So this is how it ends...

2018, that is.

The Farm Manager and our one kid who couldn't come up with a better plan for New Years Eve are watching a doc about the life of Polish artist and all-round wack job Stanislaw Szukalski.

I'm on the internet, boat shopping.

Almost bought one this year. A '92 Doral with under 500 hours on the Merc big block. I was pumped till I figured out it was gonna run five hundred bucks to fill the gas tank. No matter how good the deal appears to be, that's not something I can justify when I've got kids paying off student loans.

Maybe 2019 will be the year of the boat.

Around the home hearth it was a good year. Aside from our dear Lucy, everyone came through with good health. In fact, the fourteen year old dog and the twenty year old cat are perkier than they were a year ago. Amazing what they're doing in vet medicine!

And thanks to an Arab immigrant and our lovely public health care system, I can see like I've never seen before!

Hope it was a good year for you too.

The outside world is a little fucked, though. Mainstream media throughout the Western World has become a 24/7 Trump reality show. If they hate the guy as much as they claim to, why do they keep on with the free publicity? As near as I can tell, this president has one accomplishment to his credit. He gave America's one percenters a nice tax break.

Here in Canada we're celebrating the legalization of the weed 'o wisdom... and what a shit-show that's been. PM Fluffy managed to hand the entire industry to the Bay Street greedbags instead of the folks who have been successfully cultivating the stuff forever. Nice job, Justin!

How sadly ironic that guys like former Toronto police boss Bill Blair have jumped into the business, when guys he put behind bars are still... behind bars, and in some cases will be for years to come.

It's a fucked up world...


Anyway, my reminiscences were interrupted by a call from my old pal Kipling. Like me, he's at once pleased and befuddled by the fact that guys like us are still here, guys once voted as most likely to die before 30 in the high school yearbook. He's spending the New Years Eve working on his VW van out in his shop. It's a mere ninety thousand clicks shy of turning three million kilometres on the odometer. You need to spend a lot of time in your shop to make that happen.

We're gonna have breakfast at the Teviotdale Truck Stop next year. Like on Wednesday.

Continuity is good...