It's a hard life, you know.

America's foreign policy currently resembles the stumbling incoherence of a drunk well in his cups. A well oiled machine, indeed.

Domestically, little has been accomplished since January 20th, beyond putting the courts to work. Republicans in Congress have partnered with the Trump Organization to make it far easier for coal companies to pollute and fill streams, and for schizophrenics to buy guns. Some things to crow about.

The Donald keeps saying he inherited a mess, without explanation. I'm beginning to think what he means is, before he became POTUS, there was this inexperienced, dangerous guy set to take the position, and Obama didn't stop it from happening. It must be rough.

At home and abroad, I think we can discern the beginnings of a Trump Doctrine in its fairly explicit, thorough-going rejection of the Obama Doctrine, "Don't do stupid shit." 'Do do stupid shit,' about sums it up, so far, don't you think?

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For Every Problem, a Solution (4)

God as depicted throughout the ages. No Alanis Morissette, and, no, that isn't ironic.

An introduction to a book that doesn't exist:

Prose and verse are generally accepted as distinct writing formats with their own rules, styles, and grammars. Though their borders are somewhat vague, they have come to be seen as something of a dichotomy in the eyes of the general public. There are, however, at least 3 other popular approaches to writing as exhibited in picture-books, comicbooks, and plays. Though sometimes given short shrift, these styles are accepted as literature. They are included in libraries, book stores, and academic study. Most importantly, they are read. In the general case, there is clearly writing being done in the creation of any one of these. But what of the wordless comic or silent play? Should we consider scripts written, but fully realized plays, comics, and picture-books, to be performance, art, or some other kind of non-literature? These worries of theory are kinks to be worked out, surely, but they are not of immediate practical concern to the writer...

My room is a mess, my painting unfinished.

...and I still haven't found a good alternative to my scanner with its missing power-cord. Almost finished with this painting, though. I just need to put in a bus seat in front of and behind the passenger. Incidentally, the Seattle Metro buses have the ugliest upholstery I can remember seeing, and I spent five years working at a used furniture store.

Pointless Man

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