Election Day is coming, and the proof will be in the pudding. Or, as the old proverb goes, "the proof of the pudding is in the eating." But even the eggcorn "putting" will do. You know, it's a doggy dog world, right?
O.K. I'll admit that I just learned the term "eggcorn."
But to the point, or my point, at least, we will soon find out if the liberal press is, indeed, fake news as The Don claims. For months now, they have been teasing us with premonitions of a sweep in the house and senate by the democrats, and as I've said befofre, it smells like the Hillary mania they gave us oh-so long ago. It is like every "We've got him now" moment they gave us at each of Trump's fuck ups. It just feels like false hope. As the old "eggcorn" goes, "fool me once, shame on — shame on you. Fool me — you can't get fooled again."
Either way, though, we will not be a healed or unified country. We no longer share, as one people, any unified myths. It's enough to make you want to be Catholic.
I've always thought that if I were to go to church, it would have to be Catholic. They seem to have the most fun. Sure, there have been some bad moments, but that is all part of the color, isn't it?
Before I let go of this brief political moment, how about Musk? Once the darling of the left, now the darling of the right, he is the Poster Boy of everything American for me now.
I collaborated with Chat for this one. It is better than anything I could find online. What is it that C.C. always says? The Lord of Misrule? The Magpie of Mischief? I can't remember exactly, but Musk doesn't need an election to fuck things up. We can't even hope to vote him out of office. When Trump's gone (hear the horns honking), we'll still have Musk, the Government Handout Billionaire. Trillionaire, I mean.
This was my Grok version. I didn't want to waste it.
That's all I have, really, just the inside of my head. My big adventure yesterday was taking my mother to the cardiologist mid-afternoon. He took a look at her swollen legs and made two more appointments for her. We had waited an hour and a half for that. We stopped at the grocers and got to my mother's house just in time for dinner.
Mine is a scintillating life full of daring and adventure.
Oh. . . peptides. Everyone at the Physical Fitness Club is doing one or another form of them, some to lose weight, some to muscle up. The results are pretty dramatic. I've resisted temptation, though, saying it was too early to tell the long term effects. Sorry, but I don't believe we get anything for free. Now that they have been around for a few years, we are starting to hear some bad things. Sickness, illness, disease and psychological instability. And worst of all--hair loss!
But, some believe they will help you live longer. I'm reminded of the old Greek myth:
The Wish: Eos fell in love with Tithonus and begged Zeus to make him immortal so they could be together forever.
The Omission: Eos forgot to ask for eternal youth.
The Consequence: Tithonus did not die, but he continued to age indefinitely. He grew older, withered, and eventually became completely incapacitated.
The Ending: In some versions of the story, Eos locked him away in a room; in others, she eventually transformed him into a cicada (grasshopper), whose high-pitched morning song is said to be his voice.
I let A.I. write that one. But that is what living longer may end up being like.
I think it wonderful that the Greeks had a story explanation for everything.
So does YouTube. Here's another one from my feed. It's country music, the most popular form of music in America. Why? Somewhat, I think, because it is predictable, but I also think, sometimes, it can be just pretty, too. Whenever I am out west driving a rental car at 100 miles per hour through open hill country with the windows down and the hot dry air streaming in, I feel I'm a little bit cowboy, too.
No comments:
Post a Comment