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.

Nah, I'm not even going to bother.

  I'm going to go ahead and get something down. I plumb forgot Thursday, didn't think about it until 4 a.m. Friday morning, and was too lazy to do anything about it. I had tried to remember, honest.

 I didn't even try to fill in Friday. Had a doctor's appointment and ran some errands in Tupelo, so by the time I got home, all I wanted to do was nap. I did know, I just didn't care. I got a really sharp piece on the News about the Mississippi Legislature coming up with a medical cannabis bill that's actually better, best I can tell, than what Initiative 65 would've given us. The rest of the week is pretty decent, too, despite having plenty of Actual Paying Work to do.

 I've been putting some serious thought into making a major change. Specifically, cutting this bullshit out. I might get one or two good pieces out of this shit a month, and the rest is just me trying to fill space. It's no fun and discouraging. I started this just to get back into fighting shape and hopefully make some interesting boil out of it. That hasn't happened.

 So, what I might do is go ahead and keep an MWF-plus-weekend schedule for The News. The music stuff will stay on Tumblr just because it's easier to plug in music or videos and is easier to retweet. Blogger is pretty rickety and I don't believe it'll ever get much better. It seems like it's an afterthought that isn't irritating enough for Google to dump like they did Google Plus.

 Anyway. I'll kick it around but I'm pretty much settled on it. Like I said, not only is it rarely any fun, most of the time it just makes me feel worse. I don't see the point in all that.

 Just got back from Otis' late afternoon walk. He never wants to go far - down to the curve, up to the Old Place, or just around the property - but he wants to keep going out. He's been having a worse time getting around, full-on balance issues. And they're worst after dark. Getting old is a drag but watching your dog getting old is much, much worse.

 Watching a Cinematic Excrement episode on "Mommie Dearest." I've never seen it, but the Smeghead (that's what he calls himself) is talking about how perception can differ, particularly when it comes to abuse in a family. Momma can completely ignore the abuse she suffered from Daddy and Poppaw and then in the next breath tell one of the most horrible stories you ever heard about some of the shit my father pulled. I'm not condemning nor complaining, it is just an interesting stroke to ponder, I think. The mind plays tricks on you, sure, but not near to the amount you play tricks on it.

 I don't cotton much to child abuse. I think corporal punishment is child abuse. I think yelling at your kid is child abuse. I think preventing them from something they enjoy for an extended period of time to punish them is child abuse. I don't have kids and that's one of the reasons why. I do not understand how even what I consider proper parents do it, not going to lie. Not strangling my dog because he spends an hour-and-forty-five minute going inside and out at 3 a.m. So, yeah, forgive me if I judge and take it with a grain of salt.

Programming note.

  I have some Actual Paying Work to do tonight, so this is going to be short. It's an interesting topic, on dram shop laws, and I'll let you look that up for yourself. Considering how infertile my brain is as often as not, I'm thinking about stopping this.

 That is, stop writing Gibberish every Tuesday, Thursday, & Saturday. Half the time I forget about it because most of the time I have no interesting ideas. I'd still write something from time to time when I had something to write about, but I have to wonder if trying to squeeze toothpaste from an empty tube is doing me any good.

 I'm going to think on it. I wonder if I've run this experiment into the ground. The News is still doing what it needs to do for me, but there's just no way I can turn that into anything but a hobby. How all those Substack folks can do what they do and live with themselves, I don't know.

 Anyway, it might just be my blues talking. Once Fall comes around or the pandemic breaks, maybe I'll be in a better, more productive mood. Time to get to work. I'm drifting and if I'm going to drift, I'm going to get paid for it.

He packed no star as he wandered far, where the only law was a hook and a draw.

  I'm really not in the mood for all this. I don't have anything interesting to say nor have I done anything noteworthy the last couple of days but sleep late some more. But, needs must, so let's squeeze something out and get on with our evening.

 I did have a rather vivid, narrative dream. Essentially, it was set in a future dystopian utopia-type of deal. Everything appears great, no one's hungry or poor, but... that sort of thing. There was a powerful central government and everyone was tagged. However, being tagged wasn't necessary for different reasons. That being said, some sort of technology was necessary to do about anything, so essentially everyone had cell phones that were used to do everything from opening the bathroom door to buying a hamburger at a concert. No money, that sort of thing.

 It started with a rebellion being crushed, and our Protagonist survived the last crush by hiding sort of like in Ravenous. Somewhere along the line, - five years sticks in my head - he steals one of the government's soldiers' ID box and claims his chip was burnt out due to an EMP. That sort of thing happens all the time. Riding on a train taking young soldiers back home to visit, he masquerades as a veteran and picks a stop way off in the boonies. Seems like it was in the Pacific Northwest.

 So, he starts walking in search of a fabled technology-free community, basically, so he isn't executed by the government for being a rebel. For the most part, though, no one cares about the war. During his travels, he sees how the Great Society fails like the rebels thought it would but he also sees how it succeeds in ways they never expected. At one point, he comes across a concert and people having a good time, which doesn't mean anything in particular except he has to radically alter his course because he can't actually buy anything.

