When I awakened my watch read 3:33.
“That’s a half-666,” I thought drowsily, trying to recall the details of a dream I’d been having. Something about needing to be somewhere, late as usual, and rooting through a duffel full of colorful short-sleeve shirts and shorts because of course I was butt-ass nekkid.
Then it came to me. Spring. First day of. I awarded myself a soupçon of spring break and dozed until 5.
When I dragged ass out of the sack to pull on some duds I was not looking for a flowered Paddygucci shirt and shorts, because spring in New Mexico debuted at 22°, which called for pants, long-sleeve shirt, and a light fleece vest.
Miss Mia Sopaipilla had already greeted the vernal equinox by blowing a hairball and carpet-bombing the litter box. Herself was clocked in at work, hoping to cash a few more checks before the X-Man decides Sandia National Labs doesn’t need any librarians to tell his DOGEbags where they might find the owner’s manuals for the Death Ray.
Just wing it, fellas. Hit that big red button on the grip and see what comes out the other end. Probably shouldn’t look down the barrel while you’re doing it. Move fast, break things, etc. Whoops, there goes Paris. Serves ’em right for wanting their statue back.
Yeah, Mr. Whitey! Yeah, science! Political science, anyway. Maybe political science fiction.
Mad Blog Media 
Sun is just peeking over the Sangres up here in FantaSe at a balmy 19 deg F. Happy Vernal Equinox, folks. And zilch snowpack.
Yeah, I’ve been humming that song lately, for some reason…
It’s a toe-tapper, innit? Now and then I think of Mr. Waits in this context.
“Whistling Past the Graveyard.” “Earth Died Screaming.” “God’s Away On Business.” “Dirt in the Ground.”
It’s a hell of a note when you have to turn to a tune like “Down, Down, Down” to cheer yourself up.
Donnie the Downer is our man.
This should be the inside the beltway theme song. Bosses who are assholes should be in perpetual condition yellow.
Got a relative over at Sandia as well. He might be ripe for the cutting too, unless of course he’s in one of those Black Ops working on that death ray.
Y’ever get the feeling that these DOGEshites work out of a bar somewhere, pounding green industrial lager and gobbling pretzels while tossing darts at a dartboard labeled with various job descriptions?
“Boom! Death Ray Dude. You’re zapped, pal!”
“Pow! Librarian! Stick that in your card catalogue! I’m on fire today. Drink up!”
Speaking of libraries, this is getting weird https://www.cbc.ca/news/canada/montreal/us-border-canada-quebec-stanstead-library-1.7489528
https://apnews.com/article/border-tourists-german-canadian-detention-immigration-408cd27338e8065268fabc835f8b0c34
Now that is truly some vile, punk-ass shit. Sure reinforces the negative stereotype of the border/customs/ICE people, amirite?
Our Canadian neighbor (green card, married to an American) must be looking forward to her next trip to visit the folks in the Great White North.
That is all we can expect from two brats playing with the federal government like a new toy that will soon be discarded when the next shiny thing comes along. “It’s a great day………”