Nothing inherent

So many families are growling at one another. Family member fights family member. I remember when I was a little kid my father — who was under great pressure, which I didn’t and couldn’t comprehend — came up to the kids’ hall and flung all the Christmas presents out onto the floor. We all — […]

Moulin Rouge

The Tim Hortons coffee-and-donut shop has expired. In its place, rising like a drunken phoenix, is the Moulin Rouge bar. The decor is mainly black and red. I’m not sure that the Entertainment District needs another bar — whereas I needed that Tim Hortons. It’s strange that the Timmys went under — every day I […]

End game: Russia

Ah Russia, sweet Russia! Still firing them howitzers in the golden-fielded West. Still ignoring the declamations of the rulers of the West! How could they? Russia has three stages to master. The first two stages were the preparation for a Ukraine assault and the actual warfare. The third, and end-game stage, is getting friendly with […]

Easy money

. . . . . . . Money. Big money. It’s out there, waiting for you to grab it like an octupus. . . . . . . . The problem is, everybody else wants to grab it, and it’s a limited supply. That means it takes real determination, talent, and effort to get it. […]

Personal update (it lives)

. . . . . . . I’m vacating my home for the day because of the pest control spraying going on. It involves spraying during the afternoon, then absence for 4 hours afterwards. . . . . . . . I’m still weak and sick and feeling like shit. A couple of days ago […]

A mess in the east

. . . . . . . I’ve been wondering what Putin has been thinking of late. Here’s what I think: . . . . . . . I think Putin is similar to Hitler, believing the men of the West to be weaker than they are. Whether or not he is justified in grabbing […]

A hundred years of solitude

. . . . . . . What is solitude? Is is the sound of grasshoppers in summer chirruping from within the honeycombed-out walls, their greenery hidden by dull-colored plaster. How long is a hundred years? I feel the grasp of a hundred years at my throat. . . . . . . . A […]