A WORLD FILLED WITH FREAKS

There are times when doomscrolling leads to despair over our future, and then I remember that most of the Republicans in power are mortal. Several of them are older than me. One of them remains dead, and another is, allegedly alive, though that may be just an electrical blip. No actual communication other than statements released in an effort to not call a special election, because he is too valuable where he is.

And then there's Rand Paul.

Who is a poster-child for everything wrong with MAGA, the Republican Party, conservatives, conspiracy nutballs, and the entire miserable stinking state of Kentucky. Screw him, screw the people who voted for him, and screw his friends and supporters.

* * * * * *

Friends have asked me, encouraged me even, to attend the shows in Chicago and Vegas that take place every year. Surely someone like myself would enjoy those events? So much to see, so many excellent specimens, passionate hobbyists, experts in the minutiae of our field, wondrous displays and informative seminars .....

Totally overlooking the fact that I hate crowds, and they cannot imagine the sheer torture of a rutting frenzy involving thousands of people with whom I have only one thing in common, and a great number of those people are wrong about very many things as well as being borderline psychopaths. And I don't deal well with sweaty enthusiasm at all.
I attended MacWorld several times when the world was young.
And I've been at many political demonstrations.
So yeah no. Heck no.

It would probably be better if I spent more time with my figmentive cat, who is probably entirely in my head, what with being a half-light ghost that occasionally shows up in the corners of my eye when I'm waking up, than visit any of the shows. Do I really need to meet and greet large numbers of smelly bald men with beards? I don't think so. Yes, some of them are more like William Faulkner, Sir Bertand Russell, Albert Einstein, C.S. Lewis, as well as President Gerald Ford. Status of top of the head hair variable across the spectrum.

But some of them are like Hugh Heffner, General Douglas MacArthur, or Stalin.
And quite a number are sad-sack hobbit wannabees and putzes.


In the normal course of events I deal with a sufficient number of fellow pipe-smokers already. That is plenty. There are a few artist pipe carvers whom I might like to meet, because of the absolute stellar excellence of their work, Martin Romijn and Liu Zifeng come to mind, and also some collectors, but what on earth would we talk about besides briars?


One cannot assume any similarity of philosophies because of a singular commonality.




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