October 16, 2020

In this issue:

Whither Thou Goeth: Lead me beside still waters

Baptism by Fire: The holocaust of the lambs

Deacon’s Diner: Food for a restless mind

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My Thoughts

Progress has never had much to say for itself, though it has all too much to say for your lack of it. The progressive, no doubt, will complain of the severe inconvenience of pausing long enough to assess the damage his progress has wrought. There is always more progress to be made, so little time to explain its value. It has always been a mystery the necessity of always progressing; what precisely is so wrong with status quo? Why not stop and prune the roses instead of replacing the bush with marigolds or collard greens? My truck will soon be old enough to drive itself, my car, eligible for Medicare; the new are seldom better, just shinier, and a great deal more expensive. If that is progress, I will leave you to it. I am old and old things suit me just fine and dandy; besides they are mine, clear and paid for.

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