Hot and breezy this late-afternoon Thursday here in California’s Central Valley, and although 94-degrees right now, reportedly the last ‘cool‘ day for awhile as starting tomorrow triple digits for the next seven to 10 days — summer’s way-here.

One more time, backyard blogging in progress and even in the shade it’s warm — but not unbearable as most-likely the next few days will be — as I ponder the horrific situation projected from surfing the news among the InterWebs.
Scary scenario portrayed on my laptop (and iPad), the apprehension emotionally exhausting.

As such, this is my first post in nearly a week (last Friday) and although I tried, I just couldn’t bend my mind to move my fingers on a keyboard to write about an aspect or so off the worst ball of shit to come rolling down in my lifetime — I’ll be 72 in November — and have the words make sense. I feel even worse than when I fully understood/realized the massive-catastrophe that is climate change. It was 2007, so I was late coming to the game, but still a humongous depression in comprehending the way-possible end of mankind was at hand.

Writing of such, today’s Guardian: ‘The world has only six months in which to change the course of the climate crisis and prevent a post-lockdown rebound in greenhouse gas emissions that would overwhelm efforts to stave off climate catastrophe, one of the world’s foremost energy experts has warned.‘
In our current climate, climate change is beyond on the back burner, the subject is off the stove — anti-metaphorically speaking, of course.
If smoking don’t kill you, cancer will.

Meanwhile back to the now and that giant ball of shit. In just a short space of time, the US and the world has been captivated by a horrible pandemic still killing thousand every day, and pushed into civil unrest by the murder of George Floyd by Minneapolis cops less than three weeks ago. The country and the planet in contradicted positions of needing isolation, while also needing to be in the streets.

And at the forefront of it all, making bad shit worse is the T-Rump — the way-most-wretched person to be in charge at a time like this. The T-Rump so sickens me I just can’t function sometimes, just get so fucking sad and morose on the whole affair, at the very thought of that piece of shit allowing a flame to become an inferno in so many different ways. And loving it.
A stickler, the T-Rump has zero empathy, and doesn’t feel like a normal human. Yet he ignites a way-shitload of other like assholes to fan the flames with/for him.

Just when I think the shit-twit couldn’t get any shittier, the T-Rump gave an interview today to the Wall Street Journal (behind a paywall) and blabbered all kinds of nonsense, most of it impeachable offenses, and narcissistic idiocies like people wear face masks just to “signal disapproval of him.”
Read highlights of the interview here.

In that gibberish-mishmash of a talk with the WSJ, also included this example of the horror the whole world, not just us here in the US, but the whole fucking world faces with the T-Rump — the unhinged, ignorance:

Mr. Trump said he polled many people around him, none of whom had heard of Juneteenth.
Mr. Trump paused the interview to ask an aide if she had heard of Juneteenth, and she pointed out that the White House had issued a statement last year commemorating the day.
Mr. Trump’s White House has put out statements on Juneteenth during each of his first three years.

“Oh really? We put out a statement? The Trump White House put out a statement?” Mr. Trump said.
“Ok, ok. Good.”

Seems innocuous, but mother-shit tells a lot about the T-Rump and the way-terrible predicament that we’ve found ourselves — the main man on the planet is a cruel, selfish asshole who hasn’t one fucking clue.
And the real horror is he knows it, but doesn’t give a shit.
Or as the T-Rump’s niece explains “how her uncle became the man who now threatens the world’s health, economic security, and social fabric.”

Hence, we’re fashioned with the immortal words of the Pinball:

In many, many ways…

(Illustration: Edvard Munch‘s ‘The Scream,’ lithograph version, found here).