So, here-in follows a list of things this Cant is not about.
I'm not going to write about Gary Condit's interview last night on T.V. Frankly, watching him recite rehearsed answers (one answer repeated four times, word and inflection perfect) without emotion just made the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. I probably should point out that his soul-less appearance and the fact that the interview was on a channel owned by Disney, makers of Animatronics, shouldn't surprise me. But I won't.
I'm not going to write about the fact that scientists have discovered that African elephants may be much nearer extinction that originally thought. Seems there are two species not one, and they don't interbreed. So, they could both go out at once. I should write something about that, but I won't.
I'm not going to write about Mick Jagger. He's appeared on the cover of a magazine called "Saga" which is aimed squarely at the over fifties. Apparently he was very disappointed by this and has been attempting to distance himself from the suggestion that he's a pin-up for old people. Hey Mick, you're fifty eight. That's old enough to be *my* father and frankly, _I_ feel ancient. I should write about how pompous and silly aging pop stars are, but I won't.
I should write about the fact that despite my basic faith in the goodness of human-kind, I can see precious little evidence for it in the news, with Israel and Macedonia and Zimbabwe and a list of countries as long as an extinct elephant's you-know-what, just chock full of anger and hate and guns. I really should write about that, but I won't.
This week I should at least mention the fact that as bad as the AIDs epidemic is going to be in Africa, it looks like China might just beat them out in sheer numbers of people who are going to die from what is basically a completely unnecessary disease that is 100% avoidable. Still, even if I did, it wouldn't save anyone, so I shalln't.
No. I'm just going to leave this list here as a tiny sand-pebble monument to today, and this week, and my species, and go on home. It's Friday, and it's sunny and I have a good book to read and family I love and none of the above is going to be waiting for me there. So screw it. You worry about all of the above.
Lictor.