Emerging From The Abyss, Or Sliding Further Into The Fever Dream…

… we mean, that’s the question before us as investigative committees meet, court dates loom, and what we thought were basic human rights are stripped away by people we thought were working for us.

Asked for a decision on where we stand as a nation and a people facing an evolving virus, infrequent mail delivery, sucky electric and Internet service and politically tainted price hikes we’d have to say it’s 6 to 5 and pick ’em, right now – anything can happen and probably will. Let’s just hope it’s not that Civil War II thing some have openly pined for ’cause this country has already proven it’s good at killing neighbors with differing opinions (1861-’65) and with the muskets out there and available today – well, yeehaw.

While we can say that we sensed a lot of what we see coming to fruition now when it first started to bubble up around 2016 – and wrote about it at the time – we’ll also confess that some of the more bizarre manifestations of our time seem drawn from the works of Robert Heinlein rather than the earnest group of visionaries drafting a blueprint for a fledgling nation still largely lost in the wilderness.

Not wanting to touch off those fond of citing the works of the Founders while bending their words juuusst enough to suit their needs, we’d be remiss if we failed to point out that this COVID thing doesn’t appear done with us – this site receiving a notable uptick in unsolicited feedback from folks suffering from fever, a nasty rasping cough, headache and more congestion than Moraga Road on Game Night.

While we have lost readers to the virus – and by that we mean lethally, fatally lost – our immediate squad remains gratefully, unbelievably untouched by the clutching fingers of this pandemic. We credit our good health to practices utilized by Mssr. Travolta in The Boy in the Plastic Bubble (1976) and our refusal to conduct interviews without first obtaining a forehead scan. And, yes, that has made our commitment to mingling with the public we serve difficult to say the least.

With readership rates and outdoor temperatures climbing steadily while new home starts and consumer confidence plummets like the president’s approval ratings, we’re left with a moistened finger held up to the wind – trying to gauge the next shift in direction. We’re straight-arming the realtor who rather haughtily deflected our recent interest in some property with a deflating “I think that would be outside your means right now” but who has been leaving “there have been some market changes lately, are you still interested in Big Rock Candy Mountain (1928) properties?”-messages on our phone.

As we pursue our modern-day acquisition of the mythical Cockaigne we would take this opportunity to apologize to those builders, architects, concrete pros, landscapers and alternative living experts whose minds we have attempted to lockpick of late. Our passions and interests often exceed practicality and, cursed by a certain Irish gaelic stubbornness, we know we can be hard to shake. It’s what comes of dealing with dreamers.

Laying down some words in preparation for a new week ahead always makes us feel better (it’s a writer’s thing) so thanks for letting us blather. We look forward to meeting new readers as well as interacting with veteranos who always have something new to share.

Times is Tough – and we’re nothing if not realistic. Some stuff happening locally and beyond leaves us in a blind fury, some gives us hope of someday achieving that elusive Cockaigne we seek.

Time will tell if we can make it happen.