…And in the those dusters were four men …And in those men were 4 bullets

Internet schminternet. I’ve been fighting my paleothic-era cpuasaurus between injections of vitriol and foolish sentiment. So once I get this formerly piece of fine silicon strutting its stuff in the chamber of horrors again, I do what every logical temporarily tech-deprived mad man does… I surf that nasty binary web. First thing I see: Cabbage versus 2×4, what’s best? Next professional forum… please pleasure me, please buy my snake oil, please stroke my rope! Ooooh baby……

My fault, I know. I’m supposed to be researching this never-ending cycle of pain known as working of a living. The red lights flashing from my pocket should tell me that this is no time to lose time. Work, digital sharecropper, work! Or wiggle wiggle that gluteus!

My recent side projects have lead me to old cats: Cats who have done big things and accomplished a lot of things in a time that was fairly inarguable more difficult than this present nonsense. I mean nonsense is nonsense but I can’t say I’ve actually hidden in a pile of plot-device fortune to escape a literal lynch mob. The obstacles were conveniently palpable because so many modern day brutes still have no grace of nuance.

Stage 4 bone cancer, infection, diabetes, these old cats are facing now. They all told me the same thing at different points of the conversations: Do what you enjoy. That’s easier for some people to internalize than others but I’m learning as I go.

dust off the oldies