A lot of water under the bridge. Back at work, the frenzied factory setting where the youth pass through the gauntlet. Times are hard, which means we come down harder on them. The shit, after all, rolls down the hill.
There's a new president elect, a new breeze blowing. but it might not be enough to stave off the shit hitting the fan, to continue with my bodily wastes metaphor, of our cankered and cancerous body politic. In the end, though, we will emerge a better nation, more aligned with the good.
Here's my two bits again. If this works, the theory is I will be broadcasting a weekly installment of French Pond Road, in the authentic quavering voice of the self-published author. You heard it here first.