Summer of Hope
Its been a summer of fear...but also a summer of hope.
With each month breaking the temperature records and July being the hottest on record and 2015 being hotter than 2014 and 2016 being hotter than 2015, its actually has not been that terrible here in Texas this year.
We've received more rain than usual and the Highland Lakes are unusually full.
The summer Olympics in Rio came off without much of hitch except for the drunk spoiled American swimmers who had to lie to get out of a little trouble thus within a few days finding themselves in real trouble and international liars on the way to losing real money as sponsors ran from them like Trump runs from the truth.
The National Conventions were early this year and both were spectacular.
The R's went first and theirs was spectacularly bad. Breaking tradition, Trump actually appeared in the fog of dramatic lighting to introduce his wife. She then gave a newly reprised edition of the speech given by Michelle Obama 8 years ago. When confronted with the the use of the almost exact words, they staff steadfastly did what they do so well...they lied and they denied. They let Ted Cruz speak and then booed him off the stage for telling the mostly white crowd to vote their conscience.
Every night was a different little Trump, and each night they did a pretty good job of selling their Dad. For all of them, it was the Dad that had divorced their mother, with one of the mothers stating in her divorce papers that he had actually raped her in a pique of anger over his failed hair surgery.
Then came the D's.
It opened up with the Chairman of the DNC resigning over the Russian assisted stolen emails of DNC staff which had discussed the race between Clinton and Sanders in seemingly biased ways. We were shocked to see that long time democratic staffers acted as if the non democrat Sanders was trying to take away the nomination from the Democrat from adulthood Clinton. (She was a R in her youth)
So Wasserman resigned in shame, but from then the party took off.
With great speeches from the President, from Michelle, Joe Biden, Bill Clinton, Chelsea Clinton, and the whole democratic constellation, the Convention soared. And it culminated with the Virgin Hillary all in white against that royal blue background, and a blizzard of balloons that actually eclipsed the Trump dump. Many have called it the best Political Show perhaps ever. And the polls showed it.
Within a week, HR Clinton was way ahead in the polls. She was well ahead in Florida, in Ohio, in Michigan, and competing in Arizona and Georgia.
Meanwhile Trump's thuggish campaign manager became better known for running the Kremlin's man for president in Ukraine than for running the Kremlin's man here in the good old USSA. Meanwhile, Trump decided to go after the Gold Star mother and father that spoke at the Democratic Convention with such authority and impact.
By the end of the month, Trump and his campaign were struggling. But convention bumps are called Bumps for a reason. Labor day will tell the true story and as amazing as it seems, the election will tighten depending on the gaffs, the outside influences from the Russians and ISIS, and the debates which start in late September.
For me, rather than obsessing about our potential national large step backwards for a man, one giant leap backwards for mankind, I have managed the stress and anxiety of the possibility of a white supremist, misogynist, power hungry narcissist becoming a national embarrassment that would try to unravel the global climate change accords signed in Paris last year by making my self busy making things look better.
Yes, after graduating from cardiac rehab, we started working on the back side of the big house in late spring. I bought the doors and windows over two years ago, and drew up the plans three years ago.
The before and afters tell the story.
Then, after several years of sitting fallow, we started work on my now not so recently departed daughter's home. A strange mixture of trust ownership, grief, and circumstance had left it in the small town American urban bar ditch. But now, the magic harp has returned.
Before
After
I'm hoping that the headlines on November 9th look this good.
And that the magic harp doesn't get stolen by the orange pygmy.
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Labels: climate change, personal philosophy, Prophecy