How the Omicron Variant Stole Christmas

 Here we are.  One week away from Christmas Eve.  Oh where or where has my holiday spirit gone?  Where is my goodwill toward men?  (That's always been in short supply.)  

I'm going out Christmas shopping today with a good friend from Baton Rouge.  I don't really need to buy anything, just coming along as a gift consultant and art purveyor.  

Perhaps because it's 75+ degrees in New Orleans, and the balmy days of summer still have not left us.  Perhaps it's because the constant disgust I feel for the obstructionism flowing out of Washington D.C. has mired my soul in hopelessness.  

It just doesn't feel like Christmas, and Christmas has a definite feel.  Year two of the pandemic coming to a close and we all feel a little low in spirit.  We've got the anti-vaxxers prolonging the mess.  We've got the false information and conspiracy theorists poisoning minds too young to have lived through any serious disasters, and too unschooled to recognize they're in one.  We've got the potential for sickness and possible death all around us.  

What can the antidote be?  

Christmas Wine.  Christmas Vodka.  Christmas Whiskey.  Christmas Edible Marijuana Cookies?  

Whatever the cure for my sadly lacking Christmas spirit is.....I need it.  I need it badly.  Recommendations welcome.

Thanksgiving and the Big Kick Off to the Holiday Season

 I'm probably going to be viewed as ungracious, but after Thanksgiving, I go into a slump.  I do not care for the Christmas Season.  It is no reason to be jolly, in my opinion.  I have a long and checkered unhappiness where Christmas is concerned that doesn't even merit discussion.  It just exists and I deal with it and try to make others not have to deal with it by pasting on my peaceful holiday resting non-bitch face.

But I am very thankful for a few things this year.  First of all, that no one I know has died of COVID.  That the people I know who got COVID did not die, despite not being vaccinated and that I am not as ridiculously ignorant as they are.  I am thankful for a new person in the White House to replace the fascist orange blob who sinks to new depths in the swampland of Florida.  I would be ever so thankful if the failed one term, twice impeached ex-president got eaten by an alligator on one of his slummy swamp golf courses; but that's almost like a Christmas wish, and I don't make those.

It has been a really rough couple of years for all of us.  A pandemic of epic proportions.  Disinformation that has added to the death toll.  People being shot dead in the street by a teenager whose mother drove him to a protest.  That same teenager being acquitted.  A cop committing murder as a crowd watched.  White supremacy raising it's ugly head in a Georgia suburb.  It has been horrendous.  Hurricanes, floods climate disasters, OH MY!   And the fact that so many Americans are incredibly stupid.  That just boggles the mind.  I think, before Donald Trump, stupid people kept a low profile, lest they be thought of as stupid.  But Trump brought new glory to Stupid, and all the stupids rose up and screamed at the top of their lungs, MY STUPID IS JUST AS GOOD AS YOUR SMARTS.  Sadly, they still believe this.  

I'm no genius, but I know when I'm being had.  I know the difference between good and evil, right and wrong, law and order.   So if I believed in the Christmas miracle and actually thought I could make a wish, I would wish for the strength to hold this country back from the rabbit hole it is heading toward unless we can educate these incredibly stupid, right wing, gun slinging fanatics.

 

Strange People I Have Known

 Funny where creative ideas come from.  Sometimes, I dream them.  Sometimes I imagine them.  But today, while making oatmeal cookies, I started to think about weird situations I have been in/heard about/lived through/been horrified by......the full monte of strange but true experiences only possible after having lived 50++ years.

In view of that, I've decided to periodically write about these situations, lest they be lost to history forever because of a) my death or b) my precious grasp of reality in a brain growing tired and old.

Let's call her Doreen.  I won't use real names, although it will be no stretch for the people who know this story to make the leap.  

Doreen was a wonderfully kind person, just like us; a single, struggling mom with two tots, just like us.  We were all bedraggled,  divorced people, borrowing five dollars from each other to make it to payday.  We'd watch each other's kids, cook a meal for each other, loan each other gas money to get to work, borrow tampons.

