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Everybody’s all up in arms about Trump’s statement that somebody should shoot Hillary Clinton, at least everybody who’s supporting Clinton.  I’m not saying it’s a justifiable statement.  It was reckless, it was irresponsible, and it was mean spirited.

But one thing I think we should remember is that while Trump makes references to killing people (It was not a joke, because jokes are funny, but I do class it as just the crap that runs out of people’s mouth sometimes), Hillary people has actually had people killed.

Of course, there is the  Iraq War, which she voted for, and the coup in Honduras, and the whole mess in Syria which she did for Israel, lots of people died in all those places.  But I’m talking tonight about the John Ashe/Seth Rich/Shawn Lucas deaths, which I suspect were all murders on behalf of Hillary.
Up until now, I’ve been basing that on motive/opportunity/basic character, which is a formula which might count for something in speculative discourse, but wouldn’t hold up in a court of law.

Now, we have a wee bit more on Seth Rich.  It sounds like he was the one (or one of the ones) sending DNC information to Wikileaks.  So, he was a whistleblower.  So, Hillary Clinton had a very definite, and not at all imaginary,  motive for having him killed.
Not that I expect she will ever be charged, much less convicted.  I don’t imagine she pulled the trigger herself, and the layers of people she has between her and the crime are all professionals.  Still, it’s reason enough to not want her to be president.

It seems clear to me (although it seems like a crazy conspiracy theory to some others) that Trump is running at the behest of the Clintons, with the plan of losing on purpose.  If he achieves his goal, he’ll have a friend in the White House and will have sold a lot of books on the way.

But, it’s not as easy as it looks.  He made remarks during the Republican debates that should have offended all women.  It got shrugged off.  He made hideously racist comments about almost every race under the sun.  Didn’t matter.  He joked about a handicapped person.  His voters didn’t care.

Now that the race has narrowed down and he’s still in the running, he’s getting desperate.  He insulted the parents of a dead soldier and shouted at a baby.  It wasn’t enough.

Most recently, he suggested assassinating Hillary Clinton.  Sort of.  “If she gets to pick her judges ― nothing you can do, folks,” he said with a shrug. “Although, the Second Amendment people. Maybe there is. I don’t know.”  Not really the most coherent quote, nothing that’s going to make it into the anthologies, but is it a turning point in this election?

I doubt it.  As irresponsible as it was, it’s not going to make anybody like Hillary Clinton more.  So, the polls will remain too close for comfort and Trump will continue to say and do increasingly more insane and horrific things until he’s guaranteed a loss, but it’s proving harder than he thought.

If he drops trou and moons the crowd, will that do it?  If he actually brings an automatic weapon to a rally and starts blazing away at the ceiling, a la Idiocracy, will that do it?  (not with his crowd, it won’t)

So, this election is destined to get more and more absurd, and comical, and if he gets desperate enough, he just might up and confess the truth.  If he says he was working for Hillary all along, that might do him in.  But, since that reflects just as badly on her as him, maybe not.

The time line is a bit discombobulated, blogwise, due to travel and lack of the internet gods’ co-operation with me, but here I sit now at my regular writing position in my flat in Prague 8, and adjust to the routine.

Prague is cool and rainy, which is what I need, a few days to recover from the burns, my phone is in rice, hoping for a miracle but I might need a new one, and all the people who said the clams Isabel picked up off the beach would stink when we got home were absolutely right.

It was a great vacation, my head is clearer, I feel psychically rejuvenated, and the body will recover.  We saw some magnificent things – yesterday, the view of Porto from the Eiffel Bridge, for instance – spent some quality time with family, and had some amazing experiences -the climb up the stony river bed to the top of the mountain will stick in my mind forever, both the good and the bad.

One thing that pleases me is that my children are good travelers.  Perhaps not as culinarily experimental as I’d like, but they found things they liked in that department as well.

There was a moment last night at baggage claim that pleased me very much. Helena had become a bit queasy on the flight and was sitting off to the side, as far from people as possible.  Sam said “Go sit with her, we’ll get our own bags.”  A simple thing, but very considerate, and it did make things easier.

Most of our party spent the day in Porto, but I was with the smaller half, and we spent the day a bit closer to home base.  The plan was to hike up to the next village, Praia d’Ancora, have lunch there, and hike back in time to shop and organize a picnic for everybody.  We more or less achieved those goals, with many variations and surprises on the way.

The first stop was Afife’s very own archaelogical dig which consists of a plaque, and that was in Portuguese but it definitely said the stones were from the 2nd or 3rd millenia B.C., which is a very long time ago.   They may have been starting to invent Egyptian civilization, and there might have been some zigguarauts over in Sumeria or Assyrian or wherever it is they had the ziggurauts, but in Portugal is was stone age ancestors of the Celts, or some tribe which has since gone extinct.  The site itself was two lines of 6 stones each, very much like Obelixes menhirs from the Asterix and Obelix comics, leaning inward over a trench.  I suspect that 4,000 years ago, there was a roof made of animal skin over it and it was a home, but other members of my party saw it as something loftier, and we called it ‘The Stonehenge of Afife.’  Interesting, the path to it was totally overgrown and the whole site was almost invisible, even from the obscure forest track it was off of.

Then, we saw a fort, overlooking the beach, which was of more recent construction, but whether it was 12th century or 17th century, we had no idea.

We got to Praia d’Ancora and weren’t hungry yet, so wound up spending quite a bit of time on the beach, looking out over the Atlantic Ocean.  Today, I actually got in.  It was 4 before we went to lunch and past 5 by the time our food arrived.  I had snails, which is something that if I had more time in Portugal, I would have a lot more of.

Then, we took the train back to Afife, just one station, so the conductors never got to us and we had a free ride.

The picnic on the hill, watching the sun sink into the ocean, looking like a fire in distant mountains, was truly beautiful.

So, today we went back 4,000 years and looked out to the horizon, even though we never traveled more than a few kilometers.  Quite a day.

Again, it took us until about noon to get out of the house, and then it was to go down to the beach and lounge around for a few hours.  If the purpose of a vacation is to clear your head and recharge your batteries, this vacation has been a huge success.

Isabel and I had a magnificent sand castle going on, with rocks for a back wall, a castle inside a wall with a road to the gate paved in seashells, and two lakes.  But the tide came i.  She fought valiantly to keep it up but it was a lost cause.

Eventually we left the beach and went to the house where most of our party is staying, but when we left there it was with a plan to meat in a cafe for dinner.  That did not happen.

There was a festival going on in the center of town and that provided much better options, both for food and entertainment.  Isabel and I had a pork platter, Sam went for cod balls, and more cod balls, and more cod balls.  I like them O.K., and it’s kind of a national dish, so fair enough.  There were lots of different booths, and the desserts were great.  Apparently, it was like a municipal fundraiser, all the booths were designated for different charities.

Then, just as we were about to leave, a parade of old men with accordions wound their way through the crowd to the stage.  It was a beautiful, Portuguese thing.  I could get used to it here.