Pounded into the Ground

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I’m melancholic to begin with, but sheesh, am I feeling it lately. I figured once Barack Goddamned Obama was done, we’d see the market start to grasp reality, but nope, with Trump in charge, it’s more deluded than ever. On top of that was the soul-crushing news I hinted at yesterday very obliquely, which felt like my right arm was removed.

As for the so-called market, one look at the VIX tells it all:


I’m also feeling down about my writing. A Sloper wrote me a long, long email last night, referring to my Pity the Sub-Genius post that I wrote precisely two years ago.  It troubles me that I’m not cranking out beautiful prose like that these days.

Feh. I’m in a funk. The moth joke, once again, leaps to mind.