One day, in a wonderful moment of generosity when one of her clients tipped her well, she called and invited all the tots to go with her and her kids to see the Disney movie "Fantasia" at a local theatre, her treat.  What a glorious thing.  What a generous thing.  That was going to cost at least $25 and she was paying for it, taking charge of the kids, and giving the rest of us beat up souls a few hours respite from toddlers, chaos and noise.  To us, it all sounded like a little piece of private heaven and we happily waved our kids off.  Yes, we packed them off with home-popped popcorn bags, stale Halloween candy and pocket smuggled juice boxes.  But as any kid will tell you, not important where it came from, as long as it was there.

Sadly, in the first half hour of the show, Doreen realized she had misread the Marquee.  The movie was not Fantasia, but rather Phantasm, a bloody, stab, slash, demon horror of a movie.  It took her that long to realize there would be no singing flowers and butterflies above the screams emanating from the silver screen.  Trust me, those screams had nothing whatsoever on the screams of terror coming from our kids.  And then there was the movie house theatre, packed with teenagers screaming "GET THOSE GODDAMNED KIDS OUTTA HERE!".

All in all, not a good night for any of us.  In fact, some of those kids were still having night terrors well into adolescence.  

Alas, this is the plight of overworked, underpaid single women in our society.  A simple glance at a theatre marquee could lead to mass confusion, horrific terror and upset friends.  What can I say?  We've all been this distracted.  It's a miracle our kids made it to adulthood.  I look at my really comfortable life now and am so thankful for the hard work I put in (and my current husband).  I cannot honestly say I miss those days of hardship, worry and living on the edge of barely solvent.  But after a few months passed and the friends talked about the marquee mishap, I can't remember laughing so long or so hard at things, either.

The Dead Know Best

 Living in a coastal community has been both extraordinarily enlightening (how to survive a hurricane) to exceptionally frustrating (Steve Scalise and John Kennedy in Congress).  But perhaps the most incredible thing I have learned since living here is you Can't Teach a Sneetch.

For those of you who have just awoken from a coma, on August 29, 2021, New Orleans and Louisiana suffered a Category 4 Hurricane named Ida.  My family and a few neighbors thought we'd ride it out, since it was designated a Category 2, right up until the moment it roared on shore.  We are accustomed to Cat 2 hurricanes, they happen frequently here.  By the time the Hurricane Center changed it's mind and called it a Cat 4, there were hundreds of thousands of cars on the road, going nowhere.  In short, it was too late to evacuate.

Long story short - it was devastating for us, for New Orleans and especially for areas outside the levee district.  Frankly, when an area prone to hurricanes can't provide water or ice after a major weather event that has left the city powerless, you know you're living in the South.  Reconstruction continues one hundred fifty-six years after the Civil War, with the same carpet baggers now holding elected office.

But here's the really amazing thing I've learned.  Homes are destroyed for hundreds of miles.  Islands have lost half their land.  And yet, these stoic people say "we are going to rebuild" and they are treated like some kind of  national hero.  Call me ignorant, but why would anyone rebuild a house on stilts, on an island half gone and think this is smart or reasonable or courageous.  It's just stupid.

During this catastrophic event, the cemeteries in low country floated up their dead during the flooding and sent them inland with the storm surge.

Take a lesson, low landers, your dead ancestors want out.  What's wrong with you?  Move.  If ever the dead spoke, this is it.  Yet, "we will rebuild" is the resounding cry from a populace really to stubborn to think things through or figure out that rebuilding in the same place just invites more agony.

God Awful Noise

 We are living in a time of unprecedented noise.  Not the white noise of wind in the trees, or evening crickets, or waves crashing on the beach.  God awful noise that seeks to drive us to places unholy and assaults our precious capacity for listening.

My street is undergoing a major road project, new sewers, new water pipes, drilling pavement, concrete saws, house shaking heavy equipment movement, etc.  The house I live in, as is another one door down, is getting a new roof.  The house next door is having the aluminum siding torn off in screeching metal on metal cacophony, while a new fence gets hammered around it's perimeter.  The air compressor parked outside my kitchen window is almost as bad as the dork down the street who ran his generator 24/7 after Hurricane Ida.  

Ten months into the road project and two weeks into general house repair noise, I'm ready to check myself into the nearest sanitarium for some peace and quiet.  Here's what happens when we are constantly bombarded with loud sounds.

