sunday

It's a big day for Pop. NFL kicks off its season. I thought the Romo injury in the pre-season might have dampened his football love this year, but he says the back-up guy is pretty good. He was singing in the shower this morning. He is making his ribs. He was debating whether to barbecue, but it looks like he is feeling his age and will bake them. I will lose the big room today, but I have been getting more than my fair share here for some months now. ... ... Ann Coulter is complaining about her treatment at Vice.com. It is interesting to see that she had some doubts about her political positioning: 'A little more than a year ago, before Trump announced his candidacy, Coulter thought her anti-immigration rhetoric would ruin her career. She worried "Adios, America" would flop and predicted television networks would ban her from the air for life. "I thought I would live under the Brooklyn Bridge," she said, looking back. "I knew it would be the end of my career."' [Vice] I am skeptical that she didn't think she was saying something very popular, albeit politically incorrect. I took that to be her stock and trade, that is, to take advantage of a sort of black market in political speech, which was effectively created by our informal codes of political correctness. She was willing to take on the stigma of saying unacceptable things in return for money and popularity. In any case, this article taught me something, if it's true, that Trump's political message is not merely coincident with Coulter's push, but he actually has been reading from her script, taking up her cause as his. ... ... I guess that helps to explain why Pop was singing in the shower. Lorie might be coming over. Well, I am out of the big room anyway, right? My concern has to be how long will she stay afterward. She is 75: one would hope that she might no longer feel the electricity to stay up till three in the morning drinking and partying. But you never know with these old folks today. If they are lucky enough to have their wits and not be knocked off their feet, they can surprise you: the 70s are the new 60s. ... ... I finished my first little memo pad from the 90s. Since I am also out of the big room today, I went ahead and looked for something to place these old pads in once I finish them. I found a box in the closet readily enough, but I figured, if I were smart, I'd just throw these pads away once I squeezed what juice I can from them into my Three Journal. The writing in those little pads is such shit. It is demoralizing and crushing to think that all my 90s were spent thus, that this is the fruit of my labor and art from the prime of my life. God, what a sickening joke! But I don't easily throw things away. Maybe later. ... ... My bedroom door was open and Lorie saw my books and said that she has stacks of books too, that her shelves are full up. She is presumably like Pop in thinking that all books are the same. She has the full John Grisham collection and a lot of Stephen King books, while I have Thomas Mann and Plato - we're both book people! ... ... I keep forgetting to shower. Two days go by so fast. My hair is starting to get long again, though: so, the need to bathe should become more obvious. ... ... Man, wouldn't you think that being both 75 years old, Pop and Lorie would be eager to be in bed early, maybe by ten o'clock, snoring away? Now add a good bit of alcohol into those old bodies: how can they stay up late like this, closing in on midnight and going strong? I am 51 and I am feeling stretched thin, and there's no alcohol in my system. Fuck, man!