Yesterday, Virgil and I talked unusually long before starting to play cribbage. I kind of unloaded about some of the things the Fascist regime is doing and planning to do. He is unlikely to remember any of it, of course, but it made me feel better. Also, when we did play cribbage, he kept forgetting, both in the hands and in the cribs, that the cut card is also a part of his hand – of both our hands – and of the crib. Technically in what I call cutthroat cribbage, the rule is that if you catch something another player failed to count, you get the points and the other person loses them. Of course I would never do that to him – but if I had today, it would have been a metaphorical bloodbath. He also forgot how old he is (He’ll be 82 before the end of July.) Yeah, I can see why his case manager asked me to be his medical POA.
Joyce Vance from Friday. I don’t really have anything to add. At least, not without profanity.
I guess this from “Balls and Strikes” is rather specialized. On the other hand, if enough Americans who were loud enough had been doing this kind of specialized knowledge long enough ago, there’s a possibility we might have been spared Brett Kavanaugh.
