All-night laundromat blues.

 Well, I did it again. I nodded off reading after supper and woke up after midnight with not one word written. This is the second time this has happened, the second time this month as a matter of fact. It's always on Gibberish days when, admittedly, had I something I felt needed pontificating on, it would already have been written.

 But no, nothing was coming today and, to be quite frank, nothing's here now. We're getting our weekly flood outside but that's almost become boring. I need a shower and as soon I wake up fully, I'll take it. For the nonce, I'll babble on until I catch word count.

 I was doing pretty good today, too. Woke up and hit the gym instead of waiting until the afternoon when I probably would have slept through it. Otis and I took a lovely early afternoon constitutional. I need to do something to change my sluggish mood, and I guess the only thing I can do at this point is to take advantage of the nice weather. The Psych Doc said I need to spend more time outside anyway.

 Anyway. I'm spending too much money on harmonicas, which is actually a sentence I have written before. I maybe shouldn't have bought that Blues Harp, especially since it was in A. That's an okay key, but not as useful as C. Played in second position, it works for songs in D, but that's not quite as useful. Of course, I'm not going to be playing with anyone soon but it's the principle of the thing.

 I've got a three-pack Hoodoo Hohner Blues Harmonica set that was super cheap. Apparently they're not great, but I just want something to blow on. The video I just got through makes them look really bad. Ah, well. The case looks nice. The Bluesband is decent for less than $10, but the fact is you get what you pay for. I may break down and just buy a Marine Band, but the East top makes a pretty decent affordable one. Maybe I'll wait and I buy myself one or two for my birthday. That's an idea. I got that Blues Man in A, maybe buy a Marine Band in C, and perhaps a Fender or a Lee Oskar in G. I've never played one of those.

 Boy, this is riveting stuff, but this is about as interesting as my thought process got today. One of Florida's dirtbag U.S. Representatives, the odious Matt Gaetz, went from announcing he'd take a job with Newsmax rather than run for re-election to being accused of sex with an underage girl. At least one, maybe more and maybe Tucker Carlson is involved.

 And for the record, I only call it "sex with an underage person" for legal reasons. It's rape. Sex with a minor is rape, especially if you're a 38-year-old man. There are allowances for 18-year-olds having sex with 17-year-olds that fall into a gray territory if one wanted to be an asshole but that's neither here nor there. This is not that situation.

 In any event, I am not terribly interested in digging into that dude's trash. He's a nasty piece of work and has shown he's something of a douchebag a number of times before all this came to light. Politics and the media is my beat but this sort of thing is... distasteful. I cannot for the life of me understand why people, mostly dudes, engage in this sort of behavior. Even among us plebes, big generation gaps like that never really work, do they? I remember a friend back in Athens who was pushing 40 and dating a 22-year-old. Sweet girl and he was a nice dude, but it was a fiery relationship, to be generous. Both were much happier after they split up. Another similar situation, every time I saw him away from her - and he worked at a CD store, so I saw him a good bit - he looked wore plumb down because they were always scrappin'.

 I'm not going to lie. In my early thirties, I went out once or twice with a young woman in her early twenties. It never lasted, though, for one reason or another. Usually because I was too weird for them after the initial blush or because - and I don't want to be insulting here - she just acted too young. People need to date close to their own age until their mid-thirties and then stick with the seven-year rule. That's half your age plus seven is the lower limit. For example, I'll be 46 next month so my lower limit would be 30. That's still a pretty big stretch, come to think about it.

 It doesn't matter, anyway, because I ain't dating anymore. I don't know if that's the reason I'm not interested in sex scandals - I was going to bring this back around somehow - because I've never been interested in sex scandals. Of course, this wouldn't be a sex scandal so much as a rape scandal, which makes it even more distasteful. But it will be news for the next couple of days.

 And that's word count so I'll be hitting the showers.

Loop de loop, upside down in reverse, just so we can make another turn for the worse.

 Aw, man, the Bottle Rockets broke up. I just learned this today, but back on March 2nd, frontman Brian Henneman announced he was retiring after nearly 40 years on the road. I honestly didn't realize he'd been in the game that long, but we're all getting old.

 I'll come back around to the Rockets in a minute, but let's get the News out of the way. Monday we looked at the push to make Washington, D.C., a state as well as the push against it, including the whys and wherefores of both. For the record, I'm in favor and see no reasonable, logical argument against it. Wednesday was about the second mass shooting in two weeks. There was another shooting last night but I'll deal with that in tomorrow's wrap-up. Back to normal, I suppose.

 Friday was a discussion about the recently passed voting bill in Georgia. Again, for the record, I'm not seeing a logical, reasonable argument for it beyond "way too many black people voted for Democrats." While things like the water bit might get the headlines, the fact is Gov. Brian Kemp and the GOP made it so Trump's attempt to overturn the results of the 2020 election just because would've been okay next time around. In any event, it - and the ones put forth in Mississippi and Texas - are completely unnecessary to ensure a fair election and only exist to make it harder to vote. Me, I'm for same-day voting and I.D.'s being supplied free of charge by the federal government if they're "necessary," and I'm not convinced they are.

 Okay, the Bottle Rockets. I first fell in love with this band 25 years ago after hearing "Indianapolis" on the local too-awesome-to-last radio station. It was indeed love at first sight. I've always loved my country music and I've always been fond of the stuff that has a little rock & roll grit in it, like Steve Earle and Waylon Jennings, but could also be smart and vulnerable. Like the similar V-Roys from Knoxville, the Missouri group was my Platonic ideal of what a two-guitar-bass-drum band should be.

