About what I should be posting.
In the meantime, one cartoonist’s view of the Rapture. Hmmm, maybe I should convert.
Good News! Gun Sales are Down!
The gun lobby must be chewing the inside of its cheek at night. They want Second Amendment fanatics in power, but when they are, gun sales decline. It seems like the biggest fear of gun owners is just not being able to buy guns.
“A bellicose, unsteady, and impulsive leader who wants to operate in secrecy and increase police powers is OK, so maybe I don’t need to arm myself to the teeth,” said one gun owner. Another added, “Maybe I can get me one of them there MOAB bombs. I sure loves me a big explosion.”
See ya in 25 hours, piú o meno. Or maybe on Sunday. Think calm thoughts.
I imagine that your mind is probably shattering at the moment, too. There are too many mental balls to juggle, and they are flying all over the place and getting dropped. Some of them have explosives in them, others are just paint balls, and others are just trite metaphors getting overworked on an unread blog.
That can only mean one thing: It’s time for our weekly break!
I’ll leave you with this thought: It’s my former wife’s weekend with the kids. They don’t hang out with me, y’know, being teenagers and all, but that sensation when I get back from dropping them at school, their presence still palpable (the humidity upstairs from the shower, the smell of whatever it is that my daughter put in her hair, the mug that I used to heat the milk for the hot chocolate my son drinks in the car), it is overwhelming and poignant, it fades all too fast.
And in other good news, it’s baseball season!!
Pinhole again. 7 seconds. My cat, Zoot, under a light. She’s almost all washed out. I did some manipulation with Mac Photos. See below for the cell phone picture.
In case your missing the obvious point, this is the one you should be reading:
One of the saddest images in the world is that of the person who has thrown a party, yet no one has come. In fact, this fear is so great, so strong, so devastating, that even the #socalledpresident, the man commanding the world’s most powerful military, a man who truly believes that he is the pinnacle of human evolution, lives in such dread of it and its implications that he’s willing to drop everything else and obsess about it in front of the entire world. I guess the only thing sadder would be if he tried to throw a party every day, and the same Groundhog Day Fiesta Flop kept recurring.
But that’s not why we’re here today.
The editorial staff of the Meta-Bug was in crisis the other day. We were looking at our numbers for March, and while some of us were rejoicing over our biggest month ever, others were saying, Hey, look, bozos, you had a total of 900 views. One month, 900 views, which means even fewer visitors. And half of those were probably family. So big deal. If someone’s kid had his whole high school look at one single post on one single day (suggested post: kitten videos combined with pictures of a young Sophia Loren), that would have beaten the entire number for March by a more than double. To look at it another way, there were just 29 views per day in our busiest month ever. More people in just Framingham look at their Kleenex each to see if they have a sinus infection, and probably found analyzing their nasal discharge more interesting than reading our constant complaints about the country going to hell in a handbasket, occasionally interspersed with new and astounding revelations that divorce takes a toll.
We thought about this. We agonized about this. We pondered: Is all this writing and rewriting worth doing? Does the effort make any difference? Then, we all retired to the backyard to cry, while pretending to rake the leaves that we were too distracted to deal with last fall. Our answer: Of course it makes no difference!
But using logic here at the Meta-Bug is hardly our standing operating procedure. Nor, for that matter, is wise allocation of the limited amount of time we have on this earth. It appears that we do what we will, and let the buffalo chips fall where they may. (Generally, right next to the bowl of extra-picante bile salsa we are eating. Yum!)
Well, damn the torpedoes. We have decided to carry on. People practice their instruments for years and never get on stage. They have fun doing the practicing, and do not worry about people pointing to their accordion lessons and say, Aha! Evidence of a Crazed and Diseased Mind! And that’s the reason we wrote this post in the first place, right?
Happy Monday! We hope the weather, wherever you are, is suitable for turning grapes into raisins!