Phoctober the one hundred sixth

We're a week away from getting our new President, the one we ordered back in November from the catalog. This will be the seventh peaceful transfer of power in my lifetime, as I was born in the vaporous remnants of the Nixon administration, around the time Butterfield admitted before Congress that tapes were made of conversations within the Oval Office.

Good times.

And if there is one thing our nation took away as a lesson from all that, it was never to re-elect a seemingly shifty Republican who has clearly misled the American people.

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What's that? Not a political blog?
Quite right. I apologize.

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What's that? Not really a blog at all anymore, since the word perpetrator who once filled these pages with his thought(s) disappeared under mysterious circumstances quite some time ago?
A bit wordy, but I can see your point. Again, I apologize.

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While we're on disappearances, did you know that the US government built a Liberty Ship in 1942 and christened her the SS Amelia Earhart? Seems a little strange to me to name a sea vessel after someone lost and presumed dead at sea, but I was not consulted.

I am almost never consulted.

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When last we saw one another, Phoctober was in full flush. For abandoning my post in the middle of a communal project, I truly do apologize.

I recently had occasion to look through my discarded photography and try to find some beauty in the shots that were total misfires for one reason or another. I found a few that worked in the same sort of way that some abstract art does: they just sort of appealed to my eye. I'll close this post with a few of those.