Sunday, May 10, 2020

BROTHERS, LET US PRAY

The best time of day is tea time. Which is around four o'clock, give or take, and comes after a reasonably full day of reading, walking, smoking a pipe while outside in the fresh air, and a late lunch as the first food of the day.
Here in the United States people are often hung up on breakfast.
Often described as the most important meal there is.
Fried crap, fruit juice, and cereal.

My mother believed that breakfast was very important, yet she herself was not committed to it in any way. Her start of the day would be a cup of strong coffee, and a cigarette. Basically her college years and time in the military raising their heads. The key thing being to wake up, and function.

In direct consequence, while growing up, I would start the day with coffee.
Followed, in my teenage years, by a pipe.
If my father had relinquished the paper, a quick read of the news.


Nowadays it's coffee, pills, internet news, then a pipe.


My apartment mate, on the other hand, spent her whole life in the United States and has been thoroughly conditioned by American media to assume that a hearty munch-down is in order, and seemingly, for her it works.

She's chewing on something even as we speak, while I'm blearily staring at my screen wondering what new article about our beloved president and his total gross incompetence, and his mismanagement of damned well everything but especially the Corona Virus situation, will hideously offend me next.


Her breakfast is much more digestible.


The best thing that could happen is for Donald Trump to catch the virus, unwittingly infect his entire cabinet and inner circle, then die an agonizing death. Unmourned, except perhaps by Mitch McConnell, Lindsey Graham, Susan Collins, Steven Mnuchin, William Barr, plus Putin and Kushner.
The worst attended funeral in Presidential history.

If I were religious, I would pray for that.

Then walk a dog on his grave.



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