It's all going to end in tears anyway, that's the inevitable, historical conclusion. I can't be certain of what it is, I suspect it might be my own funeral. But between now and the categorical End, there are dinners out with my good friend, there is hope in the sharp edged shadows of the stretching day. There is respite in the crevices between the big politics and the little politics, linger long in the interstitial. There are Very Bad Things afoot, I will race you one legged to the finish line for a victory jig, a carefree lapse, one last consequence free tumble, before all of us begin to lose by the tiny increments that lead seemlessly to abject savagery. Oh no, not us. Just you wait and see.