Genocide in a Cheshire Cat

Maybe I'd be lucky and not die at all. Maybe I'd be a cripple all my life ...  maybe I'd be paralyzed and have to sit in a wheelchair. The Tropic of Cancer, almost in the middle

Like I need another of these. 

In the secret space of my callous self, I had always wanted to be free of pet rearing so I could give my notice and die a hard tragic death on the asphalt, and now I'm nearly there, but for kimmy, whom I'm giving a hard time, because my guilt has the corrosive power of destruction. I have a soft spot for all cats, but I loved my boys, and could not give any of them a good death, though Oliver got the best, and I had time to grieve with him. Educated liberals, when not taking human pet attachments seriously, lampoon them, and I fully comprehend the impetus, yet realize, as most feline lovers do, conspiratorially, that cats are superior to humans, and I miss my boys, putting all my energies into a fantasy which is cerebral, almost finished, and has me torn. Upload it to Amazon as a single, or not? I have not made up my mind, envious of Henning Mankell's ability to put his balls on a string. There are female authors who can do the same, but not like men.

Talisman is almost 20 years old, and Manning isn't afraid to kick himself in the ass, have a little fun, and have a relevant message about how our lack of ethics ripples outward; he makes it look easy, within a relatively simple meta-fictional framework, and it isn't. I blocked this shit without a word, increasingly disaffected.

It Clicks

In Cheshire I mention that Mankell's Talisman has a brazen devil may care quality, but by episode 7, one's eyes start to glaze over, and the ending was dismal, anti-climatic. The actor who took the lead as the discredited cop, however, appears in the earlier Hamilton series, which contributes to subversive irony if fans follow European actors with the same regularity as those who break ranks in Burbank.

And, if I have been writing as if I did not know Henning was an obituary over the course of this year, the dowager displays a rare dose of humility and apologizes. As rendered through Calamur, the fanciful obit compiler, I disagree with both the contributor and Henning's voice within the piece. Having read a couple of the Wallander novels, they do not seem to reflect ordinary mundane affairs, not in terms of Mankell's plots, Mankell's withholding, though one concedes Wallander is the normal middle class white male being asked to clean up modern psychoses. Nor is racism a crime. The actual offense is egalitarianism which muzzles people like dogs, though it is also true a disproportionate number of writers die from lung cancer, alcoholism, or even too much caffeine. Depends on who we are, how far we push.