These are not recent paintings that have been so reduced and defaced. Most date from the 19th century. I'm not sure why the hundreds of albums, most of which once contained dozens of pictures, have been obliterated, but I suspect that it might be the result of the ever-expanding American copyright laws, which threaten to engulf the whole history of art and literature. The elite institutions (many of them wallowing in public funds), whose overseers fancy themselves the protectors of all that is threatened by the rabble, have long been among the worst offenders when it comes to sealing off bits of our common heritage. I fear that they will continue their depredations. Fie on the museums, and on the Colleges and Universities which provide them with an endless supply of aparatchiks more impressed by themselves and their exalted positions than with their supposed mission of serving art and its public. I wonder how long it will be before they come after my LJ icons?
End of rantlet.
I finally got the keyboard working, and connected the machine to the Internet. It's napping now, and Sluggo gets to make at least this entry. The night is remarkably cold, so he is behaving himself. The new machine came loaded with various pieces of software, including a copy of Netscape. Netscape is still a bit clunky. I used it to download a copy of the latest version of Opera, which I will install tomorrow. Then I will probably use Opera to download Firefox. It looks as though I'll be keeping the machine, despite the cables that snake from the front of the monitor, and other irritations. Sending it back would cause too much delay. The cold weather won't last forever.
I feel tired tonight, because I was awakened too early yesterday. The noise of the air conditioner woke me up. I think that my dad (who continues to be rather unsteady on his feet) might have grabbed at the thermostat to right himself as he doddered down the hall, and flipped the switch from "heat" to "cool" without realizing it. By the time I woke up, the house had been cooled to a fresh 64 degrees. He didn't notice. Nonagenarians don't have the firmest grip on reality.
To sleep.
