
This article from today (LA Times, August 23, 2019) is pretty depressing. I think of myself as pretty lucky as not having to eventually see the worst of things to come, but as for my nephew, I don’t know. He’ll walk across paperless libraries with not shelves but docking stations. He wrote a couple of letters, which I still have, but now only texts or emails or nothing. Texts and emails get deleted. Cheap. Loaded with as much sentiment as a fart. Forgotten as soon as you writer it. No record of the time in your lives when made, no actual care in creation, or no emotional reaction to something as transitory and short-lived as the fore-mentioned fart or spam.
If it wasn’t for the devastation, I’m ready for the digital end.
Ok, off subject a bit. Sorry. I’m at work and staring at my screen, which makes me forget to blink and my eyes dry out which helps make any allergy I get caused by this crazy weather worse.
Books. Right. My dad, who gave me his Hermes Rocket 1956, he also buried me with his vast library. He crushed me with Franz Fanon, Nietzche, Bertrand Russell, Isaac Asimov, Ray Bradbury, Raymond Chandler, Georges Simenon, Maupassant, Highsmith, LaCarre, ………….. All not simple reading for a kid under 15 or younger. Now what do they read? blogs? (Never mind that.)
Books kept their identities, their worlds. Digital texts, especially when owned by some online school textbook company, can easily be edited. If a history book in digital form has a section that does not comply with management’s world or political view, it’s edited. Look it up. School boards today are being filled by conservatives who are tweaking sylibi in schools nationwide.
Again, I lose my train of thought. My train, it’s maybe a boat, lost at sea.
Anyways, you know what I mean by now. You’re free to go now. Thank you for visiting.
What? Shoo! Go now. I’m tired. Good night, and good luck.










