My mornings, since I got my computer, and coffee bean grinder, and espresso machine, and laid in an exquisite selection of coffee beans, are so pleasant!   This morning, as the Morning Star rose, I dropped a perfectly legal, psychiatrist-prescribed, 30 mg. timed-release spansule of dextro-amphetamine sulphate,  ground up a quadruple shot of 'Dona Isidora, las tres Generaciones,' set milk a-warming in the microwave, sat myself myself down before my Ultra High Definition monitor, and--while things, variously, brewed and warmed--clicked through the veritable florilegium-anthology of news sources on my incredibly fast, high-powered Mac Pro computer: LA Times, BBC News,  CNN, NPR, Reuters, Al-Jazeera, New York Times.  There is nothing I don't know something about.  Including, alas, the murder, in Spokane last June, of Jack Allen, aged 74, whom I have known, liked and admired for more than three decades.  Damn it. Beat to death with a baseball bat, by an Insignificant Punk, during a robbery.  It doesn't help at all that the I.P. was convicted yesterday of First Degree Murder. "Closure" there can be none for a deed so foul, so cowardly.  And to see, as my computer enables me to do, the dull, twisted, "worried" expression on the I.P.'s face as he heard the verdict, looses the very Erinyes in my soul.