...this morning, around 4, read a few chapters from the last quarter of Vonnegut’s Jailbird, then went back to bed for a few more Zs.  Had a terrible dream ~~ my dreams have never been prophetic that I’m aware of, and that can only be a good thing in this case:

I was a referee (that alone is scary enough, as I can’t imagine EVER being a referee) of a tag-team wrestling match.  The announcer was in the ring, proclaiming the contenders.  “In the blue corner, we have the challengers:  The tag-team of We, The People!” 

What I saw in that corner was a pitiful pair.  One white-collared and permanent pressed, middle-aged pattern balding man chained to the post by shackles and a heavy tow chain &, the other, a gaunt and gravelly younger blue collar man standing in an oppressive black puddle up to his ankles and dragging a 55 lb. Bag of Sakrete tied to his belt.  

Then he announced the champions:  “…and in the red corner, we have the perpetually reigning tag-team of Bush-Clinton Presidencies!”

I don’t have to describe what that looked like, you already, …all too well, know. 

I woke up in a cold sweat even though there was a cool morning breeze circling in through a southern facing window.  Somehow I think Jailbird is so apropos to this age, as, I suppose, it was to the age it was written in, as, I suppose, it’ll likely always be.