Word on the street is that a squadron of B-52 bombers took off from Barksdale Air Force Base in Louisiana overnight, destined for the Vatican. The Pope, roused from a sound sleep, was informed of both the incursion into the Vatican’s air space and the U.S. President’s declaration of trade war with the Vatican. The Pope immediately ordered the Swiss Guard to join forces with the Italian Army to repel the attack. Just hours ago, the Symbionese Liberation Army (SLA), which had covertly relocated its headquarters to Greenland after Patricia Hearst’s arrest , volunteered to join in the Vatican’s defense. In making that announcement, the SLA’s now-secretive leadership noted that the SLA “represents a political ideal of different races, genders, and ideologies living together in harmony for mutual benefit, forming a “united front” against oppression.” At the same time, the SLA disavowed its history of violence and asserted its commitment to diversity, equality, and inclusion, which ignited a massive forest fire in Needles, California.
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The “work week” has begun, grey skies casting a pall over an already dark morning. I have no obligations outside the house today, so I will remain indoors for as long as it feels right. Some days—this one, for example—are not suited to bright sunlight, warmth, and frenetic energy. Rather, they call for overcast skies, a chill in the air, and adjustable languor. And, of course, aromatic incense that pairs well with melancholy; Dragon’s Blood, for example. But when the cone of incense extinguishes its own embers, the day demands ritual sacrifice that takes the form of flinging politicians into the gaping craters of volcanoes belching thick and dense molten lava.
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Now, on to other matters that demand our attention. Here’s the list of necessities. An almost endless supply of rough-cut limestone blocks, shaped like bricks but two or three times their size. An equally immeasurable store of solid teak wood in a full range of dimensions. No veneers—just pure, solid teak. Plenty of eighteen-inch cork tiles, each one half an inch thick. Assorted twines, string, rope, plumbing materials and supplies, copper wiring, electrical fixtures, and fasteners. And the other tools and equipment and materials necessary to combine all them all properly, resulting in a delightfully comfortable home. Simple, but understated, elegance. I would need to import the skills, knowledge, and physical labor necessary to build this isolated retreat, too. And, of course, “utilities:” water lines, electrical service, high-speed internet, and sufficient passage of time that all the damaging characteristics of social media will have been all but forgotten. The closest neighbors—pre-screened for suitability and acceptance—would live several miles away. Should the materials, supplies, location, and assistance I want be unavailable, I probably could make do with a reasonably well-maintained mobile home at the edge of a mobile home park.
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The crows outside are creating a disturbance—loud enough to merit a call to ICE, Immediate Crow Exchange. The special today is not yet posted, but I think crows may be returned for mockingbirds, pelicans, California condors, Carolina wrens, and Barcelona bobolinks. There’s been talk, too, of switching out select crows and replacing them with polished steel chefs’ knives adorned with hand-hewn ebony handles. The moment I started writing about returns and exchanges, the crows became quiet, as if they had been reading my computer monitor or watching the keyboard as my fingers relentlessly stabbed it. Another possibility is that Google has entered into a murderous agreement to sell information to a flock of obsidian descendants of dinosaurs. Even Mother Nature may be doing business with the devil.
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