By MONTE DUTTON

The last time I felt like this in June, I was in Seattle.

The entire past week has been spent in days which my old man used to say “ain’t good for nothin’ ‘cept sleeping.”

The more specific description of weather trends is global “weirding,” not “warming.” Warming is just a net. When it was 69 and showering here, it was 116 in west Texas.

Flood, flood here, tornado there, smoke in the air, grasshoppers everywhere, Old Man Summer had a ball, e-i-e-i-o.

In spite of my father’s wisdom, I haven’t slept well. I’ve read a lot. I’ve watched quite a few old Perry Masons, Andy Griffiths, and Andy Griffiths playing Perry Masons. It seems as if every Monday the post office is closed. Weather comes on a half-hour news show three times. Sports is Braves, Drive and something else.

Oh, yeah, and a rapid pace in the second draft of another scantily read novel. Imagine lottery tickets cards that take years to fill out.

I sang and played my guitar for the nice people at Presbyterian Communities, which I still thought was a Home until I read the sign. I live a half mile away. I reckon I take it for granted.

I decided I didn’t want to be one of 9,683 to change one letter and ruin a band’s name. I would have tweeted Graceful Dead.

When was the last time the greatest basketball player in the world wasn’t particularly graceful? Shaquille O’Neal? Was he ever the best? George Mikan (1946-56)? Nikola Jokic is fantastic — I knew the Nuggets were going to win the title the first time I watched a playoff game — but he’s no David Thompson. Who was never the greatest in the pros. He’s no Joker. He’s more of a Thor.

Now it’s Saturday morning and I’m inexplicably watching something called Royal Ascot, and it’s all so dashing because you do know the King is there! I’ve got to study the language. One of the horses just “muddled well.”

I know this better than I jest because I’ve read many Dick Francis novels. I’m watching because murder could occur at any moment.

I think the writers strike must be affecting even the sports pregame shows. I thought I was watching the NBA draft review – yes, I wanted to hear what they had to say about Furman’s Jalen Slawson – and all I heard was mindless prattle about whether or not Jordan Poole for Chris Paul was a good trade. I didn’t even think the points about that were pertinent. It may not be a coincidence that the “talent” looks dumber than it did.

Here’s to more Aussies mashing to victory on English soil!

But wait! Steve Kornacki is on. At last, a brand of English I can decipher.

Support my site by making a donation to: DHK Sports, P.O. Box 768, Clinton, S.C. 29325. Or, become a patron. Or buy my books.  And support the advertisers. Thus can I never thank you enough.