 Anyhow, as he got close to the mythical Luddite colony increasingly conflicted about everything I woke up. I don't know where it goes from there nor do I know if there's anything in there worth expanding. I do think it says something about my own internal conflict with the good and evils of American society. The richest, most technologically advanced country on the planet that's being ravaged by poverty and an easily avoidable pandemic out of human arrogance and selfishness, that sort of thing.

 Probably related to stories I've read about former Confederate soldiers in a post-Civil War America, a la Johnny Yuma. I've mentioned before how much I dislike my dreams. I like the narrative ones and just wish I could do something creative with them. I guess if I could, I wouldn't be doing this or the News. It's probably for the best, though, as everything I've read lately says making any sort of living as a writer is a rube's game.

 And that's about that. I don't know what I'm going to do with the rest of the evening. I may just go back to sleep or I may play some more Pillars of Eternity II.

Hell, I don't know.

  I'm not going to dick around with this today.

 A little insight on My Day. I usually get up sometime between 7 a.m. and 9 a.m. if I haven't stayed up all night. First breakfast, and then any last looks that Actual Paying Work might need. If there's none of that, it's a news bath until right around noon. Then I take a nap until 2 or 3 p.m., whereupon I go to the gym for an hour. Upon coming home, me and Otis spend some time outside walking the property until it's time for supper. Interspersed there's another news bath, and either I'll play some games or watch some movies or read until I fall asleep, usually around 2 a.m. There's also a good possibility of at least one more nap thrown into all that because I like naps.

 I said all that to say all this. I've been letting the Gibberish slide too much lately. Well, I've been letting everything slide too much, but this especially. I'll think to myself, "I'll have something to write about later this evening," only to forget and not think of it until 5 a.m.

 So, here we are filling up space during the post-walk, pre-supper news bath. And for the record, a "news bath" is a concept taken from Frank Zappa. He'd spend his afternoons clicking between various television news programs. I don't watch television news if I can help it, so my news bath is internet sources. I'm sure Frank would understand.

 Anyhow. While I don't get as much feedback as I'd like, I do get some. Mostly clicks and the occasional like, and that's fine. Once in a while, I'll get an email or a comment. Nothing heavy, just some variation of "I agree" or "I didn't know that, thanks." The latter is what I'm going for, but it's all nice.

 However, and this always comes from Tumblr, I get some utter nonsense. The News posts automatically to Tumblr and once in a while I get some dopey comment from someone who obviously didn't read past the opening paragraph that's repeated on Tumblr, and they decide to get cute. Now, I'm not going to try to figure out why Tumblr is like it is, but I do want to note that I've gotten complete silly shit from gun worshippers, reasonable liberals, and soi-disant socialists, but they all have one thing in common.

 They didn't read the whole piece. Y'all, read the whole piece or at least read the whole section because I do sometimes break it up. But read the whole piece, I beg you. Just because I criticize mass shooters doesn't mean I'm anti-gun. Just because I question what Nancy Pelosi's trying to do doesn't mean I think she's the font of all political evil. Just because I wonder about leftists' actions having any effect doesn't mean I'm hippie punching. And so on. Read the whole piece, kids, or leave me alone.

 And so much for all that. I caught an entertaining flick last night on Tubi called The Night Watchmen. In short, a group of titular night watchmen and a reporter have to survive a night in a newspaper office filled with vampires which are led by a popular television clown. It's a horror-comedy with a Shaun of the Dead sort of thing going. It's pretty witty, isn't too gory, there aren't too many cringe-inducing moments, and it's fairly well-made all together. Check it out.

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.

Tell me the way to go home. I'm tired and I want to go to bed.

 This is getting to be a habit. This is the second time I've done this, not realize until the wee hours that I hadn't written today's Gibberish. Saturday was okay because I had something to get off my chest. And yes, I'm still extremely pissed off about what the Supreme Court pulled Friday.

 I am keeping up with the News, though it was pretty late yesterday evening before I got in filed. That's okay, I suppose, since it gets more attention and I'd rather people read that than this bellyaching. I do that better, anyway. It does rankle me that it's apparently all I can do these days, but such is life. Too bad this didn't happen 15 years ago when blogs were a thing. You watch, I'll be sixty and knocking out podcasts like a champ.

 As it is, I'm blogging, and far as I can tell, most of the bloggers of note either got real gigs or are on Substack. I've got a Substack site but I can't think of anything unique to do with nor worth charging folks actual money for. But there it is, I'd write fiction if I could but nothing comes. Maybe I should just try some straight-up fan fiction to get the juices flowing. Or maybe write some of the backgrounds I make up in my head for my characters in Baldur's Gate or Pillars of Eternity.

 Speaking of video games, I've been putting more effort into the first Mass Effect. Like the Dragon Age games, it's a good story and fathoms deep. However, it requires a massive amount of time and that's what I got in spades these days. I also got further into Call of Juarez: Bound In Blood, as well. Switching the controller for the mouse-and-keyboard setup definitely fits better. It may feel better but having to aim with the right-hand stick has just doesn't click.

