It is agonizing to watch former V-P Joe Biden stumble through a speech, a Q&A session with reporters, even friendly ones, and misremember facts. Why is The Democratic Party subjecting this man to this humiliation? We notice, people, we notice.

What if the strategy isn’t about getting a man of questionable mental faculties elected President? There is the unspoken message that implies an incapacitated President Biden will resign. Then a Vice-President Harris will assume the Presidency.

He has to win for that plan to work. Another message that the Biden candidacy sends is that senility and aging is pathetic, embarrassing to the affected individual. He is a burden, not just financially and emotionally, but also in the practical terms of care, for his children and , well, heirs. Joe Biden depicts the worst fear, about aging that many people have, creeping, irreversible dementia.

They wouldn’t do that, would they? Run a mentally enfeebled man in the most visible political campaign in America? They would, if the dystopian strategists of the Democratic Party wanted to send a subtle message that euthanasia is a valid end of life choice. Remember a hundred years ago, a public relations mastermind got women smoking with a publicity stunt. That was not about politics, but it was about molding public opinion and values.

Are millions of Americans thinking, “Don’t let me get that bad that I make a fool of myself “? That sure piques interest in euthanasia, at tbe onset, voluntary, of course. It is always “voluntary“. Then when the global health care budgets get tighter, and the demographic collapse looms, precipitated by the effects of the Zero Population Growth Principle, and ready access to abortion, euthanasia will no longer be voluntary. The dystopian master planners get their way, with the help of a failed politician in his dotage.

Funny how a recipe comes to me over several days of just thinking about what to do with ingredients I have on hand or could easily purchase.

I had some pasta, farfalle, bowties, and mostachioli rigate, like penne, a chicken breast and a bottle of poppy seeds. I thought a pasta and chicken salad would be nice for summer supper. I did need vegetables, summer vegetables, a local tomato, a cucumber, fresh parsley, also feta cheese. I had pine nuts I needed to use. So I chopped up the cucumber, tomato, and parsley, then diced the roasted chicken breast ( boneless, skinless, app 1lb, .454kg). I added them all to large mixing bowl.

I made a dressing from the juice of 4 lemons, plus some zest, then a half-cup (120ml) olive oil, and about 3 tablespoons poppyseeds. I blended the mixture til the oil and juice were emuldified. I poured it on the salad and mixed everything well, ( or as we say in the American South, real good).

A quick taste told me something sweet was needed and I added some fresh blueberries and walnuts , for a more pronounced nutty taste than what the pine nuts offered.

I served this pasta salad from a pasta serving bowl

J liked the pasta chicken salad. That’s what counted.

I wrote a post in the middle of the night I have not yet posted and may never do so.

I just should have gone to Vietnam. And if I had died, well, I would be a name on The Wall.

Now I am 69 years old. And who we fought there are here now. Communists. Only they call themselves by other names, like Antifa, or….(uh) we won’t go there.

Like the Bolsheviks, Stalinists, Maoists, and others, they hate what I hold dear. And they want me dead.

Enough for now. It’s going to be a long war. It has been a long war, since 1917.

Not an outdoor fog, but an interior fog, that calls me back to sleep.

J had nightmares last night, screaming nightmares, about what I do not know.

I had a dream wherein I was in South America with my ex-wife and we were trying to get to the airport in Rio.

And sleep and restfulness are the big losers this morning

The Fleischer Studios , who brought us Betty Boop and Popeye did an animated cartoon version of Superman back in the early 1940’s in Technicolor that is pretty cool. Good heroic Superman stories I just saw one where Superman saves a runaway train, carrying a billion dollars in gold bullion and Lois Lane.

It is early Monday morning. I feel pretty good, I am just awake now. I will go back to bed. I had a satisfying enjoyable weekend. I feel connected again, to my wife and to people in general. It’s not perfect, but I’ve just learned new things about love that I can’t fully describe. It centers around regaining my sense of self-worth, as a man. Just leave it at that.

So I am watching Mickey Mouse cartoons, preparing to drink some Decaf coffee, while beating myself up about not initiating sex with my wife after convincing myself that nothing bad would happen if I did. Now I am way deep in my head about this.

But the whole point of watching Mickey and Pluto is to take my mind off the nonsense I fabricated in my head and just enjoy these wonderful cartoons. I must say Disney put out the best cartoons of the Thirties through the Sixties, may be even later. They were heavy on the charm and light on the mayhem.

In my perfect fantasy world J would watch cartoons with me. I don’t expect her to watch W.W. II documentaries. There are only so many anyone can watch before one begins to question one’s sanity.

We have a really cute cartoon now Squatters’ Rights, with Chip and Dale hiding out in Mickey’s cabin in the woods. They’re hiding in his stove. Pluto is there too. .

Despair is impossible to sustain watching Mickey Mouse. Good choice Dave.