Madame, all stories, if continued far enough, end in death, and he is no true-story teller who would keep that from you.
February 28th must have a complex. It’s the only day that doesn’t know from year to year whether it will be followed by February or March. But you say to yourself, “Why doesn’t it just consult the calendar?” Don’t be ridiculous. Days of the year don’t have calendars or even hands to turn pages. Ridiculous.
I’ve always resented the fact that they add an extra day to February. No one wants more days in February. If you want to add a day add it to August. Every school child in the world would bow down and worship you for postponing September an extra day.
But here we are, a Non-Leap Year, March waiting in the wings and even the COVID maniacs in New England facing up to the obvious that everyone hates them and they’ll have to give up the mask madness. I found a classic car event in mid-March and I’m already looking forward to getting some good shots for the site. Ah spring is in the air.
So, I looked at the news today; Ukraine, SOTU, KBJ, Ukraine, SOTU, KBJ, Ukraine, SOTU, KBJ as far as the eye could see. Well, I need a break from this stuff.
So today I introduced Princess Sack of Potatoes to the mysteries of the visible electromagnetic spectrum. I intended to get her a nice high quality glass prism for the class but Camera Girl explained to me that pre-school children and glass aren’t a good mix. So, I bought some plastic prisms and we had to make do with some pretty sorry looking spectrums. But it did the trick. She was very interested in trying to make the colors herself.
I began a lecture on the wave/particle duality of the photon and was preparing to discuss the quantum aspects when she dropped the prism on the floor and walked away to play hide and seek with Camera Girl. Well, I’m sure Isaac Newton didn’t really hit his scientific stride until at least four so there may still be time.
Today was another bright, sunny but cold day. I decided to take a walk around the property in my tee shirt just to assert my dominance over the decrepit winter season. After the first seven minutes it seemed less and less of a good idea so I beat a slow, dignified retreat back to the comfort of central heating. But a defiant pose was struck. A tone was established in my relationship to 2022. I definitely have the upper hand. From here on in I reestablish my direct control over the whole of my domain.
What this actually means is pretty soon I won’t have any meaningful excuse for not doing the outdoor repairs and other chores that I neglected back in November. But that’s acceptable. This will be a normal year. No COVID crap delaying implementation of normal activities. Even that supply chain nonsense is fading in the rear-view mirror. Sure, everything will be twice as expensive; lumber, hardware, paint. But do-it-yourself is an inherently frugal strategy. Even in my mechanical ineptitude I foresee great progress on the Master Punchlist that every homeowner maintains (if only in his heart).
So welcome March, that changeable and blustery month with its St. Patrick’s Day (Camera Girl’s birthday) tradition of Corned Beef and Cabbage and, despite the inevitable New England Nor’easter snow storms, the beginning of garden work. This year I hope to add a vegetable garden closer to the house. All this carrying around of hoses seems very inefficient and possibly if the garden is closer to the house the rabbits and the other varmints might leave us some of the produce.
The calendar doesn’t reflect it. Nor does the six inches of snow on the grass but in my heart, spring has sprung!
Reading this article is sickening. The Justice Department is made up of evil men. At this point I believe we’d be better off with warlords running our country. Then at least we wouldn’t have the hypocrisy of claiming equal protection under some kind of fair legal system. We’d know right upfront that the powerful destroy the weak whenever it suits them.
It wasn’t by accident that the Gettysburg address was so short. The laws of prose writing are as immutable as those of flight, of mathematics, of physics.
Today was my appointment to move the snow from the bottom driveway. It’s a less important chore because in the winter we don’t have as much need to clear the way to the bottom floor. Only if there’s a big party or something do we need the space for a bunch of cars. But I like to keep the driveways clear of snow and so it was on the list. But about three quarters of the way through I noticed that the snow blower was malfunctioning. It was veering to the right (which sounds reasonable with something I own) and forcing me to push it in the other direction. What had happened was that the left wheel was no longer receiving power from the engine. Not knowing whether it was something I could fix myself I abandoned the machine and decided to handle the rest of the snow with a shovel.
Well, that was easier said than done. The snow had been rained on after falling and was now pretty solidly a giant block of ice about six to twelve inches deep. I tried breaking it up with my shovel and only accomplished cracking the shovel off of the handle. A lesser man would have been chagrined but not I. I have this shovel that is used for skinning shingles off of a roof. It has a flat bladed and is thin at the bottom but pretty substantial higher up. I spent a goodly amount of time breaking up the iceberg that was my bottom driveway and then shoveling it onto the pile at the edge of the grass.
