Wednesday 12 August 2020

Week of Thunder 3: Stormed Out

 Yesterday was so hot I felt like I was losing my mind. Today is set to be even hotter. The weather still hasn't broken yet, but signs are positive (or negatively charged) for storms later. Mind you, they've been saying that since the weekend. Everywhere else has had storms, but of course the flaming eye of Sauron remains fixed overhead. A colossal lozenge of spiteful heat. Nature wants to actually kill me, I think.

While the temperatures reverse plummet, the economy actual plummets. Recession is back! What was that again: Labour wrecked the economy? Oh now it's the Chinese virus from China, the Chinese! Oh wait, that's Trump's excuse. What's ours? Immigrants? The poor bastards sailing over here at the whim of tide and wind, ogled at by gawping representatives of the chattering classes? Yes it must be; if we didn't have to save them we'd be millionaires I tell thee!

Well that was an interesting interlude where I spent most of the day exposed to temperatures we don't yet have numbers for precluding actually writing anything. I had to power down because my compueter was too hot to touch. Then a storm broke. It's still rumbling. Major electrical storm I think, more than smashy smashy in the clouds, though it was rumbling like my belly before breakfast.

Consequently, it's nearly 10pm. I'm dripping in sweat. Capitalism still sucks. We're in the deepest recession out of the major economies, and in our own memory. Our death toll is the highest in Eurpope. Nobody can say Boris doesn't aim big. Tell me again how wonderful our system is? Surely now is the time to ask a question:

"Can we not do better?"

Oh look, a dingy!

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