In Other Words
Tuesday. Lunch with friends at Ginza near Jack London Square, a last lunch before Friday morning when my tenure at the company will end. Not bad, not bad. The mood is better, we'll see how it goes when another month has passed. I'm ready. (“Ready! Ready! Ready!”)
The Vice President really does seem to have gone off the reservation. Even the Chronicle suggested in an editorial today he's gone flip city when he claims he's not only immune to legislative requests for information (information the law requires he provide) because he's a member of the administrative branch, but he's immune from Presidential requirements to provide information because his status as the tie breaking vote in the Senate makes him a member of the legislative branch. Where is this guy coming from? Wherever that may be, he's wandering into some weird fucking territory and, as Vice President of the United States, he's taking us with him.
A beautiful day, by the way. The temperature just right, plenty of sun, the head fuzzy but not too fuzzy with whatever I'd drunk last night and whatever I took this morning in the way of doctor prescribed medications. I look at the line of bottles in the cabinet. Most of them are vitamin supplements, but a fair number are pills to cure my ills or ameliorate my ills or to make me think I'm being treated for whatever it is that may or may not ail me. A paid up member of the American twenty-first century, in other words.