Feelings, Fourth Phase, Memories, Music

Aural Journal

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Spring and the Wu Wei Moon

Shabbat gratefuls: CBE. Alan. Joanne. Marilyn. Irv. Tara. Arjan. Ginny and Janice. Dan. Rich. Ron. Jamie. Laurie. Veronica. Rick. Luke. Leo. Eleanor. Shadow. Gracie. Annie. Luna. Wild Neighbors. Great Sol. Colorado Blue Sky. Shadow Mountain. Rock. Soil. Trees. Creeks. Valleys. Clouds. Atmosphere. Seasons.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Wu Wei

Week Kavannah: Wu Wei

One brief shining: Songs that we love, that drive our hearts mad, dredge up detailed glimpses of experience past, send our souls into spiritual ecstasy, make our feet begin to tap and our body begin to sway, what is this strange hold sound has over us?

 

 

 

Feelings, Fourth Phase

My Heart Wants This

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Spring and the Snow Moon

Friday gratefuls: Shadow. Digestion. Alan. Cool nights. Shadow’s toys. The Duck, almost rended. The Chipmunk. Unidentifiable. My nightstand. Gnawed. Puppies, eh? On liberation. And wandering. Tolkien. Moorcock. Britain. England. Scotland. Wales. Cornwall. Ruth and Gabe. Lox.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Shadow running with a nerf football

Week Kavannah: Ratzon. Will, desire, pleasure.

One brief shining: A paw, a lick, a pushup on her two hind feet and her butt Shadow greets me with a full body hug, mouth open sharp puppy teeth snagging my sweatshirt, eyes wide with love.

 

Several things flashing signs at me. Diane, “Your job is to stay healthy.” After retirement. That way others who need you can still find you above ground. A song as TV background, “You just gotta let go and everything will be all right.” Wu wei.

Began to think about my odd path to this age. Left the work force at 43. Kate, always Kate. Wrote 9 novels. Gardened. Cooked. Cared for Dogs. Did grocery shopping. Kept Bees. A Docent for 12 years. Living the life of a suburban housewife.

After our move to Colorado, I did all the fire mitigation: cutting down the Trees, delimbing, bucking, moving slash. Still shopping and cooking. Caring for the Dogs. Then, Kate. Her death.

Four years later Shadow and I reside here at Shadow Mountain Home.

Never really had that clean break with the work world most folks experience at retirement. My work became my daily life and the meaning, the purpose Dogs, Kate, grandkids. Writing.

Listening to my heart now. What is mine to do? The hermit life (with benefits-friends and family) has begun to appeal to me again. This time as an expression of the fourth phase, the spiritual wanderer, the Fool of the major arcana. Also as an expression of a retreat from my previous world of politics and action. My version of retirement.

I’m old enough. I’ve earned it with a life of action and service, by coping well with serious illness, by having a wonderful environment and home.

A part of me says no. No. Judaism runs, in some ways, across this decision. Rabbi Tarfon, “You are not duty-bound to finish the work, but on the other hand, you have no right to waste time from it…” Using age and infirmity as an excuse rather than a reason.

The activist in me says everything is political. Even this decision because it leaves the playing field to MAGA and the world of the autocrats. If everybody followed my choice.

Yet. I feel the need to take a breath. To lay down my sword and shield, down by the Riverside. To become the Taoist scholar of those wonderful Song dynasty paintings.

Let the hours and the days, the months and the years wash over me. Become. Live in becoming rather than doing.

My heart wants this. Long habit and a felt pressure from the Tarfon’s of this world (including and most telling, my inner Tarfon) pushes against letting go. Letting the world go on, in a sense, without me.

Dogs, Memories, Music

Songs and Dogs

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Spring and the Snow Moon

Thursday gratefuls: Audra. Open-Sided MRI. Chris. Engineers. Angry Chicken. Driving home into the Mountains. Black Mountain. Shadow Mountain. Conifer Mountain. Berriman Mountain. Lenticular Clouds. Cumulus. Cirrus. Rain and Snow.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Magnetism

Week Kavannah:  Ratzon.  Will, desire, pleasure.

One brief shining: Looking into Audra’s eyes, feeling her hand on mine, her thumb moving, not erotic, but intimate as Lorentz forces caused the big machine to pound and grind and whir in rhythmic waves of sound while the magnets created detailed slices of my lumbar spine.

