An uncomfortable monologue
For anyone that thinks the lobster roll is a quick, delicious snack… don’t try it at home. Getting the meat out of the body armour is more work than I would want to tackle on a regular basis.
That aside, we had a long video chat with the kids. There is a dream of someday being able to visit. Right now, I won’t venture a timeline; the summer will be a trial of our patience. The Yanks are starting to murmur about opening the border, and I’m definitely not in favour. I don’t want to build a wall around my community. Throwing hot oil on the invaders is not a tested antiviral technique. And for now, our kids are getting more at ease with the limits of gathering around the screen.
I took the time (out of my really busy schedule) to watch the monologue by Mr. Musk, from last night’s SNL. Rarely have I been so uncomfortable with humour. In some ways, the whole thing was akin to a root canal. Probably his only “kick at the can” for TV; he has other things to do.
And the rocket from China crashed overnight into the Indian Ocean.
Forty-five years ago, I donned a toga. Made a quick parade before my peers. Received a lovely diploma, along with a tiny note tucked into the frame reminding me that “until all of my debts were acquitted”, this would be the extent of it. A reminder that education comes at a cost. Of course, I’d do it all again. Hard to refuse a deal like that.
