Cups ran over last night. So much to keep up with. We’ll start tragically and move to comedically and end with…adventure?
Last night was the first major Republican debate of this election cycle. It was entertaining—featuring much bombastic strutting, sniping, dishonest or ignorant claims (your pick), and a generous amount of self-congratulation. This last item might have made the whole affair seem tragically comic were it not for the lack of any redeeming qualities held by any of the candidates. For a tragicomedy to work, one must sympathize somewhat with the subjects.
If there was any “winner” last night (assuming we set our bar very low) it would probably have to have been Governor John Kasich who managed to sound like an adult almost the entire evening while touting various liberal-sounding social programs such as drug addiction treatment and prison reform, and a seeming support for gay marriage. It struck me as a cynical ploy to independents and some Democrats. He talked very fast and didn’t want to remind anyone of his attacks on education, his strident support of an anti-gay marriage amendment, and the scandal-prone, trigger-happy police in his state.
Moving on… and note that I’m not even going to comment on the kids table debate that happened earlier in the day. Lunatics.
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As for the tragically comic, my favorite definition is from that episode of The Simpsons with John Waters guesting in which Homer thinks that “the tragically comic” is when a clown dies. Jon Stewart didn’t die. He’s just moving to a farm where he can run and play with other animals. In New Jersey.
Last night, Stewart received an incredible send-off. Good for him. Good for him. He’s earned some downtime and while we’re going to miss him terribly, we assume—have faith, if you will—that we’ll see him again.
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This morning I am reading through an old journal I found at an estate sale which hints toward the existence of fortune and glory to the person made of the right kind of stuff. The right kind of stuff might be wrong, of course. There is always that chance.
- Three eggs: one robin, one turtle, one rooster
- A fireplace poker
- A _bent_ fireplace poker
- A pre-World War II set of architectural plans for the New York City Public Library
- A three-inch long piece of chalk
- A portable Tesla light
- Two matching pairs of farmer’s boots
- A raincoat. You will most certainly need a good raincoat
- An unassembled crystal radio kit
- An alibi
Obviously, this adventure features the use of subterfuge and some trickery. This is what I mean about right stuff and wrong stuff. I can tell you this; however…don’t feel bad for The Belgian. He has it coming.
If interested, leave your resume with the hot dog guy on the corner of 34th & 5th. Expect a reply by nightbird.
Until next time…