Clinton, South Carolina, Tuesday, January 21, 2020, 8:54 a.m.

MLK Day to the beginning of impeachment is quite a transition.

For the record, baby, it’s cold outside.

Do you feel great again?

I think I’ll read the Constitution again. I’m kidding. I’m going to edit wrestling results.

Laurens City Council meets. I think it’s going to annex some property. As soon as I can get away, I’m going over to Laurens High for some basketball. While I’m going through the photos and writing some stories, I’ll find out what happened to the rest of America. At best, City Council plus high school basketball is less than 1/10th of one percent of America. It depends on how one measures.

Que sera, sera. Whatever will be will be. The future’s not ours to see. Que sera, sera. Who knew I’d think of Doris Day this morning?

Be better to your baby and you’ll have a better baby. And if you don’t, I’ll steal her love, by crackie. Who knew I’d think of Ernest Tubb? Aw, Leon, now …

Hang on. I think it’s time to fix some breakfast. I don’t think it will prevent the country from going to hell, but it won’t hurt.

10:04 a.m.

The common ground in the country is that an overwhelming majority of Americans believes things are messed up, and I use “messed” with tact that is probably undue these days. There is, however, little common ground on just what it is that is messed up.

Most of the truly stupid are those who feel everyone who disagrees with them is. As Jimmy Buffett sang, don’t ever forget that you just might end up being wrong. I still know many people who disagree with me but respect my point of view. The others are all silently plotting my assassination.

Buh-BOOM-chuh. I hope.

I wonder how often Melania Trump thinks, how did this happen to me? I’m the same way.

Little doubt exists in my mind that President Twitter is guilty, if for no other reason because people with nothing to hide don’t generally opt to hide everything.

It’s okay, though, not to care whether he’s guilty or not. Or to think, well, it was bad but not bad enough to throw him out of office. Just be honest about it.

Nancy Pelosi says she prays for the president. I do, too, but not very often because President Twitter is way down my list.

My rough estimate is that I have been called a moron during the Twitter Administration more than the rest of my life combined.

About the only time I get mad is when people vilify my profession. They blame everything on the media without acknowledging that I am part of it. The most recent time was in the lobby of a countywide meeting. I think he might have been a welder. If I said all welders were crooks because they intentionally made bad welds so the client would have to buy a brand-new something from him, a welder would probably take offense. What I enjoy most about journalism is that I find it an honest way to make a living. Don’t roll your eyes. Seriously. I love the fact that I can watch what happens and then describe it.

It’s sort of like thinking, say, Congress is made up of nothing but crooks, all except for my representative whom I vote to send back to D.C. term after term.

Oh, not you. You’re not a crook. Everybody else is.

People sometimes say, why don’t you write more good things? and then I remember that, at any given time on the website, between six and eight of the top 10 most clicked items are the arrest reports.

The definition of “fake news” is “what I don’t like.” Another plot of common ground.

 

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