Don't Beat Me, I'll Be Good

I'm at a loss and out of time today.  I've been going to work early in the morning like other people this week, and then working on my projects at night.  I've been exhausted, like other people.  I know now why not everyone is writing stories, making pictures, doing arts and crafts of some sort.  It is not because people have no talent or curiosity.  It is because they are exhausted.  Exhaustion is the tool of the overseer.  It damps down creativity which will raise it's tousled head as a questioning discontent.  It is fed as a steady diet by a certain political party in this country wrapped up in an American flag.  God Bless the Exhausted.  They are the Lambs of God.  Etc.  Give 'em NASCAAR and handguns and tell them they are free.  Let the people whose malevolent greed creates catastrophic environmental disasters blame others and raise their prices.  Borrow money from pension plans to assuage corporate debt, then tell taxpayers that the people who paid into the system are lazy villains.

So last night, I fell into bed before ten and finally slept--more than eight hours.  And now I must rush off to do it again.  My life.  Dribble, dribble, dribble.  And so this, a few minutes stolen.  Don't beat me masta', don't beat me.