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I’ve opted for the latter. Why monk around in one’s final years? Why parlay one’s paltry remaining days trying to parse and parry the idiocy of a still infant
Social Media. Why worry about what other’s like, consider appropriate, gravitate to, or are being manipulated by?

Way too much work.

Which is why I didn’t monk up my home office. Make a solemn place to compose. A retreat for serious reflection. Some redoubt to forever bite back on the bit and byte. Bye bye to that BS forever.

Have your say, here’s mine. I’m fine with being motivated by the fun and backhanded seriousness associated with a 1950’s pulp novel. All flashing neon, tail fins, gun smoke and bullet bras, with high heels, supper clubs, low-rent villains, and then sprinkled with a few high concept injections of semi-plausible alternative history.

What counter-culture fun is that to be? Not necessarily the end product, but certainly the practice. Make it all loud and proud and journey juiced.

No statements made, nor literary pretensions proffered; all just for kicks and giggles, and the chance to die with an ISBN…or two…or four.

So, some new semi-Next Gen programable LED’s are on the way. Along with an upgraded digital audio converter. And some minor works of a major Pop Art master. These being dual purpose purchases. As most are, for us , presently.

So, smoke ‘em if you got’em, and sans mask if jabbed and comfortable.

See Ya. And the Cubs won.

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