If the past week didn’t give you whiplash, you’re either dead already or sufficiently numb to the exigencies of the world.
In either case, I think, I envy you.
What you can you say about the Democrats, other than they’re a fun bunch.
They’re unified as fuck, so long as the camera keeps tight on the speaker’s podium and the lights stay dim and the audio gets filtered out by professionals to hone in on the dronings of the apparatchiks only. Pay no heed to the 1,000+ who walked out following CUNTON II’s official nomination, the violent protests raging outside the five-mile perimeter of the event site – a perimeter that was “breached” multiple times throughout the week – and all of this coalesced into a spectacle centered around the last true die-hards against the impinging forces of the real and quite tangible world beyond their cocoons of self-denial. After the Sanders contingent was extricated from the proceedings, it was clear everyone remaining was paid to be there – many at $50 /hr to fill empty seats vacated by the BernTard Brigade – others waiting to be paid in influence, federal appointments, and God only knows what else.
So after both party conventions, and both acceptance speeches, it is clear that this is a race between a narcissistic blowhard who is an angry, brutal, capricious thug with a dim view of American life, suffering in equal measure from delusions of grandeur and fits of rage, prone to wild, unpredictable outbursts; and Donald Trump.
Oh and because he’s floating somewhere between 6% and 11%, we’ll through the Liberaltardian into the mix. And if the Communist somehow gets the Socialist on board her campaign, we’ll put the Grass Hut party in there too at 3%-5%.
FUN GODDAMN TIMES.
Closer to home, there is not much happening. Still swamped as all Hell. Projects keep piling up, we keep losing people, and there isn’t enough collected talent and skill in all of India that can help us bridge the gap. Ask me how I know this. The major project that was supposed to wrap by end of May is now pushing well into September, at least, so at least I’ll have distractions from the end of the world. Which is how you get through it I guess.
Nothing on tap for the weekend, mercifully. Weather’s been warm and balmy, but not ridiculously so. I suspect I’ll retire to the back deck for the evening, a cold beer (or 12) and a warm summer night, a ball game on the radio, and I’m finally going to read Antifragile and see what all the fuss is about.
Have a bitchin’ weekend and get ‘em the fuck in, friends.
Stars & Garters
CD Baby | 2007