 Plus, Brian Henneman's one of if not the most consistently amazing songwriters to write no-bullshit rock & roll since at least Dan Baird or maybe Eric Ambel. I can't off the top of my head of a bad song of his, and the vast majority are flat bangers. Plus, he's a monster picker. My brother has said that in a just universe, Brian Henneman would've been the top go-to songwriter for Nashville from the '90s and early Aughts, and we wouldn't be hearing this tedious "back when country music was good" nonsense.

 Speaking of my brother and the Rockets, he saw them before I did. He was at a nightclub in Tunica seeing someone - and there's no telling knowing him - when four scruffy-looking dudes came out and starting setting up equipment. He thought they were roadies. Nope, the Rockets were the opener that night and they rocked it out. (CORRECTION: It was Todd Snider's What The Folk Festival at the New Daisy in Memphis. We regret the mistake.)

 I saw the Rockets maybe eight or ten times, from the first time in Orlando after 24 Hours A Day came out and the last time in Atlanta just before I left North Georgia. I'm pretty sure I've seen every interaction of the band and they were one of the few musical acts I'd pay direct money to for their albums. Them and Swamp Dogg, my brother jokes that everyone else I've "canceled."

 Back when I was a music journalist, I interviewed Brian at least twice and he's a helluva nice guy. He's just like you'd think he'd be from listening to his songs. That's part of the band's appeal and charm. There's no pretension, no gimmick, no posturing. Just straight-ahead rock & roll that's fun more often than not. Dan Baird is still doing his thing but it seems like he's forgotten how to write a hook in the last few years. I'm probably just missing it, though. I know music moves on and the stuff that turns on the kids these days isn't necessarily made for me, and that's okay, but it was nice to know the Rockets were out there banging it out for me.

 But I understand why he's retiring. I didn't realize he was pushing 60 but as I'm closer to 50 than 40, so that's on me. Like most folks, the band's been stuck at home the past year and he says he's just not inclined to change that anymore. That rings true, as well, because there are a whole lot of things I used to love to do that I don't miss either.

 So, thanks, y'all, for the good tunes and carrying the torch. I hope everyone involved enjoys the rest of their ride and I appreciate it they shared some of it with me and the other folks that dug them. That, my friends, is rock & roll. And for the record, all their albums are recommended and the first two have been repackaged in a very nifty presentation with some cool unreleased and live tunes. Dig it.

I never read it in a book, I never saw it on a show, but I heard it in the alley on my country radio.

  Despite the warnings of the Channel Nine weather guy, we pretty much missed out on this week's Big Storm that was scheduled for today. The area was under a tornado watch for most of the day but except for a good, hard mid-morning rain and a persistent mugginess, nothing serious happened.

 Unfortunately, folks in Alabama seem to have caught what we're supposed to have gotten. Reports are still coming in and while it does seem as nasty as what South Central Mississippi caught last week, it was bad enough. Since it's still doing its thing, we'll wait until tomorrow to see how it all washed out.

 Regardless, I spent the day acting like we were getting some foul weather. That means I read a good bit, played some Baldur's Gate, and napped copiously. I haven't had much Actual Paying Work lately because my main vein doesn't need me right now. I know I ought to put some more effort into getting outside work but since I don't really need to - that is, it's not what needs to keep me fed - I don't want to and ain't going to. I'm not really enjoying doing any writing apart from The News. Figure that out.

 So with that in mind, I don't have much to go with here. I rambled on about guns and the country's national delusion Tuesday, and I'm sick of writing about that. Suffice to say, if the rest of the country is fine with things like they are, well, there's a reason I don't leave this hill all that often unless I have to.

 For example, I had my twice-a-year check-up and, for the most part, everything is working as well as it can be for a not particularly active man staring his 46th birthday in the face. Just writing that sentence put me in such a black mood I had difficulty finishing it. I don't usually bemoan my aging or my lost youth, but my afternoon nap brought the "nobody likes you and, indeed, are tired of your shit" dream. I never know where that comes from, as I'm a fairly likable chap. Most people who actively dislike me for whatever reason are generally jackasses on many other levels.

 Anyhow. So much for all that. I've no desire to go diving into my own bellybutton any more than I care to do anything else but blow my harps and pick my guitar. And now I'm just fooling around on my harp, trying to play the riff from The Ozark Mountain Daredevils' "If You Wanna Get To Heaven." Just like normal, when I try to follow others' instructions I stumble and get frustrated. However, when I play it on my own, it might take me a bit to get in the groove but I make it there eventually.

 And honestly, I don't know of a better metaphor for my entire life nor a better place to end.

I thought I'd found a life to fit my style.

 As we all know by now, there's been another mass shooting. I reported yesterday that it took place in Boulder, Colorado, and at the time we only knew of six victims. Four more have been reported, bringing the total up to ten, including a cop. The rest were people at a grocery store, either trying to make their paycheck or shopping or just getting lunch. Just folks being folks when some dickhead decided he had the right to chose who lived and who died.

 I'll go into more detail in tomorrow's news about the particulars. In a nutshell, we know all the names of the victims as well as the shooter, who was taken into custody. He was injured in the leg and has been charged with ten counts of first-degree murder. The shooter in question has an Arab-sounding name but was born and raised in Colorado. Either way, it doesn't appear to be a matter of race or even political ideology that was at the root of this shooting. According to his siblings, he had "mental problems" and suffered from delusions of persecution, so this is the first time in a long time that particular well-worn excuse might fit.