 

Glad that’s over with. Should have adequate information about my lumbar spine. As I noted earlier, there may not be much to do though we can target any therapy with accuracy after this.

Ironically the drive in and out left me hobbling into the house when I got back.

Shadow takes my absence with aplomb. She does not chew things up, poop or pee. She seems to rest quietly beside my chair. A huge bonus. Could be otherwise.

 

Dog journal: Shadow sleeps under the bed at night. I opened the bedroom door a couple of days ago for her. Not perfect. She chews the bed slats, the carpet (which I intend to replace at some point), my nightstand. Doesn’t last long. Impacts my getting to sleep a bit. Worth it since she seems happy back in her original safe place here.

I flagged off Amy this last Tuesday. Didn’t have enough energy for her session and the drive into Sushi Den with Ruth. Chose Ruth. Desensitizing Shadow to the leash does not go well; I need Amy’s guidance. Next Tuesday.

Had her toys in a long wicker basket. Each night I would pick them up, put them back. Over the course of the next day she’d pluck them out, play with them. The used to be chipmunk, purple cat, a long red Kong and a small black one, four different balls including a glow in the dark one, and three individual socks: one of Seoah’s, one of my son’s, and one of mine.

Then she began to chew on the wicker. Going up to the loft to grab a large stainless steel bucket as her next toy bin. Chew on that, Shadow!

 

Just a moment: Bill Schmidt has asked us to load up our favorite songs for the Ancient Brothers. That’s gonna be tough.

The Doors. The Stones. The Beatles. The Animals. The Monkeys. Country Western. 50’s doo wop. Teen anguish songs. The Who. Led Zeppelin. Creedence. The Band. Dylan. Coltrane. Miles Davis. Thelonious Monk. Aaron Copland. George Gershwin.

Let’s do a trial run here. Surrealistic Pillow by Jefferson Airplane. Wild Horses by the Stones. Satisfaction by the Stones. The Night They Drove Old Dixie Down by The Band. The Weight by the Band. Venus in Blue Jeans. Teen Angel. Dead Man’s Curve. The House of the Rising Sun by the Animals. Blue Train by Coltrane. Kind of Blue by Miles Davis. Stairway to Heaven by Led Zeppelin. Ain’t No Grave Gonna Keep My Body Down. Going Down To the River To Pray. When Will the Circle Be Unbroken. See You in September. The Queen of the Silver Dollar. Jolene.

Well. It’s a start.

 

 

Fourth Phase, Health, Shadow Mountain

Neighbors Helping Neighbors

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Spring and the Snow Moon

Wanted to capture this while fresh. Drove into Leetsdale Ave near Cherry Creek in Denver. Right at the boundary of the largest Jewish community in Colorado. But I wasn’t there for religious reasons, I needed an MRI of my lumbar spine and Open-Sided MRI has its clinic there.

After time in an iron lung, which I do not remember, my body will not let my head be confined. At all. Ever. Traditional MRI’s therefore are out. Long metal tube, human insert. Face inches from the tube’s top. Nope.

So. Open-Sided. Though. When the sled slid under the projection of the magnetic circle, I looked up, found metal inches from my face. “I can’t do this.”

Chris pulled me back out. How about if you look to the side. I tilted my head to the left and there an opening appeared. But I was already scared. “I’m not sure.”

“I’ll get Audra and she can sit with you.”

A measure of serendipity. I’d talked to Audra on the phone Monday and discovered she had moved to Conifer last October. She had a quick wit and kindness in her voice. We agreed to swap stories of best spots to eat when I got there. A charming woman in her late 30’s, early 40’s I found her delightful at check-in, too.

Audra came in and held my hand for the entire 20 minutes of the exam. At first, still nervous, I looked her in the eyes and she pressed her thumb against my left hand which she held in her right.

After a while the odd noises of the MRI, which sounded like House music, and her comfort helped me relax. I closed my eyes.

A long twenty minutes. But, when it was done, I collected my disc with the scan on it, went out to the front desk and thanked Audra, back at her computer, again. She put my chai necklace back on.

I thought, decided to go ahead. “My wife died four years ago. That was the longest I’ve been touched since then. Regardless of the help I needed with the MRI, I wanted to say thanks for that, too.”

A sweet moment.

