Albo P Fossa—September 21, 2019
The answer to the Ultimate Question of Life, the Universe, and Everything
Our iPhones officially become obsolete this week: built in. They won’t accept the iOS update. We’ll trade flipping our fingers for flashing our faces.
Trump conspires with the Ukraine while Congress does nothing. As the Atlantic asks, “If this isn’t impeachable, what is?” Should this deserve an extraordinary session? I guess not. Congress fiddles while Rome burns. We reveled for centuries. Now we spit upon the gifts of our Founders.
Summer falls. Junior Tree’s leaves yellow one or two or three at a time, from the center out. We saw one fall. Our venerable cottonwood and its small oak companion show small yellowings and fallings too. The trees know when there’s not enough sun: nights now and then cool.
Ground squirrels collect booty instead of eating it. Yet hummingbirds still buzz, along with an occasional bee, a housefly, and a sneaky lizard who’s evaded the neighborhood cat.
How much of our time is spent on shabby meaningless entertainment, passing the time, until death comes to rob us of our misspent youth.
We boomers thought to make the world a better place. Now the millennials may latch on, correct course, and make the world a better place. Or run aground and grow old in denial and guilt. (Whoever thought I’d grow up to be this away?) For such is the way of generations. To resist is to fight with the air. Teach your children well.
Maybe someday all this’ll be history.