We lose our peacefulness very quickly.  We become agitated and restless.  Our nerves are frayed and we become less tolerant of people and their idiosyncrasies.  We long for quietude and solace and hope we can calm down enough to get some rest.  

I am adept at tuning things out.  Anyone who's raised two toddlers under three alone will tell you it's a natural trait to listen for the warning tone in the noise and ignore the babble.  I try to do this in daily life; ignore the traffic and the sirens, the shouts, the airplanes, the bastard fighter jets, etc.  But it's been ten months of near constant din and I'm about to lose it.

I am glad I can step out tomorrow night and hopefully hear some great music.  It does soothe the savage beast, and I, alas, am one.  

The Zuckerberg Follies

 I get kicked off FACEBOOK frequently.  My comments (the ones that land me in FB jail) are always accurate, truthful and spot on.....but Mark ZZZZZZuckerberg does not like me, FB does not like me and now it is all starting to make sense.

First off, I don't generate any income for Zuckerberg, so I'm expendable.  Secondly, the very causes Zuckerberg holds dear are the only ones that I comment on --- that being the far right, utter bullshit of the ultrarich in this country.  

So I'm on an algorithm that if I say the words "idiot, moron, stupid, oligarchy, one percent", etc., I am shut down immediately.  Now it has come out in the investigation of Facebook, from Facebook insiders, that Mark Zuckerberg is a cheap asshat with a bad haircut who lies to everyone for a living.  He told Congress less than 1% of posts  compromise hate speech on Facebook.  Lie.  His insiders have said that 95% of the posts promoting hate speech (and insurrection planning) went unchecked.

It's time for Zuckerberg to check himself out of Facebook, a concept he stole from someone else.  It's time for this pencil neck geek to go away.  His karma has been leveled.

But instead, he's going to rename Facebook and let its horror continue.  So let's rename Facebook.

1.  Spy World

2.  FaceAbuse

3.  Adolescent Angst

4.  Free Speech For Tyrants

5.  Shut Up and Get a Life

6.  No More Like Buttons

7. 70 Below (as in IQ)

8.  Cash Junkie

9.  Where to find your Politician

10.  Mugshots

Trump's New Media Site (Doomed to Fail)

 Donald Trump, having been kicked off FaceBook, Twitter, Instagram, etc., has decided to launch his own social media website. 

Of course, with Trump, nothing is social.  It's just narcissistic.  So let's have some fun with what he SHOULD call his new platform for rubes and the great unwashed.

1. Daily Utter Horseshit  or DUH for short

2.  Spelling Workbook

3.  A Toilet full of Lies

4.  Sit and Spin Right

5.  Irrational National Monologue

6.  Bridge for Sale

7.  Please Send Me More Money

8.  Your Favorite President Keeps Getting Indicted

9.  Child Molester's Digest

10.  A Streetcar named Delusion

Please let me know which one you prefer.  Since Trump means fart in UK slang, I believe this new "social" media site will just be so many more Trumps in the wind.  And they'll all stink.

The "Shithole" Country

 Remember when Donald Trump talked about "$hithole" countries?

Well, America, after Trump, definitely fits the description.  From a crumbling and dangerous infrastructure (unaddressed largely by republicans along with Joe Manchin and Krysten Sinema) to a desperately undereducated populace, to the many right wing cults popping up all over the place, we are rapidly deteriorating to warlords and religious sects.  Let's call us the United States of Afghanistan.  It's who we are right now.  

My belief is Trump brought us to this sorry state, via ineptitude and a desire for an autocracy wherein he could name himself king.  He's still desperately trying to overturn an election that labeled him a loser.  Talk about excessive, malignant narcissism.  He can't stand it.  My guess is he punches his mirror every morning and actually sees a large red L on his forehead.

We've got little morons like Greg Abbott and Ron DeSantis working their racist butts off to deter  voting by minorities and impose archaic restrictions on women's rights.  Oh yeah - and killing off people with anti-vax rhetoric.   We've got pop up groups like the Proud Boys and Oathkeepers determined to lead us into a civil war.  We've got Baptist pastors claiming Trump is the second coming.  We've got senators whom are not representing their constituents but rather imposing a radical right agenda that will seriously harm the very people whom elected them.  We've got antivaxxers and a pandemic that drags on and on largely due to misinformation.  And to top it all off, we've got Fox (pseudo) News spreading hatred, lies and dissent.  We have insane gun laws that make going to the movies a potentially deadly decision.  We've got high rents, low inventory on EVERYTHING, and people suffering.  

