I Still Don't Trust The Future

     The recent impeachment effort is one of the reasons I'm unsure how much change we're going to see when Congress turns over in January like pond water.

     There were enough House Democrats in Washington and enough Republicans playing hooky that had they bothered to show up, they could have carried a vote to impeach Secretary of Defense Hegseth.

     On the other hand, there are not -- and will not be -- sufficient votes in the current Senate to actually oust the guy.  Nope; the Senate would have cleared their slates, shoved the furniture around to set up for the big event, made sure the Secretary and whatever legal counsel he had -- possibly Attorney General Todd Blanche himself -- were set up with carafes of water and coffee, comfy chairs and microphones, etc., let Senators do a little chastising of their opposite numbers, let the Dems chide the impeachee and the GOPpers congratulate him, broken for lunch, come back, held a vote finding him not guilty and been done in time for a nice supper, maybe even drinks before.  What's the point?  Setting a few more of my tax dollars on fire?

     They can run the process after the first of the year and maybe have a whisper of a chance of success, if the majority can find a handful of Senate Republicans minded to play along.  By then, the new minority party will have a better idea who they want to blame, and it might be him.

     This is all the old familiar song and dance, and if if I wanted to watch the same-old same-old done to perfection, I would have changed the channel to Bugs Bunny, who's got more panache and can carry a tune (Oh, that Mel Blanc and his successors and uncredited peers!).

     The Fed.gov has got a long way to go to earn my trust, no matter who's turning the crank.  I'm more inclined to let the Democrats finish their audition -- but make no mistake, it's indeed an audition.  I sure hope they've rehearsed!

     Around four this morning, I woke from a realistic dream in which I'd been out working in the front yard of Roseholme Cottage, the neighborhood looking even more haggard than it usually does this time of year, trees going bare, the vacant homes dark, the smashed house to the south a little more dilapidated, plumes of smoke rising in the distance, angled by the breeze.  A dark flying thing came burbling down from high in the gray and cloudy sky, small straight wings, big front tapering back to the tail, getting bigger and heading right for me!  I looked at it a little too long, figured it to hit to the south and ran around to the north side of house, yelling for Tam to take cover.  I curled up against the foundation as the drone missile impacted some distance away with a muted noise, shutting my eyes and wishing I'd told my parents I loved them more often.  The light got very bright red-yellow-orange even through my eyelids and I thought, "Is this really it? The fighting wasn't that bad! I wasn't supposed to end this way!" And then I woke up.

     Yeah, ask me how I feel about the future.  My subconscious knows.