 In any event, the facts need a little more time to marinate and I'll most likely look into it for tomorrow's News. One thing that struck me was the flag outside the White House had been lowered for last week's mass shooting up until early Monday. It was raised back up and stayed up for 10 whole hours. Ain't that a helluva note.

 Another interesting aspect of this case is the paucity of news-worthy mass shootings - and we all know there's a difference between what happened in Colorado and what happens between friends and families all the time - during the last year. That's been, rightly or wrongly, attributed to the COVID pandemic making people spend more time indoors and away from each other. Another helluva note there, if that's what "getting back to normal" means.

 Naturally, this has reignited the whole "do we have too many guns, not enough, too much access, not enough freedom, etc." argument we have every time this happens. It's almost as predictable as, well, senseless mass shootings. I know I've said it here before, but I don't see how that argument wasn't lost when that kid shot up 20 toddlers with a high-powered rifle while they were at school. We spent more time arguing whether or not it was a "false flag" designed to confiscate guns. People who are considered worth paying attention to by a sizable portion of the population actually claimed that.

 Of course, the gun nuts are wetting themselves and are sure this is the excuse Comrade Biden will use to confiscate every white person's guns and give them all to minorities, or whatever the hell they fret over. Personally, I doubt anything will happen, though, nothing significant. Maybe a tightening of background check laws, as this guy had enough black marks on his books to at least make the Powers That Be wary of letting him have a high-powered semi-automatic killing device. Still, I wouldn't hold my breath.

 This is the "new normal" and kids today will never know what it's like to have a school shooting be something that stops a country in its tracks. They'll never know what it's like to go to the grocery store or a movie or a country music festival and not wonder, even if in the back of their mind, if some jackass won't decide it's their time to die because he's not getting laid, doesn't like Mexicans, or just feels like doing it.

 Look, for what it's worth, I don't give a shit about the Second Amendment. It's defined these days - and only since the early Aughts - as an individual right to bear arms rather than a group right, and I think we've all seen just how useless that whole "well-regulated militia" is as a concept. There's an argument going on in conservative circles that it's a strong right than voting because they're pretty down with authoritarianism and think way too many of the wrong sort are allowed to vote, anyway.

 Fact is, your rights last only as long and go as far as the Powers That Be let them. If they wanted to take away our guns or our votes, the fight wouldn't last long and plenty of us would be fine with it, regardless. As a whole, I don't give a damn about gun ownership. I own guns, maybe a dozen shotguns and rifles used for hunting in a gun safe in my basement plus a loaded 12-gauge over my front door.

 I grew up around guns, for hunting and enjoyment. My cousin's oldest boy puts guns together from kits and wants to run some sort of business geared to that. I got family who often goes out with a sidearm, for whatever reason, and "family" includes the folks who make up my little rural community. I trust them, mainly because I know they know what they're doing with guns. They know how to store them and maintain them and, most importantly, how dangerous they and what they're made for. Killing stuff. Everything a gun has a use for revolves around how well it ends a life, and that is it.

 I know people in other towns I've lived, from Athens to New Orleans, who dig on guns and I know they know what they're doing just as well. So, them I trust, too. The rest of y'all? Hell, no. That ship has sailed, son, and the benefit of the doubt is non-existent. I see someone packing, I am moving the other way as quickly as possible, especially those goobers who must have a rifle slung across their backs to make a Wal-Mart run.

 And if this hurts your feelings, tough. If you're going to fight any and all gun legislation, clean up your own backyard first and quit expecting me to just assume you're a "good guy with a gun." Most of these mass shootings were committed by people who didn't break a single law until they made their first kill, and I see no point in running the risk just to keep your delusions of security.

 That's just how it is.

Between midnight and day.

  Well, shoot. I finally let it happen. Due to my evening nap, I let it get past midnight and I haven't written anything. I wasn't putting it off so much as I'm still in my "nap away reality" mood. I know this isn't healthy but I honest-to-god don't care. The level of apathy I'm dealing with right now is worse than it was during the deepest depths of my working days, but just like I have nothing that demands my time, I have nothing to get my head bad so I can look at things with a different perspective. 

 In any event, while I'm waiting for the joint to heat up so I can take a shower, we'll knock something out. First, the News. The Atlanta shootings dominated the latter part of the week, so that's what I wrote about Wednesday and Friday. Plus, I add some commentary to Friday's piece as to why the shootings most definitely had a racist bent. That we're seriously arguing this whole "sex addiction" thing as a legit reason why the shootings weren't racist boggles my mind. America.

 The week started off pleasant-ish enough what with the announcement that everyone over the age of 16 in the state of Mississippi can get COVID vaccinations. Unfortunately, we're also in a position where the dingbat governor is intentionally turning down millions in federal aid because he's snubbing Medicare expansion. It would help over 300,000 Mississippians but I guess since more than half of that would be Black people, it's a no-go.

 Monday and Friday both had News that started well after I should've for the same reason this missed deadline, sleeping too damn much. Again, I'm not depressed or angry or anything like that, just lazy and disinclined to have much to do with a world that seems to insist on being dumb as possible. I mean, people are still trying to claim Dr. Seuss was "canceled" and nothing can be done about it. They're set in the stroke and refuse to let anything knock them loose. Why bother dealing with them? Why bother acknowledging them? Why bother taking anything else they say with any level of seriousness?

