Our fake President is a leering, gibbering, creepy mental patient and the “intelligence” agencies have perfected their imitation of the KGB and the leaders of all the richest companies have decided to replace us with illiterate third world peons and our children believe that men in sundresses are women.
Well, dammit, it sounds like it’s time for Memorial Day Weekend Barbecue.
Good morning folks. It’s forty degrees and raining and windy but for whatever reason I’m in a great mood. Tomorrow’s the family barbecue and granted we’ll be moving the meal inside and the pool won’t be needed, but we’ll have a great time.
So, we’re in a bad place and it may get a lot worse but you know what? It’s still pretty great to be alive. Your lungs are giving you air and your blood is racing through your body and the dimwits around here have even admitted that the cops can’t beat me into submission for walking into a grocery store without a towel wrapped around my face. Despite the cold snap the grass is growing and the birds are singing and other than cleaning the grill and buying some propane I don’t have to do anything but enjoy the day. I put my country music thumb drive in the music system and let it play and I’ll write some more of my new story and I’ll look around at what’s going on in this sad world and maybe I’ll figure out why the Briggs and Stratton engine on my push mower died last week. I took apart the carburetor and it looked clean as a whistle. I’ll get a spark plug wrench today and take a look at that. If that doesn’t work, I’ll probably buy a manual mower and start getting exercise that way. Cutting the grass is an amazing ritual. Sure, if you’re too busy it’s an impossible time sink to cut your lawn without an engine but it’s a pretty zen way of communing with the summer world. Ray Bradbury has a chapter in his book “Dandelion Wine” that extols the virtues of a weekly jaunt around the yard behind a reel mower. Of course he was living in LA at the time and there probably wasn’t any grass in his life at that point but he was hearkening back to his life as a kid in Waukegan, Illinois. Anyway I’ve spent the last week cutting down thorn shrubs and weed trees like Russian Olive and Ailanthus and digging up their roots. I finish up drenched in sweat and weary with aching muscles and covered in cuts and scrapes and I’ve been sleeping like a log and wake up hungry and with a clear head.
Sure it’s still a cesspool out in our culture and we are being led down the path to serfdom by evil men and our women and children are deluded but it’s not over yet. Sanity has a way of breaking through once insanity is allowed to run amok for too long. And when it does we need to seize our chance and look out for ourselves. No more alliances with the middle, no more seeing their side of the argument. Look for good people and form your own community and support each other. The rest can and will go to hell. That’s just the way it is.
But have a good holiday and enjoy your own damn life. That’s what it’s about.