Way below the Mendoza Line

It returns. The greatest slump of all time continues. But not from a lack of trying.

What beguiles is that things started off very swimmingly. First a ghost from distant past revealed themself to be a guardian angel in disguise pointing the way, shining the proverbial light. A name I heretofore only read about shook my hand. Then before you can say "abracadabra", the secret door opened. Suddenly these gatekeepers knew who I was and weirdly beckoned me in. That never happened before. This time, though, being in the company of she who is annointed, cast me in a different light. No more queuing among the throngs just to glimpse the booths. An usher escorted us to where the ministers convened, a curtained backroom that few knew about. Inside, other heads of state gladly said hello, exchanged pleasantries, even sought counsel. But then it was too late. I fascinated only because of being garbed in the emperor's clothing, just another oddity.

Of course, the bottom fell out as is the case recently. Looking over the game film pointed out specific foibles in overall strategy. The eye in the sky rarely lies as everyone knows. To place all my eggs in one basket trying to backdoor numerous applications proved disasterous. Rather than follow up hot targets individually the carpetbomb approach failed to yield the anticipated collateral effect. The chain reaction ready to set off never detonated. Now the many commando strikes ineffectually bounce off steel-plated armor.

Forever with one knee on the on-deck circle, waiting. It is much better to be lucky than good.