I’ve been fighting some seriously hot and humid Texas ennui, but I was determined to sit down at the computer this morning and write. My plan was to write an essay about why I am so disenchanted with my county at the moment.
Sure, I was going to rant about Donald Trump and his gang of thieves, predators and uber-Nazis, but as bad as our president is, I wasn’t going to lay all the blame for America’s decline on him. I was also going to lament the sad fact that the Democratic Party that charged into a majority in Bush’s first has done nothing but jerk off the American public. I thought about mentioning the latest escalation of surveillance laws Bush wanted and a lot of Democrats voted for or the “non-binding resolutions” the ‘crats trot out to make it look like they are actually doing something about the war.
But, I wasn’t going to stop at Republicans and Democrats or any other political party. I had a lot of arrows to sling at the American public for putting up with all this shit. Points were going to be made about how we sit around with iProducts shoved in our heads watching imploding starlets on television while the economy is ready to crumble and political candidates put on dog and pony shows.
It was going to be good stuff, and you would have probably said, “Jeez, that can write his ass off, and he’s damn erudite and insightful.” Unfortunately, before I sat down at the computer in my offfice, I opened the sliding glass door so the dogs could easily come and go to the pool. When I did sit down, I heard a weird noise, turned towards the door and saw a small group of gophers, about 10 or 12 of them. They were carrying tiny swords and automatic weaponry and wore headgear that resembled a buffalo’s skull. Even in my world, it was an unusual sight.
Before I could utter a sound, one of the diminutive creatures stepped forward, raised his sword, and said, “We are Viking gophers from hell, and we command you not to write.”
What could I do? The dogs were no help. In fact, they were hiding under the deck. It was too damn hot to get into a melee with armed rodents, so I surrendered. “Hey,” I said, “no problem. Look, I’m turning off the computer.”
When they saw the screen flicker and die, the Viking gophers retreated, shouting Norwegian war cries and scurrying through the back fence.
I’m sorry you had to miss a great essay.
(c) Mike Hood 2017