Could be worse.

  I confess I don't get NFT's. Then again, apart from making it easier to buy drugs from certain sources, I really don't get the appeal of digital currency. Both seem like modern manifestations of the Tulip Mania, basing something intrinsically worthless on its perceived value. Granted, things like diamonds and the stock market, in general, have always struck me as a scam, so maybe I'm not the best person to pontificate on such a thing.

 However you want to waste your money to make yourself happy, go for it. I bought yet another harmonica yesterday, a Hohner Marine Band 364/24 in the Key of C. I already had one with soloist tuning but this one has Richter tuning. Apparently, Sonny Boy Williamson II played one. I got the solo tuning by mistake, and I'm not quite sure how this tuning works out, particularly on the draw notes. I don't think it's the same as a Lucky 13 in C.

 Anyhow, one of the recent quirks in the NFT world is pictures of a cartoon lion modified with different colors, clothes, etc. It's a hit on Twitter and, no, I'm not going to link to it. I don't want to encourage this behavior. The selling to-and-fro is getting as much play from the Kids These Days as day trading. A couple hundred bucks for a picture of a cartoon lion. It's not even a particularly good or unique cartoon. It looks like King Leonardo to me.

 As for the cryptocurrency thing, every time someone waxes rhapsodically it sounds more and more like a cult. Several years ago a co-worker tried to talk me into it and I asked him, "Can I pay my rent with it? Will my pot dealer take it? Can I buy groceries with it? No? Then I've got no use for it." Back then, that's about all I spent money on, but I still don't have much use for it. I've always lacked a certain amount of ambition that I figure must be there for that sort of thing to have any appeal.

 You see those guys - often the same guy - who are gung ho about busting ass to make money, to the point where not wanting to make a lot of money is considered a character flaw. I don't know why they feel it's necessary to be so contemptuous of others, because I honestly don't care. Again, I ain't the one. One of the main reasons I wanted to be a writer when I was a kid is that it struck me as an easy way to make rent. It might be, but getting there is a booger. Never did figure out how to do it.

 Speaking of writing, I decided to not worry myself about Gibberish anymore. If I have something on my mind, like this, I'll write something. If not, I won't. And I'm not going to stress about meeting the 500-word count. I get what I need out of the News, even though that will never bring me fame and fortune. This was supposed to spur something else and all it's doing is making me miserable. That don't help nobody.

Hey, I got it done, don't expect too much out of me.

  I'm not going to screw around tonight. I got nothing, in particular, I feel like writing about, but what the hell. Never stopped me before.

 Kicking things off, here's a good piece on the young Black activists who led the charge to change the state flag last year. Our good friends Ashton Pittman and Nick Judin at the excellent Mississippi Free Press. Do check them out. Mainstream media is dying a slow death but, surprisingly, Mississippi's got several quality online news magazines. It's like the surfeit of colleges in this state. Never have been able to figure that out.

 I'll just reiterate, but the kids who're written up in this story are what keeps me sane. They've got no choice but to make the state something better than just a place where folks are from. Mississippi catches a lot of shit from the rest of the country, and much of it we deserve. But people, actual people, live here and try to thrive. It's harder than most people think. We're still dealing with the 1890 state constitution that goes out of its way to disenfranchise Black people. What's crazy is it does the same for poor White folks, which doesn't bother the Powers That Be, of course. Racism is a helluva thing.

 So this has slammed to a serious halt. I got a Golden Melody, another Hohner harp. However, I'm still not up for the compare-and-contrast. It's a good harmonica, though. Nice, bright sound, easy feel, just a good instrument all around.

 It's been a good twenty minutes since I wrote the above. I think I'll watch a crappy movie. For whatever reason, I've got a hankering for the Asylum version of John Carter, Princess of Mars. That's the actual title of the book Edgar Rice Burroughs wrote. I saw John Carter staying in a hotel during my Big Trip. It wasn't bad, really, but one understands just why it tanked.

 I need to get around to watching Horn From The Heart but I don't think tonight's the night. That has to be a night where I can pay attention, and that isn't happening tonight. I don't know why I feel so whipped but I do. Some good brain fluff might be the ticket, though.

 A couple hours later...

 Well, I'm watching Princess of Mars and it's... definitely an Asylum movie. It's only dusting over the source material, but that sort of goes without saying. Guy's supposed to be a Marine in Afghanistan rather than a Civil War vet. It's not bad - for an Asylum film, granted - but it is taking a while to get moving. The guy playing John Carter has all the charisma of a bowl of grits, though. And bless her heart, Traci Lords isn't much better.

UPDATE: John Carter is played by Antonio Sabato, Jr. That explains a whole lot about his acting skills.

 Man, I'll be glad when this sciatic nerve settles down. I don't like moving much, sure, but it sucks that much more when it hurts as bad as this does. Something to look forward to in my old age, I suppose. I bet that's when I regret my monkish ways the most.

 Anyway, I've got word count so I might as well pinch this off. I'm going to leave it open, though, in case something comes to me. I know I keep saying that, but you never know.

You bought it, you name it.

  I keep putting off the Hohner harmonica run down, I know, but I'm going to do it again. I don't feel like I could give it the justice it deserves right now. I want to watch that Paul Butterfield documentary, Horn From The Heart, first anyway.

