Home > Dispatches > Daily Dispatches 2020 >Daily Dispatch #273

October 2, 2020: Confucius says. . .

Two very revelatory things. The first, man who falls in eyeglass vat makes spectacle of himself. The second, may you be cursed to live in interesting times. The one, falling in the eyeglass vat, repeatedly, has been Donald Trump, nearly four years ago losing the popular vote but winning the electoral college vote. This is why, the majority of people say, “don’t blame me for all that’s going on. I didn’t vote for him.”

The cursed, interesting times are upon us. A few days ago the New York Times disclosed that he has paid a sum total of $750.00 in taxes last year years. And last night it was announced that he and the first lady have the Corona Virus. Oh, Oh.


He’s been hospitalized. The situation is this: he’s obese and has brought a lot of stress upon himself. Could be trouble in River City. I mean, the dude could die.

I ran into a neighbor who said that he would like to have a tee-shirt printed up that reads “Die Mother fucker.” I would be tempted to get one, but I fear that in these parts, where off-season hunters abound, that I would become a walking target. However, my sentiments are those of this individual. So many have suffered and are continuing to suffer, due to his lack of competence. And the planet that we are wallowing on is becoming a big trash heap. This includes the ocean depths and the upper stratosphere, no exaggeration. We’ll never be at a loss for bottle caps.

Back to the concept of the cursed, interesting times. We take it for granted that we are now living at a time in history that will be duly noted for generations to come. I have now said a few times – if I had written a fictional account, and say, called it 20/20, and managed to get this account into the hands of a book publisher, he or she would read it, then laugh and say that the book’s major flaw is that things are too obvious. Right, there’s an upcoming election. A supreme court justice dies, the president botches a major political debate, his opponent, the other presidential candidate, is found to have paid less in taxes than a smuck working at McDonalds, then comes down with Covid. Trump hasn’t died yet but if he did, and I wrote about it, the editor would not mince words in saying that the overly obvious details indicate that mine is the work of an inexperienced writer. “Go and enroll in an MFA program. It will do you and your future writing audience a world of good,” he’d say.

I sometimes think about what it would be like if both my parents and grandparents suddenly arose from the dead and were handed the past month’s issues of the New York Times. They’d of course be incredulous. This, then, would make me realize that, yes, the curse of interesting times is upon us.

I am writing about this because future archeologists are going to unearth this computer, get it going, and read what I have written. Just the facts ma’am. My adhering to this is going to bring one of the most consequential years in history to the forefront of my readers’ history.

Next: 274. 10/4/20: If Wishes were Horses

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