27 July, 2010

Now there is a weak ass heading for you, indicative of the ennui which seems to have stricken this particular denizen of the Kudzu Grotto (KG) this evening. I find myself, clad in my Bull Moose PJ's, slouched down and back in the office chair, having to use my right eye which is adjusted for distance viewing instead of the left which is adjusted for reading distance. My slipper clad footsies propped on the rail under the desk, I'm in real danger of saying, "th' hell with it", and go watch the History Channel with the better half who is learning all about air combat in the first world war (WWI) and the swath of destruction cut by the infamous Red Baron, and his subsequent death, shot out of the air by a ground pounding machine gunner by a single .303 caliber round to the chest. An inglorious end to an eagle of the skies. With 80 kills to his credit in one on one aerial combat, you'd almost hope he got his come-upptance from another Ace of the Allied persuasion.

But then the ol' Scythe Swinger is no respecter of persons, cutting both the righteous and the un-righteous off at the knees with equal glee, in his own good time, if not necessarily ours.

Tis the silly season it seems, if not a particularly joyous one for many people who having lost their jobs are rapidly losing their bigger-than-they-now-can-afford-homes, their fine jewelry bought with surplus funds or credit when the good times were rolling, their gas guzzling SUV's which they try to sell but are too much upside down in them.

There seems to be no solid foundation under many of the things which we, happy in our ignorance and comfortable with it, had never paid much attention to before.

The French, for God's sake, are declaring WAR. Not the best timing Pierre, what with the currant limp noodles in power in Washington. It may be a while before the US can pull your chestnuts out of the fire again. Or it could be they know something I don't.

That Massachusetts Fudge-Packer slobbering Barney Frank gets in a pissing contest over one measly dollar when his sorry slack ass is as responsible for the debt crisis the US is facing as anyone. Maybe more, but then I think there is blame enough to go around.

Why even one of our beloved hollywood icons has had to issue an apology for succumbing to a severe case of head-up-ass-itis.

It's almost enough to make one slink back into the underbrush covering the Kudzu Grotto (KG) and wait until reason reigns once more.

Nah, that might take more time than I want to devote to it, although I do have a few bayonets that could do with a bit of sharpening, and I need to make another raid on Wally World in hopes of adding a few more rounds to the smallish hoard I already have.

No, I'll probably do as I did today, continue to get up in the morning with no plan other than visit a friend who asked me to drop by, and see if, as today, I come back home with pockets bulging and work for the next several days ahead of me.

Perhaps if more people showed by their actions that the pronouncements and proclamations emanating from The Asylum on the Potomac and other places of similar ilk really don't concern us enough for us to waste time with, that eventually they would get the message and crawl back into the sphincters they oozed out of.

A boy can dream, can't he?