Tiny noises
Maybe the last three years have been like TV… bad TV. We’re all watching the same channel, and the writing continues to take a downward trajectory. Today, after the courts recommended a sentence for a convicted felon, the attorney general received a memo from his boss. The next step was to ignore the sentencing guidelines, because his boss found that the recommendations were too tough. Did I mention that the felon is a buddy of his boss? That’s important. Anyhow, the three prosecutors assigned to the case have resigned, and now we wait for the next episode.
Of course, this is parody, right? I mean, in the real world, justice follows a course based on precedent. Except that reality has been displaced, and we’re now into new territory. What happens next is the stuff of bad cinema.
Meanwhile, I’ve found a new distraction. What if I invested in a “pocket trumpet”? The instrument I kept around for thirty years is now with son #3, who lives in an apartment where any unusual noise will not be tolerated. Plus, he has no time to practice. I suggested that something compact, with an efficient mute, might put him back in a musical framework. He didn’t catch the tune. Perhaps I need to get back into practice; any improvement would be recognized, as I climb above my baseline. Or perhaps I need to go all out and get a tuba. There has to be a way.
Not likely to happen, but it’s a comforting thought. Resonance as a force field. Might drive the squirrels away as an added plus.
