What do I do with all this damned data?
Well, I awoke, as per plan, if not per outright schedule,
fresh as a daisy at 3:50 this
morning and so, as is my wont, up, up, and away I flew from my bedroom to the
kitchen to see what I might find. And
what was that. The kitchen had not
changed one iota from what It had been when I crawled into bed late last night
barely able to keep my eyes open, not even trying to stay up to see what
Stephen Colbert might have come up with about our one and only Great Guy of the
moment. And I like Colbert’s
comments. He is one of the best things I
can think of when I am forced to think about the Great Guy we now have as
newsmaker in chief, President of all he surveys, SOB extraordinaire, Donald
(smell something?) Trump. Yes, it is Colbert
I await each night to see to give me strength to go on. Great.
Maybe the North Koreans have something. Their leader, Kim Ill Something, inherited
his position, as do most Kings, from his Father, who, like most fathers,
finally died and left things awash and akimbo for those left behind to deal
with. And deal with it Kim Ill had done,
putting together a nuclear explode and deliver plan that has given all,
including our SOB extraordinaire, something to think about and deal with. Good for him, I think, he could use a little
Pt 239 or something up his whazoo for a night or so, and then he would be just
where he deserves to be. In the mean
time, the rest of humanity gets to sit back and watch the evening news to see
what he and our SOB (well, you get the picture) as they play out their roles on
the world stage might have recently done and, hopefully, that something would
not be anything at all that would hurt anyone at all. What a life.
Mine or theirs, you say, well, take your pick. From first breath to last, we all have our
own missions—just to extend that little bit of life for as long as we might to
do what?
Well, if extension is all there is, I guess you and I are no
better or worse than these two piece of guano fellows or their least of
brethren next-door neighbors digging through some junkyard trying to find their
own nightly dinner. The President and
the Pauper? Try “The Prince and the
Pauper” and you just may have something.
Take a breath, friend.
It just could be your last (depending on the actions of two fools, that
is.)
Smiling yet? Good
grief.
Now, as to that data, well, there will be another night, and
another morning, or so we all hope. The
data, dying its slow death in computerized sticks, can wait. No one will really give a damn at all. (And, yes, that data will die if left only in those sticks. Maybe we should all try putting it on disks. Once burned in there, it could last for centuries.)
