For the last three or four days I’ve been dying. I guess it’s the latest bout of COVID. Coughing, congestion, headache, possible heart failure, possible kidney failure, possible dementia; the whole nine yards. So add that to the arrival of Little Evil Dog and my subsequent abandonment by Camera Girl and you can only imagine the desperate straits I’ve been living through.
I cried out from the wilderness, “Camera Girl, Camera Girl, why hast thou forsaken me?!”
Slowly, slowly, I have stepped back from the very threshold of Death itself. Today I was able to ingest “hammy eggy” (actually; scrambled eggs, pumpernickel bagel and coffee) and can once again take my rightful place on the cultural firing line. And my brush with the Grim Reaper has renewed my lust for life. Everything seems new again. For me once again Kamala Harris lights up the world with her psychedelic stupidity, her florescent numbskullery. I long to hear her discuss the space program or quantum entanglement or even school buses.
Give me AOC and Jeffrey Nadler arguing for more homeless migrants in the face of an angry mob of New Yorkers shouting “Build the Wall.” Give me clips of Joe Biden misreading a teleprompter in front of a crowd of Vietnamese airport baggage handlers. Let me be serenaded by Mitt Romney providing the Republican case for pedophilia. It’s all back and it’s all new again.
I feel like George Bailey running down Main Street, Bedford Falls at the end of “It’s Wonderful Life.” He knows he will be sent to prison for the rest of his life because Uncle Billy is an alcoholic doofus but by golly there’s still that last glass of scotch from Nick at Martini’s. And where has that Violet Bick gotten to anyway? That’s a very interesting situation! Maybe she’s still at the bus station. Hmmm.
Seriously, I was a little under the weather. If I had blogged anything yesterday it would have been incoherent at best. Of course, some might say it wouldn’t have been noticed but I hold myself to a higher standard. If I can’t remember the laptop password I step away from the keyboard. It’s as simple as that.
Luckily I didn’t miss anything yesterday. Our march to Idiocracy continues at its relentless, steady pace. No more and no fewer than fifty thousand illegal aliens crossed the border. The requisite number of law suits were filed against Donald Trump and Joe Biden sent another billion dollars to the Ukraine. God’s in his heaven and all’s right with the world.
As I screech like a baby raven in the nest for Camera Girl’s attention to get my fair share of her domestic and medical care I feel renewed purpose in documenting our civilization’s dizzy descent into the maelstrom of voluntary self-annihilation. I find myself now calm about witnessing the plunge into Charybdis. After all, it’s a very important story. The death of a mighty empire like ours only happens once every thousand years or so. Recording its death throes is a worthy project and I’ll be following in the footsteps of such worthies as Thucydides and St. Augustine. Of course mine is more of an Aristophanic or Mad magazine version. Nevertheless, posterity will honor me.
So here we go.
What, me worry?
Exactly. The Mad Magazine version of the Decline and Fall of Western Civilization will at least have a very funny Spy vs Spy cartoon included. Take that Gibbons.