Some of you may ask, the news about what, exactly?
Sorry. Can't help you with anything specific.

It's just, I guess for me,
I've hit some sort of critical mass. Or, the final straw. The limit. I dunno exactly.

A South African tavern full of youths, some of them positively minors,
drinking or smoking something toxic, and by the time they unlock the tavern door,
the floor has -- how many dead bodies strewn over it?
And just enough survivors to describe how things went wrong,
and even they don't know precisely the what or the why of it.

Talking of strewn dead bodies, San Antonio, Texas, and the truck.

The state where I spent roughly fifteen years of my adult life, New Mexico,
bracing itself for all the out-of-staters who will come there to get legal abortions.
And, sad to say, their infrastructure and health providers could be better as it is.

New York's state law about concealed carry gets overturned, in spite of the present governor.

Somebody looked at a photo of Her Majesty in a yellow dress
and panicked, wondering if she would make it to the Prince Philip commemoration,
because she looked so unwell.

Well, if you want to say sarcastic or humorous things about the sudden limit
of my tolerance for sensational/touching/depressing news reports,
I can't stop you.
But I don't like how numbing and desensitizing it is for me today. That's all.