Who Knows?

To say that my work has been uneven over the years would be an understatement.

Blogging is a curse in that regard.  One blogs, and one fucks up a certain percentage of the time. The main reason I don't subscribe to Twitter is that I know what I'm incapable of--that is always having the insight it takes to not come off as ridiculous at inopportune times.

Blogging came first, and it is as dark and full of trap doors as things need be for me, and in any case many of the things I say here could be tweets.  Besides, I don't have dexterous enough fingers to cope with our instant news/celebrity culture.

I'll leave it to others, including our moronic president-elect, to attempt to explain themselves via the twitter world.

It's been the year that was, whatever it was, that is for sure.  Here's what RBPB published in this the sixth year of its existence.

Charles Deemer's 3 Plays About Family.

My collection of opinions (the serious ones), Along Came the Death Squad: Political and Scattered Notes.

Two videos I claim among a cluster of attempts:  Here and here.

Good enough?  Good lord no, but tangible in an increasingly ridiculous world.

So good riddance to 2016.  Like you, I can't wait to see what the despots and assholes, as well as the good people of the world, have to offer in '17.

For my part, I'll bring out a book or two and improvise and publish some more music.  I plan on doing this until I die, and I've already arranged to pass the enterprise on to my family to do with what they please when I'm gone.

Worthwhile?  Who knows?

A piece from my book.

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year, and good luck.  (My sentiments exactly.)

To all of my visitors from around the world, no matter your faith or political persuasion, thank you for helping to make 2016 a good year.

You're growing in numbers and return visits.  I look forward to your continued interest, however fragile or complete, in my detritus.


TS