 I also got further into Gun and it's pretty nifty. It's been called Grand Theft Auto on a horse and that scans. As much as I dig up the Weird Western, I thoroughly enjoy a good real Western as well. It's important to remember that the popular image of the shit-kicker movie is as much fantasy as a sword-and-sorcery movie. That being said, the actual Old West is plenty interesting, as well. Arguably my favorite period of history along with the Golden Age of Piracy or the Roman Empire. Everyone should have at least one favorite period in history that they don't screw around with.

 Okay, I need to squeeze out another hundred words. The mood's not much better but I've moved into the "disgruntled resignation" phase of the game. Beyond that, I don't know. If I'm going to do any traveling soon, I guess I should do some planning. I think I'll hit Athens if just to get a hold of some decent smoke.

 I'll save the news for tomorrow, but the announcement that the legal dawgs in New York state are kicking Trump's potential court woes into the criminal area. That'll be interesting. Anyway, that's 500 words and I'm starting to nod off. I apologize for nothing.

I had something for this, I swear.

  Well, I'll be damned. Here it is, 5:15 a.m. Friday morning, and I have nothing down for Thursday's Gibberish. I meant to do something. Even had a topic mapped out in my head, or at least something to ramble on about. But damn me if I didn't forget. I decided to go to sleep after supper and, whiff, that was it.

 I must've done this week before last. I usually try to get the News done by no later than 8 p.m. Central and usually shoot for around 5 p.m. Unless I have a topic, though, I generally let the Gibberish brew and bubble until close to midnight, and even then it's just to get something down on paper.

 And of course, whatever the hell I had bubbling is gone now. I have no idea what I was going to write about. I guess I'll just wing until I hit word count, if just for continuity's sake. I'm still on track thanks to last week's Actual Paying Work, so c'est la vie.

 Okay, so I'm going to dip my toe in one of the topics I try to avoid, and that's the Israeli-Palestinian business that's flared up in the past week. I avoid it because, as an American, that's got ethnic roots in neither group, I feel we - as a country - have said way too much about what's going on over there that nothing we can say now is of any help whatsoever. Indeed, I think our country's continual bickering does more harm than good.

 My basic stance is "quit being dicks and figure it out," it really shouldn't be that hard. That goes for whoever it applies to. Otherwise, this is something I stay out of. The question of why the U.S. pumps so much money into Israel is another third rail I'd rather not deal with, except to say we're pulling a lot of goofy bullshit in the Middle East and Israel is another pawn in that game. Far as I can tell, anyway.

 That being said, a lot of people engage in racism and antisemitism by picking sides in the conflict when they really don't give a shit about the day-to-day life of someone living in modern-day Israel, be they Palestinian or Jew. Antisemitism is, of course, an age-old sack of shit that we can't seem to shake loose no matter how resilient the Jewish people prove themselves to be. And we think all Arabs are shit even though Palestinians aren't Arabs, but no one ever said racism had to make sense.

 Okay. So much for all that. Again, my stance is "stop being dicks and figure it out," and if you want to pick at that until it turns raw, that's on you, bubba. Moving on, I got some feedback on my lost PowerDraw harp. The nice man is sending me a new one and hopefully, the screwed with postal service won't lose this one. Either way, I'm looking forward to playing with it.

 I've made a couple of strides in my re-learning process. Trying to build from the ground up, I think, was the right idea. I'm slowly shedding some bad habits and learning more about music theory. Same thing with relearning the guitar. It seems like I do better with feel than the technical side of things. When I played bass, I never went for fancy picking but always slipped right into that pocket. Same thing with guitar; I guess I've listened to so much slide guitar I can fake it, but don't ask me to play a scale.

 Okay, that's word count. If there's anything else, I'll save it for the weekend. Been playing a lot of Star Control, both the original games and the recent reboot. Lots of fun and all four are recommended. And that's that.

Don't you know I done all that I can do to try to get along with you. You're too much, everythin' you touch turns to something else.

  Well, I guess I need to put something down. I really don't have anything collected, but that's never stopped me before. So what the hell, eh?

 Sort of running off Tuesday's essay about the Free State Of Jones, I've decided on a focus for this blog. See, I did that because my buddy wanted background for an RPG character he was playing. My friend - who's known me for 20 years and knows what I'm like - knows I like to look up off-the-wall facts of the universe only slightly less than I like telling someone else that esoteric knowledge before they run me off.

 I had so much fun I told my buddy anytime his RPG buddies needed similar background material especially for something like that, give me a holler. It goes double for something connected to history or with mythology/folklore because that is so my jam.

 He said I ought to do a podcast, which just won't fly. Not only do I have a fairly thick Southern accent, but I also have the tendency to mumble, mutter, and occasionally stutter. As I said, I have a face for radio and a voice for newspapers. And then it hit me: this damn blog. I still have that other Blogger blog but I don't remember where it is. Typical.