 

Family, Fourth Phase, Politics

Dining with Ghosts

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Spring and the Snow Moon

Wednesday gratefuls: Shadow and the deconstructed bed. Ruth at 19. Almost. Sushi Den. Ruth driving. The Black Bag. Gabe. His junior year. Tom, Chris, Calvin, Joseph. Men. Learning about men. CBE men’s group. Psylocibin. Miso Soup. Warmer weather. For now. Reading. Movies.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Ruth

Week Kavannah:  Ratzon. Will, desire, pleasure

One brief shining: Ruth, whisper thin, engaged and thoughtful, nearing her April 4th 19th birthday, poised between the teen years and young adulthood, presented yesterday with her great-grandfather’s black bag which contained Kate’s stethoscopes, otoscope, small rubber hammer, tuning fork, and other essentials of the general practitioner’s craft.

 

Lima, Peru. 2011

Ruth drove up here yesterday and stayed the night so she could drive us both into Denver to Sushi Den.

We ate there for her sixteenth birthday. I asked the waiter to have the sushi chefs give us what was special that evening. Ended up being the most expensive meal I’ve ever paid for. But so fun.

16

She was with Cord, her first boyfriend. Jon and Gabe were there, too. Kate had died the April before. The first of Ruth’s birthdays that she missed.

Three years later, her father Jon is dead, and two years ago the relationship with Cord ended.

She and I sat down in a booth for two near the bar. Dining with ghosts. We ordered a Shrimp tempura appetizer in honor of Kate who happily watched the rest of us eat raw fish while dining on tempura. Ruth remembered her dad ordering communal sushi.

We offered tempura and sushi to the memory of Kate and Jon, mother and son, wife and father. In the way of ghosts they ate only the invisible essence of the food, leaving the rest to nourish the bodies of the living, the left behind.

Starting next year in a new major, Integrative Physiology-as I mentioned in an earlier post-Ruth has set herself on the path of her childhood dreams. Becoming the third generation of Johnson-Olsons to become a doctor.

Hence my decision to gift her the black bag which I have, up till now, featured on my mantle as a memory of Kate.

May she live long and prosper.

 

Just a moment: Gee. The clown cars on Pennsylvania Avenue have so many red and orange haired folks sticking out, horns honking, big feet flapping, noses bulbous that a guy can’t help feeling entertained.

Until that moment. Wait a minute. These clowns, these very clowns have their hands on the controls of the world’s most powerful military. Not to mention the economy. And the regular checks for our country’s most impoverished citizens. And, and, and.

Not to mention. Sealing the deal honk, honk. Throw confetti in the air. Why not invite the editor-in-chief of the Atlantic magazine into a nuts and bolts discussion about bombing Yemenites further back into yesterday? Seemed like a good idea at the time?

Thought this line from Timothy Snyder, quoted by Heather Richardson on March 24th captures the truth: “Foreign policy scholar Timothy Snyder posted: “These guys inherited one of the most functional state apparatus in the history of the world and they are inhabiting it like a crack house.””

 

Dogs, Health

Shadow. Open-Sided MRI

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Spring and the Snow Moon

Tuesday gratefuls: Shadow, regressing. Sigh. A learning opportunity for me. Amy, coming today. Mood lifters. Open-sided MRI. Tomorrow. On the lower back pain track. Chronic pain. Teaching me something. Marrow bones. Working out. Back on. Mark and his walks in Al Kharj. Western medicine. Eastern medicine. Healing. Healers. Kate, always Kate. Jeffery Goldberg, war planner and editor in chief of the Atlantic.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Shadow chewing her bone

Week Kavannah: Ratzon. Will, desire, pleasure

One brief shining: Throw a dog a bone, a marrow bone, teeth clamp on, grind, worry, scrape, tear and attention becomes total, focus on the bone, like throwing out an interesting idea in a group of Jews.

 

Finished The Black Widow by Daniel Silva and started the next one, House of Spies. An all out fiction, spy, Mossad read. Love these. Haven’t done one in a while. Always trying to be on, figuring out the world, politics, technology, science. Literally, give it a rest, dude.

 

Dog journal: Amy’s coming today. Leash training. I’ve not had much luck this week. Shadow shies away from the leash. Need to get this done so I can walk her in the back, have her practice commands. I also want to take her to the vet and to mussar. Without the leash, pretty tough.

