RANDOM “…NOTES…” FROM WRINKLED SCRAPS…

…remember! In a year from now you could be sitting in the docket awaiting your sentence of death by tribunal for your avowed views and lifestyle, no matter what they are. No one is exempt, it all depends – your living or dying on the scaffold – on who’s calling the shots. In my case, loathsome, hypocritical and disgusting though their actions may be, I’d rather the Democrats and Republicans run this show than some scimitar-wielding Algerian Fundamentalists who want to hack off my tattooed arms because they are an affront to Allah…so whereas I bitch and moan and carp about things in this world I can do so only because the Reps and the Dems are ‘in charge’ (whatever that means) and as long as they are and not the Afghani Taliban or some other cult of death, I’m relatively safe, for now…

…life without radio, television or newspapers is a sea of tranquility…far quieter, none of that nerve-shattering hyperbolic claptrap to rattle your cerebellum, and if you think about radio and television they are both chock-full, 24 hours a day year-round without surcease, of junk and newspapers and magazines too but without the attendant noise…and speaking of junk – a recent four-state volunteers attempt to cleanup the banks of the mighty Queen of Rivers, The Connecticut River, flowing North to South through the Great Granite State of New Hampshire and Vermont, The Green Mountain State, thence between the Commonwealth of Massachusetts and The Nutmeg State, Connecticut, and finally pouring into the Atlantic, yielded 500 bags of trash and tons upon tons of – get this! - “…whole trucks and cars, numerous car parts, plumbing fixtures, roofing materials, chunks of concrete, metal scraps and pipes, styrofoam, kitchen appliances, bed frames, mattresses, tvs, tarps, kiddie pools, toys, fishing equipment, and some hazardous materials like hypodermic needles and 55 gallon drums containing unknown substances…” Humans waging war on Mother Earth.

BUMMER - GRAY SKY FADING AWAY, SUN COMING OUT...

…s’posed to be a bright sunshiny day which drives a lugubrious, solitary & morose me – around the bend…a lachrymose day made for introspection and reflection and then, done with this melancholy, maybe off to golf or swimming or, not to put too fine a point on it, laying around the shanty with the shades drawn and putting a good package on with choice indica and a bottle or two of Cook’s California Champagne, which I don’t care if they vint it and bottle it in Newark just so’s I get some now and then, speaking of which I’ll have to give my bootlegger a call…bootlegging is an art form the skill of which I do not possess, but he does…in concelebration of all these (no)things, I blast a cork across the room and bounce it off the Holstein on my refrigerator. Quoting seldom-seen Doug Misner, I intone, ‘Let the drinking, belching and fun begin!’