I have remained virtually "newsless" for several weeks. The few glimpses I have caught of "news anchors" prattling on, have made me furious and sad. So many lies. So much false information. So much suppression of real debate, e.g., we may not question the obviously fraudulent 2020 presidential election. To do so, you risk your job. It's STASI time in America.
The only bit of news I followed, and just a bit, was the absurd and unconstitutional impeachment trial. It shows, once again, that the DNC and its echo chamber will do anything, no matter how despicable, to smear, slander, destroy our real President, Donald J. Trump. What I particularly find unforgivable is that seven Republican senators voted to convict Trump of a fake crime. Disgusting. I am sure the attack on Trump and his family will continue from all reaches of the corrupt and dismal swamp. The IRS, the FBI, etc., will all get a crack at the Trump family.
My two older boys came by the new house a couple of nights ago, and helped me set up the cutting edge 1990's technology media center left behind by the previous owner. A mess of wires and boxes. I gave up, but the lads persisted, and--what do you know?--we have a giant screen experience. We, well, they hooked in the new ROKU to the old ceiling-mounted projector, cranked up the "ancient" sound system, and we all watched "Saving Private Ryan," a movie you could not make today. No lesbians charging the Nazi bunkers on Omaha Beach? All those white guys! What!?! CANCEL! CANCEL!
We sat around and the topic became "experts." One son related how colleagues at the large software company where he works, were arguing for the wearing of masks, citing "experts,"some of whom now advocate for "double masks." My boys are VERY skeptical of "experts." As one son noted, "Hey, Kevorkian was an 'expert.' He was a doctor. Mengele was an 'expert,' too. The guys who persecuted Galileo were 'experts'." I think that says it all about "experts."
Sorry for the brevity of the post, but I am exhausted. The Diplowife, who has endless amounts of energy, continues to have me move things and unpack this and repack that. She refuses to accept that I am an old grumpy man, now. Sigh.