 Ah. Something's gone screwy with WordPress, I don't know what. I can't cut-&-paste the entire piece anymore, just one paragraph at a time. It's irritating as hell because I don't see where there's any sort of word check attached to the WordPress site. Petty, I know, but I haven't got much this week. I don't know why I keep doing this. No one reads it, no one wants to read it, and I don't blame them. The News is easier and I wish I'd thought of it years ago, but even then no one wants it. And why would they?

 I feel frustrated. I want peace and quiet. I'm tired of being here and having to act like I give a shit. I swear I'm not depressed, just bored. I finished Six-Gun Tarot and I recommend it. Apparently, I'd bought the third book in the series when I passed through Portland, so I have to decide about that. Either way, I think I'll wait for a while before I do anything. Not sure what I'll start next or if I'll try to power through that philosophy book.

 People get the wrong idea about philosophy, I think. It doesn't teach you to think, it makes you think. You have to put a little effort into understanding it and processing it and making it something you can use. It does wear you out, though. I haven't played anything in the last couple of days. I need to dip back into Disco Elysium or even Star Control: Origins.

 That's enough for now and it's almost warm enough to take a shower. I hope the upcoming spring weather shakes me loose. If not, what the hell. I have nothing to do and no one really cares if I do it anyway. Even the people who actually care about me are fine if I do nothing. Helluva note.

When the blues come knockin', you better open the door.

 Another day lost in the ozone so another night of filling the white space until I hit word count. That's just how it is. I'm not getting paid for this so I see no reason to do it differently.

 This has been a weird week. Whatever ennui has got me in its clutches isn't letting go. Again, I'm not depressed or blue or angry, just lazy and disinterested. I haven't been to the gym all week and I doubt I'll go tomorrow. I haven't written anything but this and the News for a couple of weeks, and more than once I've come close to giving myself a day off.

 I don't know. I do know I need to get on the road for a while or figure out a painless way to get my head bad or something. I really don't want to change anything significant but this probably isn't healthy. I play my games and pick my guitar and blow my harps and pull my squeezebox and read my books and take naps. Lots and lots of naps. Maybe the only thing I enjoy more than naps is that lucid-dreaming time just before you fall asleep or just after you wake up.

 I've been reading an interesting Weird Western called The Six-Gun Tarot by one R.S. Belcher. It's the first book in the Golgotha series and you can tell he's spending most of the book setting up the universe. It's fun and well-written, though, so I imagine I'll get around to the other three books eventually. He's throwing a lot of different things into the stew, from Lovecraftian horrors to ancient female assassins to skinwalkers, and I always like that sort of thing.

 I haven't been keeping up with the news coming out of Atlanta about the shootings, but there really doesn't seem to be much to figure out. The guy shot up a bunch of message parlors because he, like far too many of us, figured "Asian women at a massage parlor" equals "paying for a hand job." But it's not racist, apparently, because it's not out of bounds to assume all massage parlors that staff Asian women are thus. Naturally.

 There was a place in Athens, may still be there, I don't know, but it was supposed to be a tug-job shack. There was also supposed to be a place that a dude could buy time in a glass booth watching a girl dance or get nekkid or both, sort of like a peep show joint. Again, I don't know. I find strip clubs, just plain old strip clubs, boring. It's not a knock against sex work or sex workers, it's just never been my thing.

 It is distressing that's where our society's brain goes to without almost hesitation, not only that there's no other situation massage parlors could be but that it's somehow understandable or not as bad this dude decided he had to kill what he thought were sex workers. That it's not racist to assume Asian women are sex workers because what else could they be, says the Modern American Bluenose.

 Anyhow. I'm rambling and probably not making too much sense. It's depressing that so many people on Twitter mistake "being an asshole" with "being a clear, unemotional, cynical thinker." No, you're an asshole, and maybe if you keep having to explain that the awful thing you just said "was just a joke," perhaps you suck at telling jokes. Something to consider. Maybe stop being an asshole because life is short and you'd rather not have your epitaph be "man, fuck that guy."

 So that's that for now. As always, if something comes up, blah-de-blah-blah. That's enough for now, I reckon.

Someone fetch me my coat and hat and hand me my walkin' cane.

  I don't really have a whole lot today. My brain's lazy. I'm not blue or depressed or irritable or anything. I'm just more sluggish than usual. I've skipped the gym the last couple of days and spent most of it reading, ignoring the rest of the world.

 So, really, nothing terribly unusual, just more so. Luckily the News isn't suffering, as that sort of thing just comes naturally. I guess that's a holdover from the journalism days. Sometimes you have to fill the white space and it doesn't matter that the muse isn't there because the job needs to get done. It's similar to working on a kitchen line, doesn't stop so it doesn't matter, just get it done.

 Beyond that, I don't know. "Cancel culture" and Cardi B's naughty song is still running the discourse on Twitter and I still can't be bothered to give a shit. It's funny and almost a cliche how the caterwauling over that "W.A.P." tune really isn't all that much different from Elvis' hips or that evil jass music causing nice white girls to dance. Or the devil's tritone or how reading novels is ruining young people's minds.

 No shit, culture warriors used to lament people reading novels and even tried to pass it off as some sort of mental issue. They also used to bemoan people reading newspapers on the train in case you thought "them damn kids and their celly phones" is a new thing.

 Eight people in the Atlanta area were shot today, most of them Asian American women working at health spas and massage parlors. They've caught one dude for it. Nothing's been written in stone yet, but as it was a white guy I'm going to go ahead and assume it's something to do with the rise of anti-Asian violence in this country over the past year. If I'm wrong, don't worry, I will apologize to the mass murderer.

