I put off planning or doing anything tomorrow, which will be even more humid, and there will be no overnight cool air. My poor dog. At least he has a chicken wing in each dinner. But who needs calories when all the rabbits are underground? There were four teen guys sitting at the end of the Nether Path when I took my dog out tonight, later than usual. We had no interaction. My dog simply looked over at them occasionally, and went about his regular regular. But, they tended to scatter towards us when he walked off, as usual, in an opposite direction, (to produce solid expressions). Then, when he would walk in their direction, towards the pole where he normally jiggles, they would all cower away, back towards the Nether Path. Meanwhile, they were all yapping away with each other. And, one would note that, "He's on a leash," (and many feet away!) Which all of them already knew. Another one said, "Ha, ha. That's the oldest trick in the book!" apparently meaning that I was playing some fear game with them - trying to scare them with my dog, no matter HOW ABSOLUTELY good my dog was, how good, and minding his own business business. Isn't that pretty sad? They only see what they want to see. Just like the absolutist Nethers. Just like the world's Economy of FEAR. It's things like this which make me want to become a Southern writer. And the Nethers' boil chicken and make popcorn - two traditions introduced by yours truly. Because imitation is the sincerest form of superstitious release from the fearing game. "Do to them what they design to do to us - HANG THEM ALL!"
I want to live my life as a Manning. Cooking up meals made from classic literature masterpieces, (for Confederate soldiers), because now there is internet, and cellulose is no longer an obstacle, and you are in the year 2014.