Brexit - as we continue to insist on calling it because it takes up fewer characters in a Tweet than the term "turning into 1930s Germany" - continues apace, and I won't lie, I am kind of in a hurry to get paid for that last job I did so I can get the money out of the bank and have some folding cash laying around Just In Case there's ever anything to those "LOL we livin in Mad Max Times by next year" jokes I was making.
There was a bonkers economics show I was watching online for some reason, and part of the reason it was bonkers was because Alec Baldwin - who is to the world of acting what George Galloway is to the world of politics - was one of the presenters/guests, but hey, Russell brand - who is either a cautionary tale or one of the first Earth Presidents (possibly he is both) by the time you read this, people of the future - made a perfectly good documentary about the Western postwar economics bubble created by a chance convergence of inflated property values and the revival of a failed economics model from the 1800s so why the fuck not Alec Baldwin in an economics panel discussion? Why the fuck not Alec Baldwin in everything?
Anyway, Alec - or as he's known to his kids, "Daddy, please stop calling at this time of the morning and saying these terrible things about mom" - opined about how the political chancers he encountered on his travels from one free meal to another were laughing about how people would have to grow their own food within the next 15 years, and I thought "bonkers."
But here we are.
Next week, I will be getting back to normal. The country may be going to buggery, but I'll be sorting myself out, and none of this navel-gazing despair that's gripped the land for the last week. Well, not unless I find it amusing to keep making Thunderdome jokes, but it'll be a facade, I assure you.