Footnotes to Plato from the foothills of the Superstition Mountains

The Old Man Wakes Up . . .

. . . from the first nap of the day to the soothing strains of The Who.

Two minutes into it, he's banging on all eight, the iced coffee is working its reliable quotidian magic, and soon after some more of this bloggity-blog ephemera, and a few 3-min Internet chess games, he will be ready to slam his paltry pate once again against the rocks of Time, Existence, and Death.


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