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.

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.

Well, I hold up my hand. I'm just trying to understand.

  I seem to have shaken loose from the worst of the blues that have been sitting on my head for the past few weeks. I'm not exactly dancing down the street but it's not as bad as it was. And like with how it came in, I have no idea what made it leave out. It is what it is, I reckon.

 So let's get the News down. Decent week despite my lack of enthusiasm not only for writing but also for existence in general. Monday was a bit on the weirdness going on in Belarus while Wednesday we looked at yet another mass shooting that has become as American as baseball, apple pie, and cheating on your taxes. Friday was a look into the GOP trying like hell to sweep the Great American Temper Tantrum even further under the rug.

 Okay, then. I played a good chunk of Max Payne 2 last night. I know I'm late to the party on this one, but it deserves its accolades. Jumping around in slow motion while shooting people is a hoot. The story's not bad either, even if it shows that good noir fiction is extremely difficult to keep from becoming parody noir fiction. I also spent a good bit of time figuring out how to play Silverfall again. It's not a bad game for what it is - your hack-&-slash third-person fantasy RPG - but I'm not sure if it's all that special or singular.

 Back to writing and, thus, back to angsting that I seemingly can't write anything that flows free besides the News blog and, sometimes, this. Hell, I'm already blocked up. I was going to writing something about Critical Race Theory or the rising threat from petulant right-wingers, but I'm not really feeling it anymore. All I'll say is anyone who uses CRT as a pejorative is probably not worth paying attention to anymore and it might not be a bad idea to get a gun and learn how to use it properly. I'm not kidding. Don't go nuts, but I don't think these yo-yos are playing around anymore.

 Bah. I've been sitting on this for the past half hour and I'll I've done is browse some Red Letter Media videos and look up the tab for "Hoodoo Man Blues." Honestly, all I want to do is lay down and read until I nod off. Amazing, but that's become probably my favorite hobby. The Paul Butterfield documentary, Horn From The Heart, is on Tubi. Maybe I'll watch that. His end is pretty depressing, though bless his ol' heart.

 This has gotten to be like pulling teeth, man. I need to wrap this up and get on with doing nothing for the evening. I do wish desperately I had some of the good smoke. But that's nothing new, I guess, and there's nothing I can about it. That's probably why I've been so gloomy lately, knowing I'm stuck here, geographically and spiritually, for the duration.

 It's going to be a long summer, man.

Not going to waste a good lyric on this, either.

  Yeah, I put this off again. It's just past 11 p.m. However, this time I made a conscious decision to not worry with it until after the evening nap. I don't know if that's better or worse. Actually, I really can't tell if it matters one way or another.

 Still in the grip of the blues, for what that's worth. Things are still tasteless and boring, and there's nothing I want to do but sleep. I go see the Therapist Tuesday, and she's going to suggest traveling, but honestly, I'm not interested in that. I'm half tempted to cancel the session. Once again, I'm just not particularly interested in talking to anyone, much less someone who's going to make me think about the state of things.

 The PowerDraw is still out in the aether and I'm still waiting on the Paul Butterfield book. I am in a weird mood about Butterfield here lately. He really didn't make too many worthwhile records under his name, but he made for a great sideman. I listened to Levon Helm & The RCO All-Stars this evening and that proves it.

 Which, for the most part, your better harmonica players make for better sidemen than band leaders. Sonny Boy Williamson (both) and Junior Wells aside, there aren't many who make better records on their own. Little Walter might be the one who was great on both sides. For sure, Big Walter and James Cotton are better as sidemen, due disposition for the former and the latter's scratchy voice. And I really can't think of a white harp man who, well, doesn't sound like a white guy singing the blues. Charlie Musslewhite's an incredible player, but he sounds like a dentist who plays on weekends with a bunch of other dentists when he sings.

 Okay, what else. I'm still not reading anything or really paying attention to much of anything. I'll probably save this for tomorrow's News, but it seems more likely than not the GOP in the Senate will trash any hope of a commission to investigate what went down on January 6. What's more likely is Mitch McConnell is worried about which Republican congress critters have direct ties to the Great American Temper Tantrum.

 If I had to bet, I'd say we're not going to see a commission or any in-depth investigation into what, if any, responsibility Congressional Republicans or, for that matter, Trump has with the GATT. I'm not exactly sure why McConnell, especially, is so against anything coming up. The GOP is owned by Trumpism and, frankly, they're all down with the idea of "overthrowing the government" A good three-fourths of Republican voters - as in the whole party - refuse to accept the reality of a Trump electoral loss.

