The unthinking writer

June 1-3, inclusive has been  too pleasant to spoil with vile thoughts brought on by examining the fools who would rule us. Thus I leave it  to you good folks to keep your boots on the necks of our political masters. Do it . After all, it is for the children.

43.31 N by 95.18 E, has been rain-free most of the week, and Camp J at last bears a springtime shine, thanks in part to the lucky find of another John Deere 318 which reduces mowing time to a couple of hours while leaving the other one outfitted with its dozer blade for pushing things around.  A hideous corner of  the place is being tidied.

And the main F150 is again seaworthy at smaller expense than I feared, meaning I can park the small emergency backup F150.  And New Dog Libby hasn't escaped to the swamp for a full 24 hours. So this morning I am with Sidney Harris: "When I hear somebody sigh, "Life is hard," I am always tempted to ask, "Compared to what?"

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