Thursday, April 13, 2017

neither coming nor going

Sitting out on 7H porch with a thawing Easter ham from Idaho as an exhaustively busy day expired, finishing two fingers of a good single malt on ice, finale of that bottle, which lasted four or five years, I go easy on the scotch.

Gazing out across StAndrewsBay at flashing lights on channel markers and a tower, and the lights of Thomas Drive high-rises and BayPoint mid-rises - - we considered buying over there, but there’s traffic and The Bridge, besides, StAndrews is home. After a deliciously spicy and salty Thai lunch, a nap, Stations, supper of one slice of sprouted wheat toast gravied thickly with blue cheese dressing, and a mug of ice water, as I wonder whether, if and when the FuroForty will kick in. Right ear plugged up while a wax remover works it, unbalancing with all there was to do Wednesday that the right ear let me down, even with the ear phones couldn’t hear a thing out of it.

What’s bothering me. United Airlines should be pummeled, cancelled, litigated, sued and stomped into bankruptcy for the leggings stupidity and now especially once and for all for the unforgivable, inexcusable, humiliating bloody atrocity perpetrated against a boarded and seated paying passenger. United Airlines is evil. May his reportedly high powered attorney take mismanaged and misguided United down irrecoverably, the debacle is such. Financial collapse, firings, and prison for battering a customer. There are competent airlines, nobody ever again has to Fly the Unfriendly Skies of United the Arrogant Bully. TWA was brought down by one crash, United can be brought down by one atrocity. Down with it, down, down to the ground.

What else. That warlike posturing raises the popularity of national leaders says far more about us than about He Who Must Not Be Named. 

Looking back from here in the darkness on 7H porch, Wednesday was all in all a good day. Though I neither recognized the gospel reading as coming from Scripture the family had selected, nor knew where the gospeller was going with it, mox nix mir as I wasn’t using the gospel reading anyway, but the lovely, poetic, poignant Ecclesiastes passage the family did select. 

Holy Week, it isn’t supposed to be bright and cheerful. Maundy Thursday as sky darkens, storm clouds gather. Sounds of hammering as a scaffold is erected. 


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