What a week. What another week.

It’s been kind of a heavy week what with the death of Farrah Fawcett and Michael Jackson. So I thought I would lighten my thoughts as they are portrayed out there on the dubya, dubya, dubya, dot, thing. Oh, this is “Jokerman” type from the Open Office word package in case you thought you were having some kind of an eye affliction.

Plenty has already been said about Jackson and more is sure to come in the days ahead. We probably would have heard more about Farrah had she not had the misfortune of dying just prior to that of the “King of Pop.” One of my best friends also died of anal cancer, by the way, not at all a pleasant affliction.

So here our society has turned another corner in its culture of celebrity, showing presumably an already dead Jackson being bagged by paramedics on the way to the hospital.

In the meantime, life goes on. The ships go sailing in and out of the harbor. A never-ending stream of cars and tractor-trailers buzz by on the interstate while some guy without a shirt and a bandanna around his head holds up a cardboard sign saying “New Orleans” in his left hand while he sticks out his right thumb.

It’s another scorcher and worker bees do the work while way up somewhere in the high floors of the office tower a young woman looks out the windows and thinks of that margarita she is going to have at the bar after work.

Bo and Tyrone are fishing off the jetty. They’ve not caught a thing and don’t much like the 100-degree heat, but they sure are glad to be where they are and with who they are hanging out.

So ends another sad week in America. The funny thing about it, it seems just almost like any week, doesn’t it?