Speak of the Devil

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It was just past 11 p.m. last night before I got to bed due to iniquitous delays, but I set my cellphone alarm for 2 a.m. to get me up to ready for a five-mile+ walk.

Rather surprisingly, I did not feel as poorly slept as I was expecting, even though I was awake a lot. My wife had come home at some point since my retirement and had gone to bed, and no one else was up.

The day-long rain had ceased, and there was some drying.

My fully clothed weight (sans jacket) when I was set to go was at most 182 pounds, and a second weigh had resulted in 181 pounds on our analog scale. It was 2:31 a.m. once I was outside the locked front door and about to head away.

I was not in a good mood. I was full of self-hate, and furious at God's never-ending refusal to help me in any recognizable way despite seeing me become more and more disinterested in any kind of existence ─ it is almost too late to help me, for I am almost past redeeming.

I was also furious that when He does help, it is almost Loki-like, embodying the concept spoken of in the phrase "Be careful what you wish for." In other words, your wish or prayer might come true, but in some disastrous fashion.

I was also angry at my wife for imposing upon me for the $700 she thoughtlessly guilted me into giving her yesterday ─ she clearly monitors our chequing account and knows when my monthly pension income is directly deposited.

When I got to the elementary school playground approximately three blocks away for some exercise, I walked around the far side of the school to the playground equipment near the back of the school ... only to discover some idle 𝔞𝔰𝔰-𝔥𝔬𝔩𝔢 seated there on the ground ─ it was his cellphone-like flashlight that I had actually seen. Judging by the dark shape in the gloom of night, I believe he was alone.

But why the Hell did he have to be sitting there on the ground just when I wanted some exercise ─ I only get this opportunity three nights a damned week!

So I never stopped ─ I just cut through the playground and carried on to the rear of the school as if that had been my intention. There is a smaller kids' playground on the other side of the school where I could salvage my exercising.

Yet sure enough ─ on that side of the school was yet another 𝔞𝔰𝔰-𝔥𝔬𝔩𝔢 ─ this idiot seemed to be changing his clothes, or else trying some on. At maybe 2:45 a.m. ─ just like anyone else might be doing ... when they are not, of course, seated on the ground for some oddball reason with a white light as might be provided by a cellphone app.

So yet again, the Fates worked against me, and I had to continue on to the street and then proceed past the school

On top of the mood I was already in, this pretty much put me over. I cursed one and all with a pox, and did so for long afterwards.

Naturally, there were to be further occasional revivals of my foul mood when various vehicles on the streets enraged me, whether by blinding me with unnecessarily bright headlights, rocket-like roaring engines of speeders, or even something as simple of coinciding with me just when I was in the process of crossing a road and seemingly deliberately thwarting me.

I chanced the school again as I was returning home, this time finding it free of aimless loiterers. However, at this point I have become quite stiffened from my walk, and there is less of any drive within me that might have earlier been present.

In anticipation, a block or so before getting to the school, I did as much limbering of my shoulders and related areas as was possible while walking, but without a lot of exaggerated motions that might make me appear to be high on drugs ─ or else retarded ─ should anyone I was unaware of be witnessing me.

Somehow ─ after wiping a jungle gym monkey bar dry to exercise on ─ I matched my recent maximums of pull-ups in the first two sets (7 - 2), chin-ups in the middle two sets (3 - 3), and pull-ups between two bars in the final two sets (2 - 2), holding the very last pull-up for a reasonably comfortable 30-count.

I then performed a dozen slow, full-range decline push-ups on the nearby cement ramp kids use to enter the school at one doorway instead of having steps leading up to it.

At least I was finally able to feel better about myself.

It was 4:40 a.m. once I was back home. And I was back into bed just ahead of 6 a.m.

I believe that it was well ahead of 8:30 a.m. when I rose, finding my younger brother not only already up, but about to return to his bed ─ I later learned that he had been up since maybe 6:30 a.m. due to sleeping illy.

Since my brother is no fan of Christopher James' 'broken record' ranting, I played for myself the video published July 26 at Rumble's A Warrior Calls channel: MAKE AMERICA GULLIBLE AGAIN /CANADA IS FINISHED.

My brother did join me fairly late into the video, and thus was present when my wife rose and left for work shortly after 10 a.m., evidently with a full workday in store.

Note that I had risen to find that all was wet outside ─ it was again lightly raining, and probably did so throughout the morning.

The above video was the only one we were to watch because my brother wanted to watch the 10:45 a.m. Olympic Games gold medal match between favourites New Zealand and Canada.

We were to lose, despite getting the first seven points.

My brother got something in the mail that was extremely aggravating and 100% out of the blue.

At least three years ago, he had to undergo "remedial" driver training due to getting nabbed for driver intoxication. It was very expensive; but at least due to COVID lockdowns at the time, he was able to 'attend' mandatory Responsible Driver Program sessions by phone here at home.

Heck, maybe this was all four years ago?

Anyway, he thought it was all over with, but a letter he got today proclaims that at the time he had been pegged with nine negative points on his driving record.

Well, once a five-year 'window' of driving has been determined, "a driver’s cumulative score within" that window will be reviewed ─ and this was reportedly done:

"... When a person accumulates a minimum threshold of remedial program points for alcohol and/or drug related driving events as shown in the table below, the Superintendent has the authority to require the driver to attend or participate and complete the Responsible Driving Program (RDP) and/or Ignition Interlock Program (IIP)."

In his case, for anything ranging from nine to 10 points, the "Cumulative Remedial Requirements" are that he is again under the penalty of this wretched programme for a period of six months.

It appears that apart from having to physically attend the sessions that he got out of having to attend previously due to lockdowns, he seems also to have to have an Ignition interlock device installed on his van at his own expense.

The "Responsible Driver Program" itself is listed as now costing $1,200, but that has nothing to do with the installation of this personalized breathalyzer. And I just bet that there will be other unmentioned financial penalties.

But if he has to have this device installed in his van for six months, it means that he would never be able to use his van during that time if he had anything at all to drink. He would have to walk or bus.

And he goes drinking absolutely every single day, so this is going to be a major inconvenience! His usual drinking haunt is two miles distant ─ he's hardly going to be walking there and back. It will require at least some busing.

Now remember ─ these are all penalties with which he was punished several years ago. The corrupt, thieving bastards have decided that they have the authority to re-penalize people with duplicate punishments these several years later!

Of course, we do not know for certain that the Ignition interlock device will be required this time, but he has 45 days within which to respond and learn exactly what is in store.

The sky has been solidly overcast this afternoon, even if there was no rain ─ which may not have been entirely the case. It is hard to tell when all appears damp if not wet outside.

My brother had his midday bit of bed rest, and then drove off to socialize. I soon enough thereafter had a short nap. Since both of my stepsons were away to work today, I did some extra laundering ─ all of my bedding.

I often peter out by early evening when ─ like tonight ─ I have a latter evening walk planned. I wish to perform the 5.625-mile round trip hike to Real Canadian Superstore, primarily for a three-kg pail of creamed honey.

I lied down some while; and then I resorted to a little T.V.

I put our Android TV Box to work and tuned in Prodigal Son ─ episode two ("Speak of the Devil") of season two. I also enjoyed a can of Cariboo Malt and a shot of brandy.

That helped.

It is now a little past 9 p.m., so I must ready and be on my way. I will be sitting up later with my brother, watching at least one of our shows.