 Anyhow, when the mood strikes me, I'll write about Cú Chulainn or the Scolormance or my very strong feelings about Dracula and how every other piece of media gets it and vampires wrong. And, of course, harmonicas. I've done this before, writing about bands I like or musicians I felt were worth knowing about for whatever reason. The worst problem I have with writing without access to herbal inspiration.is coming up with topics. That's been a problem for years, so if you - and I know someone's reading this - have something like that you want to read about, drop me an email at matt7542@gmail.com.

 So that's going to be the new thing I do. Just not tonight, because nothing's kicking and I haven't had my nap today. Otherwise, we've had two mass shootings in the past 24 hours, one in South Carolina and one in Texas. The South Carolina shooting wound up being done by a former NFL player who killed a local doctor and his family before shooting himself dead. The Texas one was done at a cabinet company, injuring five and killing one. The suspect is in custody. No one knows why either went down.

 So that's, what. four mass shootings in the past three weeks? Joe Biden announced today his administration would do something about guns, but how that will go is anyone's guess. One thing I find interesting was how many conservatives were throwing fits that the media wasn't covering the South Carolina shooting even though every single one of them included links to the Associated Press' story on it.

 These people are, of course, disingenuous and from the get-go. If you're taking conservatives at their word, you have no one to blame but yourself. In any event, every one of them said the media was "suppressing" the story because it didn't fit their "narrative."

 I never understand this. What's the "narrative" supposed to be and why is the corporate-owned media pushing it? I know conservatives think the media is trying to make everyone cool with LGBT+ and not racist, but that's because they're too dumb to realize these big-time corporate entities ran the numbers and figured out losing bigotted assholes wouldn't cut into the bottom line enough to worry over.

 And if they'd just take it down a notch, they'd had nothing to worry about. The South Carolina shooting was all over the news until the Texas shooting knocked it out. Honestly, I don't think people who complain about the media really have much idea how the media works nor do they want to learn so long as they can complain about something.

 Okay, then. I believe that's all I have this evening. Any of y'all got something you want to see me go off on, let me know. Weird history, mythology, folklore, Fortean phenomenon, serial killers, cowboys, pirates, possible faster-than-light travel drives, and, of course, harmonicas and country music. Especially country music, to be quite honest.

It's stormy in the North but karma in the South.

  Seems to be thawing out here in Enon Holler. We had a cold snap last night, but it got up into the high 40s during the day. I sort of hate to see the snow go as that stark white is a nice change from constant green and brown. Still, to everything turn, turn, turn.

 Otis is getting stir crazy. We haven't taken a walk all week apart from a quick trot down to the mailbox. He didn't like the snow, though. He's just heavy enough to fall through the ice/snow crust every few steps but not all the time. Confused the hell out of him and he didn't care for the cold. Plus, I don't have any footwear that'd be good for such weather. Hopefully, it'll all dry out soon.

 Anyhow. Naturally, Winter Storm Uri dominated the news this week so it was the main topic of conversation in The News. There were some other things. Monday looked at the suggestion for a 9/11-style commission on the January 6 riots at the Capitol, and how screwed up that "9/11" is an adjective. Still can't get used to that. Wednesday was a quick look at just why Texas, in particular, suffered so spectacularly and Friday offered some good news on the COVID-19 front.

 In all honesty, this wasn't a good writing week. Something about the weather made me a bigger slug than usual. Perhaps I am part bear. I dread trying to put together tomorrow's News weekend wrap-up. I also haven't done much fiction writing, either, though I did start putting the pieces together for another idea/world/waste of time. Long story short, it'll be a low-fantasy detective novel. Sort of like The Witcher where monsters and magic and elves and all that exist, but they're not as ubiquitous as you'd find in Dungeons & Dragons.

 I'm also considering giving the magic a sinister bent, like good magic exists but bad magic is much, much easier to do. I think we'll have multiple deity-like characters but more along the lines of The Elder Scrolls in that they exist, can be prayed to, and occasionally intervene, but for the most part, they're interested in their own higher-plane shenanigans and don't care about the mortal world.

 This one has closer to a plot than the Weird Western or the Space Opera, but that's because a whodunnit is a plot almost in and of itself. I've gotten some good advice from friends and fellow writers on figuring out a story or narrative or what have you, but I really haven't had the drive to make 'em work. Again, worldbuilding is way too much fun.

 And that's about it, really. The news this week just didn't move me, I'm still looking for a new book to read (I have plenty, don't suggest anything), and I did get pretty deep into Nexus: The Jupiter Incident. It's an older game but fun if you're into real-time strategies and harder-than-usual science fiction. There's a Battlestar Galactica that it's supposed to be like. I have that but so far haven't been able to crack that nut.

 I managed to completely erase every song in the Rock genre I had on iTunes, so that's getting all my attention. I really need to get this computer looked at, these slowdowns are getting up my nose. I've decided to just take advantage of Apple Music I pay ten bucks for every month rather than download and reinstall everything. Some stuff I have isn't on Apple Music, so there's that, and my own peculiar kinks mean that losing all the organization I did being gone is the worst part.

 Hey, kids, I know it's not all that interesting but I have no desire to berate anyone or anything right now. That's how it is sometimes. Catch me next week.

