Oh by the way, folks,
Today we celebrate a feast day in honor of Saint Giles. He's the patron saint of beggars; blacksmiths; breast cancer; breast feeding; cancer patients; disabled people; Edinburgh (Scotland); epilepsy; fear of night; noctiphobics; forests; hermits; horses; lepers; mental illness; outcasts; poor peoples; rams; spur makers; sterility.
That's quite a workload! In the interest of fairness, I think they oughta give him a break and let him offload some of those duties onto some of those unemployed saints they've got lolling around on heavenly welfare.
Nothing happened yesterday except for the usual Labor Day Weekend festivities, including lotsa nice sobriety checkpoints up and down Rt 2-by-4. No, I didn't get caught. I don't drive drunk. In fact, I didn't drive anywhere yesterday.
And so today we do our obligatory hour of indulgence in our egotistical delusion that we can somehow recite mystic incantations to influence the decisions of whoever's running the world.
Then in the afternoon it's gonna rain. Good! I'll go out and enjoy it!
Signs of life