It was quite a workout but surprisingly I felt much more energized after finishing it and taking a shower than I had felt before starting the task. Granted, if I had been forced to do the entire driveway that way it would have taken three days. And by the end of the job, I would not be anywhere near as chirpy as I am right now. Still, it’s good to know that I haven’t fallen yet into the level of decrepitude that Camera Girl assumes I have. She’s always warning me about not overexerting myself. Women!
Of course, now I have to figure out whether to send the snow blower out for repair or try to do it myself. If I knew this was the last major snowfall of the season, I wouldn’t worry about trying to fix it myself. But if the next one is a foot of snow, I’d be in big trouble without the machine. So commonsense says call up the shop and get this puppy fixed. Well so much for my rugged self-sufficiency.
Camera Girl is making my favorite meal tonight and I told her she did it because of my macho activities today have inspired her womanly domestic side to honor me. She shook her head and kept stirring the sauce she was making. That’s just an act she puts on to tease me. I’m not fooled. She senses my power and I tolerate her play acting. Ah, “the timeless art of seduction” as Cosmo Kramer once noted.
So, as you can see, I’ve been busy today but here are a few things I noticed.
I read someone’s substack claiming Biden wanted the Russians to invade the Ukraine to get Germany to shut down Nord Stream 2. I don’t know. I have a hard time thinking about Dementia Joe playing 4D chess against Vladimir Putin. I can more easily believe that the LGBTQ Nazis in his State Department demanded that Ukraine be admitted to NATO to ensure the protection of sodomy.
The wire services are claiming that the Ukrainians are valiantly repulsing the savage Rus at every turn. Somehow, I find this unlikely. I did read that Russia and Ukraine are going to have a parlay in Belarus. My guess Putin will offer these terms. In exchange for permanent neutrality by Ukraine and no NATO admittance, the rump Ukraine can go about its business. The new states that Putin has carved out of Ukraine will remain independent for now. Should be interesting to see how this goes.
A new week begins and March is coming in like a lamb. Which tells me it’ll go out like a lion. I better get that snow blower fixed.
Next Tuesday, March 1st is currently the date scheduled for Dementia Joe’s first State of the Union speech. Normally I would avoid this bit of kabuki theater like the plague. But I must confess I’m intrigued by the idea that something unplanned and unscripted might happen. My favorite fantasy is that some subset of Republican lawmakers starts up a,” Let’s go Brandon” chant and Scranton Joe leaps from the podium and lays a smackdown on the first really small woman he gets his hands on.
Sure, I know nothing like that will happen but something equally absurd is possible. Joe might get booed and let loose with some truly foul language. That would be fun! Or maybe he’ll really botch some particularly difficult two or three syllable words and completely lose track of his teleprompter and have to start over at a very noticeable point in his speech. Or maybe he’ll tell such outrageous lies about his accomplishments that the crowd just breaks out into laughter. Or maybe it’ll be just the usual boring speech, full of self-congratulatory lies and hyperbole.
One interesting innovation will be the rebuttal by congress critter Tlaib. Apparently, Joe will be rebutted from both the left and the right of his position. Tlaib will espouse the position that we need more inflation, more urban violence and more COVID lockdowns. I assume that instead of wearing one of the matching white pants suits that the “Squad” usually wear for these events she’ll be more fittingly attired in a strait jacket along with a Hannibal Lector bite mask.
If Joe’s performance turns out to be entertaining, I’ll try to put up a post on it right away. If it’s really good I might live blog it to get the blow-by-blow account on-line as soon as possible.
I’m trying to imagine if Joe will dare to claim that the “state of our union is strong.” If they decide to eliminate the masks in the audience that will have a slightly less hollow ring. But from what I’ve read the lefties would be shocked to learn that all that street theater they endured over the virtue of masking was just that. So, it’s a damned if you do and damned if you don’t situation.
A different tack has recently been tried by some leftist pundits. They’ve decided that inflation is the result of the Ukraine. “It’s not Joe’s fault, it’s Putin. Again!” Apparently, time travel will be a part of that defense. But I guess he’s desperate for any plausible or implausible rationale that will permit him to escape the blame for sabotaging almost every facet of American life over the course of his year in office. Maybe he hopes to benefit from a war that he has managed to start with a country that won’t allow itself to be bullied or cajoled into toeing the globalist talking points.
So, yeah, I’ll tune in on Tuesday. I’ll have something to eat and drink and a barf bag just in case Joe really lays it on thick. I guess it’s too much to hope he’ll mention Corn Pop. I really miss Corn Pop and the leg hair story. Good times.