Yesterday came sunshine — a brief respite between cold-and-wet and windy-and-really-really-wet. Thank you, November, for the small break.
I took advantage of it to go meet a local who wanted to buy St. Guinefort the Greyhound. He’d seen it at the county fair and didn’t have much trouble tracking me down because — as it turns out — he’s one of the few locals who recognize my name from my writing. It also turned out (small town and all) that we have mutual acquaintances.
Best of all (aside from the fact that he bought me a nice lunch and will give Guinefort a loving home) was that he’s the only local I ever met who’s actually a free-market anarchist. Boy, did we have a lot in common.
He also told me that one of our mutual acquaintances — a square blue peg in our round red hole of a county — quit speaking to him after last year’s election. And he’s not even a Trumpist. I swear, the world, or at least the left side of it, has gone completely bonkers.
But we knew that, didn’t we?
Of course many on the right-hand side of the universe aren’t the sanest, either. As Kit Perez relates in the latest tale of threeper (or threeper wannabe) folly.
The other day it was Sean Parker. Now it’s Roger McNamee, yet another F*c*b**k founding father, who has turned on the monster he helped create, comparing FB officials to Edward Bernays, Josef Goebbels and Nazi propagandists in general.
Couldn’t happen to a more deserving outfit, either. I look forward to the day when FB fals to the level of its former rival, MySpace.
I only fear that by then there will be something worse.
This morning I finished the first draft of a writing project that’s been deviling me. Much more to do, still. But that’s it for now. I have no further words in my today.
In addition to the writing itself being a more-than-usual brain burner, I haven’t had the right glasses, which makes computer time perilous. Since my much-loved skull frames broke, I’ve been using a 14-year-old pair and ending too-long computer sessions with double vision. Interesting. Scary. But it goes away. (BTW, I didn’t find new frames to fit the lenses, but between sales and coupons I did manage to order a new pair — sans skulls, alas — online for $98, including progressive lenses and photogray. How good they are or whether they make me look like a freak I’ll find out in a few days.)
I’ve got to take break from brainwork and go do some physical labor on the ceiling of the bedroom-to-be. So you folks who are waiting for the next RebelFire excerpt, answers to your emails, book-promotion blurbs, or anything else requiring my presence at the computer … please be patient. I badly need a small timeout and rest for my weary eyes.
In the meantime, have six ordinary things that can reveal your deepest, darkest secrets. 🙂