Wednesday, July 28, 2021


Anyone who knows me, also knows that the perfect breakfast is a cup of strong coffee, followed by a pipe while stomping around the west slope of the hill in the fog.
Which this morning was abundantly thick.
Naturally I contributed to it.
Smoking Cornell & Diehl's Derringer, a broken blondish Virginia flake which is growing on me.

When I left the front door step, the tall building at the top of the hill where all the well-to-do retirees live was invisible. I find it remarkable that there are no morning coffee places nearby there, nor comfortable cafes with verandas under deep awnings where an elderly coot could wile away a few hours reading the Penenburgher Courant discussing the shortage of carrots.
The conclusion to which I must come is that well-to-do retirees are dead from the neck up, scarcely ambulatory, and have no interest in the world around them. The poor sods.

They probably live on protein shakes, and steroid injections.
Every day the nurse comes by to turn on equipment.
Keep circulation going in the fossils.

There really should be cafes and bistros near large deposits of elderly people, along with doorways, porticos, and alleyways where a smoker could shelter during inclement weather. American retirees prefer to have those several blocks distant, so that they're insulated from real folks, the hoi-polloi. Besides, when you live on iguana pineal gland extract and fibre smoothies, you do not want the common man around.

It explains why Florida exists.

The carrot shortage in Penenburghe is really quite shocking.
It might just shake society loose from its moorings.
Someone should DO something!
Hop to it!

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