Who am I kidding?
There’s an old Zen koan, that goes like this:
”Before enlightenment, chop wood, carry water.
After enlightenment, chop wood, carry water.”
Substitute “indictment” for “enlightenment”, and it might be the most proper motto for today:
As I write, the sun is coming up, just as it always has.
A neighbor is warming up his big pickup, as usual, before heading out to work.
The cat is mewing to be fed.
A credit card bill, open on the table, still needs to be paid.
And the New York City District attorney issued an indictment for falsifying business records, just as he is reliably reported to have done more than a hundred times since his re-election.
Which makes it time to celebrate. (I don’t usually chop wood here, enlightened or not; but I’ll carry some water later.)
The party was on before I got “woke” yesterday, this time from an actual afternoon nap. The Queens Daily Eagle gets the blue ribbon for the best headline:
And who could surpass the barbed sweetness of spirit that A. A. Milne brings?
Already, HRC, in her finest Methodist drab, is planning a mission of mercy . . .
Which reminds me, over at Rikers, 45’s bean counter Allen Weisselberg is already busy as his advance man.
They’re especially concerned about an inmate down the cellblock hallway, Dave Somebody. He’s doing a long stretch for reading “Mockingbird” to fifth graders, and now refuses to wear clothes.
Due to staff shortages, they’ve had to call in reinforcements, and the effort has been dogged by artistic differences:
Personally I thought the hair was okay, but the gown —well, it showed a bit more leg than necessary. Tho for Pete’s sake, the ensemble wasn’t so problematic that it justified calling in Bernie . . .
But look, count on a cranky independent Vermonter to skip the glam, stay warm, and get the job done.
And if that’s not enough to keep up 45’s morale, there’s always the chaplain, direct from the Greater Queens MAGA Tabernacle, who visits regularly, bringing messages from his old pal JC . . .
Yes, like He said in his book, we must all enter the Kingdom like little children, or maybe undocumented migrants, so he’ll bring 45’s own special version, which goes something like this. . .
What more could I hope to add?
Maybe that, after breakfast, perhaps I’ll go out and chop some wood.
