IT SITS THERE IN JUDGEMENT

While waking up from a dream involving a former leader of India (Gandhi), I became aware of a presence looking at me. Which is not at all unusual, as I live with a Cantonese American woman and several stuffed creatures, the most opinionated of which live in her room and occasionally offer stern words of disapproval in my direction. As you would expect.
But this was different.

A feline who is, literally, immaterial.
No current corporeal existence.

It radiated a stern almost Protestant disapproval. "If you", it seemed to say, "don't go out and do your laundry today, you will be a stinky beast at work over the next few days, and nobody will like you!" And as an afterthought, "Stephen Miller is indeed an ugly F."

Obviously it reads the news. The DNC has stated that Stephen Miller is an ugly "intercourse". One would not imagine that this would be an issue, as Republican ideologues are well known to reproduce spontaneously from refuse, especially heaps of rotting animal matter, and thus the very idea of intercourse in connection with them should never arise. Steve Bannon, Sebastian Gorka, and Karoline Leavitt all come immediately to mind.

Also Kid Rock, but he's by no means an ideologue.
Just an opportunist and shitty musician.

Now, I like animals. But cats tend to be judgemental. And ghost cats have no more Effs left to give, and consequently can be as brutal as they jolly well wish to be.

This pains me. I shall definitely do laundry today, as being a bit whiff at work is not part of my programme, but I resent being obligated to do so. It isn't that some people might not like me there -- my job is not to be a warm fuzzy presence when in Marin, and frankly Scarlett I don't give a darn -- but it is not necessary that my clothing interferes with my keen appreciation of fine pipe tobacco, strong caffeinated beverages, normal social grease, and just being alive and a rather fine Dutch American.


As soon as the Cantonese American female left for work I lit up my pipe (a rather charming Peterson X105 banded blasted billiard) and smoked quietly by myself in the theevee room. No squawks of protest or howls of outrage from the creatures in her room, as I had securely shut her door. The cat did not say anything. Ghost do not have much sense of smell, and cats like pipes.

I know this because when I was fourteen our cats discovered my pipes and were playing with them. I got a lecture about the evils of smoking that day, along with words of advice about good tobacco.

I shall do my laundry.



==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================