And it sure smells like snow in Bossier City.

  We're into Day Four of the Big Freeze, and it's loosening up some. We got a bit of a thaw last night and the roads opened up so people could get around. We're supposed to drop down into the teens tonight, though, so tomorrow's going to be a mess. Luckily, I don't have to get out in it.

 Of course, I have nothing to work with. Hibernating isn't good for the creative juices, I suppose, and I'd whip a bear for a joint. I miss that little bit of reality warp a good lungful brings. I took one of those Klonopin the Psych Doc prescribed but that's just no fun at all. It's like being underwater for too long, if that makes sense.

 I suppose we could discuss Ted Cruz's latest foolishness, but I don't really feel like there's a point. Anyone who doesn't know Cruz is an irredeemable sleazeball is fine with the way he does things, so it shouldn't come as a surprise to anyone he'd pull something like this. Nor is anyone surprised his wife's "friends(?)" would drop a dime on him when he tried to blame it all on his kids. No one likes him, this isn't a question.

 I guess the only thing that I'd like to see one of these bozos not do the whole "I had no idea my running off to a resort vacation while the residents in my state froze to death would look bad, I'm so ashamed" thing because it never comes off as genuine. Asshole, you're just burnt you got caught out bad and didn't think people would criticize you for it.

 I wish they'd roll with that just once. "Hell yes, I went to Cancun. This state is already a shithole even when you have power and running water. I did on your dime, too, proles, and the only thing I'll be doing when I get back to Washington is insult another celebrity and plan a "fact-finding trip" to Switzerland for this summer. And you pigs will love it so long as I let you hate gays and cut taxes on the rich." Just once.

 Anyhow. Fuck Ted Cruz in general. His loathsomeness goes beyond his politics. I'm sick of all these ambulatory congealed fat colonies. I know such cheap, third-rate crooks are nothing new in politics, but it'd be nice if all this got boring again. I've cut way back on Twitter since the January 6 Embarrassment because, occasionally, I have to drop out. Since I'm forced to pay attention to keep up with The News, playing with Twitter for fun, well... it isn't all that much fun.

 I've got another world-building thing brewing. No story, still, but this one might be a closer thing. I'm picturing a low-fantasy Forgotten Realms setting wherein a semi-retired adventure has to solve mysteries, a la Kinky Friedman's detective novels. It'll probably be a day or two until it marinates enough to put down on paper.

 I only need five more words, and that right there got 'er done. The usual rules apply, if something comes to me, I'll come back. I doubt it, though. Maybe I'll work on the fiction some, see how that goes.

You fascists are bound to lose.

 It's Saturday again and it's been another week. The second impeachment of ex-President Donald Trump dominated both the news and the News. Really, apart from Mississippi State Bill 2765, that's pretty much all I wrote about Monday, Wednesday, and Friday.

 And it all ended this afternoon like a fart in a hurricane with a vote of 57-43 to acquit. Off the top of my head - and I'm too lazy to look - I don't know if the two-thirds rule that could be affected by getting rid of the filibuster applies here, but it does seem kind of dumb that Trump got away despite the most bipartisan vote to convict in history.

 We'll look more at it tomorrow after it's had a day to marinate both in the public and in my own head. No one's really surprised that Trump was acquitted, not really. The number of GOP who voted to convict is a bit of a surprise and it's something to ponder just what all this suggests for the future of the Republican Party. But, as I said, that's a discussion for a later time. If I remember, of course.

 I do believe Seasonal Affective Disorder has sat on my head. The last couple of days has been a struggle to do much more than go back to sleep. It's a weird feeling. Not depressed or gloomy so much, maybe a bit melancholic and wistful. Part of it or, perhaps, most of it is due to the weather. It's cold and grey, and will probably get down in the twenties tonight. Perfect weather for staying and contemplating your navel.

 Tomorrow is Valentine's Day. It probably comes as no surprise that I've never had much use for that particular holiday. I've had two different romantic partners tell me I am a man without romance in his soul, and who am I to argue. If my partner put it on a pedestal, I'd do a dinner or at least a card, but if she didn't I barely noticed. I've always wondered, though, if people who weren't making money off it actually liked the holiday like they do Halloween or even St. Patrick's Day.

 But I've spoken a number of times about my current bewilderment about my romantic history, or lack thereof, so enough of that. Frankly, it's drifted out of my mind and I have no desire to stoke that flame. I finished the second book in Wallace Henry's Shock series, Blood Shock. Apparently, there's more to it, and if there's a problem with it at all is I don't really think it needs to be a series. As I said, the rhythm is weird to me and I believe it's because it strikes me as a bit unnecessarily padded to stretch it out.

 In any event, the next book isn't available so to hell with that. If I still remember when it comes out, I'll worry about it then as there have been enough twists to make me wonder what happens next. I'm not sure where to go next. I have The Lathe of Heaven by Ursula K. Le Guin on deck and I need to make sure I'm in the right frame of mind. Her books are heavy and ask a lot of the reader. The difference between that and, say, Blood Shock is the difference between a steak dinner and a bag of popcorn. Both are enjoyable, but only one takes a while and sticks with you after you're done with it.

