If You Gotta Suffer to Write ...

 Then I guess I ain't sufferin', am I?

Oh sure, I just lived through four years of Dis Grace the Orangeanus. I've held five or six jobs since 2015, and there's this Pandem-onium going on. But, come on ... Everyone's been through that, right?

Well, except the uber-rich, natch. The billionaires just keep sticking it away and snorting coke off of supermodels' body parts (sometimes even with the supermodels attached!).

But truthfully, I can't really complain. Though of course I will, or what's a blog for?

Given that my last post was in ... YIKES! 2014? Holy cats! Also--a rosary walk leash. I love the idea. Must get one for the bedroom .... ARF!

But I digress ...

An update is doubtless in order. And if you're one of the Avid Fans still clinging to this mortal coil, please feel free to drop a line in the comments.

I'm living on an island in a fair-sized city. I've held five jobs, not counting the two temporary jobs, since 2015. I'm still driving truck for a living. I continue to live with my spouse, Mme Metro, who now is co-owner of a small-but-possibly-growing bookkeeping firm, though it was a close-run thing for a while and one day I may tell you some of it.

The new job is in septic. That's right--I'm still out there taking the piss. But don't scoff, remember the poker-players' maxim: A straight flush beats a full house. Side note: My parents arrived in The Great and Terrible Land of Oz in nineteen-mumble-mumble, and curiously observed along a certain escarpment that many of the houses had tiny mini-houses in the backyard. Urban Brits that they were they had to ask a friend what the tiny houses were. They didn't know what an outhouse was.

When they asked what it meant to see one of the houses that didn't have a "backhouse" behind it, their hose informed them that those houses were swank--they had Americans. Oops--mixed up my rhyming slang there.

But I digress ...

During Covid I was asked by a friend to help deliver meals she makes (up to thirty-five of 'em twice a week) in her own kitchen, so I do that too.

But much of my off-time is spent on vehicles. I am now the proud owner of a couple of Ford Focii, a 1983 Honda Magna motorcycle, and ladeez an' gennlemen put your hands together for ... My 1959 Metropolitan, for which this blog was named.

... Which I swear is very likely to run at some point in the very near future. Seriously. I just put the pistons all back in and once I get the radiator installed ...

But I digress ...

Fifty is in the recent-ish past for me. And I am struck by how little of my life I remember overall. My father has been diagnosed with Alzheimer's--early stages yet, but it was definitely showing for awhile. I think he's on the drugs now. And I find it striking that he appears to have so much more recall and clarity than I. So maybe writing might help?

Oh yeah--I've become convinced that the internet is not in itself a good, admirable, or useful thing. And the less said about the shite-post Kingdom of Facebook, the better. Partly as a result of my interactions there, I have come to formulate the maxim that: There are no good conservatives.

Seriously. Find one. One who hasn't been sidelined by "mainstream" (formerly "radical" or "rabid") conservatism. One who isn't older than my Metropolitan, for prefs. And look at his voting record and public statements. For every good thing any conservative purports to support, there's an awful one that negates it, at a minimum.

I guess I'm saying I'm a little bitter. The future was starting to look a little better, and then we were stuck by a vicious, undying scourge that left many of us nearly paralysed with fear and disgust. I stopped reading news during his administration.

And after that came CV-19! I haven't yet really started reading news regularly again yet. Too many dafties out there.

Am I back? I dunno. My ex-girlfriend has frequently pressed me to keep writing. And I have to admit I've re-read a buncha my stuff and it can still bring me a chuckle or two.

Maybe this is the beginning of something good.

How're you making out? Getting through it alright?