Michael S. Moore

or so it would seem, though behind the wrecking ball distractions I fear Dire Forces of Pure Evil

are diligently at work [for some reason The City and The City keeps coming to mind].

Nonetheless, first day in Cali I went to Richmond, picking up steel for Linda before prices skyrocket [Tariffs! Putting billions into the pockets of the Billionaires of the Kleptocracy courtesy of

We The Consumers] as one sunny day flowed into another bringing, in the spirit of

George W. Bush’s response to that previous Threat to the Security of the Homeland when two towers in Manhattan were destroyed by suicidal Saudis, shopping! The bountifulness in the aftermath of the “Bent at Three Forks” project resulted in forty-two stretcher bars

to make use of the project’s canvas leftovers as well my first new computer ever plus some miscellaneous orphan diecasts [below] Stephen had seen on eBay

which with a little sorting and a trip to Pedrotti’s Monday for tiny o-rings were salvaged

into some semblance of respectability as a way to stave off the temptation to splurge on

something more, um, “patriotic”…

all that being the Monday after a Sunday ride along the water and another dinner

at Aroma, then the afternoon after Pedrotti’s having another of those intense Chinese

massages and a putt putt down around the jetty

in the ’45 preceding a Rainy Tuesday which

broke up into a breezy March Wednesday wherein Linda had word from the Floridian art movers that they’d made it safely from Omaha to Wall Spring, phew.

we had a Thursday lunch with Bryan down at the First Street Taphouse  [not shown]

before – always somethin’ –teethcleaning on East H. as, background noise, Doughface and Fuckwit continued their chaotic agenda with no regard whatever for consequences intended

or otherwise which, multiplying exponentially, pose a much graver threat to the Homeland’s Security than a couple of planeloads of suicidal Saudis ever did but oh well, oh Friday;

wet again, in and out of squalls in the afternoon to Vallejo PT,

dropping off the old MacBook at Southampton on the way, eh…

before returning to sunny Benicia

to continue my wild consumerist spending spree by ordering two picture frames and patronizing the local bookstore though still feeling insufficiently “patriotic” to spring for one of Doughface’s environmentally unfriendly and buggy buggies. I’m sure once he converts them to diesels the Proud Boys will love ’em though…