Friday morning

19 January 2017

— a newly-arrived, flat, 40-inch screen tv sitting in my living room as if it owns the place.

Good Morning All,

Or let us say: As good a morning as can be hoped for on the day before that sociopathic, egomaniacal, prurient-minded, nit-picking, paranoiac, arrogant slob is ensconced in Lincoln’s White House. The very thought of it defines for me the term heart sick.

On the other hand, Johs mentioned to Holly yesterday during a Skype that while 200  bus parking slots in the capitol have been reserved for the inauguration, 1200 slots have been reserved for the anti-Dickhead march the next day. Johs will be there for the march as he is, alas, flying out tomorrow morning. Holly reminded him to wear a pink hat. Johs allowed he would do his best to find one, but I am betting against it. It is a good and noble occupation to demonstrate against a racist, misogynist, hate-monger who makes a mockery of democratic values, but I suspect even Nathan Hale would have demurred at the thought of wearing a pink watchman’s cap.

Anyway, it will be an interesting four years, in the off chance Trump goes that long before resigning or getting impeached. And there may be odd fringe benefits. For example, those 1200 buses filled with people determined not to go quietly into that good night. For example, the millions of us who feel disenfranchised as a result of the election will likely come to a deeper appreciation of what it means to be poor, or old, or a member of a Muslim or African American community. 

Today is Edgar Alan Poe’s birthday. Some of his stuff is awful, especially when he goes overboard with his sing-song rhyming. But when he is on meter, boy!, is he ever on! 

When I was Boy Scout counsellor at Camp Sachem (circa 1966), I memorized The Tell-Tale Heart, which always went over quite well at campfires. 

I have chosen the first stanza of The Bells, not least because Mr. Poe—in need of a word that does not yet exist--invents one: tintinnabulation, the jingling and tinkling of bells, from the Latin verb tintinare, for ringing.

The confidence of that! 

Go Well and Stay Well,

Bhekaron