 And I don't think that's going to change anytime soon. Trump will be cold and in the ground, and that bunch of weirdos will still be screaming about the election being stolen. They just can't accept that most of the country couldn't stand him. There was a poll concerning QAnon the other day, and it said 25% of Republicans think violence is required to put the country on what they consider the right track.

 Frankly, I'm not worried. If the GATT proved anything beyond a shadow of a doubt, it's that hardcore conservatives don't have the spine to go against any real resistance. They only wish they had half the sand of BLM or Antifa, and when the rubber meets the road, they'll buckle again and try to claim it was everyone's fault but theirs.

 Bank on it.

Yeah, I can't think of a song lyric to put here. Go listen to Paul Butterfield.

 I've been dicking around playing The Witcher 2 all evening and let time slip up on me. It's twenty till midnight and my head's still empty. I doubt I'll knock out the word count before I run out of time, but what the hell.

 Though I've owned all three Witcher games for a couple years I've never put much time into them. I got the first two for less than ten bucks on a GOG sale and snagged the third one for about twenty bucks. They're pretty decent games but they're so damn deep, so much to get into. They're sort of like the Dragon Age or Mass Effect games in that way. Fun but I feel like I have to block out a couple of days just to get started on them.

 For whatever reason, I've had a helluva time of getting on Steam. It keeps saying there have been too many failed attempts to log in, but there shouldn't be anyone but me. After it not working all evening, it's working now. Go figure. I can only guess it has something with us getting the fiber optic.

 Also, we got fiber optic. I don't know if I've gone into this, but they finally got it all hooked up the week before last. We were supposed to get it before the end of last year but that was before COVID sat on everyone's faces and farted. Anyhow, we have it now and we're up to the same speed I had in New Orleans. So nice to rejoin the 21st century at least in one way.

 Speaking of which, I saw the Therapist today. It's been a fairly chill couple of months since the last time I saw her and, frankly, nothing's been weighing too heavy on my mind. So that means it was a "let Matt rant about politics" type of session. Specifically, raging about the shit Jackson has been dealing with since the Big Freeze. Her son lives there and for four weeks he'd have to go somewhere every morning to take a shower. And it's still not really fixed.

 Of course, the state government would rather spend its time banning trans kids from high school, though that's not a problem anywhere, or try to keep people from voting. As it is, state law has it if someone catches a charge on a number of minor felonies like bad checks or shoplifting, they lose the right to vote. Ten percent of the population can't vote because of that and, of course, most of them are Black.

 I really don't understand why Roger Whitaker's taken a hard Trump turn as of late. He's always been solidly right-wing, but he's gone wacky lately. He backed Trump's claim of a stolen election and now he's on the anti-voting team. His numbers must look like hell. Tate Reeves makes more sense. I really think he's gearing up for a presidential run in 2024 or 2028 and he's obviously decided being an obnoxious dick is the way to go. I don't know why, it's done Ted Cruz no good.

 I've topped five hundred words and it's five past midnight. I reckon that's close enough for jazz. I do want to mention my harmonicas. My harmonica collection is growing, I have two more coming Thursday, and at least two more down the line. All are different keys or different tunings, mostly in G or C. It's getting a little silly, honestly. I'm trying different brands beyond the Hohner Marine Bands or Blues Harps, like Easttop or Fender Blues.

 For what it's worth, I highly recommend the Easttop. It's cheaper than Hohners or Lee Oskars yet still a well-made harmonica. The Fender Blues is pretty solid, as well, though the Easttop gets the nod. I've got a pretty good set if I wanted to play out, so, something to consider there.

 But harmonicas are cool, so it's okay.

Tuesday, October 22, 2019

 After yesterday's big storms, it has cleared out and gotten pretty cool hereabouts. Beautiful weather, though. I've said it before about New Orleans, but Fall in Northeast Mississippi is when it shines, as well. What Daddy would call "football playing weather".

Monday, October 21, 2019

 The much-promised thunderstorms we were promised have moved and are slowly easing along. We've gotten plenty of rain but nothing like the nasty weather Dallas or even Shelby County saw. Otis is pouting at me because I won't let him go outside.