It is a fine sunny spring day and great matters loom across the approaching horizon of American history. We think that ​Carthage is in our rearview mirror and that we’ll blend into time.

What a bunch of dolts. America’s blood is soiled, and a dark angel sits in its brain.

Will it take a “point of a gun in our collective mouth” moment before we can see the whole world inside of our heads? Hate to say it but our public infosphere is nothing else but conjecture, conjecture and bullshit, and pamphleteering racketeering and noise. I never pump up my vulgarity on these things. I simply wait for cable TV to do it for us on its own terms. They look at and talk about their opponents with certain mild disdain — as if they are hunks of human excrement.

We are treated as so very tenuous, flighty, conceited, naturally dull, and awesomely ugly creatures.

Strother Martin said we suffered from a failure to communicate. We seem to have a bunch of that despite ourselves. Methinks it’s simpler. It’s a lack of love. Thus sleepless, tossing, and turning, nightmares follow.

Nothing is ever done. Sure, sure, sure.

Today I will walk in the sun. I will simply walk W’s side garden in the sun and ponder the miracle of us staying alive as simply being utter magic.

With some whiskey or wine on my breath, I’ll feel like money. I will look like money.

-Marlow

PS: I reject how America’s stunted traginews industry says in so many words “dandy then” when their favored fixes to the day’s problems are found wanting as if death is so fearful then life could must be made good. What a crock. What matters most is how well we walk through fire. We must remember who we were before the world started telling us who we should be.

Copyright 2022 My Aisle Seat

www.vicsocotra.com