Nurse the Hate: Tasmanian Fall Out

It’s been a difficult realization that I need to pick up the pieces after my failed scheme to corner the Tasmanian sparkling wine industry has completely unraveled.  I really thought that was my golden ticket punched for glory.  I was so sure of success.  It seems evident to me that if your goal is as attainable as owning the Tasmanian sparkling wine market appeared to be, it would be easy to achieve.  Not only that, but I should have been rewarded for my sheer gumption alone (and I don't use the word "gumption" lightly).  Sometimes life just isn’t fair.  Just when you think you can have it all, it slips right through your fingertips.

I am reading an excellent book, “Barbarian Days: A Surfing Life” by William Finnegan that has me thinking about becoming a surfing champion in 1967 Hawaii.  It has already been pointed out to me by my numerous skeptics that I have pretty poor balance, which appears to be important in big wave surfing.  There is also the complicated matter of time travel which also appears to be a bit of a wild card.  However, I think that if I can overcome these two minor hurdles, I will fit in very well in Hawaii during the Summer of Love.  I am wary about the very real chance to be involved in fistfights with locals, and as a middle-aged man I have some concerns about my chances of victory over lean muscled Hawaiian and Samoan teenagers.  I might read the book to its conclusion first before launching my mission in that area.  I might need to pick up a few tips.

There also appears to be a very exciting opportunity in the political arena as most of our current President’s cabinet continue to slowly provide every indication that they have been involved in either criminal or even treasonous behavior in colluding with a hostile foreign power.  Now in the past I would have thought that the American Public would have already fitted these guys in ball gags and tossed them in barbed wire pens in Guantanamo Bay.  This is a New Age though.  We don’t seem to care about such trivial behavior as our elected leaders using Russian counter intelligence.  If even a shred of a flimsy explanation for this mystifying behavior is offered by the various creeps in the Right-Wing Information Hate Machine, the various Rubes that have yet to completely figure out they got fleeced by Trump will buy in.  One would imagine that if you thought that the Reality TV Show Billionaire Guy was going to help you out, and then he decided to give government jobs to his Billionaire Pals, you'd be pissed.  Then when he decided to give them big tax cuts while at the same time fucking you over, you’d be even more pissed.  Then when you found out that when he was telling you all those lies so he could fuck you over, it turned out that he was using The Russians so he could instead deal them a solid?  Well, I would think you’d be super pissed.  Nope, not really though…  Who's got time to follow up on all that?  I mean, did you see that new “Taco Bell Triple Double Crunchwrap”?  Yum.  Pass the hot sauce.

So, I suppose I should go write some songs tonight and try to identify South African chenin blancs and New Zealand pinot noirs blind before heading to the basement.  I want you to know though, I’m looking.  Looking for my Big Chance.