Monday, October 10, 2005

Como Esperando Abril

I spent some time this weekend catching up on chores, which are now slightly magnified: as per some references in the past few weeks, I had some VERY good personal news. I'm now the owner The bank is now the owner of a house I'll be moving into over the next few weeks.

As you might expect, with all the things happening here in the wake of the hurricane (no pun intended), things didn't exactly go smoothly. However, last week the deal was finally closed. When the dust settles, I might have a few posts relating to all the stuff that happened.

Anyway--when not boxing things, or bagging garbage (the latter, if I do this right, will be double the former...and, come to think of it, is there REALLY a difference between stuff and crap, when all is said and done?), I was keeping up mostly with matters Plame...guess y'all have seen some of the big stories: Judith Miller AND Karl Rove will be making return appearances before the grand jury to, ahem, desperately save their hides clarify their earlier testimony. Should be interesting.

From what I've seen, midnight is rapidly approaching, and their smoked-window SUVs are about to turn into 70's era rust-bucket station wagons, complete with peeling, fake-wood trim...and less than a quarter tank of gasoline, i.e., not nearly enough to make it to safe ground...but maybe sufficent to put them in the pokey...

There are a few folks among the few folks reading this humble blog who might not spend lots of time wandering through the sphere, as it were, so for their benefit, I'm noting the following links:

Firedoglake, Murray Waas, and The Next Hurrah are at least my Big Three for the latest on the case. Can't speak for others, but there's enough material to keep me awake late trying to keep up.

And, as Billmon notes, while right now all a humble blogger can do is speculate, it sure LOOKS like a meeting of fan and excrement (i.e., Liddy, Rove, and Miller). In other words, Fitzgerald is the prosecutorial equivalent of Santa Claus...which means I feel like a kid waiting for Christmas to arrive.

Or maybe it's Like Waiting For April.

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