Thursday, September 24, 2020

Meaningless Bullshit

Clearly racist.
I'm guessing that black people everywhere are breathing easier today now that the purveyors of Uncle Ben's Rice have changed its name to Ben's Original. That's a load off. Of course there's still the whole cops shooting unarmed black men in the back thing, but it's a start.

Wednesday, September 23, 2020

What Kind of Fool Are You?

I'm confused as to how the White House "bungled" its response to the coronavirus and caused so many needless deaths, which is how CNN's boy-toy anchor Anderson Cooper sees things. He loves to say how Trump has caused so many people to die who could be running around, healthy and happy, today. Driving the point home, for the last few nights CNN has focused on those who were "killed" by Trump's stupidity and gross negligence, running a crawl of the dead like they did when the Twin Towers fell and calling anyone who died from the virus "heroic."

I say I'm confused because since the onset of Covid-19 my husband and I have worn masks and stayed home as much as possible, not because Donald Trump told us to but because we have brains and told ourselves. If tomorrow Dr. Fauci and Trump and the CDC and WHO said it was fine to go out and French kiss everyone you see, we would still stay home and still wear masks when outside.

What kind of fool listens to the authorities, especially when we are constantly told that those in power are themselves fools?

Tuesday, September 22, 2020

Out of The Loop

Despite my drifting further out of The Loop every day, I still consider myself to be smart, certainly on a par with people who are in The Loop. Still, it bugs me to be considered "out of" anything.

I learned a few months ago that I was out of The Loop from my Millennial son, who is wired into it and may even be one of its founding members. I think it was when I asked him to explain what a hashtag is -- I still don't get it --  but it may have been something else since there are many things I blank on: TikTok, Quibi, QAnon, WeChat, Alibaba, Sufjan Stevens and the last two letters of LGBTQIA, to name but a few. Determined to rectify the situation, I set about catching up.

Since I've never read a Harry Potter book nor seen any of the movies, that seemed like a good starting place, especially after a savvy friend reported the movies were "great fun." And what better time than now, stuck at home during a pandemic? So the other night my husband and I fired up Netflix and settled in to watch the first one, Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone.

After about 40 minutes I decided that at least my life was too short for such nonsense, although Mitch was up for it. (Then again, he sat through all of Hamilton.) Guessing that many other trendy things are equally inane, I will continue re-reading the old classics, watching old movies and listening to Queen and The Beach Boys with abandon, slipping even further behind everyone else but what the heck.

Monday, September 21, 2020

Doing the Right Thing

People gathered on the steps of the Supreme Court to show others how sad they feel.
These days it's very important to have the right feelings. If you don't really feel them that's fine, as long as you pretend to. For example, right now anyone seeking acceptance from their peers will be mourning the recent death of Ruth Bader Ginsburg. It's just the right thing to do, and it's best to do it in front of others for maximum credit. (See photo.)

Personally, I am not mourning the loss of a woman I never met, especially since one of my close friends is reeling from a dire cancer diagnosis and another just suffered a heart attack. Also, Ruth was 87 and had cancer in one organ or another for as long as I can remember, so her death was certainly no surprise.

As for what her passing "means" to the country, I suppose many young women are worried that a new, less liberal Supreme Court appointee could impact their right to an abortion. Being past child-rearing age, this fear does not haunt me. But since I did avail myself of that service years ago, I think about how different my life would be today if abortion had been illegal back then. I'd have raised a couple more kids and maybe even have some grandchildren by now. (Not that I'm complaining.)

This past weekend I spoke with and saw quite a few friends and neighbors, and not one of them was in mourning for Ruth, or for anything. It was a beautiful weekend here in Maine and everyone seemed quite excited about the coming glories of fall. Pumpkins popped up on front steps all around town and finally the mosquitos are gone.

Friday, September 18, 2020

I Don't Wanna Be Woke

Chris vs. an Indigenous Person
In a few weeks my husband and I are going on a mini-holiday to celebrate our 34th wedding anniversary, which falls on Columbus Day Weekend. You remember Christopher Columbus, that Italian explorer who supposedly sailed the ocean blue in 1492 and discovered America? Well, I just read about an upcoming event planned for Indigenous Peoples' Weekend, and guess what? It's that very same weekend.

Turns out that in some cities and states in America, there is no Columbus Day, which there has been since 1934. One of those is our nation's capitol, where the DC Council voted to replace it with Indigenous Peoples' Day. Several other cities, such as Seattle, did the same. In South Dakota and Oklahoma it's called Native American Day, just to make things more confusing. Here in Maine, it's IPD. Still, I'm sticking with Chris, that guy I made a diorama about in the fourth grade.

