Day 68

One day away from my age. Dang, I'm getting old.

Our daughter is moving home from Atlanta on Wednesday, for a duration yet to be determined. The challenge of relocating from bucolic Chapel Hill to the big city a year ago has slowly taken the wind out of her sails. Add in the crush of no friends, corona quarantine, and autism and you have a perfect storm. She originally moved there to be with her fiance, but the strain of everything has them seeking time apart. I'm heartsick for her, for sure, and I'm also relieved she'll be home for awhile to regenerate and re-center. Fathers of daughters know what I mean.

My own state of mind swings wildly between radical optimism and depression. I hate knowing that at least of a third of my fellow Americans are deplorable asses. On the few occasions I run into them out in the world, I wish I could snap my fingers and have them either (1) disappear or (2) turn into decent, compassionate human beings. Instead, I'm forced to accept that they are mostly a bunch of punk ass posers, cut from the same trashy tree as Donald F. Trump.

The super-spreader racing event in Alamance county gives us a field experiment to gauge the risk of new COVID 19 outbreaks. I'm hoping all those degenerates stay healthy and don't further burden health providers, but I'm fearful the exact opposite will happen. They'll get sick and want "others" to care for their sorry selves. We'll see. Mark your calendars for June 10th.

Memorial Day brings out the worst in pandering from chicken hawks everywhere. Dandy Forest and Thom Tillis are two of the grossest examples with their Facebook posts sucking up to families of dead people. Meanwhile their actual lives continue to defend a pussy grabbing draft dodger.

Those guys make me sick to my stomach.