 Okay, that's word count. This is pretty insubstantial and I'm not going to pretend it isn't. I'm not very positive about the whole writing thing right now, to the point where I don't want to think about it much less write about it. So that's that. If something comes up, yadda yadda, otherwise I'm saving it for tomorrow's News.

Such are the dream of the everyday housewife.

  I've treated today like the rainy, miserable lump it was, so we might as well put something here before midnight comes around. I had something for this before I took a nap, but my dumb ass didn't write anything down. So, if nothing else, we'll start with the News.

 It was a solid week of news. Nothing too deep or earth-shattering, but it got the job done. Monday, actually, I went off on a tangent about Aberdeen. It's actually what I really like doing, telling stories that aren't being told. Or stories that aren't being told a certain way.

 Wednesday and Friday, as much as I hate to, gave a little attention to Kyle Rittenhouse's one-man Bonnie & Clyde week. This isn't a case of "oh, don't give it attention" nonsense. I don't follow that stroke nor do I give it any credence. The news will be told whether you tell it or not. It's because that kid's situation is so risible and irritating. If he wasn't a middle-class bourgeoise cracker spawn and if he had shot anyone but dirty protestors protesting Authority getting away with what it wanted to do, he'd be up under the jail. Same with Reality Winner and the lack of interest in her plight from the "dirtbag left," whatever the hell that is.

 There was also a little on the COVID-19 stimulus package Biden is trying to get through and some of the bullshit ICE proves that really doesn't help the "why, no, we're not fascist stormtroopers, we have good intentions" is nothing but horseshit. Like with Authority giving Rittenhouse a pass, we've been slapped in the face with that stroke so much over the past decade, I can't believe we expect people to believe us when we say we don't see it.

 In a lazy mood, I guess. It started early in the week and has just gotten worse. I think the whole "Johnny Paycheck as the Avatar of why progressive/populist movements generally shoot themselves in the foot" thing that came out Monday sort of wrecked things. That and my head's been thick into easing back into whatever my "space opera" turns out to be. 

 Again, though, it's still a case of world-building being much easier than coming up with an actual story. I am going to have a booger of a time coming up with alien names, planets, etc. So far I've been using Star Control names as a placeholder. I've decided to completely give up on any "hardness" and just raise hell. I am going to stick with my "different species can't breed" rule, though. I never have figured out how that's supposed to work.

 I'll use a modified Alcubierre drive for in-system travel and the whole quantum wormhole with jump gates thing for traveling to different sectors. I think my favorite display of a galactic community is the one in Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, so it'll be closer to that except not as funny. The alien federation says you can either join us, leave us, or get pounded into dust, humanity, it's your choice. Just seems practical, especially if I'm not farting around with hard scifi. It's enough damn work trying to come up with a story.

 In any event, that's the word count and I believe that's enough for tonight. Tomorrow's the Super Bowl and I don't care. However, since Tom Brady sold his soul to Dark Powers From The Dawn Of Time, I'm going with the Buccaneers over the Chiefs. Even money, though, I wouldn't give more than 10 points on it.

There's no guesswork in the clockwork of the world's heart or mind.

  I use the phrase "that's politics, baby" a lot but I don't think I've really defined what it's supposed to mean. Basically, regardless of how nonsensical or petty or wasteful something done by either party seems to be, if it's legal it's okay in that it's all part of the process. The Game, if you will. In fact, it's expected as there's more to politics than dull speeches and empty promises.

 There's an old saying that learning about how politics actually works is like learning how sausage is made. You're better off not knowing because reality can be stomach-turning. Before we get too deep in the big muddy, I do want to emphasize that I have no formal training or particularly special expertise on this matter. My degree was in journalism, but I spent more time interviewing bikers and musicians than I did state legislators or city aldermen.

 This is just the cynical ramblings of someone who's been fascinated with the process for roughly thirty-six years, ever since Ronald Reagan stomped Walter Mondale like a government mule. I had to pay attention to election night for a school project, and between that and trying to understand the jokes in Bloom County, I've been hung up on it ever since.

 As my own political compass evolved and drifted further left over the years, my fascination with the process has only deepened. Add in my natural cynicism and lack of a romantic soul, I think it gives me a somewhat unique perspective on why American politics works out the way it does. For example, a lot of Trumpists are unable to understand why Joe Biden, a man with all the charisma of dry toast, got so many votes across such a broad political spectrum. Or, for that matter, why the Democrats would go ahead with this second impeachment even though Trump is on his way out regardless. Or why so many Republicans would drop him like a bad habit after last Wednesday's Capitol siege even though it infuriated the Trumpists.

 It's not always pretty, it's not always logical, and it's not always evident why it's being done in the first place. That's politics, baby. Of course, the problem arises when one side plays the Game by different rules they expect from the other side. And while I am very left-leaning, my interest in anarchism allows me to take a grander view, I think. I don't like the evils of the U.S. government, for example, but I understand why we have one and, maybe, why we need one. I may be all in for Medicare For All but I understand why Bernie Sanders failed to get a broad consensus on the matter. Doesn't mean we shouldn't try to fix the government and that doesn't mean that M4A isn't a goal to work towards.

