He awoke with a sharp grunt. Like someone had kicked him in the balls.
Come to think of it, it hurt down there, too. And he had to pee. Again.
“Driver,” he called to the front of the black town car. “Pull over. I have to piss again.”
“Can you hold it for about 10 minutes, Mr. Trump? This is a pretty bad place to pull over.”
“President. I told you to refer to me as President Trump. I don’t want to say it again.”
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Art is best left to describe itself.
I’m a firm believer in that.
But I also believe you should let people know where they can find the cool stuff. This, for example.
The beauty of San Miguel de Allende is that you find art everywhere, often in the most unexpected places.
Especially murals.
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Here is how it all unfolds.
Trump loses. He loses badly. The numbers are so clear and decisive that there is no wiggle room for Trump to claim fraud. The victory is decisive.
Trump does not concede defeat because he and his family are all busy packing.
Trump abdicates his “MAGA throne,” goes into exile in Russia, and sets up a shadow government. The money he has squeezed from the faithful in side scams and the money he has harvested from foreign interests is already safely deposited in Russian vaults and bitcoin portfolios.
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A long hike is never really over.
We finished walking Scotland’s West Highland Way on September 18. It is still very much on my mind and I suspect it will be hanging around.
There were lessons learned. Both about myself and the trail.
That’s really what it is mostly about in the end, isn’t it? Nobody walks – let’s call it 100 miles – and walks away not knowing something new about themselves.
Even if it is only whether or not you love toe socks.
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Musings, Magic, San Miguel and More 