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Greetings, my fellow port swillers and happy early weekend!

We’re forecast to have a sunny and hot one here, which is why Ol’ Robbo resolved last evening that it’s time for the annual porch cleaning. The only way to do a really thorough job is to shove everything to one side, scrub the other, let it dry, move everything over again (pausing first to scrub down the furniture), and repeat. And I don’t have a power-washer available so have to rely on hose, mop, and a bucket of suds. It’s a tedious job but very satisfying. (I’ve actually been having dreams about finally getting all the caked up pollen off the screens.)

Suds in the Bucket” is a great Sara Evans song, by the bye. And along those lines, I understand that this weekend is the six-month “anniversary”*** of Middle Gel’s walking out with her Young Man. (All together now: “Aaaw…….”) She asked me not long ago why I don’t post more about them here. The fact is that I really don’t know the boyfriend that well, having only met him the once when they were here for Easter Dinner. Also, as I told her, it’s one thing to write about the adorable episodes of one’s small children, but it’s something altogether different to write about the private biznay of a grown woman and I’m not really comfortable with it. That said, the fellah seems grounded, intelligent, and respectful of the Gel and doesn’t appear to be a politickal loon, plus it’s evident that the two are coo-coo-for-coco-puffs fond of each other, so at this point that’s good enough for me.

*** The pedantic fiend rises within Ol’ Robbo when the word “anniversary” is so casually applied to a period of months.

Speaking of politicks, the last time my Establishment Lib cousin visited us, she couldn’t resist signaling her virtue by proclaiming loudly that there was “nobody in the world” she trusted more than Dr. Fauci. Now that the depths of his perfidy in the whole Wuhan Lab fiasco are starting to leak out even in the Mainstream Media, I am sorely tempted to ask her innocently if she’d care to modify that position. (I know what she’d say: “Oh, I knew it all along!”) Aggshully, Ol’ Robbo did know it all along, the bio-weapon nature of the research, the backdoor U.S. funding, the cover-up, all of it. (And for what it’s worth, while I still believe the release from the lab was an accident, I also believe that its potential usefulness by the Powers was quickly recognized and seized upon. What was it ol’ Rahm Emmanuel once said about never letting a crisis go to waste?) But when the information first became available (well over a year ago), it was dismissed by my Betters as the stuff of tinfoil-hat right-wing fantasy. Mmmm-hmmm….

Skepticism of worldly things is merely experience put into practice. I don’t understand why so many people have such a problem grasping this.

Well, enough of all that. Ol’ Robbo is pleased that his new copy of John Wayne’s “The Cowboys” (1972) has arrived and he plans to watch it this evening. I honestly don’t care that much for most of the Duke’s later movies, as they tend to suffer from the same trends that were contaminating the movie industry as a whole in the later Sixties and early Seventies, but this one manages largely to get around all that and is a solid and satisfying adventure story. (And it always amuses me to think that Robert Carradine, who plays the oldest of the “cowboys” eventually wound up becoming Lewis. “NERDS!!“)

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