And nobody's a prophet in his own land, obviously. But I've never had a lot people in Canada reading my stuff. Maybe my computer talk, or my comments on American politics turns them off. No matter, I'm not aiming this at any one specific tribe or culture or linguistic group. Есть дни, когда я делаю некоторые из них на русском языке. It is a global village, friends.
Everyone's still in a fuss over the most bizarre President that America has had in living memory. Or dead memory. Or any memory. The guy's a nut. A nut like the kind that would get you and I quietly salted away in a well-supervised rehab center for the discombobulated. Those divorced from reality as us unwashed masses think of it, whenever we have time.
But as Margaret Wente wrote in her periodic column in the Globe And Mail, yesterday, it's unlikely any recent cataclysms with him in the center may result in his early departure from the tawdry reality show called The White House. And Margaret should know. She's semi retired now, but for many years was the Managing Editor of that Globe And Mail daily newspaper, billed not entirely pretentiously as 'Canada's National Newspaper', with local bureaus strategically located from coast to coast. It goes without saying she's extremely well connected in the media community. She's a delightful wordsmith, too. When she gets in the mood, ideas fly right at you. I wish I wrote like Margaret. Provocatively, but with a calculated message even her critics can grab in both hands. Margaret says Trump's here until 2020, come hell or high water. Upon reflection, I think she's likely right. She's right more often than wrong, because she knows people who know where the skeletons are buried, and she talks to them often.
