Vespro, City, Urban Development, Compost and Raised Garden Bed

…Newts, Mitts, Ricks, Herms. All words which would fit after the phrase:  “I am sorry to have to tell you, but you have a nasty case of the………  The symptoms?  Over confidence, superciliousness, lack of empathy and an ability to deny history, science, reality and to reverse direction on a dime.

As I watched Mitt confronted on the tube by his own history of reversals in what should have been the friendly setting of GOPTV, I had to clench in sympathy to the rictus smile of the ambushed oligarch. I didn’t sign up for this! No one talks to me like this in my board room – I’m running for President gosh darn it. Why don’t people just like me, I know I do.

Despair is too high a price for my surprise that our man was extruding licorice instead of plastic on our extruder after hours.  Intended as a sideline for Sees Candy,  a mix up in delivery carried with it  the seeds of damnation. Three tones of  licorice (not recycled, but biodegradable) ended up in thousands  of tree wells in Santa Ana.

Somehow our man got tangled, spun like a top, in strands of licorice, in a too tight  cummerbund and lay immobilized on the floor.   This sort thing is better done  in India where it takes two servants to get the thing on.   For my light entertainments I always travel with long folds of extra commerbund and moskito netting.

One of the hazards of compassion, is that one can cleave to the notion of  corruption and pity without a trace of sentiment.  If you were a convert, you could to. One thing is certain, after pouring myself a glass of pink gin-or is it bitters?

Tomorrow the mortician will be a a shilling or two richer.