It’s hard to write fiction right now, when the reality of what’s happening in the world is so much worse. I knew what was probably coming, and the reality is…worse. Fascists in charge, US reputation going to shit, the new administration saying “fuck you, libtard” to current law. A rogue billionaire looting the US Treasury and tearing down all checks and balances. It’s a lot. I suppose it could be worse – a giant asteroid could hit mid-America, trigger the Yellowstone supervolcano and kill most of us, ushering in a post-apocalyptic world and an ice age. That *might* be worse. Reading the headlines lately, I find myself rooting for the asteroid. Maybe a medium sized one.
Our democracy shitshow may be why the whales of Cabo are so intent on putting on a show for us. They feel sorry for us. We’re seeing huge breaches by humpbacks, lots of shore rolling and spyhopping by grey whales, the occasional wave of a fin or tail. Nonstop whale TV. I’ll definitely miss it starting tomorrow, when we return to Socal. At least it won’t be bone dry there.
