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Woke up in the Upper East Side, NYC, this morning, came downstairs and saw this.

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After the drive:  Toronto to NYC via Buffalo, and after the car was parked, we hit the streets and it wasn’t a block from here when we saw this!  ha!  (of course i don’t give a damn about politics here, back home or anywhere for that matter.  as an Indian living under the big boot Indian Act:  we’re used to dealing with mice, going on 150 years now, or more.)

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The Drunken Munkey looked good to us!  And it was quite alright, “Indian” menu, local beers, a table for two, but a third glass of, would have settled the issue.

So I’m back in town specifically to see some Jackson Pollock and Mark Rothko paintings.  It’s been 34 years since I last walked through the front doors at the Met.  Last time, I was just like that drunken monkey:  in body, mind, spirit.  Last time I had no idea what I was looking at.  This time we’re going in with a bit of an education and I hope to enjoy the pictures uninterrupted.

While we’re here we’re going to see that Kent Monkman thing happening tonight at the Met.  I hope to visit the Guggenheim tomorrow.

Temperature at 6 a.m., minus 8.  Sun in the forecast.  Big suits in the lobby, short haired or bald, big fat guts sticking out pushing their ties to a 45, all of them wanting a kiss and a hug from a blond, also in a suit, out they all go, in a New York minute.  CNN with the big headline flashing:  Trump impeached.  Christmas music piped in.  Day 2 on the road.