On moving to Maine

Its a rainy day. I'm sitting in a house with no furniture, just a table with a computer on it and a chair waiting for the sun to return before I commit to taking the last truckload down east.

My wife doesn't want to take the sailboat, the refridgerator or the couch cause they are heavy. I'm hoping Al Gore will appear clutching a shiny nobel prize, the clouds will go away and all the heavy burdens will break down into pieces I can manage one sail at a time.

I sense that a lot of you are dissapointed in the Democrats, the candidates, the media promotion of Hillary, the total failure to discuss the points made by those who speak our language, talk like us, those who don't think blood for oil is the right kind of alternative energy to invest in, transition to.

The other day I got a poll which asked me about the candidates and I realized that after 42 years of being a yellow dog, my refridgerator no longer has any food in it, things I took for granted as part of my existence are being left behind.

My yellow dog party is just yellow, it doesn't hunt, the freezer has no meat in it. I can't get by just putting ketchup on everything. There is nothing left to nourish my soul, not even my favorite couch potato political positions which don't require much more than a remote to make me feel like I'm part of the game...

I don't have many years left. I doubt that I'll worry much about where I live now sinking below the waves and will relish losing the snow and the blackflies instead. Skiing down the mountain to get to your truck in the winter is gonna be history. I can live with that. What will bother me is not having a decent internet connection and having to telecommute to work in the same old gridlock.