As I follow the collective insanity of the left, I searched for an escape.
My escape led me over to the website of a newfound friend and fellow blogger, Chronicles of an Urban Hermit.
I have visited Chronicles of an Urban Hermit on several occasions and consider it a forum through which I am able to escape the noise, smoke, fog and mirrors.
Allow me to share with you a few paragraphs of one of the editor’s essays.
As I have said many times on these pages, one of the greatest of my few simple pleasures, in this lifestyle I am trying to perfect, is pretending I am oblivious (while listening more intently than the KGB) to the conversations that go on around me when I am out amongst the human riff-raff. And, as much as you might think the best stories can be eaves-dropped in an eating establishment or a doctor’s office waiting room, it is the bus ride banter that is far more deliciously rich than any other public gathering venue.
And so it was that, on this particular day last week, I found myself needing to make a quick run to the low-end grocery store for a few items to hold me over until the next check. Little did I know that I was headed straight toward a front-row view of a time long past in our culture.
The inbound #10 was empty on the trip down and the walk up and down the aisles was uneventful. Once through checkout, the backpack filled with the goods, I headed out the door and across the driveway to the bus stop.
A lady was sitting in the middle of the three-seat bench so, as I approached, I put my bag down on the cement and prepared to stand and wait for the bus.
But she would have none of it[…]
Reblogged this on Boudica2015.