There seems to be a lot happening recently. Very little of it in my head, unfortunately, but out in the real world, the one that a sizable portion of we human-types inhabit.
I was sorry to hear of the passing of Queen Elizabeth II, although I did witness her passing once previously. As a kid walking along Lake Shore Drive with my parents somewhere near the Aquarium, I remember seeing her and Prince Philip speeding toward the Loop in a fancy black convertible, on their way to somewhere more important than the area by the curb where we stood. I managed to grab my Brownie camera and snap a blurry picture of them when they whizzed past. As I stated last time, I’ve discovered that I’m a distant relative of Prince Philip and now that he and Queen Elizabeth are both gone, in the line of succession I’ve inexorably crept one step closer to the throne, just behind Sandy, the queen’s corgi. Eat your heart out, Mar-A-Lago Man.
Speaking of the inexorable, Trump Boy seems to be digging himself deeper and deeper into a sand trap as each day passes. He’ll have to toss his sand wedge and get a bulldozer instead. He and his lawyers can’t seem to remember which lies they told previously and, as a result, end up contradicting themselves and each other. A couple dozen of his current and former lawyers are under investigation, possibly facing censure or disbarment for lies they’ve told during the Mar-A-Lago mess, so they’ve been forced to find lawyers for their own defense. “MAGA” now has a whole new meaning: “Making Attorneys Get Attorneys.”
You can’t say that with all his money, power, and prestige, perfect physical specimen Trump couldn’t get the best attorneys in the history of the world to defend him. Well, yes, you can say that. The best turned him down. One famous attorney wouldn’t even return his call. Trump was forced to go to the Library to find the names of patrons who recently had checked out the Lawyering for Dummies book and hire them.
I can still remember the good old days when someone who walked off with classified documents was called a spy, not a presidential candidate. Trump and his low-budget attorneys can nitpick the FBI’s timing, procedures, the whats, whens and wheres until the My Pillow guy actually comes up with evidence to turn over the election, but all the hoopla boils down to one simple bit of hoop: Trump possessed highly-classified stuff he wasn’t supposed to have. End of Story.
Those empty classified document folders are somewhat scary, especially when the Saudi Crown Prince said he received intelligence information from Jared Kushner. Coincidentally, Jared received a tidy two billion dollars from the prince. Hmm. Could there be a connection? Anyone? Anyone? Are you listening, Mr. Wild Bill Suheyda? Those missing documents could turn up anywhere. Just the other day at a McDonalds drive-up, when I ordered a Big Mac, the voice on the speaker asked, “Would you like a nuclear code with that?”
In a few years, all of the aforementioned will be moot. The asteroid Apophis is scheduled to hit Earth April 13, 2029, which just happens to be a Friday the 13th. Odds are it will be a close bypass, but scientists and astronomers are still arguing. It may happen in 2068, instead. Or the orbit of Apophis may change prior to either date. Those nutty asteroids are so unpredictable.