Rollin' Like Sisyphus

Another Cup Of Kindness, Yet

Posted in Current_Year(FTW) by Huckleberry on December 31, 2017

One more year off the calendar, ladies and gentlemen.
Drove out here yesterday evening, and my God in heaven, there were way too many people on the road up here. The Desert Redoubt is well off the beaten path, and yet, the small two-laner that cuts through the heart of the Mojave had so many SUVs and campers and RVs glutting it, I almost wondered if there was an apocalypse that no one bothered to mention to me.
In fact, as I sit here on the porch, trying to cogitate with some Rare Breed, I see a long trail of headlights slowly inching up that road way out there, where usually there is maybe a car every four or five hours.
But I suppose that is my problem alone.
Got here just shy of midnight, had dinner on the way. The wife remains in LA, and I’ll probably head back Tuesday, maybe Wednesday. Took a short hike this morning, then spent most of the rest of the last day of the year tending to the place. Replaced all of the security flood lights with integrated LED lamps. Swapped out the security cameras for 4K ultra HD cameras; set up a new DHR recording system for the camera feeds, as well as having them run in real time to a cloud server. The picture is great, and I expect the night vision capability to be a game changer; there is, though, considerable lag between the camera hub, my local network, and the cloud server. Internet service is horrible out here.
I brought up some chicken quarters I was going to smoke up today, but I got too sidetracked by everything I had to do to get it started, and besides, I’m not really feeling it tonight. I also brought up some potatoes, some bacon, and a few other things, so I’ll cook up some bacon potato bombs tonight to accompany the mild drinking, instead of the bacon, eggs, and hashbrowns I was intending for breakfast tomorrow.
Twenty Seventeen.
There is really not much I can say that could ever hope to capture this schizophrenic year, almost to the point where I don’t want to try, but come on. That way lies the path of cowards and scoundrels. Part of the issue is simply that I am in a somewhat foul mood, purely for personal reasons. There is really nothing quite like beginning a three-week vacation from a job that has been something akin to running back-to-back-to-back marathons wondering if you’ll even have a job to return to. It’s especially fun when you have job sites like Indeed and ZipRecruiter spamming your email with the job posting from your employer that is your job that they never told you they were looking to hire for, every day of your vacation.
So once again, personally, it looks like I’m heading into 2018 under a cloud of uncertainty.
And that is completely fine with me.
The only difference between a rut and the grave is a few inches.
As I sit here, watching the horizon, UCLA v Washington on the radio turned down low, I’m looking back on the year that was, and I’m trying to capture it in my mind somehow. And I’m not having much luck, I’m afraid. For everything that took place, good, bad, and otherwise, it all seems like noise of the least possible consequence. What was the larger story, Trump in office, or the derangement of lunatics obsequiescing while Trump was in office? Terror attacks? The growing fascination of socialism or that said fascination is born by those who insist Russia and its ex-KGB president is the greatest threat to them? The recovering economy or the outright disgust of the Punditariat that the economic recovery is occurring squarely in flyover country, for manufacturing real things, tangible things, instead of churning out more dimwitted creative-class Millennials who wallow in their supposed technical acumen but openly weep at the sight of a command prompt.
I suppose the biggest story for me is the one I long suspected yet am still surprised by — the judges of this country are out of control, clearly and undeniably. More times than I can count, judges in certain parts of the country blocked every possible action the duly elected president enacted simply out of reflex, and despite most of those blockage attempts getting swatted away by higher courts, their relentless and childlike adamance to stay the course would be charming if it weren’t so petulant. To the point where, were a concerned citizen given to thoughts of how to correct such a malady as he sips bourbon out in the desert on a fairly warm winter evening, those thoughts would hover almost entirely on instruments of yore, such as the guillotine, and the gallows, and those gear-driven things they used to draw and quarter apostates.
But alas.
As for the New Year itself, I am hopeful despite the growing uncertainty that surrounds me personally and surrounds us socio-politically.
I can feel it in my bones.
It’s going to be a great year. Even a good year. And, on balance, I think we’ll be better off at the end of next year than we are here at the end of this one.
I’m off to finish the game, and another book on the Texas Rangers in exile during the Texas State Police fiasco, while sit here and absorb the inexplicaly summer weather, however fleeting, before headin’ back inside.
I wish all of you and yours a Happy and Prosperous New Year.
See you in 2018.


4 Responses

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  1. El Borak said, on January 1, 2018 at 06:00

    Hope you’re enjoying those desert temperatures. Woke up to The Rodeo Song this new year

    And I liked it.

  2. El Borak said, on January 1, 2018 at 06:11

    Bloody phone…

  3. Huckleberry said, on January 2, 2018 at 10:36


  4. Huckleberry said, on January 2, 2018 at 10:36

    Happy New Year man.

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