Georgia's not been herself lately.  Could be from hitting 280, being born way back in 1732, last of the lucky 13 colonies to get going.  Georgia lately seems liable to put reading glasses in the 'fridge, and the milk jug into the oven.  Haven't seen the cat lately, but the clock's in the catbox, and the newspaper's right here, in the microwave. Hmmm. Something's not right.

Of course, there are all sorts of reasons events might seem inexplicable to someone not acclimated and acculturated to the art of goings-on in the peanuts-pecans-and-peaches state. Some things defy the ordinary belief that we all have our own peculiar ways of doing this and that, and that one should make some allowances for that.  Here's one comes to mind:

Ever get something caught in your throat, you don't know it got there, it won't loosen its grip, and there's a split-second of eternity, in which there is instinctive fear, a panic-button reaction?

Yeah, well, it happened here, just last night.  The offender in question, generally so, was American Exclusivism, we'll go ahead and call it -- the capacity, unlike other sovereign nations, to be fully and totally, flaming-bat-guano, flat-out insane: psycho-religio-socially so.

We've moved on from the banal fiction of artificial elevation of American Exceptionalism, created by simpleton decree, and continually-called such by dangerously deluded political gangster types.  Welcome, now, to the writ-large, Dali-esque diorama of Exclusivity.  Welcome  into the fractured realm of religious terrorism of the first order and degree.

News comes and goes, ebbs and flows, sails in and out of view.  Some we hang onto, almost tethered by rope, others slip loose in daydreams or in fuller sleep.  They are daily ship's logs, these reports, raindrops that sprinkle on us, way out at sea, where moisture takes whatever landfall it can find:  The news, only a little spray from the bow, a bit of wet on the face -- nothing to warrant change in direction.

This is why the rogue wave, tall as a small planet, hit with no warning, struck a cracking blow amidships, nearly broke it in two -- only out trolling for news when the skies tore in half and the ocean threw itself down, pitched and buried everything alive in a sea cave, below, way, way down.

Stop making sense with Republicans:  Studies are showing you're just wasting your time, trying to be reasonable with this group of humanoids in our family, all the while hoping facts will illuminate the path, facts will help turn the corner, facts will help reveal the righteous path we all need to walk.

Ain't gonna happen. Clouds won't be parting, there will be no shafts of penetrating sunlight appearing on non-fact-believer foreheads, no sudden appearance of brightening light bulbs overhead, no swirls of St. Elmo's Fire ambling through to expose Republican minds to instantaneous and thunderstruck activation.