THE RAIN OTTERS

Headlines recently have an otter attacking a woman swimming in Lake Tahoe, a major layoff of tech workers at a Bay Area company, racism at both a local high school and in the military, and rain likely this afternoon. I like otters and rain. We need more of those. I hope they can work something out together. As for tech workers I am on the fence at best.

Praise be to otters in the rain.

Shan't say anything about the racism. I don't see colour, I see texture. You are all lumpy and unpleasant. Does your mother know you leave the house covered with tatoos and slime?

And as far as unemployed techworkers goes, that might benefit the local housing market and drive some more of those people into finally getting real jobs or doing something that benefits the planet, or starting a revolution against corrupt Republicans in Texas, who knows?

Or even becoming influencers who die kayaking down a river.


Meanwhile, Christian nutballs in the rest of the country continue to support a mega-corrupt rapist egomaniac while getting explosive diarrhea and shooting immigrants. And eating dogfood at least one day a week because they can't afford even bad Argentine beef.

Please do not say that we're all in this together.
Because we're not.

You guys live in a part of the country where it's over one hundred and ten in the shade and you can no longer head over to Timmy's Tofu shack because the American food industry has yanked beancurd off the shelves. You're experimenting with rejected beef products, because the strategic stockpile of American steak has been depleted during war. While fending off imaginary Venezuelans trying to infect you with measles and autism. You're all nuts.

Whereas I live in a world where rain otters garbed in tutus save a fallen tower-nesting hippie at Burning Man and a plague of saxophone music at the Palace of Fine Arts gets cut short by the valiant efforts of the San Francisco Police Department.

We are not the same. My morning doom-scrolling is more surreal, and far less frightening, than yours. You live in hell. I live in San Francisco.

You chose that yourself.



Plans for today: Laundry, a pipe, and lunch.
A bowl of freshly peeled longan.
Then teatime.



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