No drone to call my own? (Or their bigger-than-thought-navy’s ships, in or out of the slip, such as at sea in the gulf, like a gull.) —– Green galore St. Pat’s Day post has been added. —– Remember back when a drone was little more than a flying kite? We have plenty for Iran, in a war that is growing in its greater-than-usual unpopularity. What are the merits of this “conflict?” Don’t expect Iranians to use the euphemistic word.

Here I go without an airship or warship to call my own, much less an actual army or armada, droning on, hoping to be less out on, or out of a limb, like a backup ayatollah nearly was. Is this war warranted?

— But first, snake — or not — on over to a follow-up post on St. Patrick’s Day. Are they still extinct in Ireland? As it’s all about how you dress, (in snakeskin anyway?), and dress up your doors — by the way, in the way the Irish dress it up.

First, the dirt on that guy wearing an old ugly Xmas sweater, incorporating plenty of the green. EMS had to come, as he was overweight and might have indulged, prematurely, on corned beef dripping with too much sauce. Or he might have hit the sauce. They were checking his blood pressure. Does the food flip it, or send it forward?

Back at my friend’s apartment, she has Irish stuff on her door all year long, although the bloodline for her weighs in at only about 33 percent of that ethnicity. (Shouldn’t it be 50/50?) Directly across the hall is, finally now, a great big green Shamrock on the door. She will have to spend the holiday in the hospital, and miss out on the full-fledged food fest and make due of it with hospital grub, unless I can sneak something in before her MRI. A nurse happened by, wearing the green scrubs but also cool sparkly shoes of that color. Even though logging many a mile on her shift, she still had a lot of heal raising her up high, with Easter coming. —

The war with Iran is won, or so we’re told and sold depending on when you ask, and fought largely in coastal waters with warships being sunk, which one would not expect from a country dominated by desert, and the size of its navy took Trump by surprise, a lack of knowledge that is a concern. But their supreme leader, I won’t capitalize it, has been killed and replaced with another wounded one, (bum leg), and a nursery school slammed by a drone, killing there alone over 100 schoolgirls. (And tit for tat on that, via a recent Israeli strike on one of its allies.) Should we not use drones unless we have designed them to a point that we can fully control where they fly? Birds have better honing systems.

Has anyone ever thought of the Iranian general populace — alleged to be freed from the evil ayatollah by bombing in this growingly unpopular war whose end has been called for by many — especially those with a home (more like a shack, I presume) next to a government “facility” and thus drone endangered. Virtually or all other recent presidents had found a way to deal with Iran through diplomacy. So hopefully, The Art of the Deal can seal it, and win the day despite all your ruin.

But here, credit must again be given where credit is due. Hopefully Iran will come out of this more stable and safe for its surviving residents, and screw diplomacy, The Donald has done it again. I learned long ago from an Upper Case Libertarian and Lower Case republican, that the latter party is better at foreign policy because nice guys do finish last and they are hard asses in a game where those win. If I don’t like you or think you are threatening Americans or me, I will kill you. Democrats are best at regulating the economy, and Republicans the nasty outer world, as politics is a dirty business.

— Which brings us to the holidays at hand. St. Patrick’s Day and then Easter, and between is Lenten fasting. But not for The Donald. And you might think porterhouse, but his actually fave is found at that hub of Americana, namesake McDonalds. He does start with a fish sandwich, but does not stop there. He also goes for a Big Mac and maybe even an added quarter-pounder, as his flay at a fillet of affordability. No word on whether he will be Irish on St. Pat’s Day with corned beef. If so, a half-pound of it.

To be further topical, as we recently exited the World Cup soccer and ran with NBA playoffs, and added basketball by entering March Madness. The empire of the Arab Emirates, a while back, was asked or required or turned back to donate their Cup to of all places, the Russia! So Back to the USSR. Got to wonder if the current war changes that?

On basketball as our topic, there was around the turn of the year, the approximately million-dollar Steph Curry quest concerning his place within the Harlem Globetrotters — is he indeed a “global” or “girls” goddess, and for such does he have game? For more info, see Google.

Last we go to the NFL, and its fountain of fines forked out, concerning a star QB when somebody got in his face. Not spitting in it, which in the league’s opener, raised a more huge than merited meltdown over a goober. The first unsportsmanlike conduct fine was — on the head as we’re being exacting with the salary cap and all — $14,491, the second and such $20,288, and toss in an added $14,069 for an obscene gesture. That’s more than a thousand a finger. You add in also, another $50K for verbal abuse of a referee. It’s official, unless appealed. —

And so I ran. Which brings me to my point. Yes, Iran was butchering its own people by the many thousands who dared protest, and yes it was a brutal regime, although the only way that impacts the United States is almost by proxy, that it threatened our odd-thought-out ally Israel, so why the war was won, or needed to be fought in the first place, is a sketchy as a drone plan still on the architect’s drawing board. And we want by hook or by crook to get other such country’s oil, and make it cheap, with 20 percent of the global supply at risk of being blocked in a strait, straight up. But nevermind their land mines …

More US soldiers than thought have been killed in the massive strike — and hey these days if an attack kills even a few it is major news by a World War standard — and we likewise have arrogant concern if even gas prices go up a buck. We can’t really be the world’s policeman and take out every bad dictator who is out there.

Sleeper cells, awakened, with holed up Iranian extremists with nothing to do except play Warcraft, not real war, are thought to exist right here in our country, but I doubt they will be hit by drones. Also, California is thought to be a target of an Iranian attack, and there are those who wouldn’t think that bombing out LA would be a really bad idea in the whacked out far western area of the western world. As Tool signs, “the only way to save it is to flush it all away.” (Speaking of which, I spoke to a woman the other night who just LOVES the band for reasons like that, in what could be a far-flung coincidence. More on that later.)  

The following is some really bad bathroom humor about what a street musician really does while sitting cross-legged there and thinking and singing about one of the New Vietnams …

Crappie Consciousness, he said, is better karma than being at war with Venezuela.

Then he texted an icon of a wounded veteran with head wrapped in bandages. And he was not weaponizing him. Eddie lives on in the form of an old war vet.

“They” are going to “run” the country until they find leadership suitable to them, and then run with it.

Are they the total electorate? Hmm … Concern.

“I must agree with you, oh constitutional scholar,” I said.

Car exhaust consciousness? Going back to the front of this prose.

Someone had just said to him that we were not at war with them, he said.

“Yeah, and Vietnam was only considered a conflict.”

“Oh Man. All’s fair in love and war,” came the response

The latter term moreso than the former.

I’ll take the “at war with Venezuela, warm cappuccino” please, he said. Lukewarm likely, he later added, jokingly referencing a friend by that name, and not one who reads a gospel from the pulpit on Sunday. But cream considered. A swizzle stick? That’s sick. Or …

That’s cold.

Coffee is never good that way.

His Jacob’s Ladder was working a timeline overtime, saying he will return to work at a grill and bar, and/or being more fully social on the day after the next inauguration day. Just wait until that January, baby. Have a drink on me.

Or, if not enthralled, how about Irish coffee? The coming Tuesday, a holiday but not an election day, but maybe in Ireland …

And on that day, have not just Guinness, but an Irish old fashioned. (Or hot chocolate?) Wait, that would be infused with coffee with cream and such. As is, it is found on St. Patrick’s Day at Hudson Tap with a jolt of Shanty’s Whip (your home of it) Black Irish Whiskey. So even those with dark skin can be Irish on this day.

Maybe even holed up Iranians …

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