No intentions of elucidation
As my sons carry on a dialog about political situations that predate them by lifetimes, I remain thankful: how much worse if the “subject of the day” involved major league baseball statistics or NASCAR ratings.
While the others were out walking in the woods (yes, the dog deserves his own Fitbit). I followed my own internal beacon. Sleep, perchance to dream. An afternoon goes by in less time than it takes to write the term (with a quill pen and inkwell). Actually, I used my restored powers of concentration ot reconfigure my Volumio web receiver. After weeks of enforced silence, Radio Caroline rejoins my soundscape.
And my roast beef is finally finished. A lot of good bachelor class meals out of that small piece of Sirloin.
Can’t avoid the political threads. Right now, some of the rich Saudi princes are prevaricating. Don’t ask too many questions about a journalist that has disappeared, because they have no intentions of elucidation. There have been rumours of a bone saw, and international flights, but we may never know the back story on this one.
And Canada awaits the first whiffs of legal smoke. This is the day before the day before. Will the world (as we know it) cease to exist, come midnight plus one NST? Will the sudden realization that prison isn’t and has never been a solution to a situation that should never have existed send uniformed officers into the streets, in revolt over their new responsibilities? Coming to a social history course, near you, fifty years hence.
