Gray Gray Sunday

It's a cool, grey Sunday here at Pendragon Hold, our little acre of sand out at the edge of the suburbs. The goats are gorging themselves on my neighbors unmanaged back yard, three inflated stomachs walking around on twelve legs. The "back forty" needs a break from their predation, as it now resembles the surface of the moon. Anything the slightest bit vegetative is fair game for animals without an "off" button for their appetites. They have done their jobs well, these three intrepid ungulates, for I have not had the crack up the lawnmower for some time now. Long may they eat!
After making our grocery shopping and miscellaneous rounds, we've returned to take on various domestic duties while listening to Prairie Home Companion on the radio. I am so schizophrenic when it comes to my listening habits, which range from AC/DC and eclectic internet radio to NPR talk shows. The last album I downloaded from the iTunes music store was Warren Zevon's last album before he succumbed to cancer. Other albums I bought were Uriah Heep, Coldplay, John Prine, and The Redwalls. I may not know what good music is, I just know what I like.
Last night we finally got around to watching "Kingdom of Heaven", a story of medieval Jerusalem and the politics of the crusades. I'm not quite sure if this story was based on any factual history, but the writer certainly did go to great lengths to make the flavor of the movie politically correct. To think a knight would have held honor and doing the right thing over righteousness and bigotry during that period is indeed a stretch.
Soon it will be halloween, or All Hallows' Eve as my Wiccan wannabe wife would prefer to think of it, and I am contemplating mining the front yard to hold the trick or treaters at bay. Well, actually, I have to confess that just turning off the porch light has had the same unwelcoming effect, so I should not be contemplating such drastic measures. There's been a chilling effect upon this holiday over the past several years, so most of the youngsters are taken to malls and the like for safe practice of what was once a fun night of the year. Tis a shame, indeed. If only this pathetic excuse for a holiday that Christmas has become could suffer the same fate. I am holding out hope that my wife's new embrace of spirituality will finally cause her to abandon her insistent celebration of Xmas, a holiday I have come to loath, for many reasons, the least of which is the overblown commercialism and parking lot traffic that ensues as people rush out to buy each other worthless gifts that will end up in the landfills and bring the merchants profit and loss sheets back into balance.....perhaps.
The kids down south are convinced that Wilma will not impact them to such a degree that suggests evacuation, and we pray they are right, for they have a safe harbor up here in the sweet spot to come to should it be required. This hurricane season has decided it isn't finished with us yet, and we now have a storm brewing that for the first time exceeded the alphabet and is designated as "Alpha". The apocalyptics are in high gear now, preferring to believe that the end times are near, due to the frequency of famine, pestilence, war, and weird weather that is inflicting us. To suggest that perhaps man has had a big hand in making all these things come about is beyond their reasoning, and they will all be so disappointed in another 50 years when global warming, pollution, overpopulation, pandemics, and other associated things we bring upon ourselves have decimated the planet and yet Jesus still refuses to show up and clean up their mess for them. If we cleanse the planet of our miserable selves and thus make room for a saner species to evolve in some future time after the Earth has had time to recover, then perhaps it's for the best. Maybe next time around they won't invent some supreme being to take responsibility for their lack of creative thinking skills.
So there you have the report from the castle with my usual pessimistic commentary. Please tune in next time when the Michael once again commandeers valuable bandwidth to spread his message of Madness, Musings, and Melancholy, with a dash of dry humor and a sprinkling of constructive criticism, or as the Buffalo would call it....."Whining".......hehe.