Repeat after me...out with the love, in with the hate...feel better? Mr. Robin ends his Mole Man period. Here come the spiritualists.

0400…my usual poke-the-head-out-of-the-hidey-hole-to-see-if-civilization-(such that it is)-still-exists time. So far, so good (which may be a good thing or a bad thing). I downloaded my intelligence overnights from the dailymail site…such a great site.

Actually, we have kind of solved the lack of comms and/or Wi-Fi while I’m cowering underground. Cousin Fred began dropping notes to me with some regularity down one of the air tubes atop the cellar. Sometimes, his notes are informative, at other times they’re annoying like the series of notes yesterday wanting to know where I’d put the brown sugar in the pantry…he wanted to make Korean BBQ chicken for Gigi.

Actually, that posed another question. Why the heck was he in the main house? Or, the better question is, how is he in the main house and The Wife hasn’t tried to kill him. Something new to contemplate as I sit below ground.

The only problem with our system is that it’s one-way. I don’t really have a means for pushing responses back up through the air tube and usually shout my answers through the tube, but that requires a Cousin Fred, who is constantly in motion, to stand still long enough to hear the response. That’s asking a lot.

Then, of course, the rains started falling yesterday which caused the tube to get wet when he had the cap off to drop the note. He kept forgetting to replace the cap (he’s so attentive that way). The notes began sticking to the inside, which of course led to a major constipative (sic) event and thus blocked my only source of air in this hell hole.
Once we solved the tube blockage, I began pasting the wet notes on the walls of the hidey hole. It’ll make a nice monument to my Mole Man period.

So, now, we know how much each day of the special session of the Oklahoma Legislature is costing us…$30,700. Actually, that’s not as bad as I thought it would be. It’s a lot, yes, but I was thinking that number would be in the $100,000s. Asked where the money to pay for the special session would come from, a Republican senator indicated it’s coming from the House’s budget established last session. Hmmm…uh…wait…does that mean…what?

I see on the overnights that NoKo Feather Man Kim Jong Uno has declared that The Trump essentially declared war in a Tweet and that he (Kim) will begin shooting down U.S. planes. To the people of NoKo, in case you read this nonsense daily…no, no…you have to make an appointment to declare war. One dotard tweeting whatever covfefe is flying across his brain at the moment doesn’t actually count. However, you start shooting down planes and the sh*t may start.

Everybody take a deep breath. That’s it…out with the love, in with the hate. Don’t you feel better now?

For those of you who can’t get enough of trigger-happy reactionists in search of the slightest provocation…it’s coming.

Cousin Fred and Gigi were busy overnight. The observation of the Cabinet Saloon gunfight (122 years) is only about ten days away. The two of them took a lot of time last night decorating the Cab – the Cabinet Saloon replication here at The Compound – in anticipation of the coming date. They obviously have nothing better to do.

There’s also a huge banner over the entrance to The Compound that says, “Welcome Temple Houston Spiritualists.” Cousin Fred tells me that groups from Florida, Texas, and Fiji have already indicated that they’re coming.

He said that two of the groups said that they will be arriving in the next few days to set up camp and begin channeling their combined power to urge Mr. Temple from the spirit world.

Ugh…guests arriving…guess I’d better end my Mole Man period and get on with my spiritualist period.

A long life, many phases…keeps things interesting…I guess.

By the way, to keep things from becoming the fiasco they were last year, we’re looking for volunteers to help us keep the spiritualists here on the grounds. Let me know if you can help. No pay, but, if last time is any indication, there will be plenty of bad food (with hot sauce), whiskey, and ammo.

It’s going to be a long ten days.

That is all!

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