Generally, writing about the continuing political clown show in America is more exciting than writing about what are often picayune matters in Canadian politics.
Canada has practically sailed thru the pandemic, in comparison to other countries. We’ve been lucky, overall, and much of that success is because the majority of us are happy to comply with regulations that will help stop the spread of the virus. Things could most definitely have gone much worse.
On what could have been – should have been – James Marshall Hendrix’s 78th Birthday on the 27th we pay, and play, due tribute to he …and these other supreme six-stringers:
I don’t want to play ‘Pandemic’ anymore. I really don’t. I’ve had enough of not seeing my friends and family, of scarcities and lineups that make me feel like I’m in post-Communist Russia, and of people being cranky. I’m sick of worrying about if there’s enough of this or that and if not, how to figure out when and where to get more, and I’ve had it with not being able to just go out to restaurants and socialize like normal people… I’ve had enough.
What doesn’t kill us doesn’t necessarily make us stronger. Sometimes it still kills us; it just takes a little longer to do so.
I’m hearing from way too many people, from all walks of life, that they’re feeling utterly exhausted and unable to stay awake, and yet, when they finally fall into bed, they’re not making it to a good and lasting sleep place. And they’re waking up still feeling a little beat up.
Biden won, 2020 took its best shot, but it’s nearly over. Why this enervation now?
It’s because we’ve got a kind of psychic hangover. This malaise is about a long-term, exhausting, mental struggle that left our brains feeling ‘broken.’
On Wednesday, I began my column by saying “It’s nighttime in America.”
Today, I’m happy to report that at 11:30 am, on Saturday November 7th, the media called the 2020 US presidential election, and named as winners former Vice President Joseph R. Biden, Jr., and his running mate– the first woman elected to the vice presidency– California Senator Kamala Harris.
And suddenly – it’s a new day in America.
The American Dream is OVER. It’s nighttime in America.
If Biden was running for the ‘soul of America,’ he was too late. It had already been sold to the Devil. And its apprentice, trump, along with his squad of overweight, wannabe SS, has now emerged, crueler, more sadistic, and more vengeful than ever, whether, in the trouble end, he wins or loses.
Hey! Did you ‘fall back’ this morning? Remind me why we’re still doing this antiquated clock juggling in 2020. It makes no sense to me. The wild critters milling about on my lawn, without a manufactured care in the world, still wanted to be fed when the sun came up, no matter what time you may call it.
I’m as full of election hysteria as a goose pre-pate – I’m about ready to burst. We’re now three days before “the most important election of our time!” as it’s being called. Get a grip, says I; all that’s on the line is democracy, human rights, and the fate of the planet, for pete’s sake.
It’s been eye-opening (if you’ll pardon the pun) to discover how I time waste while I recover from this eye surgery. It’s hard to see print, on screen or paper, so I’m spending a lot of time on YouTube, watching a ton of political and comedy entries, but also getting knee deep into the murky waters of decluttering and crafting. Should this next Covid wave hit hard, I’m swimming in craft supplies, so no one need worry that their holiday stockings will be empty come December – Glitter R Us! (I’M KIDDING! Or … am I?)
It’s been an odd week for me, in more ways than usual. I had cataract surgery on one of my eyes on Thursday. For a few days before, and still now, a few days after, I’m not in my usual groove.
Bullseye Records of Canada
