I've hit the proverbial rock-bottom, as they say.
It was always clear to me that a Stihl was the superior tool, but now, long past the age of uncertainty, I'm not so sure anymore.
It's a conundrum, to be sure. It's paralyzed me for weeks, if not months...
But here's the good news! All that paralysis left me free to do some of those free-association mind exercises they teach you at mindfulness camp.
Think about where you'd like to be. Then, think about what's blocking your path.
I'd like to be in a place where I can pick up a newspaper or click on a news site and read news, instead of being force-fed the most dreadful goop imaginable. Just as an example, look how far down the toilet that once-esteemed title, The Globe and Mail, has gone.
In hindsight, I think the rot began when Thomson got his hands on it, and that was forty years ago. The rot intensified exponentially when Reuters joined the nest. One of the most influential media empires in the world was now in the hands of a dude who has a hereditary title in the British House of Lords.
That's why The Globe and Mail is compelled to constantly spew the most jingoistic drivel against any possible adversaries of the Anglo-American Empire.
Good theory, eh?
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