In short, we've got a real crisis in America.  

It didn't use to be this way.  Well, maybe the infrastructure was crumbling, but we didn't have lunatics believing an evil man like Trump was Jesus.  We didn't have mob scenes brought to the capitol doors.  We didn't have religious leaders possessed by whatever demons make a person believe in a person like Trump.  

America, alas, is a $hithole Country - brought to you by the Trump Family and a whole bunch of ignorant Americans too stupid to know when they're shooting themselves in the foot.

The Land of Eight

 Once upon a time, in The Land of Eight, there stood a castle, tall and great, and 8 flags flew in the air, cuz the Kind of Eight had put them there.

In my somewhat rich fantasy life, I am Princess Number Nine in the Land of Eight.  My Eight King Daddy already has eight lovely daughters.  I was obviously an ooops baby, doomed to a life of proving my worth.

Until I made peace with being Number Nine in the Land of Eight.

Making peace with being somewhat of an afterthought, shadowland person is not easy.  Rejection by parents, sane or cray cray, is always a dismal landscape to navigate.  Then of course, comes the scapegoatism that is inherent with being an "embarrassment" person.  Everything that goes wrong from the day you're born to the day you die will somehow be linked to your very existence.  It's six degrees of separation gone horribly wrong.

So I made peace.  I rejected the rejectors, and sought my own place outside the Land of Eight.  Maybe it's not the 9th plane of utopia, but it is a comfortable place, filled with people unaware of my lowly  status.  I sell them short.  Even if they were aware of my lowly status, they wouldn't care.

I have a lovely life, undeterred by those who never wanted anything more than to relegate me to an obscure closet where dreams go to die.

So In the Land of Eight ---- BE A NINE.
  

Bitch Resurrection

 It's time to resurrect this blog.  I've been kicked off Facebook for the last time for merely expressing a leftist opinion of Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez, i.e., I love her and Mark Zuckerberg does not.

It's unfunny how Facebook can target a person and censor them because of their radical (?) political opinions, which is what they did to me.  I refuse to participate in a platform that is so blatant in the true nature of their foundation, which is right wing, authoritarian and very dangerous.  So Mark Zuckerberg and I have parted ways, which kind of reflects how I've continuously gotten rid of grifters, thieves, liars and conspicuous consumers my entire waking life.   I do not feel bad.  I will have to adjust to new ways to connect with the people I love.  I don't see that as a large obstacle.

So, I'm not going to go off on a tangent about the Zuckerberg's of the world.  They are a necessary evil, although I'm not sure what the necessity is.  I think we will all find out at some point.

Let's talk about this pandemic, that drags on and on, largely due to the 66 million people who refuse vaccination.  Should the rest of us sit idly by, while this group of largely misinformed, uneducated, or conspiracy theorists dictates that the pandemic is here to stay?  I suppose we have no choice.  You can't fix stupid.  You can't convince a conspiracy theorist of anything other than their cult conspiracy.  The cost of education in America is out of reach for most of the lower classes, so you can't teach a Sneetch.  We're just stuck.  Our salvation is the science behind the vaccines, and that those of us who choose to can protect ourselves from the virus.  Those of us who aren't protecting themselves will all, eventually, succumb to the virus and it's deadly variations.  Sad but true.  But I'm waving a very flippant goodbye to the unvaccinated.  I no longer care and you're a waste of my breath and time.

Anyhow, I could never get away with writing any of the above on Facebook, so I have resurrected this blog and I am very grateful for this way to express my distaste and disgust for Mark Zuckerberg and everything he stands for.  Pay your fair share of taxes you monkey.

 Dreamland.  Home Sweet Dreamland.

Perhaps our dreams are more than dreams.  Perhaps our reality is where the nightmares lie.

Perhaps we need to come together and say, let's figure this out.  Let's build a dream.