I shan’t say Merry Christmas, for indeed it is not. Rather, I would say It’s a Merciless Christmas. Christ roamed Palestine until a few Romans, with a wooden cross and some spikes, sent him to Kingdom Come. If he were to return, he would not last a New York minute before he would be blown up to Kingdom Come again by the Romans of our time; and he would rise with the black smoke of mans inhumanity to man Islander..
I was listening to the last movement of the Sixth Brandenburg Concerto, aah Bach, when thoughts came to mind. The beat for instance, one, two, three, four; something about it, don’t you think? Eighteenth Century then, current to this day. Bach is timeless of course, people will be, [I was going to say listening, but you know how you search for a better word], mesmerized as long as there are people.