Pretty lady ain't got no friend 'till the Candyman comes 'round again.

  So it's day... whatever into the Big Muddy and there is no change. My brain's still shut down, I'm still tired of the world, and I'd love to just go back to sleep. I'm chalking it up to Season Affective Disorder. I don't feel bad and I'm not especially depressed, per se - no more so than usual, anyway - I'm just lazy as hell. Well, more so than usual, anyway.

 I guess we'll just fill up space until we hit word count. It'd be nice if I could get a little substance, though. I've got Actual Paying Work due Friday and I have been seriously coasting the last couple of weeks. Oh, well. No one's paying me.

 I've been on a heavy Grateful Dead kick lately and going through their albums. Anthem of the Sun is almost unlistenable. The faux-disco of the late '70s on Terrapin Station or Shakedown Street is bad enough, but that noodly bullshit is, quite frankly, a tough nut to crack when you're not stoned out of your gourd. Jamming is way more fun when you're playing rather than listening. I'm quite liking some of the live albums, though, especially the earlier ones. Maybe I'll start digging into the official bootlegs. There's a lot to dig into, and I have no idea where to start.

 A lot of hay is being made about the most recent round of pardons Trump's giving out. He's not only pardoned a mess of crooks whose behavior that got them busted stem directly from them trying to grease the wheels for the President, but also the four Blackwater guys who committed war crimes by firing into an Iraqi marketplace.

 It's disgusting, sure, but end-of-administration presidential pardons rarely come away smelling like roses. It's one of those things I really can't get bent too out of shape over though I know I should. To me, it's just another example of the rot that's eaten the heart out of the American dream, a sign that we've been this awful for much longer than Trump's been in office. I'm glad other people can still get outraged over it, though, and don't consider it a mark in my favor that I can only shrug.

 I guess I have been mulling over the concept of patriotism lately what with all the talk about "traitors" and "sedition" and "real Americans" going on lately. I gave up on the concept of patriotism back during the Bush Jr. administration and what all was done in the name of "loving the country". If that what America is, then I don't want any part of it.

 It's a complicated relationship, though. I've maintained that people who say they "love America" generally show how much they hate actual Americans, and that's what hangs me up. There was a bit in, I believe, a Daredevil comic book where Captain America, that Sentinal of Liberty, says he isn't loyal to the government or the flag or anything like. He's loyal to the dream, and if it's good enough for him, it's good enough for me.

 The Big Trip changed my thinking on this some. From here to Oregon and back, I saw nothing but lovely country and met nothing but pleasant people. I saw a lot of beaten down and depressed, but I didn't see anything I couldn't call home. Once you cross the Great Divide there are differences, notable differences, but I saw Mississippi wherever I went. Good and bad, so take that how you want. Regardless, this is my home and I aim to see it comfortable and welcoming to everyone.

 I think we'll twist it off there. If something clever pops up, we'll come back. Otherwise, that's the day.