 This is because of "the China virus." This is because of "Kung flu." This is due to all you assholes and the former president trying to stir up a little racism and xenophobia in order to distract us from the complete failure to deal with COVID-19 in any sensible way.

 And, yes, this guy was taken in without being shot or pepper-sprayed or put in a chokehold or anything like that. And, yes, it's because he's a white dude and you are a goddamn fool and probably a racist if you want to argue otherwise. And, no, no one's saying he should've been shot dead on the spot or Dylan Roof or anything like that, it's just that it's pretty fucked up that we as a culture have decided that cops immediately shooting black people is the place to start.

 And, yes, a lot of this is on Trump. He encouraged it and inflamed it and never took the time to try to calm it down. There was no reason for it but he kept calling it the "China virus" and reminding everyone he calls it the "China virus." So fuck him and fuck anyone who voted for him and fuck anyone who thinks one thing didn't lead to another because they really don't care about people getting murdered by angry white dudes for whatever reason angry white dudes want to murder people.

 Okay. That's word count and if anything comes up, I'll add it. But for now, I'm sort of tired and, frankly, sluggish in the brain. So, yeah.

Shine on, harvest moon.

 I decided to take a little nap after my evening constitutional, around 6 p.m. or so. Unfortunately, I woke up about 20 minutes ago and it's fifteen after eleven. So this will, naturally, be a little rushed and jumbled and might not make it in before midnight, Country Standard Time. Especially since I have some cake to eat.

 It was a pretty decent week for the news. Mainly focusing on the passing of Joe Biden's $1.9 trillion COVID relief package, that was the story that dominated the news. People really don't grasp the implications of this, one of the biggest for-the-people pieces of legislation passed since LBJ's Great Society, one that enjoyed over 70% popularity yet not one single, solitary Congressional Republican voted for it. A number of them are trying to take credit for it already, naturally, while the rest are gearing up to use it as a point of attack in the 2022 mid-terms. It will be interesting to see how it all plays out.

 I really don't know what else I can put here. I stayed up most of last night playing yet another game of XCOM 2 so I spent most of the day sleeping it off. I have about three or four games going, both with the DLCs and without, and with various mods installed. This one, however, is straight vanilla. I'd say I was between a quarter and halfway through the main story. I haven't taken down any of the Chosen but I'm well on my way.

 I finished the second volume of those "Sherlock Holmes meets occult detectives" short story collections, and this one wasn't as enjoyable. Maybe it's a case of too much at once, but I really don't think it works as well overall. For one, Holmes was too constantly a faux skeptic and not willing to open his mind when the evidence proved no other option. There was also an appearance of Auguste Dupin, the hero of Edgar Allen Poe's detective stories, which were the first example of what we know as detective stories.

 Anyhow, it cast them as buddies when the original stories had Holmes dismiss Dupin as a joke. This one has them dogging on Poe and that's a sore point for me. I'm a fan and how his literary executor trashed his reputation for a century. It's an interesting story and worth looking into. Somehow, a guy named Rufus Griswold wound up being responsible for Poe's work and legacy after the latter's death. He loathed Poe and went out of his way to trash the author. He's the reason we all thought for so long that Poe died drunk in the gutter.

 One of the places I want to visit is Baltimore solely because of its connection to Poe. The Ravens are my backup football team after the Saints because they're named after one of Poe's creations. After Mark Twain, he was probably the first author I was obsessed with as a kid and one of the few I'm still sort of fascinated by. His work more than anything else influenced the kind of horror I like and is probably why I find splatter media so dull.

 Anyhow. Enough of that, I guess. Today's my brother's 44th birthday and that means next month I'll be turning 46. I talked to him on the phone today for a while and he seems happy and content with his life, and I'm glad. Most of my closest are doing well and have found what seems to be their bliss. I wish I could figure out mine beyond "being allowed to nap as much as I want."

 Okay, then. I got to word count with 10 minutes to spare, so I guess I'll post this. As usual, if something comes to me I'll come back to it. And, as usual, I doubt anything will.

Anything you still can’t cope with is therefore your own problem.

 Today is Douglas Adams' birthday. He would've been 62. He died in 2001 at 49 which isn't near as old as it was to me back then. He died that May and that September the whole world went to hell. I doubt the two are really all that connected, but given this universe one never knows.

 He's one of my favorite authors and, depending on the day and my mood, The Hitchhiker's Guide To The Galaxy is my favorite book. It's not just because it's funny, which it is, most definitely the funniest science fiction book ever written and arguably in the race for the funniest of all time.

 In my dotage, I can look back and see just how much that book affected me and how I approach the world beyond its humor. Let's tell a story. It's 1988 and I was in eighth grade. The school's library was having one of its semi-regular book fairs. Basically, it was an opportunity to buy paperback books that were considered acceptable reading for junior high students at a slight discount.

 I couldn't tell you just what I would've been looking for back then. At the time, I was in my "read the classics" phase, which covered everything from Herman Melville to Issac Asimov. Plus humor books, particularly Lewis Grizzard or Dave Barry. Yes, children, at one time Dave Barry was extremely funny on a regular basis.

 Anyhow, all four of the Hitchhiker's books were for sale. This was before Mostly Harmless was written. I was familiar with the name Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy but that was mainly because of the legendarily hard Infocom computer game, and all I knew was the name. Though I didn't know it, I was already a "fan" of Douglas Adams thinks to his work on "Doctor Who." In particular, he wrote City Of Death, one of my favorite stories, and was the script editor for the seventeenth season starring Tom Baker, the only Doctor that matters.

