Alzheimer Air: America's first black president belatedly takes to the skies, almost missing flight on Air Force One out of Israel

Well, what else could Obama do? Leave the first black president wandering aimlessly about the tarmac?

Bill and Barry had taken Air Force One to Shimon Peres' funeral, where both of them laboured to lard up the deceased mostly fabricated reputation as a "man of peace," an exercise in revisionism that did not go unnoticed even in mainstream news platforms.

But watch this charming interaction between America's first and second black presidents.

Bill! Let's go!

That video clip does a brilliant job in humanising two men who each have more blood on their hands than anybody who has sat in the dock at the ICC thus far.

Whistling down the Alzheimer highway

As much as you'd like to defer it for a year or two, it was time today for the annual family picnic.

Ran into lots of folks who I haven't set eyes on since the last family picnic...

Saw my niece Anna.

"Haven't seen you in ages kid! Bet you're in High School  by now!..."

Well, according to her, and this was seconded by her mother, Anna is just wrapping up her last year of High School.

Then I ran into a cousin. "Hey, howzitgoin with that MBA degree you started a couple years ago?"

Turns out he finished that MBA degree four years ago, got a promotion, and is now a VP in a major agri-business. The kind I generally like to portray as one of Satan's emissaries.

But good for him!

Then there was Wolfgang who spent a career figuring out just how to juggle the addictive properties in cigarettes to make them palatable to the addicted. Worked his entire career for a major tobacco conglomerate.

"So when can you retire?" I innocently inquired

Turns out he retired three years ago.

Then I met up with my dearest uncle. Used to be a world class historian. You cannot do research on the history of the protestant reformation without running into his work. A brilliant man.

We have had many hundreds of hours of conversation ebb and flow between us over the years.

Today was the first time he couldn't figure out my name.

I mentioned this to a couple of the other guests.

"He doesn't remember his own name; how do you expect him to remember yours?"

Fair comment I suppose.

But I remain utterly dumbfounded at the loss...


Alzheimers has robbed him of knowing my name and his name and the names of his children and grandchildren.

But he can whistle. In fact, he whistles more than he ever has.

He can whistle on request selections from many great symphonies.

Which leaves me awe-struck...

All I'll be whistling is Iggy's anthem.

"Lust for life" loses something when you strip out the bass and guitar and the drums...

Trouble-shooting the Allis-Chalmers 480

Or maybe it's an 840. I have trouble keeping numbers in order. I think it's part of the Alzheimer journey.

Either way, there is an issue with the Allis. Namely, she won't start.

This wouldn't be an issue except that the Farm Manager has a couple of chores lined up that are gonna take me ten hours with a shovel or ten minutes with Allis.

So I'm highly motivated to get her fired up.

Spent the entire day on it today. Except for that little break in the afternoon when I headed out back to do a little fishing in the creek. Found out that the beavers moved their dam about a hundred yards downstream. That means the water is a bit deeper upstream of the dam. Had one of the hounds with me, and the first thing she did everywhere I wanted to cast a line was jump in the water.

Took away the element of surprise.

Still, it was a good afternoon.

Fear and loathing at the old folks' home

Haven't seen my friend Heather for awhile. Heard she'd taken a job in the dining room at one of the local nursing homes, so when we met up the other day I wanted to quiz her all about it.

Among other things I guess I'm planning for my declining years.

So how's the job working out?

Oh God! I HATE it!

Why so?

Well, they're just nuts. I want to quit but they won't let me.

What do you mean?

Well every time I get up the courage to tell them I'm outta there they talk me into staying another couple of weeks.

What's so bad about it?

They're all friggin senile! They follow me around when I'm setting the tables in the dining room. They unset the tables faster than I can set them! And the other day, we're having yogurt for dessert, and... and before I could stop him, this elderly gentleman is stirring his yogurt....

Heather breaks into a hysterical half-laugh half-sob.

He's stirring the yogurt... WITH HIS PENIS!

Hmm...  I'm a pretty liberal guy but I'm thinking maybe I'll strike that place from my list.