Finally starting to drizzle on a late-afternoon Friday on California’s north coast — forecast for much earlier today, this particular storm system is arriving late, which is fine with me.
Rain pretty-much called for the next 10 days or so, maybe some tiny breaks in between, I hope.

Our wet season is getting old — seems like it’s been overcast or raining non-stop since October, and after a certain space, the weather curdle-colors the emotions.
Sad, and fucking depressing, or so it feels.
Deeply-embedded in that Gothic sense is the T-Rump, best simplified by Miss Emily Dickinson: ‘I felt a Funeral, in my Brain…And then a Plank in Reason, broke…‘

All reason has been shredded, T-Rump lying for a living…

(Illustration: MC Escher’s engraving, ‘Old Oliver Tree,’ found here).

Only hours ago, an ‘axis of awkward‘ between T-Rump and German Chancellor Angela Merkel, where the bloated-prick presented himself as an embarrassment to all Americans — via The Hill this afternoon:

Prior to the news conference, footage of Trump seeming to ignore Merkel’s request for a handshake went viral on social media.
The news conference itself, held in the grandeur of the East Room of the White House, was a striking contrast of tone and style.
Merkel, not the most animated of politicians under any circumstances, looked on stony-faced as Trump railed against “fake news” and responded to the first, pointed question from a German journalist by saying, sarcastically, “nice, friendly reporter.”
At times when the chancellor was talking, Trump’s eyes scanned the ranks of the media in front of him, darting from one reporter to another.
When Merkel talked at one point about the plight of refugees, Trump’s facial expression betrayed little reaction.
Merkel spoke in German, but her remarks were being translated in Trump’s earpiece.
He could hardly have missed Merkel straining for diplomacy in some of those remarks.
Asked about Trump’s overall tone as president, she averred that he “stands up, as is his right, for American interests.”
She added, “People are different.”

I’ve got to where I really can’t stand watching the motherfucker for any length of times — there’s enough clips of the shit-face to satisfy any news-related curiosity.
How long will this asshole keep going?

In an effort to fathom, the full poem from Miss Dickinson: ‘I felt a Funeral, in my Brain,’

I felt a Funeral, in my Brain,
And Mourners to and fro
Kept treading – treading – till it seemed
That Sense was breaking through –

And when they all were seated,
A Service, like a Drum –
Kept beating – beating – till I thought
My mind was going numb –

And then I heard them lift a Box
And creak across my Soul
With those same Boots of Lead, again,
Then Space – began to toll,

As all the Heavens were a Bell,
And Being, but an Ear,
And I, and Silence, some strange Race,
Wrecked, solitary, here –

And then a Plank in Reason, broke,
And I dropped down, and down –
And hit a World, at every plunge,
And Finished knowing – then –

Ended about right, too…