In Short
I don’t have much to say today. I need to take a break from the epic cultural battle that has gripped America. Although I hope President Trump wins a second term, I don’t believe he will, as the left, despite its lunacy, has plenty of ammo to take him out and is receiving the backing of the mainstream media and academia, and has mail-in ballots as its ace in the hole. I’ve convinced myself I won’t be upset because, whether it’s January or 2024 — who follows Trump? I see no one who has his dynamism, no one who would have the audacity to stick a thumb in the eye of the swamp and the pharmaceutical industry that in part owns it, as he did this week with his executive order demanding lower drug prices.
Dave was a chef at a mid-range Manhattan hotel until the virus shut the place down. He and his wife contracted Corona in March. Today I finally remembered to ask if he’d been wearing a mask. No, he hadn’t. He’d listened to Fauci, who at the time had pooh-poohed its effectiveness. Dave’s not wearing one these days… Two more observations about masks. Isn’t it odd how some folks cover the mouth but not the nose? And what are we to think about those parents who wear one while their little kids don’t? Most people are still wearing one. I don’t believe the percentage has changed. I wear one around my neck and frequently forget to lift it into place to address folks. So far no one has complained.
How quickly it all can change. Ellen DeGeneres has gone from darling to pariah in an instant.
Since the threat of rain was a constant in the early afternoon, I displayed only Russian and kids books, and DVDs, hoping to reduce the current overstock. I made a small dent in the inventory when I spotted Ira, a retired tailor, across the street and called to him. I dug the huge The Illustrated Dictionary of Antiques and Collectibles by Judith Miller, a thick tome on fashion and a magazine on conspiracy theories out of the car. He was thrilled. My thanks, and also to Marie, who purchased the DVD of Gladiator (2000) and my novella, Class of ’67. I wish I could be there when she reads about herself… A while later a woman approached and asked if I’d be interested in a donation. I don’t know why I didn’t tell her to try me next week, probably because I’m so curious about what folks will bring. She returned presently with a shopping cart filled with at least 50 CDs, all but a handful by Russian artists, and the same amount of paperbacks, including about 20 by Danielle Steel. The current selection is as good as it ever gets. Now, not only is the back seat area of the old Hyundai stuffed, the front passenger seat and well is too.
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