 So, for whatever reason, I decided to buy Hitchhiker's and So Long, And Thanks For All The Fish, the fourth book in the "trilogy." So I read the alpha and what was at the time the omega of the series. I will admit that SLATFATF fell flat on the first read and it wasn't for a couple years that I appreciated what it brought to the table.

 But HHGTTG hooked me from the get-go. It was just so funny and that meant something when science fiction, particularly science fiction literature, was so in love with the smell of its own farts. It didn't take long before I bought copies of The Restaurant At The End Of The Universe and Life, The Universe, And Everything, and managed to read holes in all of them. My brother eventually bought me an omnibus, noting that I had rendered the original copies akin to the Dead Sea Scrolls due to multiple readings.

 Remember, this was way before the internet was in everyone's pockets much less their homes. All I had to go on about DNA and his career came from the rather self-defacing introductions he wrote for his books. So, before too long, I knew HHGTTG started out as a radio play - though I had no idea how this would work, Northeast Mississippi remember - and that he'd worked on my beloved "Doctor Who." This lead to probably the most effort I've put into learning about anyone who wasn't Hank Williams, as I spent the next few years buying up all the DNA media I could.

 I first got the comic book produced by DC which... wasn't good. Then I saw the BBC television version of the radio play which was much, much better. I found a script book of the original plays and LP releases my first year in college. Then, finally, some ten years later, I heard the radio play. That was how the story was meant to be told and it's the best version by far.

 The Dirk Gently books - Dirk Gently's Holistic Detective Agency and Long, Dark Tea-Time Of The Soul - didn't really land at first, but the first book eventually because a close second to HHGTTG. LDTTOTS still ends with a poof, I think, but it's fun up until then. My brother bought Mostly Harmless, the last Hitchhiker's book, and the non-fiction Last Chance To See, at once the funniest, most heartbreaking book you'll come across.

 As the years rolled on and I read more of it - and learned more about Douglas Adams' life outside of writing the books - I got a deeper meaning out of it. For one, how much the books reflected Adams' line. There's a throwaway line in the first book where Ford Perfect angrily wonders why he tied himself to Arthur Dent, the big whiner he is, and then you think he spent most of his career refining Hitchhiker's rather than writing new stuff. Makes you wonder. Mostly Harmless was written as his daughter was hitting her teens and his marriage was strained for this, that, and the other. Makes you wonder.

 Beyond that, I wonder if people got the wrong thing from the books. Like the towels. A throwaway gag which I took to mean how one never can tell what one might really, really need. It still isn't that important or earth-shattering. The other, for me, is the Answer. Forty-two is absurdism and shows just how little chance we have to understand about Life, The Universe, & Everything. Even more telling, though, is the ambiguity of The Question. We don't even know what we're asking, and there you have the last 2,000 years of philosophy.

 More importantly, the galaxy he portrayed gave a glimpse into how absurd existence is. Even advance, galaxy-spanning civilizations have to deal with red tape and bureaucracy. Very British. Other books gave more, like the holistic nature of reality and the Whole Sort of General Mish-Mash. I don't know how much he knew about the Many-Worlds Theory of quantum mechanics, but it's funny to me how much it locks in.

 Mostly Harmless ends with the Vogons destroying the Earth with Arthur and Ford on it, and the last thing Arthur sees is Ford laughing his ass off. Adams said later he wanted to revisit the trilogy because he didn't like that dark ending, but to me, that was the perfect way to end it. Life is absurd and messy, and far too often if there's a joke, you're the butt of it. So you might as well laugh.

 DNA's passing still makes me sad. It's still too young. The 2005 movie was okay. The revelation that all the Hollywoodization of it - the love story between Arthur and Trillian, the addition of John Malkovich's character, etc. - was his doing makes sense. I would say he had more stories to tell but, hell, I don't know. My brother notes he spent so much time trying to get the movie made he didn't tell more stories.

 Maybe so, but The Hitchhiker's Guide To The Galaxy is a great book and a great story. I'm glad it was written and I'm glad it's part of my life. Like Fear & Loathing In Las Vegas or Go Down, Moses, it's a book I'll read again and again for the rest of my life, and get something different from each time. And it's always worth a giggle, and that's not bad a'tall.

 For what it's worth, I don't count And Something Else... because it sucks. It's bad Hitchhiker's fan fiction. I don't like that guy's other books, the Artemis Fowl ones, either, and I hope I'm not holding the turd that is ASE... against him. Because it sucks. I mean, really sucks. Don't bother.

She's got a big, bad record on the heartbreak radio.

  I really have nothing tonight. The day drained me some. Otis had a visit to the vet, partly because it's time for his yearly check-up. A lot of it, though, was questions about his change in behavior and how much we should be worried by his colored, liquid shits whenever he gets into the cat poop. The good news is he's got nothing seriously wrong with his insides, he just needs to stop eating cat poop.

 The bad news is on top of being deaf and losing his eyesight, the vet said he more than likely had the dog version of Alzheimer's. That's partly why he frets so much in the evening. I'll be getting medication for it in a couple of days, but it does make me feel sad. He's pushing 13 if he isn't already and he's definitely lost a step in the last couple of years. The very real possibility exists that I'll see 50 without him and, even worse, his decline will be marked by more and more things he can't do.

 I don't worry too much about my own mortality, but getting old is a serious drag. Even worse, it seems like I have to work harder just to do what I do to get through the day. It's also a drag to see everyone I love getting older and to know that I'll probably lose some of them before the next decade rolls around. That's how it goes, though. As my friend Branch told me years ago, "Life is people you love dying."

