Ron is saying what I would like to write but somehow can’t. Big ol’ case of writer’s block here at GOC Central. One of the reasons I almost gave up blogging.

Ron on.

Great mornin. MAHvelous day brewin out there. Air muggy, but clear . . . temp still tolerable, a tad under 80 . . . stars shinin, big moon ‘bout 2 days past full lightin up a classic sea battle out in the Gulf.

Two massive tall ships, ominous, under full sail, splendidly lit by the bright moon, engaged in a standoff . . . like classic galleons, man o’ war type ships of the line . . . exchanging broadsides and fusillades at the extreme range of their smooth bores.

As Monsterdawg & I turned west along the highway, I fully expected to see Cap’n Hornblower waving his cutlass urging his crews to aim for their bow while Calico Jack bared his chest and invited the Brits to send him their worst, his brigand cutthroats loading and firing in their turn.

Brilliant flashes lighting up the southern sky with unseen unheard missiles flying off into a watery oblivion, neither side bringing damage to the other. No sound . . . too far distant . . . but easy to imagine the shouts, the curses, the exhortations, the “Aarrrrgghhs.”

Good stuff. And even better yet, the BLM (Brown Lunch Mass) exited my lower GI canal last evening . . . good riddance! Would that ‘twere so easy to rid the media of their namesake. And just to satisfy my curiosity, I’m gonna eat some more o’ them brownies this mornin . . . but think I’ll forgo the onions & horseradish.

Not gonna turn on the news for a while . . . don’t wanna get CNNd (that’s a verb now, y’know), and especially don’t wanna hear ANYthing McStain might have to say . . . about ANYthing. He’s so blithely annoying and effortlessly useless, like unswept Styrofoam cups in a storm drain.

The guy never grew up . . . still acts like a frat boy who cuts half his classes and then suddenly becomes a holy warrior for the latest and loudest post-grad political fad sweeping the campus. Willed his brain to science, but forgot to tell ‘em not to harvest it while he’s still breathin.

Obviously he was severely and permanently damaged somewhere along the line, either in the Hanoi Hilton or one of the numerous crashes of military planes he piloted. I think he picked up an incurable case of athlete’s head fungus in ‘Nam.

Here we are . . . a nation in critical condition economically with a crumbling infrastructure, irretrievably ruptured politically with the left and the right locked in eternal mortal combat . . . and all the media can even conSIDer is Russia! Russia! Russia!

And the GOP – for years saying “if only we had the House!” Then “if only we had the Senate!” And when Soetoro gave both of ‘em to ‘em, they lament, “If only we had the White House!” Well, assholes . . . you got all three, plus a 5-4 Scotus. WTF is the goddam problem!!!!

We’re being governed by the Bernie Madoffs of budgetary restraint . . . the Charlie Mansons of legislative credibility . . . the Ted Bundys of civic responsibility . . . the Rambos of political correctness . . . the Professor Irwin Coreys of common sense . . . and it’s all being reported by Dr. Strangelove, the Chief Editor of the Fake News Gazette.

Looks like the time has come to erect a gallows on the National Mall . . . just as a hint. And maybe a large pot of tar over an eternal flame with a stack of rails on one side and a tentful of feather pillows on the other.

Aahhh, hell with it. Time for a cuppa and a brownie. Who deserves it more than I do! Might go out and run a chain saw for a while this mornin before the heat builds up like an glowing iron cloak on my shoulders. I can imagine the stump is some guy in a suit whose name begins with McC (pick one) and the chunks are what’ll happen after the next mid-terms.

Ron off.

Thank you Ron for carrying this blog while I try to rediscover my writing chops.