...they begin with the end. All beginnings grow from the rotting refuse, reeking remains, and re-cycled rubble of an ending, of the death of something, usually a dream, often hope, always today. And so it is now, the finish of a shattered year, a new present that too soon becomes the past, 2016 slithering away, leaving its snail's trail behind and not much else, nothing but the hope that 2017 will be a brighter, kinder, cleaner year, or at least bearable, livable, more forgiving. That's the perk, there's the ticket Katz and kitties, hope. We all get a shot at hope. Some of us won't think so, won't believe in hope, and so they won't have a