In words and image, Eisenhower and his warning are reduced to a rusty smear as we carry on regardless. This was snapped during a Saturday afternoon walk through Columbia Heights, as the tired sun trundled down the westward skies, causing the neighborhood architecture to swell, pregnant with bloody hues.
Nothing else to report. Have acquired Nelson Algren's "Man With the Golden Arm" and Barry Paris' 610-page biography of Louise Brooks...couldn't decide which to read first, so I'm doing both. My brains will surely be scrambled for weeks.
At least, while the military-industrial complex continues its march across our abandoned scraps of human dignity, there's still good stuff to read. Thanks, Ike, but I'm afraid it's a bit too late for wisdom and truth now. What would Lulu do?