So far I have avoided the CPAP, but I recently took up tamsulosin and I now only get up four or five times a night rather than nine or ten. And instead of getting off the Brown Line and rushing to get to Brehon's and their men's room, I ride the el around the loop and get off at State and Lake a mere block from my house. It's so much nicer.
Very competent use of duct tape Old Dog, but my attention goes to that blue (painter's?) tape and the writing on it. ...eney?
My choices of tape at five in the morning after the mighty storm with the sap leaking and hardening in the stem were Scotch, masking, art, and duct. Duct seemed the most waterproof of the four so I went with it, and as I have said before the proof is in the pudding.
As a political junkie I really wanted to watch the eight pygmies squabble, but having chosen the rooftop movie for the night, Judas and the Black Messiah (which I recommend, but I know that nobody follows my recommendations, just as I almost never follow anybody else's) I was obliged to attend that. And the more I thought about it, the sicker the thought of giggling at the pygmies became.
The movie is very strong and deep, pulls you in so that you are scarce aware of where you are. Until that old guy got up out of his chair and just collapsed and wasn't moving. Whatthefuck. Then he was getting up, but fell back down again, and then it appeared that there was a nurse among the crowd and she was taking charge and he was drinking a can of pop, and there was talk of him being at the Sox game in the heat of the day and dehydration and whatever, and they put him in a wheelchair and took him to his apartment and the show went on. The movie was about when the Chicago police assassinated Fred Hampton, the head of the Black Panthers, and there were some pretty graphic scenes of shooting. But that was in a movie, that old guy collapsing was in real life, could have been me, and maybe the outcome would have been worse. Oh well, whaddaya gonna do? Have another beer and take down the equipment at the end of the show and go downstairs to my apartment, and see what happened with the pygmies.
Well Didn't miss much at all. Likewise nothing new in the Trump/Tucker screed. One more beer and off to bed.
it seems to me that the three of us are on different paths, in different direction
This is what led me to say that The Institute was disintegrating. Yar, kind of a stretch, but it's true that the The Institute is not the lively exchange of ideas that it once was. I know, I know, sometimes you guys have nothing to say for a few days to a week, but earlier that was not the case.
Seems to me maybe a year ago we had a discussion on what kind of truck Beagles has and I don't remember how it came out. My best remembrance was that it was a Ford, and that is why I called it that. Apparently I was mistaken. Thank you Scourge for setting the record straight. The objective physical universe is nothing to trifle with.
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