Orwell (not the book you think) and musings about "Dear Leader"

I will not be writing about the hatemonger and his demise last week.

Instead, I will begin by writing about George Orwell's Down and Out in Paris and London.

Well, for four days I have been away from working on this post. In that time, the guy whose name rhymes with "Gnarly Jerk" has been elevated to martyr status by dear leader and his rogues gallery of sycophants. And just yesterday, Jimmy Kimmel was, for all intents and purposes, canceled for having the audacity of joking about dear leader and Jerk. The dark cloud of fascism is right on top of us. It's deeply disturbing.

Back to Orwell. I liked Down and Out. The best part was his description of working as a plongeur (dish washer) at an upscale hotel (the Hotel Lotti) between the Place de la Concorde and the Louvre. The hotel is still in business and looks to be still upscale. If I'd known about in when we were in Paris, I would have sought it out.

The book gets bleaker in the second half when Orwell leaves Paris for London. The British workhouses sound little better in the 1920s than they were in the Victorian era.

The most indelible character, at least for me, is "Bozo," a physically impaired sidewalk artist working on Victoria Embankment near Waterloo Bridge. Having walked that part of the embankment two years ago, I could picture the geography and setting, though I'm sure it has changed at least a little bit in the last 90-100 years. Bozo is philosophical despite his plight, and provides insight into how one was able to at least make some money as a street artist at that time. It appears he is based on a real street artist Orwell met. I wish we knew the person's real identity.

I feel like I've let this fester for too long, so I'll just post it now. I'm sure I'll have more Trump insanity to write about before too long.