Mood: vegas lucky
Topic: "Trekking Mount Doom" (2)
Frodo is not a party animal, at least not any more. Difficult it becomes to not only extend one's dietary discipline to accommodate the caloric increases brought about by fudge, cookies, and special libations, but to expect an automatic capacity to observe the AM hours which in recent times have become the reservation spot for reports of drive-by shootings. Frodo, quite frankly, feels as if he has experienced the last of his side bar glances to watch Dick Clark count down the seconds to the beginning of another New Year. Frodo will, as his observations have told him, soon be more concerned about joining the 4 o'clock seating at the "Piccadilly Cafeteria."
It will be refreshing to return to the somewhat more disciplined workaday world on the morrow. Despite the declaration of a "National Day of Mourning," and the subsequent closures of government and postal offices, Frodo will return to his trek up Mount Doom. Joined by Mick, the Wonder Dog, in the early morning for a run around the Keheley Elementary Gulag (why do schools still look like prisons?), Frodo will separate himself from his constant companion of the past few weeks, and drive, alone, in his motorcar to face the struggle against Sauron and the Orcs. Separation anxiety is in both of their eyes.
Frodo knows that, come this time a year from now, the struggle will be on-going, despite the Iraq Study Group, the tide of public opinion, or the number of vacation days spent clearing brush in Crawford. Frodo will return to the Shire every evening to re-energize with all the creatures of the Shire, simply because it is what he must do, as long as he can. He will spend much time listening and observing the words and the deeds of those who would replace Sauron. He will garner information from Richard Engel, Laura Logan, Tom Friedman, Tim Russert, Keith Olbermann, Chris Matthews, Christiane Amanpour, David Gergen, Pat Buchanan, Richard Brooks, and Gandalf himself; all of whom impress Frodo with an over-riding effort to put hard facts to the test against hurried and uninformed half-truth. He will intersperse his own adventures with a satirical switch to the ass of those who have gotten our small blue planet into such a, well, "malaise" sounds like the best word at this point in time.
Frodo looks to the New Year, grimly. These will not be good or easy times. Good men and women will die, for little cause. Evil will permeate the indulgences of those who separate themselves from the suffering. Calamity will befall innocence without mercy. Without Sam and the Brotherhood of the Ring, the Hobbit would have no choice but to withdraw from the daunting task of rising a just and able ruler from the ashes. Frodo knows that he must not fail. It is just that each step gets a little heavier than the last. The light still breaks below the horizon.