Step right up

Everyone’s a winner, bargains galore.

Once again I was awake too early.

We’d bailed on election-night coverage as it slouched inexorably toward its denouement because someone around here has to get up at stupid-thirty to make us some money. Not me.

If I had dreams, I don’t remember them. But I do remember something Jonathan Capehart of The Washington Post said during the PBS coverage last night.

It was a particularly fatheaded pronouncement, even for an associate editor of The Washington Post. And I didn’t make a note of it because I’d said something similar the first time TFG flipped his wig into the ring. That the 2016 election would show us who we were as a country.

Plenty of us already knew what we were then. Not enough, though. But surely anyone who has been paying attention since has caught up. Right?

Well, there’s the phone, on the nightstand. It’s not my practice to take the pulse of the planet before coffee, but I could hear Herself prepping in the bathroom and thought that if I got cracking I could make her a bite of breakfast before she left. If she had any appetite.

And so I picked up the phone.

Well, the rest you know. Another massive breakdown of politics, press, and populace. We’re just waiting on the details, is all.

Hunter S. Thompson has already filed his report, of course. He had the scoop after my first election, in 1972, when he wrote:

This may be the year when we finally come face to face with ourselves; finally just lay back and say it — that we are really just a nation of 220 million used car salesmen with all the money we need to buy guns, and no qualms at all about killing anybody else in the world who tries to make us uncomfortable.

[George] McGovern made some stupid mistakes, but in context they seem almost frivolous compared to the things Richard Nixon does every day of his life, on purpose, as a matter of policy and a perfect expression of everything he stands for.

Jesus! Where will it end? How low do you have to stoop in this country to be president?

We still don’t know the answer to that one, Hunter old sot. The barrel appears to have no bottom.

R.I.P., Kris Kristofferson

“I wouldn’t be doing any of it if it weren’t for writing,” he said, looking back on his career, in a 2006 interview with the online magazine Country Standard Time.

“I never would have gotten to make records if I didn’t write. I wouldn’t have gotten to tour without it. And I never would’ve been asked to act in a movie if I hadn’t been known as a writer.”

“Writer” was the occupation listed on Mr. Kristofferson’s passport.

A writer indeed. The Old Gray Lady has the obit.

Off to the races

Image of the evacuation lifted from EarthCam.

Well, hell, here we go — we’ve had a few warm-up fires this season, but looks like the main event just kicked off at Ruidoso, where everyone has been advised to git while the gitting is good.

“We were getting ready to sit down to a meal and the alert came on: Evacuate now, don’t take anything or plan to pack anything, just evacuate,” Mary Lou Minic told KOB-TV. “And within three to five minutes, we were in the car, leaving.”

Here’s the latest from New Mexico Fire Information. Ruidoso News has a story, updated last night. The Las Cruces Sun News trotted out a backgrounder from 2019.