Boom Boom ‘Merica; Orinda’s Great Unwashed; Dits And Dahs; And Getting Frisky On The Front Nine

Well, Happy Birthday to us and, yep, our 249 years may be starting to show a little, in our view – and we can’t help but wonder what those hopeful yokels who gathered in Philadelphia to lay out the groundwork for a new country all those years ago would think if they saw how things were going today.

In any case here we are, free of Old King George and the redcoats but nettled by a New Breed of American Patriots in red hats and Betsy Ross regalia, once again clamoring for Freedom, less taxation and – somewhat incongressionally – the mass deportation of folks unlike them.

We know (because you’ve told us so) that many of you voted for our new direction and fully support its implementation so we’re seeing hasty construction of mid-swamp detention centers and political grab-assery as wealth redistribution receives congressional approval blessed by the prayerful.

Locally, the impact of some of those Big Beautiful Tariffs seem to be coming home to roost as businesses feel the pinch of increased costs for raw materials and a downturn in tourism as once-friendly neighbors say “uh uh, no thanks, mate” and cancel visits to our shores. Celebration of our latest national birthday went off despite a few glitches and malfunctions and our indigenous Black Powder Noisemakers awakened on 249-Plus One with all limbs intact despite some close calls. (Ed Note: This piece was written before Antioch PD revealed that several of their residents were injured in a fireworks related incident this morning.)

Orindans lit up our Flash lines with tales of woe this morning as an overnight water main failure knocked out water supplies to a large chunk of the city, the Great Post-Fourth Unwashed heading to their local gyms for a hasty scrub and hopefully a coffee afterward with EBMUD promising a fix later in the day. Oh, the Perils of Modern Man. How did our ancestors manage all those years? Anyway, we sympathize and would invite you over to the bunker for a wash and a latte but y’all are making your way and, yes, that y’all is a signal to an affected caller who charmed us when she dialed us this morning. We’ll see if she’s reading.

Others who are calling or otherwise making themselves known to us include one speedy telegrapher who reported seeing someone blinking an “SOS” (Save Our Ship) message to them in Morse Code on their house lights as they drove past one afternoon, begging a series of questions from us, as you might expect. First out of our mouths was a respectful “You know Morse Code?” followed by “You caught all those dits and dashes as you drove past?” Anyway, police were called and the resident checked on and all was well – though we now know who to call the next time our ship strikes an iceberg.

Another instance fraught with perils of a different kind came when an affronted neighbor called to report an amorous couple engaged in an enthusiastic, al fresco performance of the Horizontal Mambo on the seventh hole of a local golf course. We’ll admit, we were giving points for commitment while issuing warnings about the possibility of contact with a hidden trap rake when the caller signed off to dial police – the responding officer applauding the civilian’s detailed description of the swingers but perhaps fracturing egos with a succinct “Making contact. No weapons seen.”

Let this serve as a lesson as we struggle toward our 250th year together as a Democratic Republic: we may be in the age of Artificial Intelligence but some of us still know Morse Code; water is still precious and sometimes elusive; and be sure to look around if you’re feeling frisky on the front nine – the neighbors have binoculars.