May. 10th, 2017

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Dreamed that the family – that would be me, teenage Max, elementary school-aged Robin, Ben, Milo, and Fritz – had moved into a bad neighborhood in San Francisco.

And that puzzled me because even in the dream I knew, There are no bad neighborhoods in San Francisco: It’s all been gentrified.

We’d left a little house that had been perfectly satisfactory to our needs. Or maybe we were returning to the Bay Area after a vacation.

Either way, the new apartment was filled with other people whom I barely knew. It was cheap: Ben had reassured me of that. And we had a suite of rooms there. Or at least, that’s what I first assumed.

But as I wandered around the apartment, I couldn’t find our rooms.

Moreover, one of the pets was missing, a mottled grey basset hound named Russell or Leonard – the name kept changing. Apparently, before we’d left on vacation, I’d called someone and asked, “Could you take care of Russell or Leonard for a few months?” and they’d said, Sure.

Except now, I could remember who that person was.

Note: In real life I’ve never had a basset hound named Russell or Leonard.

Do you know who I left Russell or Leonard with? I asked Max. And he blew me off in his typical teenage fashion.

I asked Ben. Oh, you mean our other dog? said Ben. And he pulled something off a high shelf and it was Xena’s head attached to a dog collar. Which, I know, sounds horrific. But in the dream, was not particularly horrific.

Milo was wandering around, circling and recircling, and I realized: He hasn’t been walked. Also, there wasn’t a scrap in the house for him to eat.

Since you’ll be living here, we should talk, said a man. And I realized that he was the boss of this apartment or commune or whatever the hell it was, and that I had to be very nice and charming to him because if he kicked us out, then where the hell could we go?

The apartment was somehow connected to a very famous concert hall that was just next door.

The boss and I sat down at a window – a really breath-taking view of the cityscape and a bridge. It appeared we were 500 feet up in the air. This is why Ben took the apartment, I thought. This view. And for a moment, I understood. Though the apartment was horrible impractical.

Poor Milo kept circling me and circling me. His back hindquarters were all mangy. I need to take him out, I thought. I need to find him something to eat.

Next door to the building where the apartment was stood the concert hall. Some hugely popular band was playing, and the line of fans wrapped several blocks. They were all punk fans: tattoos, Mohawks, piercings.

There used to be a grocery story here, I thought.

I looked down and discovered I was naked to the waist, my breasts on full display. But that didn’t seem to bother anyone, so I tried not to let it bother me.
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I don’t know what to make of Comey’s firing. Seriously.

Clearly, the guy was incompetent and deserved to be fired.

But I find myself looking at something that’s a good thing if you believe the Good Guys did it (or would have done it) but a bad thing if you believe the Bad Guys did it (or would have done it.)

This sets up a paradox in which the conditions surrounding the event register with more significance than the actual event itself, which is a level of abstraction that my poor concretistic mind finds almost impossible to process.

All my Progressive friends are screeching, Constitutional crisis!

They see Comey’s firing as part of some complex long game for bringing down the Deep State.

It’s a ploy to stall the Russian investigation! they're wailing.

My own thought is that if they were actually depending upon an FBI investigation into Trump’s Russian ties led by an incompetent like Comey to bring Trump down, then there’s a plutonium plant in Hanford Washington I’d like to sell them.

Shouldn't Obama have fired Comey? And wouldn't that have been a good thing?

I was so confused, I asked Ben, So is firing Comey a good thing or a bad thing? I don’t know how I’m supposed to react.

It’s a very bad thing, he said. On the one hand he was responsible for Clinton’s loss, at least in part. On the other hand, he was conducting the only legitimate investigation of Trump’s ties to Russia. The next FBI Director won’t. On top of that, tonight the White House says Comey was fired for failing to charge Clinton with a crime. So however bullshit it is, the next FBI Director probably will... This is Nixonesque.

Okay! Well. At least, I know what I’m supposed to believe.

I guess I’m gonna start practicing how to say President Pence.

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