Under Pressure, or, Notes from a disabled submarine at crush depth

There is a reason that I don’t post much nowadays. OK: Two. First, I’m semi-retired after writing a blog averaging over a thousand words a day for ten years. Day in and day out. But the second is most important: In the hurricane of a tsunami of an earthquake of sheer madness flying our way, I’m too busy dodging the legendary brown stuff to poke my head above the ramparts right now.

The metaphor is no longer the boiling frog. The proper metaphor is that we are in a disabled diving bell, drifting slowly to the bottom of the Marianas Trench. And the cracks have started to appear in the windows.

i. Of the Germans, it was said that they would blindly follow the ‘man on a horse’; of Republicans, this still holds true, save that they only require the horse’s ass …