It's been a while, folks.
Now that my favorite presidential candidate has re-declared on this very evening, I figured that the least I could do was saddle up the blog once again and hold forth as a poor (very, very poor in both the figurative and literal sense) version of Hunter S. Thompson during the campaign chaos to come.
I've usually cut back on writing during each year's "100 Days' War," as I call the college football betting season. This year, I stopped altogether as the wagering waters were murky and deep. Meanwhile, I traveled and socialized enough to put myself at consistent Covid risk, but to the best of the knowledge of my unvaccinated self, I have remained virus free. Rumor has it that the plasma of vaccine and Covid free individuals fetches a hefty fee on the black market, but I'll delve into this and other adventures in the months ahead.
In the meantime, let's all settle in for another Trumpian run at absolute power. In keeping with an overarching conspiratorial theme, my suspicion is that the GOP has hired various Wickian enthusiasts to truncate the Trumpster. I can only hope that some of the $90 million war chest that Mr. Trump wisely withheld from all of those lame MAGA senatorial candidates has been invested in Kevlar. I'm thinking if Wilson Fisk could deck himself out in stylish bulletproof-ness as the fictional King of New York, certainly Donald J. can do the same in the land of non-fiction.
Buckle up, people. This should be fun.
Bob Dietz
November 15, 2022