She’s not quite small enough to pick up easily for me. About 30 pounds or so. Gone are the days when I could wrestle a Wolfhound into the backseat if I had to.

Shadow seems to be a night owl. She loves staying out late, not coming in after dark. And yes, that’s a regression. Last night I left her out and went to bed, no reason I should lose sleep. (except for Mountain Lions, but my yard is not conducive to them as hunters.)

When I let her in around 11:30, she saw the open bedroom door and made a quick run for it, got under the bed. Her preferred sleeping spot. Around 7 I felt a soft tongue on my hand. Looked over. A black and tan face smiling at me. You awake, dad?

Now, instead of eating, she’s trying her best to disappear a marrow bone. Sharp, strong teeth on our Shadow.

 

Open-sided MRI. I saw the pain doc on February 19th. Took a full month to finally get an appointment after flubbing by the doctor’s office. Tomorrow. Open-sided MRIs exist for two separate groups: the morbidly obese and the claustrophobic. I’m in the latter category.

With all the imaging I’ve had: bone scans, cts, petscans, x-rays I’ve never had an MRI. Glad to close the loop of available tech. Ha.

Even with excellent data about the cause of my back pain, it may not help. See this recent NYT article: What Works for Lower Back Pain? Not Much

I hope for something that would let me drive more, walk more than a block or two. Otherwise my mobility remains very limited. Sitting. No pain. Walking. Pressing on the accelerator. Pain.

Dogs, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Shadow Mountain

Hunting for paths to joy

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Spring and the Snow Moon

Monday gratefuls: Water. Lodgepole Bark, red in Great Sol’s early light. Aspen and their photosynthetic bark. Forlorn Grass, desiccated and brown as the Snow melts. Maxwell Creek. Cub. Blue. North Turkey. Bear. Kate’s. This wide world. All of it. Everyone in it. Daniel Silva. CJ Box. Authors. Poets. Painters. Musicians. Artists.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Working out

Week Kavannah: Ratzon. Will, desire, pleasure.

One brief shining: Realized that Ancientrails resembles my father’s column, Smalltown, USA, in that it focuses on daily life, his with a larger ambit, mine more personal, yet both with an occasional digression into the political or the humorous, printer’s ink and hot lead in both our veins.

 

Dog journal:  Another realization. A different female has me back at a long trained habit, putting down the toilet seat. Kate of course insisted as do women in most homes here. This time though putting down the toilet seat prevents Shadow from drinking out of the magic fountain.

Her ears stand forward. She plays all morning with toys she never puts back after taking them out. Maybe I can train her to do that? Shadow’s all puppy now. Secure in her home, her routines.

Once more. Happy I took the risk.

 

Inner life: Been down, thinking about death with every tweak and pain. Whether all this self care makes any sense. Remembering Judy and Kate both saying, enough.

Then. Come on, dude. Shadow. Friends. Family. The Mountains. Books to read. Movies to watch. Places to go. Ruth and Gabe’s still young lives. My son and Seoah.

Further. Worked out. Mood instantly better. Wonder why I resist this consistent mood lifter. One which has the added benefit of improving my overall health? A puzzle.

Gonna wrestle with this one. All the way until it gives me my Hebrew name, Israel.

In part? I’ve been too serious about my life. Always wanting, maybe faux-needing, to think I have something important, significant to do.

Joy is a religious obligation in Judaism. For good reason. This life, the one freely given, is not meant to be a trudge, a never ending journey of obligation and expectation. It’s meant to be filled with good food, good friends, family. Rich experience. This whole world, this creation, a gift so precious and wonderful. Life itself, a miracle of evolution. Amazing.

Think I’ll back off myself. Lighten up.

 

Just a moment: This morning I’m a happier guy. Peg it to my workout yesterday afternoon and my decision to take a staycation. Read 75% of Daniel Silva’s 16th Gabriel Allon novel, The Black Widow. Plan to read more today.

Subscribed to the Criterion Channel. Plan to start watching movies from it on a regular basis. Watching ghosts, as Paul’s mother described watching classic movies. There’s a cinephile buried in me, but not too deep.

I’m ready for a new pattern to emerge. Will be watching for it as I paint, maybe write a little more. No hurry. Hunting for paths to joy.

