| Same as last Friday with Phil, over not quite to the gate, then a small loop (Robert Frost, Bridle path), then back. Just after heavy rain, temperature was only low 70s but humidity was 100%. Actually didn't seem so bad, maybe because my attention was diverted by my battles with the deer flies.
Which, all in all, went badly, despite the count of confirmed kills that was well in excess of 50. It got me thinking in the latter part of the run about parallels with the War in Iraq. The more I killed, the more they kept coming. Terrorists, insurgents, FDFs (fucking deerflies), call them what you want, it was clear that they will be there long after I am gone. The only successful strategy seemed to be to get home as quickly as possible. Though there was one other gambit that seemed to work -- I whispered the magic words "Tax cuts" and right away I could sense them backing off, recalculating. Sure, a few kept trying to nail me, but they were probably just middle class.
Where was deer fly bait Bricker when I needed him?
|