 Anyhow, the News. Monday was a little bit about the G7 and Wednesday was some background on Juneteenth, which was made a federal holiday. We wrapped it up Friday with how the U.S. Council of Bishops are being assholes about Joe Biden's pro-choice stance when no one but them and the worst people on the planet really cares.

 And they are the worst, don't get it twisted. One of Biden's dogs, Champ, died today and they're having a time making jokes about it. Even worse they're comparing it to the death of his son Beau. I've said it before, I've got no particular love for any president, much less Biden. He's doing a decent job but the job is a shitty one that requires shitty actions as often as not. Most of the "good" any president does - from FDR to LBJ - is to keep the lower classes from hoisting the black flag. The Democratic Party is a part of the problem as well.

 But conservatives are something else, boy. Between this and their spittle-flecked fight against what they think is Critical Race Theory, from the insistence of the Big Lie to the outright refusal to do the very least to get ourselves on top of this COVID business, they continue to show just how much they should be ignored. They bring nothing to the table.

 Some asshole ran his car into a Pride Parade, striking two and killing one. Ron DeSantis recently signed a bill that would remove liability for people who drive their cars into protests if they feel it's necessary. This is just the beginning. Same thing with the gun law in Texas, it's just asking for abuse. I know some are thinking that a Pride Parade isn't a protest, but it doesn't really matter. The very existence of LGBT+ people is an existential threat to conservatives.

 I'm in a bad mood. There's no real reason beyond the Grand Ennui. The family had a nice get-together for Baby Jay and I found out why I'm getting bum notes on the Two Draw, and my brother said he and the wife might come out in July via Atlanta. If that's true, I might be able to get him to get me some smoke. So that's something, not such a bad week.

 I've been sitting on this for a half-hour. I need to get in another fifty or so words. I finally got around to trying out the Mount & Blade games I picked up yonks back. I also gave the Hitman reboot a shot and an old-school RPG called Inquisitor that I don't remember getting. I still can't find my way into the Hitman games and Inquisitor is indeed an old-school RPG, in the Sacred mode. Not bad.

 That's just over five hundred words and that's good enough. I'm not sure what I'm doing with the rest of my evening, but it doesn't really matter I guess.

And if you take more of those, you will get an overdose.

  I really don't have anything tonight, but what the hell. I had thought about doing something on the quality of the Hohner harmonicas I've bought recently, but I think I'll wait on that until Saturday. I was waiting on the Big River harp. It came - and it's a pretty decent little harp, for the record - but I have some thoughts I think need to marinate a bit.

 I'm half tempted to give this a miss. I picked up some Actual Paying Work, two more of those dull-as-dirt lawyer pages. I'd meant to just knock out the easy part of both but wound up finishing the whole kaboodle. So, of course, it was 9 a.m. before I finally went down this morning and all day has been a struggle. There's not much to them, but they're so tedious. I'm finishing up the proofreading while I write this, just to prove I can multi-task.

 Okay, that's one down. I could've picked up more, but man, those things are like pulling teeth. Describing suburbs is bad enough, but when I have to figure out different ways to explain why people need lawyers without repeating myself, whew boy. I enjoy having paid work, but man, I wish I could be doing something else.

 Frankly, I wish I could write something else besides the News. I haven't messed with any fiction since the last stuff came to me in a dream. Maybe I should roll with something from Stellar Tactics because I like that setup. I know I've said it multiple times, but I prefer fiction where the protagonist isn't the Chosen One or the Only One Who Can Save Us. It's one of the reasons I like Rincewind from Terry Pratchett's books. He's just a guy caught up in big things and would really rather not be there. Same thing with Arthur Dent, heroes are overrated. Now, back to work.

 All right, that's all I'm fooling with. Maybe more later, but what the hell. I'd decided to get some harmonica repair tools, but an official kit costs anywhere from $120-$350. So, I got some little screwdrivers for glasses and, boom. I was able to fix the Midnight Blue that was dead on Draw 3 and I'm very happy. Also, thanks to this guy, I was able to figure out how to keep from have a dead sound on Draw 2. I'd thought for years I was blowing out harps, but no, it's just persnickety. Ain't that a thing?

 That's a good site, too, by the by. Lots of neat stuff there, so check it out. It's comparable to Jake's site, but there's no end to good harmonica info on the web. I've said it before, but approaching this from the perspective of learning why things sound good when they're used in the proper place is a lot of fun. Learn an instrument, it's the best thing you can do to rewire your head that won't get you arrested.

 I don't know what else. I may come back, but I probably won't. I may call it an early night because I still sort of feel crappy from last night. What a drag it is getting old, indeed.

Programming note

  I picked up some Actual Paying Work tonight. Two pieces at 800 words each with the option to do more articles should I choose. They look to be pretty simple on their own with the only challenge is trying to come up with a different way of saying the same thing, essentially, for both pieces. Sort of like writing about baseball. Or tennis, Christamighty, that was a nightmare.

 And since I am still under whatever load of fat made of depression, fear, and self-loathing that's been sitting on my face and farting for the past couple of weeks, this is probably going today's Gibberish. I know, try to contain your grief. Unless something tries to crawl out of my brain, of course, but I'm not going to hold my breath and neither should you. I am thinking of writing something on the downfall of Hohner harmonicas, though. I have to wait until the Big River I ordered gets here, which should be Monday. The mail's being a shitass, though, so who knows. Still haven't got my Paul Butterfield book.