Greetings, my fellow port swillers!

Another bee-ootiful Saturday here in the neighborhood of Port Swiller Manor. And a busy one for Ol’ Robbo.

The leaves are starting to come down in some earnest now, but not so thick on the lawn that I can’t mow them over instead of having to rake them up. I’ve always derived immense aesthetical pleasure from the contrast between the nice, green, trim lawn in the wake of my mower and the chaos of browns and yellows ahead of it. I also thoroughly enjoy it when bits of chopped leaf make their way into the engine and start to smolder.

Yes, even Ol’ Robbo has given up any hope of seeing another hummingbird this year. The feeder came down today.

Those of you interested in the doings of the Port Swiller menagerie might like to know that, after doing a little research, Mrs. R discovered that Decanter Kitten is, in fact, a Maine Coon. I’ve never dealt with one before, all my previous kittehs being tabbies of one kind or another. She’s already proving to be an immensely intelligent animal, and is almost exhaustingly playful. She’s still a bit leery of both Mrs. R and Self, but has for some reason adopted a deep attachment to Eldest Gel. (Yes, she’s back living at home until the panic eases off and she figures out Next Steps.)

Speaking of Gels, Youngest’s car wouldn’t start for me this morning when I sought to give it its weekly exercise. It’s not the battery, as the electrical systems are fine. Instead, the thing just won’t turn over. Fortunately, Youngest won’t be home for another five or six weeks, so it was quite easy to simply dismiss the matter from my mind for now.

Instead, I bestirred myself to finally take La Wrangler down to the gas station and get my seven month overdue inspection taken care of. I guess my fear of the discovery of some heretofore unknown malady was finally outweighed by my fear of the wrath of Mrs. R if I got popped by the coppers for driving on such out-of-date tags (which I also renewed as soon as I got home).

As regular friends of the decanter are aware, Ol’ Robbo has tended to shy away from politickal discussions here. However, on those lines, if you haven’t already seen it, I very strongly recommend that you go over and read this post and its linked articles. It’s absolutely spot-on and something Ol’ Robbo has been ranting about in private for some time. And here’s a pro tip: These are the people who are coming after you and me. And if you think Creepy Joe is going to “return us all to normalcy”, you can rest assured that he’s being used as a skin-suit by this crowd, to be discarded or ignored once his usefulness is over. Perhaps you may see why Ol’ Robbo cares nothing about the Bad Orange Man writing icky tweets.

Anyhoo, on a cheerier note, this coming week marks the twentieth anniversary of the Family Robbo’s move into Port Swiller Manor. I’ve never lived anywhere else for anything close to so long. And as I have no plans whatsoever to move anywhere else in either the near or the far future, I suppose that’s a record that will never be broken.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, it’s time to go see about getting dins started. Another Saturday of brats on the barbi, this time to be covered by mustard and chopped onions and be damned to the consequences!