 I said all that to say all this, though. In the last four years, we've all learned just how little we know about politics. It's a messy business. Bernie Sanders is sharp enough to understand that if he wants to get M4A, he has to work with the rest of the Democratic Party and can't just tell them to go skip rope. It's also probably why McConnell is falling on his sword trying to scrape Trump off the GOP's shoe. Politics is a long game and it's never, ever quick, clean, and pretty, and the sooner we acknowledge that the sooner we can grow up as a people and advance as a society.

 That's partly why I can't seem to shake loose this political writing. My mind's trained in journalism and I'll always be fascinated with the Game, but I'd love to have the inspiration to write about something, anything, else. I realize that a lot of it is simply because I don't get around much anymore. Back when I was interviewing bikers, musicians, and the rest and getting their stories, I had more places to go. Now, the best I can do, fiction-wise, is character sketches and thinly veiled fan fiction.

 Anyhow. As I write this, it's 7:20 in the morning. I could tie it off here but I think I'll let it hang until at least this afternoon in case something else pops up.

The regular Thursday thing.

  While it's only 8:30 a.m. and my brain hasn't even come close to getting in gear - maybe around five this afternoon - I'm going to go ahead and put something down here. I have some Actual Paying Work to do tonight. Not as much as last week, just one piece, but the ol' creative juices have been a bit on the dry side lately.

 I couldn't tell you why. The News has been fine, there's always some goofy shit there to write about. I'm just a bit drained here and, quite frankly, disinterested in the latest round of delusion by Trump dead-enders. Something about a DNI report on the way is the new hotness. I don't know and I don't care, coach, wake me up if it actually turns out to be something.

 Today is the day James Booker was born and the day Hound Dog Taylor died. I share a birthday with the latter. Different years, obviously, but I was born the day he died. Unfortunately, I'm not quite as subtle and skillful a slide guitarist. Anyhow, I thought that was interesting. I understand if no one else does.

 So much for now. It's time for breakfast.

I know that you know that I'm wrong.

  Much like this weekend, I'm writing this around 11 p.m. because I really don't have much going on in my head. I stayed up too late writing and reading last night, so I wound up sleeping most of the day. Maybe I should count what I wrote last night because technically I wrote it today.

 I didn't wind up saving it, though, and it was less coherent than the fiction sketches I've been doing. Granted, I haven't been messing with them much lately. Waiting for another spurt of creativity, I guess. No, last night was basically jumped up Twitter posts but ones not even worth posting so there's that there then.

 But it is writing and it is the mechanical process and I guess that's what is really important, right? Write even though it doesn't make sense or it isn't going anywhere? Of course, now Otis is acting like a little shit and I have to watch he doesn't destroy something having his little fit for whatever the reason he has his those fits. I wonder if he wants treats. Let's try that.

 Well, that seems to have calmed him down some. He's at least stopped trying to climb the bookshelf, though he's still shivering and whining. The down mood I was in this weekend is still around, with a touch of irritation. I wish for the life of me I could figure out what his hang-up is. He doesn't want to play or eat or go outside, the only constant is I have to be around. For the longest time, he was mad at me for leaving him while on the Big Trip, but that seems to be gone. He seems to have adjusted well enough to our new life and, for the most part, it seems he prefers it over life in New Orleans.

 Anyhow. Hey, I finally caught some decent movies on Tubi. One was called Demon Squad. A very low-budget affair with some dodgy action, it was sort of a supernatural noirish take with demons and magic relics. Sort of like Cast A Deadly Spell or a better version of the Alone In The Dark adaptation, perhaps the tv adaptation of the Jim Butcher books. There was some good make-up work and lead Khristin Fulmer did a solid job in the role of swaggering, smart-ass private dick Nick Moon. It was low budget but they made the most of what they had. Recommendation.

 The other was perhaps better with a higher budget. It was called I Had A Bloody Good Time At House Harker. I'm wary of indie-made horror comedies with long titles, but this was pretty good. Long story short, the descendants of Jonathan and Mina Harker deal with scorn, poverty, and the return of vampires. Again, they did pretty good work with their budget and there were parts that were actually funny. There's nothing worse, I mean nothing worse than a comedy that is not funny. This gets a Recommendation, too, so check both out if you have a couple hours to kill.

 Hey, that's word count. Nothing was said, of course, but it's the journey not the arrival, right? I hope so.

You know how people are. They can't stand to see you be exactly who you are.

 Six more days. Less than a week. Is it getting dumber? Yes, yes it is.

 I think it's time I do a little more explaining on how I approach the News. For what it's worth, for the Gibberish - this here - I do whatever I damn well please. Anyhow, when picking sources for links, my only rule is if it's a local story, try to use a local link. Otherwise, go nuts. There are a couple of far-right sources I won't mess with because anything useful they might provide will come from someone not skirting libel laws. But as far as it goes, Fox News or The Wall Street Journal is just as good as MSNBC or The Washington Post to make my point, and there's little intrinsic difference in The Daily Beast or Politico.

