I woke when I saw George Floyd go limp. In my day, snuff films didn’t exist.
Paint on the floor and deep scratches, no doubt from the spurs on some local yokels’ cowboy boots; then the burns. (Who burns their floor?)
Surely, how one has lived one's life is a testament to a person’s existence, but the manner of one's own death? Is that also a testament of one's life?
I was reminded not to say the vicious word today. The way he was killed. The butchering. The Press slander ..
With temperatures reaching into the low 90's in our Oven State and the heir apparent of creatures extraordinaire, I was brought a gopher tortoise by a bunch of my neighbors who had no idea why a one-to-five-pound tortoise would be running at lighting speed (for a turtle) through our streets and alley ways. We allowed... Continue Reading →