Recycling slow news compost thoughts

I’ve noticed that certain issues come around again and again and again – like we’re climbing a circular ladder, like a hamster running frantically in a hamster ball.

It’s the London news cycle circle of life: snow, budget, taxes, potholes, sprawl, then the next unexpected crisis…

You know what I’ve noticed? Every time my compost bucket is full the weather is really lousy.

I guess I’ll just have to wait for an unexpected crisis to pop up… Oh! Look! An idea! Ha! Ha! Fooled you!

Wow, the Knights have a new player. O’ boy. Like, nobody says anything if Orchestra London gets a new clarinet…


  1. Doug,

    I agree (and am part of the problem, perhaps). We seem to be in a cycle.

    Snow, budget, taxes, potholes, sprawl, next unexpected crisis, the causes of lousy weather at compost time etc, seem to dominate the news.

    Is it because of the long winter?

    I was called ‘Mr. Doom and Gloom’ by a reader recently. I had to agree with him too.

    Maybe it’s my age. I find ‘Pessimism rampant’ a more captivating headline than ‘Mexico sunny this time of year’ because it makes me think more deeply about cause and effect and my part in it. I’ve seen ‘sunny’. Been there, done that.

    More interesting times are ahead. But on a different cycle?

    I’ll hold my breath.

    Keep well,

    Gord H.

    • It would be easy and silly to polish a philosophy here. No, Gord, You’re not the problem. :-) Mostly the post is about my muse exhausted of ideas for snow, potholes, sprawl, budgets and taxes cartoons. Wouldn’t you think that after five years of offering solutions, the problems would be solved by now? (Ha Ha Ha)

      Don’t we mostly hear “My street wasn’t plowed yet!”, “The plow puts the snow in my driveway!”, “The city doesn’t clean my sidewalk fast enough!” and then the pothole complaints begin – almost certainly there’ll be a letter to the editor howling about how the city won’t reimburse for broken axles – and then nobody wants their taxes raised – or council is spending in all the wrong places.

      But it is from these black moments, when they have simmered long enough, that something funny arises. The unexpected crisis never comes up till late spring. Meanwhile I have only those maddeningly regular themes.

      Then… the gift of the pencil… that was a gift.

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