My how time passes when you’re having fun. Not. Having fun, that is.
My days follow a sameness: get up, brush teeth, push button on coffee maker, brush hair, get a treat for Lulu, get a package of breakfast biscuits from the closet that is the larder, left click to open computer, carefully carry coffee across kitchen, working at circumventing the sleeping Sherlock, toss treat on Lulu’s pillow, open Gmail, sink into office chair, drink coffee, eat breakfast biscuit, go through in turn Gmail, Yahoo and Facebook. Sink further in chair. Get involved in watching Feel Good animal videos. Realize I have become a person who watches videos online.
This is new to me. I used to hate when news stories turned to videos. Real reportage is to be read, not watched. A picture is not worth a thousand well-crafted words offering both fact and analysis. Moreover, a pox on pretty girl and boy reporters who probably got mediocre marks in their college composition classes. I know, because I doled out those B’s and C’s. They were the students who would offer definitive statements in their essays to which I would invariably have to ask, “Where’s your support for this?”
They had no support. Something was so because they said it was. Or someone said it was, somewhere, sometime, that they heard about. And anyway, who’s to say what is and isn’t so. It’s all relative, right? Everyone’s entitled to their opinion.
And that, my friends, is why Donald Trump is president. And why our democracy is probably in its waning days. The Founders warned about this, the day when the rabble (or as we call them, the incorrigibles) rose up and spoke so loudly that theirs became the only voice of the people.
That statement, which arrived seemingly unbidden from my subconscious, is, of course, my opinion. To which I am entitled. And having said so, I must go watch some more Feel Good animal videos. They are, these days, the only anodyne to the pain inflicted by the state of the nation.