Another day ending up far longer than it had any right to be, and on the other side of darkness an earlier morning looms.

Here are the world headlines.

“Heavy metals that may damage a developing brain are present in 95 percent of baby foods on the market, according to new research from the advocacy organization Healthy Babies Bright Futures (HBBF) …”.

Well, no irony there.

Speaking of the next generation …

“Walmart, CVS Health and Rite Aid are pulling all containers of Johnson & Johnson’s 22-ounce baby powder after the FDA found sub-trace amounts of asbestos, the companies confirmed Thursday.”

Snowflakes, I tell you. In my day we sprinkled asbestos on our grape nuts, and if we weren’t too poor to afford it in a given week, we sliced lead paint chips over the bowl.

Pete Pooter-Judge turned out to be another grubby opportunist chameleon. Tim Ryan dropped out. Hillary lied about Tulsi for no apparent rational reason, and now she is rumored to be considering entering the race herself. Again. Unreal.

The media clucked, wondering if maybe Hillary was right. Except Jimmy Dore, who quoted, “What’s the difference between Hillary and Vladimir Putin? That Putin can actually win a rigged election!”

That one’s for you, Bernard.

Democracy is being dismantled. Alliances are being scrapped. Regulations, rolled back; the rich further enriched; kids dying in cages on this very border. The placid wine country is burning.

Driving through the starving little shuttered town on the way home, though, a cop pulled me over because I had a light out. Not a brake light or a headlight. A license plate light.

Did Officer Oliveras opt for Trump, or for Hillary? Would he ever vote for a gay mayor? What is his position on border checkpoints, or gender-specific bathrooms? Do his kids eat baby food? Could he locate Syria on a map?

We won’t ever know the answers to any of it, because we are not data mining him the way his social media overlords or his search engine are. It’s none of our business. His ballot and his purchasing history and his location at all times, are strictly between him and his facebook. I mean his god. Whatever.

I know I sound really savage and angry today. But in reality, that’s just the way spilling distorts things sometimes. I’m venting, unloading, spattering a bit of excess bile. I don’t want to make you mad by making myself less mad. I long for your happiness as I long for my own.

I am handling this and by this I mean all of it, with a measure of grace even.

The pigs are on the wing and the coatis, when they slow at all, go right back to their studied and steady trot, noticing the distraction and letting it go, continuing on with the vital mission that no one else even understands.