Back, Jack

After a few days of visiting friends and family, we fled the madness of Teslatown for our upland outcropping with a View. It’s funny how when you’re around friends all the time – more-or-less – making plans and breaking them is so easy, there’s always an excuse to put it off, or a reason for tardiness. But if you drive three hours and 150-oddd miles they suddenly show-up at 5:00 instead of being an hour late – but as always, except for my Brother.
I stopped-in at a gunshop to renew acquaintance, and bought a box of Sellier & Bellot .45 Long Colt Christmas-rounds. We drove past various newly dug holes in the ground along the El Camino Real where years of blight (formerly called “character”) were suddenly being wiped away, about to be replaced by new-construction and menial jobs for the illegal-alien underclass who were cycling around in the near-dark just before the street-lights came on. We had dinner with friends at a new-ish restaurant that was fairly empty. We had lunch with friends at another restaurant that was bustling. And we had another ~slightly~ disappointing dinner despite good company, at a place we should have avoided had I recalled correctly – and where once again we were practically bum-rushed to exit the table while the desert coffee was still hot so another crowd of diners could be ripped-off by indifferent wine and mediocre food. My bad, I REALLY should have remembered that. We also had breakfast with other friends at a new place that was always *new* because nothing ever lasted in that location. In other words, our dance card was full.
On Christmas Day Mom was grateful for our help getting the dinner smorgasbord table set-up with all the dishes and hot (and heavy) plates from the oven. Dad wanted to talk politics, asking how we got our NEWS now that we lived in a cave, ate small animals and wore bearskins, as he waved a thoroughly Drenched-in-Liberalism rag called “The Week” in my directions. One quick glance at the cover of a few of those stacked-up screeds immediately announced that it was proudly-psychotic and nearly wet with Progressive intellectual-angst and flop-sweat. I managed to duck the brick hurled my way and changed the subject as I moved into the Living Room. Altogether it was a nice and fairly relaxing Christmas (compared to past years) with all the immediate Family, including both Nephews – one of whom brought along his upcoming bride-to-be. And then we retired to our hotel room, exhausted, ready to get our asses home.

About NotClauswitz

The semi-sprawling adventures of a culturally hegemonic former flat-lander and anti-idiotarian individualist, fleeing the toxic cultural smug emitted by self-satisfied lotus-eating low-land Tesla-driving floppy-hat wearing lizadroid-Leftbat Califorganic eco-tofuistas ~

9 thoughts on “Back, Jack

    • My folks are still there, and they are thoroughly immersed in it. My dad went to Annapolis with the son of the Moffett commander who flew/crashed both the Akron and the Macon – Wiley, and we used to live about two miles from the base untill we sold and moved-out.


  1. Ah yes, “The Week.” Perfectly manicured and pedicured left-wing hogwash, culled from all the leading (progressive) editorial desks of the nation. And subscribed to by everybody on my ex’s side of the family (including said ex). I feel your pain.


  2. Other than flying THROUGH SFO, I successfully avoided that cess-pit this year… 🙂 Sorry I missed y’all. Sounds like all in all a pretty good Christmas though!


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