Wednesday, August 31, 2016

They're Rolling Up the Hay

Tomorrow will be September 1. The light changed a couple of weeks back, but it was too hot at the time to pay much attention. Far as I can tell the trees haven't noticed yet, but who knows, maybe deep inside they're already making the bed and plumping up the pillows and the feather quilts. I'm sure way up north the bears are stuffing themselves with salmon. Same idea. We got the old vet into his second rest home in a month on Monday. His arm is healing from the fall on Father's Day that knocked him out of his former residence, up in Greensboro. Monday he got up into his walker and made it across the new room to the bathroom, farthest he's walked with some assistance since the fall. The call of nature, yet again. He's having a hard time sleeping in the new bed, and isn't really sure where he is. The good thing is, he's very close to us now, versus an hour off. Libby stayed the night to make sure he didn't get up alone and then fall again. She got back an hour ago with a bag of sausage biscuits from the Bo and went straight to bed. I think most of the kitties went up there and snuggled around her. They missed her last night. Just now a hummingbird flew up to the window and peered in.

Down on the Banks a small tropical storm brushed by last night, and we might get a stronger brush this weekend from "Wave #9," now disorganized but gaining strength in the upper Gulf of Mexico. The jet stream has a kink to the south going over Alabama and that's supposed to steer #9, which might get a name later, across Florida and up the Gulf Stream train. One map I saw gives us the western edge, which might mean some rain. We could use it, but it's been over all a nearbout perfect summer.

Not counting the gawdawful election I mean. When you get to that I feel like I'm in the fairytale called the Emperor's New Clothes. See, it's not a new thing, there was already a ready-made fairy tale. Some Obama guy says, last Sunday, that Trump is a psychopath. Chuck Todd admonishes him. "Are you qualified to make such a diagnosis," Chuck asks. Suddenly we're talking psychiatry; Plouffe, the Obama guy, thought he was kicked back, among friends. It'd be great if they got up a panel of real psychiatrists to talk Trump, or perhaps both Trump and Hillary, and toss in Putin for good measure. Put it on for four hours any night of the week. Make sure one of the panel is Trump's Surgeon General, this guy:

The doc said on TV the other day that there wasn't a President who didn't likely have some disease. "Eisenhower," he said, "had polio." Nuff said.

The hay's rolled up pretty much. We can buy a couple of rolls and stuff 'em under the edges of the cabin if we get a stern winter. Here in NC a panel of ten retired superior court justices, five Dems, five Repubs, figured out how to draw congressional districts without gerrymandering. It was just a thought experiment of course. The Republicans now running everything here immediately said it was a partisan stunt. Then they stood back and admired Trump's thousand dollar tuxedo.


Thursday Update. It's now September 1, and the tropical wave has been named Hermine, and its western edge (or perhaps the edge of its theoretical track northeast as plotted at the moment) is some past Charlotte to the west, which means here in Chatham County we could get a lot of rain and some wind. I don't expect trees to blow down, but I might put one vehicle up near the paved road, the standard winter drill, in case I'm wrong and a big tree should be blown across the driveway. One day, sooner or later, a big tree will be blown across the driveway. There are a whole lot of big trees lining the driveway, and the driveway is a third of a mile long. You can do the math. When that event happens I'll probably start calling people who have machines capable of sawing us out, because the big tree will likely be hung up in another big tree on the other side of the driveway, and that gets pretty complicated from a physics point of view. But I stress: this is a theoretical divigation. I don't expect trees to fall from Miss Hermine.

Meanwhile I perused the blogs looking for some comment about Mr. Trump's Arizona speech last night, and found precious little. The thing was nonetheless carried live on all the cable news networks I can get with my Dish subscription. MSNBC, both Fox channels, and CNN all carried the hour long monstrosity. Once again, as has been the case throughout this election farce, Mr. Trump need not bother with advertising. And he preceeded this round with a kabuki appearance in Mexico City, where he played a visiting head of state in the presence of a real head of state, appearing from the distance of 3,000 miles to be more capable of the role than, say, George W. Bush looking for the rest room at a Chinese banquet. This, then, passes for campaigning in our brave new century.

No one I read mentioned the truly evil tack of having so-called victims of undocumented latin Americans come up to the mike and tell their tragic stories. "My husband was killed by an undocumented Mexican drunk driver." Et cetera. On my local teevee news this bit of the speech was shortly followed by a local story. A latino mother of five had returned from shopping in an understandably harried state, and left her 3-year-old in the van. The child died from the heat. The mother was interviewed by the intrepid reporter. Her immigration status was not brought up. Trump's first person anectdotalist did that, pouring more acid on our tattered human fabric. Trump promises a great round up should he win. Funny the cheering racists don't have the foresight to imagine sitting in traffic for hours at check points searching the glove box for that special blue citizen's card that came in the mail in late spring, 2017. If it came from the Government they likely threw it away. Amirite.

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