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timeWe start with the faux reality that time is and ever was and not a function of space. After all, it is called the SPACE-TIME continuum is it not? This is the reality that the Contrarian lives within, where time has always existed. This somehow makes him comfortable rather than the TRUTH which is that time has no meaning unless it has something to relate to like MATTER and SPACE!

Okay, calm yourself. That is hardly the story here.

You see, it is the Contrarian’s JOB to get up in the morning, turn on my coffee and wake me gently at 5:45 a.m. so that I can have a few sips of coffee with Morning Joe before I am hauled into the desert for romping with Diego. Simple enough, right?

So, this morning, I turn over in my usual, half-dream state and just start to settle into my favorite left-leg over right leg and head snuggled into the pillow supported by my right arm which is at a 85° angle to my shoulder. Too much information? Oh, well okay.

So, just as I am settling, as I said, I hear, “babe, it’s 5:45!”

After cursing my birth, the universe, and time itself I start to roll to a sitting position, whereupon I am assaulted with the slobbery kisses of aforementioned dog, who whines quite clearly, “let’s not be late, I have bushes to pee on!”

I thereafter engage in all the processes of which you are no doubt not interested, until I have reached the point of making the bed, whereupon said Contrarian shuffles into the bedroom and whispers, “I was a little off,  about an hour,” and scurries away ducking and dodging to avoid being hit in the head with whatever might be at hand.

I curse. I fume. I cry.

I look at the clock for the first time, having until now been confident that a 62-year-old-man can be entrusted to so simple a task. Yes, it is now, 4:50 a.m.

So I endured an hour of the dog, “is it time yet?”

I got more than a few sips of coffee.

I got to see more of Morning Joe than I’ve seen in months.

As I prepared to take the walk, I wandered into his office.

“You owe me big time you know,” I assured him.

“But it’s not my fault. I’m Arabically dyslexic! I had all the numbers right, just in the wrong order.”

“The numbers are 5:45, and you woke me at 4:40 to be exact, how is that the same numbers?” I queried.

“Well, dyslexia is like that you know, it’s a most mysterious syndrome. I can’t be held responsible for such a troublesome malady.” He actually smiled at this, figuring that once again, he’d managed to come up with an air-tight excuse for his mistake.

“Find me flash cards online! I’m starting Diego’s number recognition training as soon as possible,” I sighed.

The halo GOD, if you please!

Meanwhile, back at the ranch.

Or, at least meanwhile.

Las Cruces, while incredibly sane and rational as cities go, has its supply of idiots, managing to exist within its environs. Take this little ditty from the local Sun-News. A man called police to report a crime. The crime? The prostitute he had hired stiffed (oh please) him out of ten minutes. Police calmly sympathized and got his location. They sent a car. Imagine his surprise when the cuffs went on him.

Meanwhile, government forces sprayed the crowd that had accumulated at the capital. Cairo? Damascus? Um, no. Try Lansing, Michigan.

It seems the GOP, unable as usual to read the tea leaves, handwriting on the wall, or any other metaphor for JUST PLAIN FRACKING STUPID, are trying to pass right to work legislation in a state that is pretty much noted for its unions. So when people came out to protest this action, the Governor ordered, first the capital closed, and then when that didn’t disperse the crowds of protestors, he had them sprayed. Yeah, the GOP has nothing left in the tank but stupid.

Meanwhile, somebody did a study and decided where the best place to be born is. Hint: it ain’t the US of A. In fact, the US is not even in the top 10. It used to be. But no more. I’m sure the far-right will blame that on the black guy in the White House. But of course we know better.

By the by, if you think all search engines are the same? No they are not. I did a search on the above story because I heard it on the news. Ask.com provided me with NO good links. Google gave me three immediately. I have no clue about Bing? Do you have a favorite search engine? Why? Grades will be given so show your work.

If you ask me, the best place to be born right this minute is Washington state. The legalization of pot went into effect at midnight or something, and well, the whole state looked pretty darn happy to me. Just sayin’.

See, I’m a big mouth. I gotta waste your time with my chatter. I think you NEED my opinion. Squatlo Rant just gives you the cartoons and lets your think for yourself. Go and enjoy yourself. I’ll stay here and keep talking.

Jim DeMint is leaving the Senate. Hurrah, Goodbye, Don’t let the door hit you in the rear. Another Tea NUT gone. Slight uptick in the IQ of the Senate. I didn’t know it was possible for the Heritage Foundation to sink to a lower low, but it has.

Speaking of people who can’t count–Mitch “The Turtle” McConnell pops to the fore. Seems the dope called for an up or down vote on the president having the authority to raise the debt ceiling on his own. Except that when he finished counting, he didn’t have the votes to win. So when Harry Reid called for the vote, Mitchy Mucho Muttonhead filibustered his own motion. And they say animals are stupid. I bet a few species could give old Mitch a run for his money.

Okay, I’ll shut up.

Until tomorrow.

When my mouth runneth over once more.