Potato Weather for Sure

I should feel terrible about complaining about all the rain we had this week in Southern New England. If you experienced most of the first week of Spring getting soaked then you know exactly what I mean, but you know what? I don't feel any better knowing your weather was lousy like mine. And if your weather was better, I really dislike you a lot. And if yours was worse (plague of locusts, rain of frogs, that sort of thing) then it sucks to be you but I still don't have very much from that.

Yesterday frazzled me because when it wasn't raining, which wasn't very often, it was cold. I'm such a myopic ingrate I seem to have lost sight that it is March, we have had snow this late and later on this blessed plot, this earth, this realm, this (New) England and may well have it again in the days remaining. As for the temperature, doh! (Together now) It's March.

I don't think I'm alone in being spoiled stupid or perhaps I'm stupidly spoiled (I often cannot tell them apart and even close-up they look about the same) as we may be a nation of self-centered somnambulists (and that might be an understatement). And then we realize, "that's what it's like to be alive. To move about in a cloud of ignorance; to go up and down trampling on the feelings of those about you. To spend and waste time as though you had a million years. To be always at the mercy of one self-centered passion, or another. Now you know-that's the happy existence you wanted to go back to. Ignorance and Blindness."

You're thinking Wall Street banker, too-big to fail CEO. Think smaller. Think Simon Stinson.Think each of us, think all of us except in moments of extreme duress when we have to be nearly coerced into finally thinking of others. We cry over what we don't have and weep in vain for the moon, oblivious as we reach and fail, that from our grasp slip the stars.

-bill kenny