Relations

 It's the MLK long holiday weekend.  Monday is the holiday and I'll be at the Lost Dog enjoying a pizza during the noon hour then, as has been my custom for well over a decade on almost every holiday and family birthday in the hopes that my three estranged children will someday come out of their juvenile delirium, induced by their mother and her coterie of paid "professionals" during the divorce long ago, and appear now that they are all fully mature adults.

Maybe one or more of them grew up to be Trumpites and they'd be in town anyway getting ready to further trash our democracy on inauguration day and they'd pop over for lunch on Monday between dry runs through government buildings, fire extinguisher tossing drills, noose fashioning and speed trials on flex cuffing Democrat politicians and any political leaders they might happen to catch.  I wouldn't know, I haven't talked to any of them since Peyton Manning won his first Super Bowl when they were all minors (the serious malady is called PAS or Parental Alienation Syndrome).

PAS causes emotional disaffection and lack of commitment later in life when adults successfully practice this form of child abuse on minors, so I hope they're all okay, now that they're all in their thirties and could be expected to have families of their own.  My goodness, two of the three have conditions which qualified them for special education when they were in public school, and I always fought for every benefit they were entitled to, something which can't be said for their mother who never thought education was all that important, in my observation.

Martin Luther King, Jr. was a great American, something which couldn't be said for anyone associated in any way, even merely by tacit approval, with the assault on American democracy on January 6th.  My three children were great kids but ain't it funny, or sad, how things can turn out.