For most of my adult life I’ve been a “morning person.” If I ever wanted to change that, Scout and Dipstick would make sure I didn’t — most days they have me up by 5am. After feeding them I stay up, too, trying to get an early start on making the day count.
Besides, rolling out of the rack early paves the way for two of my favorite things: watching the sun rise and taking a good afternoon nap.
This morning I woke up groggy and couldn’t shake it. The whole day I moved around in a fog — not sick, just “off” — but I did move around.
Ok, maybe I propped my feet up and consumed more social media than usual.
I returned to Facebook a month or so after my banishment because that’s where the eyeballs are. That’s how most of you find me. Beyond its utility, it provides entertainment available nowhere else.
Take, for example, the never-have-I-ever list (a twist on the have-you-ever quiz I wrote about recently) posted by a radio station. It was innocuous and uncontroversial, and yet Facebook‘s algorithm saw fit to slap a WuFlu warning on it.
Or the RVer who asked a group if they could help him find new decals for his motorhome’s waste-water tanks. The first response came from a guy who suggested a Biden-Harris sticker — which, despite being both clever and appropriate, surely got him kicked out of the group.
I call that “suicide by moderator.”
In these private RV groups, members must apply to and be approved by admins. Usually approval is followed by the new member posting a public “thanks for the add” message and a photo of their motorhome (or whatever), to which members reply with messages of welcome.
That ritual played out in a certain Class A group today. One welcome came from Alabama, which prompted another member to post, inexplicably, a caution about the prevalence of WuFlu in Alabama.
I swear I didn’t make that up.
This particular Karen hails from British Columbia, almost 4,500 miles (as the virus flies) from Alabama. She has no business meddling or expressing her perfunctory concern, other than to signal her presumed virtue — and that from a citizen of a country seriously considering internment camps for The Unvaccinated.
I didn’t make that up, either.
If she thinks ‘Bama is a danger zone, man, she oughta see Arkansas. Last I checked, less than 36% of the residents here have been vaccinated. (Ohio, for purposes of comparison, is at 46% and nationally the number is 50%.)
Where we spend most of our time, Boone County, the vaccination rate is under 25%, indentical to Marion County to the east. Newton County, to the south, is at 22%.
Virtually no one wears a mask ’round here. For the most part, people have stopped distancing. This place is closer to “normal” (read, “rational”) than anyplace else we’ve been. It’s wonderful.
America has enough Karens as it is. Lots of our coastal elites would love to control how we conduct ourselves out here in Flyover Country, but they can’t. We no longer care what they say in DC, so you can imagine how little attention we’ll pay to a voice from BC.
Deb and I agreed to take the easy way out and grab McDonald’s drive-thru for dinner tonight. We made the short jaunt fun, though, rolling back the soft top and removing the upper doors.
As the sun dipped in the sky, it seemed to us like the perfect time to take the drone up the hill and launch it over the construction site. So we did.
The progress made since our last visit is nothing short of remarkable. There’s a much better road up the hill now. The sites are all laid out. Water and sewer lines are in, and electric is coming next week.
Our reservations in October are for the site we have now — with the caveat that if they’re ready for us on top of the hill, that’s where we want to park Ernie.
My money’s on the new section being open for business by then. Can’t wait to see it.
Take care of yourselves, Patriots. Stay calm. Stay sharp. Stay free.