If you want my take on this election, the exhibition of these soulless monsters pretending to be human turns my stomach.

My guilty YouTube pleasures include the videos made about the contents abandoned in storage lockers. Theses videos tell us more about American wealth than all the summer houses and yachts moored in Martha’s Vineyard

The average person has the discretionary income to furnish an entire other household in a storage unit. And we wonder why there is surfeit of undocumented immigrants. Instead of paying storage fees, we could send our extra stuff to El Salvador and Guatemala and let the people use the stuff there instead of coming here.

In other words, why don’t we just turn the world into a giant thrift shop?

We expect from people who can barely write a grocery list to control our nuclear arsenal, while we encode stuff in to the cyber world. We’re not mad.

Tell me more about your advanced society

Let’s play pickleball and fuck our neighbours’ wives

Tomorrow Disney World.

Who do I have the feeling that Kamala Harris failed her audition for TV Weather Person?

This Walz guy really came through when he picked Johnny Fontaine to star in that war picture..

I would like to say I am fighting getting old, but that’s not true. The house is a trash pit. I sort of eat a balanced diet. The house is my prison.

What we learn in chemistry regarding entropy should be the ultimate caveat for living. We move toward disorder inexorably, but a few inputs of energy can slow the decline.

I should throw away more, drink less coffee, go to more meetings, start swimming every day.. etc. etc., etc.,

Much as I love the porch , it’s time to be about my self-care.

That’s it for now

It has the same meter as an old Evangelical hymn “Bringing In The Sheaves “. This the work I’ve been avoiding for several years.

There are books I planned on reading since I retired. Unread. There are interests I have yet to pursue, like drawing. What distinguishes this townhouse from a prison cell, other than square footage and freedom to come and go as I please?

My sons would ask why I kept this stuff, were they cleaning the house after my demise. I’m asking the same question now.

Time now to do the deed. Further reflection will come upon completion.

I tried to go sleep, with all the noise surrounding me that makes me sleepy, the right sitcom, the right beverage, lying in the big bed with the right mattress.

No luck. To the other bedroom I retreated, put J. S.Bach’s Magnificat on the CD player.

I went downstairs where the Russian Orthodox Church is celebrating something important. The Church is becoming my go-to serenity refuge. Maybe it’s the male voices chanting without accompaniment, the vestments, or simply the fact they these white bearded men have prevailed, over the gulags.

But they are here today, witnessing for The Lord in a language I only feebly comprehend, if at all

It’s 11:50 on a Thursday morning. Right now they are sharing God with me.

I once again will strive for the reverence, holiness and zeal that they profess for me

Because, right now,, I need to hear hear their voices

When I turned to the Russian Orthodox Church YouTube Channel Monday, the webcast originated from Ekaterinburg,. It was in this city, East of the Urals, where Nicholas II and his family were murdered in 1918. The Bolsheviks (Communists) killed the Romanov Royal Family.

Only two days earlier, a person, or persons, attempted to murder a former President and current Presidential candidate, here in the good ole’ US of A.

If you’ve been around awhile, you know that political assassination is cause for celebration, whether successful or not. And every side has been known to celebrate. It’s a universal sickness.

America is a country where fools can praise assassination and be disappointed at a failed attempt. Kinda sick, ya know?

So when The Russians memorialize the martyred Czar, I pay special attention. Maybe one day, we Americans will find political violence appalling also.

It was Sunday that my sister threw me out of her house. We were discussing the sale of our father’s house. At some sticking point, she shouted “Get out!” So I left.

It wasn’t that simple. Given that I’m still losing sleep over this incident, it’s pretty important. She texted to apologize. I accepted her apology, but I never want to see or speak to her again.

God it hurts.