Calm Before Storm
At this point I don’t believe it would be wise to change the presidential election result, as it would lead to a chaos of unprecedented proportion. Still, I want investigations into possible fraud to continue. I want Biden’s win to be verified or found illegitimate. Here are the opening lines of an article at newsmax.com that raise a WTF?: “A forensic audit of the presidential vote tally by Dominion Voting Systems software used in Antrim County, Michigan, showed a more than 68% error rate, with auditors claiming the system intentionally creates the errors so the machine can have them ‘adjudicated’ — allowing individuals to change the result. The error rate is astounding considering the Federal Election Commission allows a maximum error rate of just 0.0008% for computerized voting systems.” There was nothing about this on WOR radio or at foxnews.com.
Although many have turned on AG Barr, I believe he’s mountains above the riffraff in DC, although he has been slow on the trigger regarding several issues. I hope there’s still time to act on them. Then again, if the Georgia seats go Democrat, it won’t make a difference. The criminals will all get a pass.
I don’t remember the last time I visited a post office. I thought it would be the perfect time yesterday, since it was raining. The computers were down at the local venue.
Last night was another of those times I thought I was coming down with something. Again it proved a false alarm. I was fine this morning, no fever.
The phone rang just as I was about to sit at the computer. Although I didn’t recognize the number, I decided to answer, as it might have been the doctor’s service calling to inform me he was cancelling his schedule for Thursday because of the impending snowstorm. It was my godmother, tearing into me in Italian for not having answered her previous calls. Somehow her number had gotten lost in the shuffle when I changed phones. She put my niece on the line. Her pocketbook was stolen on 86th Street, keys, phone, money, ID. Since she was near the bank, she was able to cancel her credit cards. She called the cops but they never showed. My godmother’s house is only a ten-minute walk from HSBC. Fortunately, she isn’t in Florida at her eldest daughter’s. I got another earful when I arrived. I never visit, which is bad because I’m her last link to the past, everyone else having passed away. Fortunately, the shopping cart is a folding one and I was able to stuff it atop the crates and boxes of books piled on the back seat of the old Hyundai. I gave Is my keys to the old house and told her not to take any chances, to wedge a chair in both doors until the locksmith did his work. I offered her my cell phone but she said she’d get by with her tablet.
It was a gorgeous day, the calm before the storm. Despite the cold, I was able to put in a full session of the floating book shop. My thanks to the young woman who was willing to pay a buck for a tiny book on health in Russian, and to the other, who purchased three books on child care and a basic life support manual for health care workers; and to Gloria, who donated about 15 cookbooks.
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