Folks, I apologize. But I’m going to have to disappoint you again if you’re here to read another full-blown, well-considered, brilliantly-conceived, potentially-major-award-winning opinion. I’m calling in sick. Been sick all goddam week, as a matter of fact. Started feeling bad last Friday night and as of yet, have never got to feeling better.
(I’m sure it’s mere coincidence that my body was infected with some slimy bug on the very day that the United States executive branch was infected by another kind of slimy bug. Yet I’ve always had a lot of respect for the persuasive power of a good metaphor—at least, in the literary sense—so who really knows? Is ol’ Bill’s microcosm reflecting America’s macrocosm? As goes Bill, so goes the country? Has my sad old frame become a template for what is happening to our great nation? Does it sound to you like I’m thinking clearly? Just checking.)
So anyway, I don’t feel like writing. And besides, I’ve thought about the slimy bug now infecting the White House all I can stomach for this week. So I’m going to put a good tune on the blog spot and go back to bed. The tune is “Smile.” The one by Charlie Chaplin. I don’t necessarily adhere to the sentiments expressed in the lyrics. Rather than being a “smile through your fear and sorrow” type, I’m more of a “bitch through your fear and sorrow” guy.
But I do love the song, and I absolutely adore this gorgeous arrangement. My daughter sent it to me. She definitely is a “smile, through your fear and sorrow” sort. Good kid. Don’t know what I’d do without her.
Okay then, bye. See you later. You know … if I make it.