By A Man Named John
The weather is unbelievable, politics are unbelievable, the world is on autopilot, and I am not a zealot, but there are some, and all of them are troublemakers. Contempt for everybody is the order of the day, contempt at home, in Congress and all along the way, We need some adults to be in charge of things. Will we hit Syria, Will Russia hit us, is war the hit of the day with the hawks? The finale is not yet written, the end game not yet seen, the forces that be seem to always be in between. How much hotter can the world become, hotter for sure than some, Hopefully not hot enough to succumb. Silence on all fronts, heads that are empty are thinking, decisions are being made by irresponsibles given to drinking. How much more can be born before somebody blows the final horn?