The Dystopian Times, 13. A Daily Collage.

August is winding down. It's hot this week, but mostly because it's humid. Rain is forecast for tonight or tomorrow, and then the temperatures are going down. We're headed for fall.

Our daughter is worried. There are three cases of Covid at a factory where a friend in her circle works. There are rumors that at least one person at her own job is infected, too. Rules are being re-introduced, maintaining people in areas without wandering to other spots. And the contagions keep growing.

There's more of the same in the United States. Another Black man was shot, this time in the back while walking to a car where his children were. More riots, more dead. More property set on fire, and more hatred against the police, which doesn't seem to be able to get rid of its bad seeds. A 17 year old was arrested and charged with intentional homicide after shooting and killing two people during the riots. A 17 year old.

The Republican National Convention is a sham. The President is using Federal property, in contravention of the Hatch Act, which states it is not allowed. Most of the key speakers are Trump's children, even the Secretary of State, who is not allowed to dabble in partisan politics in any official capacity, has spoken. One of last night's speakers kind of sums up the retrogade thinking of so many of the followers. It was a woman who argued in favor of "head of household" votes. The head of each household, the husband, is the one who should vote for the entire family. If the husband and wife don't agree, it's the husband's vote that counts. If my husband were to try that with me, I'd get the shovel ready. We have a very large garden that will hide a body very well.

Most of California is on fire, as a result of previous years of droughts that helped dry out trees, and extreme temperatures this August. A hurricane hit the Gulf coast earlier this week, and now hurricane Laura is poised to strike and create "unsurvivable" storm surges. An asteroid is supposed to glance by the earth on the day before the U.S. election day, with just a tiny probability of saying hello directly. 

Meanwhile, in Vigo, the Christmas lights have been going up since the beginning of the month. Yes, the Christmas lights. Vigo's mayor, Abel Caballero, has promised that they will be bigger and better this year, and that it would be perfectly safe to visit the city. Not if the crowds that showed up last year show up this year. At the rate we're going, only the dwellers of Vigo will delight in the colored nights. I can see Christmas being cancelled. (I'm not the Grinch, the virus is the Grinch, look at it, don't look at me.) 

There are still small concerts and entertainment being put on in different townships. But I don't bother to check them out. If some of the more demanded ones sold out when hundreds, or thousands, could go see them, now that the total number is even more limited, I won't have a snowball's chance in hell to get tickets. A singer we had been thinking of seeing at a music festival last July, Mikel Erentxun, gave one of those small concerts in nearby Boiro a couple of weeks ago. I saw pictures, of a small group of people sitting in plastic lawn chairs, well separated, listening to the music. Even though hearing the music in person is a great experience, what helps is being able to move around and dance in place. It's not quite the same to tap one's foot while sitting. Even at a classical music concert, I sometimes get the urge to get up and dance, how much more at a pop concert! Oh, for the good old days!

Life continues.