieur Spade," episode one).  

Didn't I tell you?

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