Dogs, Hermitage, Politics, Shadow Mountain

Muster Dogs

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Spring and the Snow Moon

Sunday gratefuls:  Shadow, the muster dog. Eating. Above ground and taking nourishment. March. April. Spring, on its way, but not yet. Our Aquifer. Cracked granite. Mountains. Altitude. Climbing up to joy.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Muster Dogs

Week Kavannah: Ratzon. Will, desire.

One brief shining: This Shadow who shares my home and my life and my heart would be a muster dog in Australia, a Dog responsible for keeping mobs of Cattle together and moving toward corrals, slinking down low, nipping at hooves, barking as a language between two species, while Shadow and I must find jobs without mustering to keep her keen mind alert.

 

Dog journal: Muster Dogs have their own television show. In Queensland, the same state as Mary’s Brisbane, but much further north, close to New Guinea, muster Dogs replace the familiar herding work of the cowboy out here in the U.S. West. Shadow comes from this line of working Dogs.

Which means I have to find jobs for her. Training is a job and so is following the training. I imagine we have much more in our future life together.

Might get my buddy Vince to build some agility course apparatus, too. We’ll see.

I am already teaching her words. Water. Food. Outside. Toy. Not commands, communication. She may be able to develop a large vocabulary.

I’ve probably been inside too long. Might be cabin fever gnawing at my sense of ease. Buddy Mark Odegard takes care of cabin fever. Mexico. Hawai’i. Returns refreshed, ready to worry the inner bark of the Mulberry Tree into a fibrous paper.

How, I wonder, could I take a staycation, achieve some of those results. Spend all week reading fiction, going out to eat, taking drives in the Mountains. Maybe up to the loft to paint, do sumi-e? Write poetry. Quit thinking about medicine, disease, discomfort for a full week. Sounds sorta nice doesn’t it? Might do it this week. If it works well, maybe a fortnight.

Shift things up.

 

Just a moment: Musk Is Positioned to Profit Off Billions in New Government Contracts. Trump Thinks He Can Win a War Against the Courts. He’s Deluded. Migrants Deported to Panama Ask: ‘Where Am I Going to Go?’ How DOGE is making government almost comically inefficient. Autocrats worldwide rolling back rights and rule of law — and citing Trump’s example. New Trump memo seen as threat to lawyers, attempt to scare off lawsuits. Putin commissioned a ‘beautiful portrait’ of Trump, U.S. envoy says.

Headlines in today’s New York Times and Washington Post. One day’s worth. The takeaway for me? Puzzlement. Frustration. Anger. Sadness.

How about the U.S. making the world safe for autocrats? Is that a rallying cry you can get behind? Me neither.

Or a President who has convinced Congress to put itself in handcuffs now taking on the Judiciary. A situation beyond the American experience.

Reminds me of a favorite kid’s game: King of the Hill. Fight your way to the top. Keep the other kids off. Declare yourself King.

 

 

Dogs, Friends, Health, Politics

A Shadow in my Life

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Spring and the Snow Moon

Shabbat gratefuls: Zornberg. Golden Calf. Talmud Torah. Luke and Leo, coming for a visit. Cool night. Shadow. Regression. Filling the swamp. Mastery. Death. Cancer. Back pain. Ruth, turning 19. Gabe, a junior. Mussar. Kavannah.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Equanimity

Week Kavannah: Ratzon. Will, desire. [jealousy, envy]

One brief shining: How do you count the feeling, fleeting, that carries the mood of joy at Great Sol rising from behind the turning Earth; or, the pulse of emotion as light fades behind Black Mountain, another Mountain night suddenly upon you, one carrying a nostalgia perhaps for the light or a long ago yesterday.

Dog journal: I’ve spent the last few weeks majoring in Shadow. Shadow life. Shadow food. Shadow training. Shadow exasperation. Shadow induced laughter.

A lot of progress in so short a time. From chewing my oxygen tubing and my electric blanket cord to tossing socks in the air, tearing them apart. From hiding behind the coffee table to moving about the downstairs freely. Eating well. Alert.

Ears now flopped over in front, no longer pinned back. Our communication level advancing. Then, regressing. Training with Amy. Ginny and Janice’s kind help.

One bed destroyed, each bit of soft material wrenched out through holes made with sharp puppy teeth. One bed yet unpacked, awaiting a less violent reception.

A Shadow has come over my life and brought me joy.

