What would I do with the extra time if I didn’t have to sleep? Probably fret a bit, because I have a fair amount of time on my hands as it is, and I don’t do much with it.

In a perfect world, maybe I’d work a graveyard shift somewhere, so I could have the extra money to furnish a decent wood shop, with projects lined up and the tools I’d need to make things. I’d probably read, practice piano, find a place to stargaze, learn to cook so we’d have a healthy and varied menu each week. I’d continue writing, maybe learn a language or two. And I’d probably still build in some downtime, quiet time, because I can’t imagine not needing some of that.

Interesting premise. Makes me tired, though.

What the hell are Musk and Ramaswamy gonna be doing?

The whole approaching Round Two of Trump has the air of bull in the China closet about it. We get to watch a bunch of derelicts and rich kids play with the levers of government without having a clue regarding what governance looks like or what it entails.

They’re gonna run the country like a business, or attempt to. They want to tighten belts and streamline, cut jobs and get rid of whole agencies and departments. I wonder if they realize that demolition is a lot more fun, and easier, than building something new and functional.

There’s a troubling air of folly about this transition, like Trump, or more likely the Heritage Foundation, is telling the minions, “Have at it. Have fun.” The goal is chaos and a consolidation of power.

Whether there is a functioning government that is responsive to needs looks to be beside the point. Get ready for survival of the fittest.

People make astounding concessions when it comes to picking their leaders. It’s not that there’s no capability when it comes to making wise choices. I need to believe that in other aspects of their lives, they try to do the right things.

It’s just that sometimes deception plays an outsized role in politics, and the result looks like a groundswell of support for a corrupt real estate so-called magnate because a sizeable portion of the electorate thinks he’s got what it takes to “get things done.”

They’re willing to overlook the corrupt part because he talks a good game and people believe the biased news network that’s putting him on a pedestal while simultaneously lambasting the opposition in a ruthless, contrived, never-ending fear and smear campaign.

Their guy will be back in the White House in a couple months, and this time around it looks like he’ll be hitting the ground running, with hopes of kicking ass and taking names. One of a million problems with this is that he and the powerbrokers pulling the strings are trying to implement plans that will render America unrecognizable and likely impotent and more vulnerable in the world.

And all the people who voted for Trump may end up looking more like accessories to a crime. Or, at best, enablers.

It’s such an empty-souled, hateful thing he’s been doing to us for too long now. May he get resistance at every turn.

People who make a conscious choice to park their asses in the passing lane; people who pull out in front of you and then dog it; entitled, pretentious snobs.

These are the first things that come to mind. It could be a totally different list tomorrow. I don’t know if there could ever be a perennial Top 3. Well, with the possible exception of entitled, pretentious snobs– that one might always be there.

OK, one more– fickle technology. Or opening a sleeve of crackers without ripping the packaging. Or opening a box of Bel Vitas or cereal without tearing the closing tab apparatus. Or cracking an egg and having to pick out pieces of shell. Or wimpy, under-cooked bacon. Or most diner coffee.

OK, that last one probably inched me closer to pretentious snob. But once you try Starbucks or Rock City, there’s no going back.

Another four-year endurance test. Four more years of the rest of the world back on its heels while Putin licks his chops and plays Trump for the sucker that he is. Four more years of bluster and a no-longer-inconceivable lack of expertise and stunning ineptitude and obvious disqualification.

Needed change, or intentional chaos? So you’ve blown things up. Now what?!

What’s the end game for Vance and Miller and Roberts and the rest? Is it truly about dictatorship and some sort of desired return to a “Christian” nation? Or is it simply more of the same– pure power play, the rich getting richer while need goes unaddressed and the classic struggle between highly contrasting visions continues to play out?

One being dystopian, the other yet more hopeful. And equitable. 

Caution: toddler behind the wheel.

Kleptocracy. As in “klepto”, as in kleptomaniac, someone who has an apparently uncontrollable urge to steal things.

Kleptocracy, a.k.a. thievocracy, is the label often given to whatever it is that passes for governance in Russia, where Putin and the rest of the oligarchs live to steal the country’s vast resources and consolidate power.

Nice.

Of course, such a label is administered from the outside. Putin would never describe things this way. He’d most likely tell you that he’s a patriot, just one who pines for the way his country used to be.

The kleptocracy label is left to the rest of the world that’s watching, while the Soviet-era holdovers make threats and gloat as increasingly lethal weaponry is introduced that makes life even more tenuous and terrifying and miserable for the people of Ukraine.  

Trump’s picks for Cabinet positions and others are coming under fire, meeting with predictable derision.

Not all of them, though. Some, apparently, are competent, or at least have experience in the fields they’ve been assigned to lead. But one has to figure that all of them are pre-ordained by Kevin Roberts and the fine folks at the Heritage Foundation (even Matt Gaetz?). I find it difficult to believe that Trump would take the time or make the effort to make a list, but he must have some say in the process.

What’s the proper word for what we’re watching here?

Some humans, dogs, and butterflies.

Other humans are scourges and serve no useful purpose.

Dogs can be grace-filled gifts.

Butterflies arrive after a fascinating transformation, and they grace our presence for only a short while. They add beauty and lightness as they flit about.

Hypersonic missiles. Apparently, no Western defense system can stop them.

Putin has the technology and recently used it as a shot across the bow and in response to Ukraine’s foray into Russia with American-made missiles.

Like so much else, it seems to be about bragging rights and high stakes pissing contests.

How different would life be if we spent a fraction of our waking hours working on solutions for the myriad ills and challenges we all face, instead of investing so much brain power and raw materials in implements of war and destruction?

Humans are good at war, which is truly nothing to brag about.

Sixty-one years ago, to the day. I was nine, in fourth grade. Mr. Braley’s room.

Mrs. Kreuger was crying. She never cried. She made other people cry, most often us kids. Mrs. Shmaltz came across the hall to point out the flag that had already been lowered to half-mast.

We went home a bit early—or did we make it to the end of the day? I can’t remember anymore. I just remember the quietness as we waited for the bus in the multi-purpose room.

I remember being glued to the square box that passed for a TV. All weekend. I saw Oswald get shot, in real time.

Turns out that, as a nation, the losses were only beginning to mount. And we would never be the same, whatever that means.