 I trust you to wade through whatever bias there is because as I've said a number of times before, every news source has a bias and anyone that claims not to is lying. Impartiality is a goal to strive for, sure, but in the real world, it's almost impossible out of stock quotes or box scores. That's just how it is. Even at the very bottom, every news source is a business trying to make rent, so there'll be bias there. And hell, that's probably the strongest bias there is.

 The same goes for partisanship. Back in the day when your average city had half-a-dozen daily publications, most of them wore their partisanship on their sleeves. The election of a particularly controversial official might spawn three or four new rags all by itself. So long as they acknowledge the partisanship - or at least wear it close enough to their sleeve that it makes no difference - I have no problem with it. Again, I trust my readers to be able to see past the partisanship. News doesn't exist in a vacuum. It's not like the speed of light.

 By that same token, I don't put much stock in names. When I was a baby journalist, sure, there were reporters I took far too seriously. And, sure, there are folks I like to read because they're good writers. But most of the journalists I follow because of the beat they're on, like David Neiwert on white nationalism or Greg Palast on voting rights. The rest? Well, your heroes will always, always let you down usually through no fault of their own, just because they're human. I mean, I admit to my admiration of Hunter Thompson's skill as a wordsmith and the way he approached the job, but I know enough to not take him too seriously.

 Now, I said all that to say all this. The big kerfuffle on Twitter today - or one of them anyway - was the split between Glenn Greenwald and the publication he helped to found, The Intercept. Apparently, it's over the mag's disinclination to take the Hunter Biden laptop pseudo-story as given while like the overall narrative that sometimes the big-time media's selectiveness in what it chooses to cover is to the detriment of the public. Here's The Intercept's take and since I can't find Greenwald's take, here's one from fellow traveler Matt Taibbi.

 Before we get too deep in the weeds here, I have to say I really don't give much of a shit about Glenn Greenwald. He's won a Pulitzer, good for him. I read his blog back during the Iraq War days on a fairly regular basis and he was good on that beat. I cooled towards him as the decade wore on, mainly because he had such a hard-on for Ron Paul, a man I've considered a pseudo-fascist con man and just another political dirtbag for going on 20 years. If that upsets you, tough titty, it's not up for debate.

 I dropped out of things halfway through the Obama administration, so by the time I got back to politics in general and Twitter in specific, around 2016 or so, Greenwald for all intents and purposes seems to have morphed completely into a tweet-feud champion. I think the first time he drifted back across my radar was his first appearance on Tucker Carlson's show. Carlson is not only a complete joke and a rotten human being, he's a white supremacist in the "lapdog for billionaires" mode. It was said Greenwald only went on his show because no one else would take him, but that doesn't speak highly. Again, this is not up for debate, and you're welcome to cry more about it.

 So I am obviously not "unbiased" about this and I'm not claiming to be. But I'm not expressing the outright glee a lot of folks on Twitter are at this news. Again, I really don't think the particulars are important much less interesting, the whos and the whats. What I do think is worth discussing is Greenwald's claim he's being censored, and that is incredibly stupid.

 What he's being is "edited" and that's part of the gig. It's being said he had a clause that no one could edit his stuff and that is, well, fucking stupid and disastrous for a writer. Really, for any creative endeavor, not having someone in the process with the swing to say "hey, let's think about this first" runs the danger of choking to death on the smell of your own farts. Doug Sahm's best music was made when Jerry Wexler was at the helm, for example.

 I won't lie, when I was a baby journalist I hated being edited for content. Especially when I wasn't involved in the process, it used to drive me nuts. But the older and wiser Matt understands that having an editor helps make things better and more focused. God knows, this stuff tends to ramble on and would probably be better with someone reading behind me.

 If that's true, though, it's pretty sad as Greenwald is 53. Furthermore, any claims of him being "censored" when by all appearances he quit on his own does little more than damage actual claims of real censorship, like when a state government prohibits its staff from talking about climate change or the federal government makes demands on Voice of America to pump up the Trump Administration.

 Best I can gather, Glenn wasn't forced out. He quit and the folks at The Intercept told him not to let the door hit him in the ass. Sort of like when Bari Weiss quit The New York Times op-ed staff in a huff, no one was all that bothered she wouldn't be in the office Monday morning. There's undoubtedly a lot of office politics going on here that's finally bubbling up, but I don't think it's really important and I really don't care.

 What this all boils down to is whatever censorship is, it is emphatically not "people disagreeing with you." Because you decide to quit a gig that won't let you do whatever the hell you want without any criticism, it doesn't mean you were "forced out." And people who disagree with aren't necessarily doing it because they're "neoliberal shills," they may simply think you've shat the bed once too often to be taken seriously anymore. Just how it goes, buckaroo.

 That's all of that, I think. Billy Joe Shaver died this week and that's a bummer. Johnny Bush died last week and that's a bummer. Otis is going through his nightly freak out and it's making my blood pressure spike. Where it goes from there, nobody knows.