Glad she’s here. Fretting about weight loss, 7 pounds in a few months. Brings those intimations of mortality, always close, up into my day. Shadow shenanigans making me look up. Not today, dark master. Not today.

Maybe I should try throwing a soft rabbit toy high in the air with my teeth. Works for her.

Had breakfast with Alan yesterday at the Bagelry. A Grateful Dead themed joint. The Evergreen Chorale in which he sings will do performances of Aaron Copeland’s American Songs next week. They also travel in June to NYC to sing, with other Chorale’s, in Carnegie Hall. Hooyah.

Discovered that the drive, breakfast, and getting gas for Ruby tweaked my back enough for an unusual midday Tramadol. Mistake. A two hour nap and a fuzzy afternoon. Pain is better than that. At least so far.

Also discovered that my MRI referral had been received, but to a provider that only had closed machines and claustrophobic me requires an open one. Sigh. Back to the beginning on that one.

I find Shadow and her care, right now, drains most of the remaining energy I have after domestic tasks like working out, prepping and eating meals, doing the taxes. That sort of thing.

This drain will not last as she matures, our relationship deepens, and our mutual understanding grows. For now though…

 

Just a moment: Blowing up Teslas, eh. I get it. I mean, Elon. Who is, as a Daily Show comedian reminded us all, an African American. An Afrikaner. With his fingers deep in the American Pie.

Want to say I disapprove. And the Midwest, middle class, nice white boy part of me-in other words most of me-does. Even so…

Commentary on Religion, Dogs, Family, Health, Politics

Jesus comes to the Americas

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Spring and the Snow Moon

Friday gratefuls: Shadow’s morning greeting. All bounce and joy. Alan at the Baglery. Evergreen. Conifer. Bailey. Constipation. My Taos ring. Kate, always Kate. Shadow’s bed. No more stuffing. Elon and China. Treats. Shadow and her toys. Bagels. Losing weight.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Vermont Flannel

Week Kavannah:  Social Responsibility

One brief shining: Up in the air, the black sock, pounced on, the pink sock, ripped and shredded bed, a rubber ball carried as if conquered by a Roman legion, tail up, ears out, running, then looking over the arm of the chair with wide brown eyes and a smile. Shadow.

 

Ritalin. Has helped my fatigue. May have suppressed my appetite a bit. Losing weight. Could also be another turn of the cancer screw. Hard to tell. Wake up tired. Once I get moving, I’m fine. The steady drip, drip, drip of this and that.

 

Ruth’s coming up Tuesday. We’re celebrating-early-her nineteenth birthday-with a meal at Sushi Den. The Sushi spot in Denver. She’ll drive. Give grandpop a break.

She’s also bringing me lox from Costco. Cheaper yet more, according to her.

It makes me feel so good to see her proactive, loving school, reaching out, planning for her future. Next year she starts her new major, integrative physiology. Headed toward some medical career, I think.

The amount of hard work and tears she’s invested in this new way of becoming. Inspiring. A testament to her fighting spirit and the human spirit.

 

Two Mormon missionaries come to my door. Blue suits, official looking nametags with Elder in front of their names. I doubt they were twenty, maybe still in their teens.

As a man of religion myself, I honor and respect the commitment these young spreaders of the Mormon word display. I accepted a Book of Mormon: another Testament of Jesus Christ bound in faux blue leather matching their neatly pressed suits.

Elder Brommard, something like that, said I should read, he flipped through pages, this chapter first about Jesus coming to the Americas. Could of said, stop right there, dude. Didn’t.

Tempted to invite them in if they come back this weekend. If I do, I would say this: I know you want me to believe this. What I’d rather know right now is why do you believe this?

A question that fascinates me. What causes a person to cross the threshold of belief? Move from a natural skepticism to whole hearted acceptance.

I shook Elder Brommard’s three offered fingers, cold and clammy, nodded to his buddy, and declined to talk to them. Said they may come back this weekend. We’ll see.

 

Just a moment: Who would you give war plans for China? A billionaire whose company has begun to lose market share there? Who’s a buddy of Xi Jinping’s? Whose loyalty is to, what? Money. Power. White people. He’s an Afrikaner, don’t forget.

There are things I don’t understand about the Trump/Musk axis. A lot. Motive seems clear. Power. Money. Retribution. Revenge. Chaos. Mission accomplished. But the means, the stab, crash, break means?