It's Springtime For Rudy

There are only seven fonts that blogspot allows and none of them are very exotic, I made a quick decision and decided that verdena was the most exotic of the crew, in retrospect maybe courier is more exotic, but I think it is kind of ugly.  Again a pity that there is no sarcastic font. 

Which brings me to the subject of emojis.  Hate em, hate em, hate em.  And not just because they are all so doggone cutesy wutesy.  Actually in a way they are sarcasm killers.  You know sometimes people say something a little sarcastic, and it's kind of funny, but then they hurry up and add, "just kidding,"?  I hate that shit.  Not only does it blunt the humor but it tells the listener that the talker does not deem them capable of detecting sarcasm and that they are too thin-skinned to suffer what might be a playful insult.

The other day I had to hurry to turn off my radio when NPR announced that the next segment would be about people who were developing emojis to represent whatever we call handicapped people these days, a need that apparently was urgent, because by using a set of emojis that did not include otherly-ableds, were we not all ableists?  And of course even more work would be required because if we just had one set of otherly-abled emojis, would that not be assumed to be straight white male emojis, and what of the lesbian Puerto Rican in the wheelchair, where are her emojis?   Makes one long for the days when we pondered more meaningful things like angels dancing on the head of a pin.  And it occurs to me right now that shouldn't the form of the dance be taken into account, don't you get more angels with a waltz than you would with a tango?

Uncle Ken had to leave early Thursday morning for a trip to exotic Milwaukee, a fine trip as most visits to Milwaukee are, except that the only brat was one I bought at some fast food joint, and it was a puny and flavorless thing, you know, like when you choose a Polish sausage and it turns out to be just a big, mildly spicy hot dog. 

I still had a little time before getting down to the train station and I had thought of dashing off a small entry, but as no one had posted in the interim I didn't have anything to work with, so I didn't bother.

No Old Dog, you are not the only one who has compared the current presidency to a reality show, there are several thousand pundits who have preceded you in that observation.  Guliani has been in the shadows too long for his liking and now he is bursting into the spotlight with a raucous performance of It's Springtime for Rudy.

In the dull afternoon when the tweets of the morning have lost their sparkle and Hannity has yet provide a little thunder I have pondered, should that massive coronary which is surely right around the corner that neither of Trump's joke doctors has mentioned, strike, who, who could take up the fallen flag of Greatness.  Right now I think that Rudy is the most likely choice.

It's too bad that Beagles is uninterested in all this because when his swamp is polluted, and trade wars and real wars dominate the country, and there is no bread anywhere, he will have missed the circus as well.