America’s most despised “leader” is increasingly unlikely to be his party’s nominee. And he has no chance of winning general election. Even Bernie, the candidate the press pretends doesn’t exist, beats him in a landslide.
Trump’s “success” is driven by an absurd amount of media coverage. They cover this buffoon because it makes rubberneckers, like me, turn the TV on. He’s Zika, he’s a mining disaster, a train derailment, a 20 car collision, all rolled into one.
And I am tired of it. Trump is irrelevant. All he breeds is ignorance and hate.
I will not talk about him anymore.
A few days ago, an old friend (actually, he was my JUNIOR high school music teacher – so I haven’t seen him in 46 years!) commented on my Facebook post about Ted Cruz being a freaking bunghole. He said,
“…take it easy”.
At first, I thought, “My post wasn’t what I’d call hysterical. What’s your big deal?”
But now that I’ve reflected, the message I’m taking from his protective advisory is that this insanity, this political circus, goes on for another 8 months. After the conventions, it could get even crazier, so…
I guess I had better learn to pace myself.
Didn’t even realize I was writing 100 words way back on St. Patty’s Day 😉
Well, hoy de doy. I was!
And here they were…
I got in the car this morning and Modern Music by Be Bop Deluxe was on the radio. It took me back to one of the staples of my late teens/early 20’s. As the 12 minute masterpiece unfolded, I found myself turning the radio louder and louder and louder.
When it ended, Forbidden Lovers came on. What? Oh crap. I figured Bill Nelson must have joined the rock n’ roll heaven class of 2016.
“When will this journey be through?”
Good news. Unless the DJ knows something that the internets don’t, Mr. Nelson is still alive and well.
Watching a short clip of John Lennon speaking about George Martin; commenting “it’s hard to describe a relationship”.
As John speaks, it seems as if the more he verbalizes it, the more he acknowledges (to himself?) just how much George Martin brought to the party. It’s true, without George Martin, there is no Beatles; without the Beatles, we’re certainly not talking much about George Martin.
Together? We’ve been discussing this for over 50 years now and it’s not much of a stretch to predict that “we” will still be discussing them in another 50 years.
Rest in peace, Sir George.
One hundred words a day. Seems like so few.
My instinct is to rhyme them, to do all the time then, to make them all mine them…
What a lovely exercise. I hope I’ll have the discipline to do this every day, at least once. To gain the concision, to let the thoughts flow, to open the sluices. Hahahaha. This is silly, but I know it can be serious too. Maybe it will become the meditation to take my mind off of whatever is plaguing it, to tum it in another direction,
to be a place where positivity thrives.