I Work for the Board of Labor

A few weeks ago, I ordered myself a chalkboard for my kitchen. I needed something in front of me to remind me of things I needed to get done. Amazon screwed up and sent me a whiteboard. I hate those things. I sent it back. Michelangelo and Da Vinci used chalk. Head start teachers use whiteboards.

I put a list of nagging tasks on the board as soon as I screwed it to the wall. There must have been 20 things on it. I’ve been wiping them out ever since. I highly recommend chalkboards.

Today I arranged for gutter companies to come by and give me estimates on some roof improvements. I also sold one of my old welding carts, and the buyer also bought my old 80 cubic foot C25 tank. He got a great bargain, but I had to get it out of my workshop. That put me in a position to knock another item off my list. I drove to Airgas and bought a 125 cubic foot tank. It’s on the new cart now. The cart is ready to work. I can still make little changes here and there, and I haven’t transfered all my welding paraphernalia to it, but I can pull it up to my table and start welding.

I wore my MAGA hat to Airgas. I’ll wear it until the fat lady sings. If a 74-year-old man who just got over coronavirus can do several rallies in different states every day for weeks, I can wear a hat. It’s not much of a gesture.

Things don’t look as bad as the MSM would have you believe. Trump seems certain to win Pennsylvania. Biden’s anti-fracking crusade really put a dent in his numbers. We are now learning that Arizona was called early. There are 400,000 votes yet to be counted, and there is a good chance they’ll put Trump over the top. North Carolina and Georgia look good, Alaska is a sure thing, and Trump is suing in Michigan and demanding a recount in Wisconsin.

If he gets Arizona, Biden is in trouble. If he gets Michigan or Wisconsin, Biden is in trouble.

My feeling is that God is making Trump sweat because of his pride. It’s not pure imagination. It’s a strong feeling I get during prayer. But a strong feeling is not a prophecy.

Of course, if I’m right, we will be up to our armpits in rioters soon, and it may be even worse than the riot routine we’ve gotten used to.

I’m sure they’re rioting somewhere today. They always are. Riots used to be unusual. Now they’re like rain. It may be dry where you are, but it’s always pouring somewhere. After Trump wins, we should expect heavy-duty simultaneous riots in as many cities as BLM and Antifa can afford to attack.

Maybe they won’t be able to riot everywhere. After all, George Soros and Hollywood celebrities aren’t made out of money.

The riots will be Trump’s fault, according to the MSM. Everything is Trump’s fault in Bizarro World. Hurricanes. Forest fires. A fat lady became Youtube-famous for claiming Trump made her obese. He really gets around, in the fantasies of the Antichrist’s children. In sane times, people would be amazed to see grown-ups blaming a Republican president–who isn’t allowed to send help–for terrorist riots performed by leftists. Now, it’s normal. Up is down, men are women, and blizzards are proof of global warming.

“Trump made me do it.” Flip Wilson should sue.

Trump reminds me of Jesus Christ. They are the most lied-about people in history. They are hated without reason by more people than any other figures I can think of. They do great things for others. The blessings are undeniable. Somehow, they are given no credit, the blessings are characterized as problems, and problems other people create are blamed on them.

The Antichrist’s children remind me of my sister, who appears to be one of them. The more you do for her, the more she hates you. Helping certain people is like playing war games with the WHOPR. The only way to win is not to play.

This is the only country on earth, apart from one outlier with a gigantic oil field, where large numbers of people pushed for socialism during an economic boom. It just isn’t done. You’re supposed to go socialist out of desperation. You don’t do it when unemployment is at a record low and the stock market is at a record high. It’s like demolishing a house because it looks too nice.

That blackboard is really something. It hangs there, silently disapproving of me. It motivates me to do things so I can erase items from the list. It does what nagging wives wish they could do, without the misery and dreams of divorce.

Here’s hoping Trump wins Arizona. I’ll write another item on the board: “Lie on face for three hours, thanking God.”