 A little maudlin, kids, I know, but I'm sick to my eyes of the whole Dr. Seuss debate. I can't believe we're, what, seven days into it? There is just no reason for this. I don't really understand what the Seuss people are supposed to do. They made this decision, figuring it best for not only Theodore Geisel's but also their own profits. The argument seems to be that due to "wokeness" and "cancel culture," they had no other prematurely option to bend to the will of the SJW's even though no one had complained about it, but that's just stupid. I don't see how anyone with the merest inkling of how the publishing business works thinks that could be so.

 The other issue they seem to miss is the same one people who gripe about mixed-race couples in cereal commercials or movies with female heroines miss. If these big conglomerates are seeing the writing on the wall, maybe your the one in the wrong. Do they really think Disney would take such a stance if it hurt the bottom line at all? No, it wouldn't, you bloody fools, calm down.

 Ah, well. So much for all of that. If I thought any of it was genuine or being argued in good faith, I'd spend more time down in the ditches fighting the good fight. But I really don't see the people - conservative or not - worthy of the time and energy, especially when journalists are being prosecuted for reporting on Black Lives Matter in this country.

 So that's enough for today. I don't know what else. I'll probably spend the rest of the evening blowing my harp and fighting alien invaders. There are worse ways of spending one's time.

I can't come up with anything clever and I'm too lazy to work on it.

  So the chromatic harmonica that got lost in the mail showed up today. What the hell, I got something free to play with. It was a mistake, anyway, as it only has ten holes when it's supposed to have twelve.

 Anyway, let's knock out the news. We stayed close to home this week, concentrating on Mississippi's legislators spending more time trying to usher in a stinker of a tax cut plan and banning trans students from high school girls' athletics. And though it's apparently getting better, Monday was as much a look at the absence of media coverage of Jackson's water problems as it is actual coverage of Jackson's water problems.

 Man, my internet connection is slipping in and out. This is going to be a pain in the ass. I don't know why it's doing it or what's causing the issue, and I'd almost rather it just cut out completely rather than do this on-off bullshit.

 Okay, I've lost all train of thought here. I am not, not, writing about "cancel culture" because I honest-to-God don't care anymore. "Cancel" is all, I don't care anymore. They - whoever "they" are - won't be coming into my house and taking my Warner Brothers Loony Tunes collections. If so, I have guns. I never read Dr. Seuss or had a Mr. Potato Head, and everyone is misunderstanding the whole "Muppet Show" situation.

 This is why being a country music fan before anything else makes life a little bit easier. Way before my politics took its hard left turn, I knew Hank Williams Jr. is a bit of a shitass. I understand perfectly why the Seuss people wanted to pull those books or why "The Simpsons" did whatever they did with the Apu character. I'm just tired of honkies think this is more important than a state capital going without water for nearly a month or a whole party going out of its way to screw over voters.

 I don't know what else. I've talked all I can about XCOM 2 and I'll probably spend a bit more time with Star Control: Origins and Outward before the weekend's over. I'm lazy. Not gloomy or depressed or even angry, just lazy and I really don't feel like I have much to look forward to. I don't mean that in a bad way, either, if that makes sense. Just one day after another and that's... okay?

 I mean, I'm having fun with my harps and my guitar and my accordion. I'm enjoying my books and playing the same three or four computer games. I've developed something of an obsession with Steve Marriott which will keep me busy for a couple of days. I've enjoyed this collection of "Sherlock Holmes meets Occult Detectives" short stories but I think I'll move on to something else. Maybe jump back into Many-Worlds books.

 So I guess that's about it. I just need to fill out the word count at this point. I may go back to sleep or I might mess around with a game, I don't know. I ought to go ahead and finish XCOM2.

Would you cry if I said I'd lied?

  You know, I had the whole shpiel worked out. I was going to rant and rave about the latest iteration on "cancel culture," specifically how it's not actually a thing much less a significant threat to life in these United States. I was going to go off on how you have to actively deny reality in order to stay outraged and how maybe - just maybe - some things and people deserved to be "canceled," or rather deal with the consequences of their actions and words.

 But by the time I got home and sat down and then took a walk with Otis and laid down for a bit of a nap after reading and listening to Little Walter, I found I just didn't care anymore. Of course, I am referring to the recent kerfuffle surrounding Dr. Seuess and, to a lesser extent, the Potato Head and Muppets controversy. Just for posterity's sake, conservatives are losing their goddamn minds about the three.

 The Seuss people decided to pull six of his books from publication due to racist content, and yes it is extremely racist, while Hasbro decided to stop calling the sets "Mr. Potato Head" and "Mrs. Potato Head" but nothing else. As for the Muppets, whatever streaming service was broadcasting "The Muppet Show" wanted to add a disclaimer to a couple of shows where the humor might a bit too risque for the children watching a show that was originally intended for an adult audience anyway.

 And of course, all that is being twisted into a conspiracy by socialists to ruin America because conservatives are not only stupid and gullible, they're also too lazy to fact check their claims of impending doom. I've even read where Joe Biden is supposed to be directly responsible for the Dr. Seuss business, which was actually decided by the people who represent Theodore Geisel's heirs. The other two are decisions by massive corporations who made these moves to protect their bottom line.

