Alexander Haig this morning, but the world certainly does go on: Watching the Olympics for about 30 minutes after I read the news online, there was no mention of the death of this man who was Secretary of State and served three presidents.
I was never a fan of Al Haig, but one would think NBC would have broken away from the “Super G” or whatever some nonsensically long, dangerous ski run is for this news. I suppose, however, we far to interested in seeing a crash or a participant other killed or injured than the news.
We are, indeed, an interesting nation; not quite one of dolts, but nonetheless one of a remarkable lack of interest with any sort of profundity in current events. After all, why so many headlines about Palin or Woods.
The former’s simply an idiot and the latter, aside from his athletic skills, deserves no intrusion into his personal life.
But it is Saturday morning and I’ll visit with a friend of mine at the gym and work out, then spend the better part of the day watching movies I’ve recorded on TCM. It’s my usual weekend vegetation, especially so on this dreary and gray day.
As I grow older my mind seems constantly aware of the “challenges,” to use the current euphemism of fashion, we are all facing. It is not a pleasant world at all.
However, as I browse throught so-called “blogosphere,” it at least modestly clear that there are “happy” families out there, with new children to show off and in whom I have absolutely no interest save that of a cynic wondering what negatives lie just below the surface.
Then they’re the “happy” young adults flitting from saloon to saloon seeking more drinks sweetened to a point that they can numb the pain of winding up for the evening with yet another partner they’ll see but once.
And now my dog has some sort of lump on his shoulder. Yesterday it was nearly $500 for a biopsy and now I wait for the results due next Wednesday, hoping it’s nothing more than a fatty tumor of little or no moment.
My wish is simply for some panoply to shield me against the woes of the world.
