What do I do with all this data? Again?

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.)