[poconopundit]

Kamala has all the gravitas and intelligence of an ice cube. . . And then it melts.

Hey DoughtyOne. Your comment reminds of Arthur Miller's introduction to his famous play, Death of a Salesman (text):

The play grew from simple images.  From a little frame house on a street of little frame houses, which had once been loud with the noise of growing boys, and then was empty and silent and finally occupied by strangers.  Strangers who could not know with what conquistadorial joy Willy and his boys had once re-shingled the roof.  Now it was quiet in the house, and the wrong people in the beds.

It grew from images of futility — the cavernous Sunday afternoons polishing the car.  Where is that car now?  And the chamois cloths carefully washed and put up to dry, where are the chamois cloths?

. . .

Above all, perhaps, the image of a need greater than hunger or sex or thirst, a need to leave a thumbprint somewhere on the world.  A need for immortality, and by admitting it, the knowing that one has carefully inscribed one's name on a cake of ice on a hot July day.

Cheers :-)

[Candor7]

And Biden is living out Shakespeare’s “King Lear.”

” I am a very foolish, fond old man,
Fourscore and upward, not an hour more nor less;
And to deal plainly,
I fear I am not in my perfect mind. (IV.vii.) “

[DoughtyOne]

True enough huh.

Yeah, I’m familiar with the play, although I no longer remember
all the details. I don’t think I every paid enough attention
to learn them all, so that’s on me, not my health per se.

I like the gyst of the play, and as I get older it makes sense.
For me, it actually always did, even in my youth.

It’s the story line we all deal with in time.