Volunteered for the Russian-made Covid-19 vaccine trials, getting my first shot with нет side effects whatsoКогда-либо, and я чувствую себя прекрасно.

I jus’ ate a Snickers bar and you know what? I’m still an asshole.

As I sit at my writing desk, my Trump 2020 face masked pushed down and exposing my nose and mouth, I’m reflecting on time spent at a recent presidential rally, or rather ‘peaceful protest,’ in Minden, Nevada. I bought the mask as a souvenir, a gift to myself, thinking it very apropos for the times we are living in.

For someone who enjoys plying words, I am stalled, trying to find the best way to begin this tale. So as Mark Twain said, “The secret of getting ahead is getting started. The secret of getting started is breaking your complex overwhelming tasks into small manageable tasks, and starting on the first one.”

Here I am…

From my private journal, Saturday, 12 September 2020 at 1119 hours: I slept in later than I usually do – I mean, much later. That’s because I’m going to the Minden-Tahoe Airport in Douglas County for my first ever presidential rally. I’ve been to others, but only ever as a member of the press, so this is different for me.

Donald Trump is scheduled to speak at 1900 hours, so I doubt that I will be back home before midnight. I’m going with my son and daughter-in-law, Kyle and Alex. Mary is remaining home because of the lack of mask use and social distancing.

The return to my journal wasn’t made until the following day, Sunday, September 13, 2020 at 0051 hours:

What an exceptionally long day. We arrived at around 1400 hours, parked the car and by 1500 hours we were being bused to the airport. Once there, we stood in a dusty parking lot until about 1630 hours. No food, no toilets outside the gated and guarded venue.

Finally the gates opened and people began to pour in. Once inside, security shouting, “no food, no water inside.” People began abandoning their beach chairs, fancy water flasks and I even saw a Nikon camera left along the pathway to the main gates.

It reminded me of those people who unloaded their Conestoga wagons of pianos, fancy china, iron cook ovens and books as they began the trek up and over the Rocky Mountains.

We were thoroughly screened along with whatever we had remaining in our possession. Once inside, we were able to gather a folding chair and make our way to the seating area. Chairs were placed helter-skelter and people packed the front of the venue like sardines. I could not see the stage from where I sat.

Many people took to standing on their chairs in order to get a better look at the flag-lined stage. At one point, a locally hired security guard with a bushel of self-importance a bad attitude to boot, screamed at everyone to ‘quit standing’ on their chairs and to ‘get down.’

One child, about ten, not paying attention, didn’t get off his chair, and the guard threatened to drag his ‘ass out of the place.’ The guard realized his error, when a bunch of us turned, surrounded the kid, and faced him. Thereafter, people returned to standing on their chairs.

The President came on at 1900 hours. His microphone setting was low, so it was difficult to hear him over  the crowds. Twenty-five-thousand people in attendance. This is nearly the entire population, as estimated in 2019, of all of Del Norte County, California, where I grew up.

Afterwards, we were herded out of the venue to where we were to meet the buses back to our cars. That was another two-hour ordeal of no food and no toilets. Eventually, we got on a bus at 2300 hours and by 0036 hours, back in Spanish Springs.

As for me, I am social distancing from my wife for the next two weeks, sleeping in the guest room throughout the period. And so, having eaten a large cold can of Chef Boyardi’s best ravioli’s and downing a three-thick-fingers of whiskey, am ready to sleep, sufficiently decompressed from a long, long, but exciting day.

With my body hurting and sore, I turned off my bedside light, only to realize I couldn’t recall a single word the President spoke last night. Exhaustion. Thankfully, my wife taped his appearance.

Needing to get out of the house, I drove up into the hills behind Lockwood, east of the Truckee River. Once on the familiar gravel road, I found a band of wild horses and with a bag of red apples I proceeded to feed them, though I know I shouldn’t do so.

Eleven Mustang, by my count, swarmed around me, nudging one another for a place closest and in front of me, where they could get the best access to my gifts. In no time I was out of the tasty treats and I was no longer the focus of their food-centric minds.

Soon they were spread out, grazing at the tufts of dried grasses and the sage that cover the hillside. Still facing the stallion, I started walking backwards from where they’d been gathered about me only a few minutes before.

Without warning, the stallion, a large gray with a milky right eye and battle scares covering his neck, face, flanks and hips, came charging at a full gallop at me. He came on so quickly that I had no time to react to his apparent aggression.

In a flash, I found myself knocked off my feet and blasted sideways, where I landed in a heap and then tumbled end-over-end into a bunch of dried up Russian thistle. However, the stallion didn’t give chase.

I figured that he believed me to be far enough away to no longer be a threat.

But before I could get fully to my feet, I heard hooves beating into the loose stones near where I’d been standing. Never have I had a wild horse move to protect me from a rattle snake, but as I sit here, nursing my aches, pains and scratches, I’ve learned that there is a first time for everything.

Life is but an Edgar Wallace Plot Wheel
‘And Dog created man’ not out of question.
One more volume filled with the holy lies,
Where walls of flame fill skies with smoke,
Embers burning down state’s filled with
Anarchists, environmentalist, evolutionist,
Molotov cocktail throwing pro-revisionists.
And as governor’s dictate demagoguery.
At least we can still praise Dog almighty.

Based on yard signs, Joe Biden will place third behind Donald Trump and Garage Sale.

Willy got the paperwork via a special shuttle from Earth to Mars. The large envelop was marked urgent in large red-lettering.

“Recalled?” he said, “I jus’ got here. And what about the new porters job I was promised at the hotel/casino?”

The person delivering the folio, shrugged and turned away.

Slowly, Willy read through the documents, looking for an explanation. There it was on, the third page, second paragraph, fourth sentence.

“There are domesticated dogs being unlawfully-housed and fed by the citizen’s of the Moon.”

Willy sighed, “Once a dog-catcher, always a dog-catcher. Where’s Bob Barker when you need him?”

Saying that you support ‘freedom of speech,’ but not ‘hate speech,’ is like claiming you support ‘physics,’ but not ‘gravity.’

The dream is: while with a group of people, we were invited to search through a home for items we believed to be valuable. Since I was in the military, I was assigned to look for anything that was related to uniform service.

As I did this I found myself being followed and then chased by two men. I ducked into a dark room and hid behind a twin bed.

As I saw the shadows of the men enter the room, I crawled around the bed, then decided to slide under it and hide. When I did, I discovered the bed covered a rectangular bottomless pit and I fell into it.

The reality is: I fell out of bed, bruising my right hip, bashing my right ankle bone, jarring my already bad back, banging my head against the dresser as I slipped between the bed stead and it, and injuring my right wrist. This woke my wife, who jumped from bed in a frightened panic that I’d seriously hurt myself, and caused the dogs to woof and investigate me as I sat up.

Once gathered and back in bed, I realized I couldn’t move my wrist. It took a bit of manipulation, but I finally popped the ulna back into place and then allowed myself to drift back to sleep.

The outcome is: as I started back into that place where dreams and reality mix for the briefest of moments, I understood that I am a better story-writer than a story-teller. Enjoy the fall.

The magic of a snow day for kids in school is lost now that there’s distance-learning.