Call me unwoke, but I will never utter the words Indigenous Peoples' Weekend, or Indigenous Peoples' Day or even Indigenous Peoples' Hour. I can barely spell indigenous and hardly know what it means, although I have an inkling it's got something to do with a group of people who had their blood spilled at the hands of the evil white man hundreds of years ago and are currently responsible for the Redskins becoming The Washington Football Team.

Don't wake me.






God's Reading List

I have always believed in God. Not a He or a She but an It; the form of Our Heavenly Father has changed over the years.  As a child and well into my teens I truly believed that God was the Ocean, or rather that the Ocean was God. That explained its deep and unknowable mystery and the fact that it covers the globe. Nothing else goes everywhere, except of course the Sky.

So then I started thinking the Sky was God. Perched high above all of us it sees everything, sort of like Santa Claus. You can't hide from the Sky. Yup, the Sky must be God. Or maybe Nature -- could Nature be God? After all, they call it Mother Nature for a reason. Whatever, God is certainly not some old man with a beard wearing a white robe, like in all the cartoons.

Or is He? I am now convinced that whatever God is, He, She or It can read, has a very long reading list, and my blog is on it. I believe this because yesterday I wrote a post concerning the horrible spider living outside my kitchen door that's been there for a month or so, tormenting me every day. I have shied way from watering the flowers on which its web was spun, and thus they are not doing too well. I got the willies whenever I looked out there, and the quality of my life was negatively impacted by its very existence several times a day.

Yesterday's post was all about that spider. I went outside this morning to check on how ugly it still was and it was gone. Vanished. Packed up its things and left, leaving no trace. Not a shred of a web anywhere.

So I concluded that either God read that post and took pity on me, or else that spider has ESP -- I don't think spiders can read -- and somehow got the vibe it was hated and moved on. Either way, it's pretty damn weird if you ask me. Not that I'm complaining. In fact, in case God is reading this post right now I would like to say that I am deeply grateful, that I love Him even more today than yesterday, and I will try to live up to His (or Her or Its) highest expectations of me. 

Thursday, September 17, 2020

Something Worse Than Trump

We have a new pet and I am not happy about it. Although somewhat furry, it isn't cuddly, snuggly or cute. It doesn't follow commands and will never fetch the paper, or my slippers, or even its own toy. That's because it's a spider -- a horrible, scary, hideous and outrageously large monster that set up housekeeping on our side deck, within steps of our hot tub, about one month ago and is apparently quite content to live out its life there, spinning intricate webs which it eats every night and ultimately having hideous little spider babies that will grow up to torment other poor souls like me.

Called a Yellow Garden Spider (Argiope aurantia to its friends), Wikipedia describes it this way: 
Yuck, yech and gross, if you ask me.
"Yellow garden spiders are large, orb-weaving arachnids, meaning they spin a circular web. Most spiders have two claws on each foot, but orb weavers have an additional claw to help them spin their complex webs. In females, the top side of the abdomen is black with symmetrical patches of bright yellow." It goes on to say that its bite is not poisonous, having the same impact of a bee sting and posing no risk to humans except if you are allergic.

Okay, two things: First of all, yuck, yech and gross. I would rather have Donald Trump parked outside my door calling me fat, stupid and ugly every day. Secondly, I happen to be allergic to spiders and have visited the ER three times for treatment of bites. While my breathing is not impacted and thus my life is not in danger, whatever part of me gets bitten swells to the size of an average telephone pole within minutes and stays that way until whatever magic drug the doc shoots into me takes effect.

Naturally, being of sound mind I have arachnophobia. And yes, I have sought treatment for it and it did not work -- why would it? It consisted of tapping my forehead with my fingers a dozen times while saying aloud, "Nice spider, cute spider, I love spiders." (For that I paid $400, so I am not only afraid of spiders but a moron.)

So no, I am not at all amused by "Spidey," as my husband calls it. Mitch loves Spidey and finds it interesting. He gets up each morning and goes out to say hello to it. Or actually her, since she matches the description. Personally I think if you are going to name her you should go for something like Spidette, or even Charlotte, as in Charlotte's Web, the famous children's book I could never read, for obvious reasons.

My dear friend Jay came for dinner a few nights ago and fell in love with Spidey. Jay is an outdoors enthusiast, and that's putting it mildly. Anyway, she took a lot of pictures of the thing and one of them is shown above. Despite her trying to get me over my fear I remain disgusted and look forward to winter. Hopefully it will be severe and Spidey will freeze to death or be blown away in a punishing Nor'easter.


Meaningless Bullshit

Clearly racist. I'm guessing that black people everywhere are breathing easier today now that the purveyors of Uncle Ben's Rice...