 Look, y'all, "cancel culture" is not a thing. No one forced Disney or Hasbro to do anything and both are rich enough if that they really believed they were being "bullied," they could tell protestors to go skip rope. The only person I can think of who's actually been "canceled" and pretty much removed from the public scene is Michael Richardson. After he went on that weird racist tirade during a stand-up appearance, he pretty much dropped off the radar. "Seinfeld" is still on the air, as far as I know.

 Even Bill Maher and the Dixie Chicks made comebacks, mainly because theirs was mostly reactionary pants wetting itself. Louie C.K. is receiving standing ovations at his Las Vegas shows. Mel Gibson still makes movies. Their star may not shine as brightly, but tough shit, you did awful stuff so suck it up, buttercup. The Earth rolls on, and society doesn't owe to you to remain static.

 Well, damn, I guess I went into the rant anyway. Ah, well, it is what it is. I broke down and bought Star Control: Origins out of a Humble Bundle yesterday. Apparently, Stardock and the original creators have made peace and the former isn't shitting all over the latter anymore. It's all right, basically an upgrade of Star Control II without the original names of the aliens. Or so far, anyway, I'm told it changes after a bit. I should take another whack at Star Control II. It's a good game but it gets above me fairly easily.

 Okay, that's plenty. It's late and I'm tired and, frankly, I just don't give a shit. It bothers me sometimes that my initial reaction to far too much of the national Zeitgeist is "fuck it, let it burn."

If I had a bead on what I need to make the moment last I just might try I just might try. I just might try.

  Anyone who's spent any time on Twitter knows that every other day or so, one person's tweet blows up beyond what they expected. The reason it blows up is usually because it lays out some trite "common sense wisdom" from someone who doesn't really need to go there and isn't bringing anything useful to the discussion. Half of Twitter tells them what kind of damnfool peckerhead they are while the other half argues for the same trite horseshit. Something about "not being the star of Twitter" goes in here but I forget how it goes.

 Anyhow, yesterday the big to-do was some woman who works for the NFL Network saying only hard-work and grind will bring success, she appreciates the time she worked for around 16 grand a year and has no time for those who won't put in the effort. What she neglected to add is that she's the heiress to some rich chili concern out of Texas, and was able to live at one of the three homes her parents owned while grinding it out at poverty wages. You never hear that part of the story yet it always comes up, and generally, the right-on's are one dropped spinning play away from bankruptcy at the best.

 Before we get too deep into this, I should note that I am extremely lazy. I might be the laziest person in Northeast Mississippi, which is saying something. I come by my laziness honestly. My momma was lazy and her daddy was lazy. Laziness is my heritage. When I'm on the job, I put in the work expected for the compensation promised. But if I ain't getting paid, I'm not going to bust my ass. You can hustle your way to the grave, I'd rather sit on my porch and pick my guitar while getting stoned.

 This has influenced my life. I busted my ass trying to "make it" as some sort of a journalist until around 27 or so, when I realized I was really no better off in the decade-plus of trying and was probably in worse shape. Maybe it was a lack of talent and skill. Maybe it was a lack of effort and gumption. Maybe it was bad luck, but whatever it was, the end result was killing me while breaking my heart.

 Part of the problem was that it's goddamn near impossible to make it as a freelancer unless someone else pays the bills until the ship comes in. This really didn't settle in until I read Hunter Thompson's first book of letters, The Proud Highway. Basically, he had to scrimp, save, borrow, and steal when he wasn't living off his wife, and this went on until basically, he got a big check for Where The Buffalo Roam. This was a double-edged sword because he became too famous to do his type of journalism. He's said he could've either gone back to being poor and hungry or just give in and play the role, and we all know how that turned out.

 I digress. Reading that, however, lifted a huge weight off my shoulders. Unfortunately, it came too late to do anything about the absolute burnout I had from trying to make a living as a freelancer while having to hold down kitchen and bar jobs just to be able to eat, much less afford what I needed to do the job. I wasn't having any fun and I see no point in not having fun. It broke my heart when I realized all this, and the pain was only topped by the deaths of my father and maternal grandmother.

 Now, I said all that to say all this. Work and grind are fine and there is something to paying your dues in any business. But unpaid internships, especially, are bullshit and you are due proper compensation for your labor. You should have the right to tell anyone who wants you to work for "exposure" to piss off because anyone who expects you to work for free doesn't have your best interests at heart. They will screw you over, and as likely as not, people arguing for "the grind" have someone else paying the bills.

 Okay, so much for all that. The situation in Jackson is finally getting more attention, though I'm still a bit stunned none of the lefty alt-news websites like Mother Jones or Alternet are doing anything about it. Common Dreams does have a nice piece on the situation published today, so do check it out.

 I still haven't got my chromatic harmonica. I went ahead and ordered another one off of eBay from a place called dreamharmonica. Another cheap one, of course, but the first one was a 10-hole and 12-hole or better harps are the ones to get, apparently. And, yes, I would rather Buy American but that wasn't in the cards.

 I started a nifty book. It's another short-story collection of people writing Sherlock Holmes fanfiction but the twist is the authors are teaming the Great Detective with Occult Detectives. Some are classic characters, like John Silence, while some are original creations. The first story has Mary Marston, the future Mrs. John Watson, as Holmes' partner. The really nice thing is they're portraying Holmes as someone who knows he doesn't get magic but doesn't shut down completely when faced with it because of logic or some such nonsense. There was a Doctor Who book with that premise and it always irritated me. It was especially irritating because another Doctor Who book had the Fourth Doctor team up with Arthur Conan Doyle in the Watson role. Those Doctor Who books between the end of the series and the Fox TV movie really weren't that good, generally.

 All right then.