Don't Say This

The other day I went to our local convenience store and couldn't find any Eskimo Pies, my favorite chocolate-covered ice cream bar I keep on hand for emergencies like Biden winning the election during a global pandemic. As you might imagine, I'm clean out. To my chagrin, I was told they no longer carry them because they are considered racist. 

Really, that's what the guy said, although his neck tattoo of Bugs Bunny with a clenched fist made me doubt he really knew what he was talking about. So I tried somewhere else and was told that the product had been discontinued because of the word Eskimo, and would return soon with the moniker "Edy's Pies." Turns out Eskimo is on the list of inappropriate and racially-charged words; now you have to call those people "Inuits." So why not "Inuit Pies?" Just asking.

Clearly this whole minorities-getting-offended thing is out of control. In fact, you can't even say "minority" anymore; now it's "majority-minority" because "minority" sounds like they are "minor," and Lord knows they are anything but these days. In fact, they make all the rules. 

It's making me crazy. I just wish I could write a book about it but it would never get published. I do have the opening paragraph, however:

"The midget gypsy -- they called him Shorty -- worked on a plantation owned by a family of fat Caucasians who only hired minorities. Being crippled, not to mention retarded, it was hard for him to get much done, so he asked his friend, a homosexual Eskimo, to help. The problem was that he was hearing impaired, so often missed much of what Shorty said. That's when he turned to his Indian friend, a colored tranny with a big dick and giant boobs, for assistance."

Not sure how it will ever get published, but it should be amusing to write.

  

I Miss Trump

Well, Grampa Biden has been the President for ten days and the pandemic rages on. If anything it's worsening by spawning new variants. I'm a little disappointed in Gramps, to be honest. But then, Obama, his mentor and master, promised to close Gitmo, the prisoner of war detention camp at Guantanamo Bay, on Day One of his presidency, and that was in 2008 and it's still open, with 40 detainees rotting there indefinitely.

As for getting out those vaccines to the people, well, as Tom Wolfe would say, "Fuggedaboutit!" Here in Maine it's for people 80 and older. Who knew there were so many of them living here? Of course you can't blame them; it's safe, no crime, no traffic, nobody walking behind you at night with a crowbar or baseball bat ready to club you to death for 20 bucks. (Just reminiscing about my 30 years in Washington, DC.)

I am 74, so no vaccine for me. My sister, who is 79 and crazy and living in a nursing home in NY got both her shots weeks ago. She suggests that I should just say I am 80 and get the shot. I told her it doesn't work that way, and besides I would rather die of Covid than have anyone believe I am 80.

As for my husband, a mere teen at 63, and my son, a veritable toddler at 33, the vaccine is a distant bauble they might grab sometime this summer. Until then, we are all wearing three masks, staying home and slowly, ever so slowly, losing our minds. At least when Trump was around there was always good TV, not to mention a daily thumbs-up to raise our sinking spirits. 

Biden Derangement Syndrome

Who is pulling the strings?

As if I didn't already have enough things wrong with me, like high blood pressure, diverticulitis, heart disease and an extra ten pounds, now there's another debilitating condition and this one's the worst: Biden Derangement Syndrome (BDS). Except for the ten pounds my conditions come and go, but BDS is a constant irritant, slowly morphing into a full-blown distraction that will obliterate every chance of normal behavior, not to mention peace of mind, if I let it.

Finally I understand how all those people with Trump Derangement Syndrome feel. (Poor Nancy Pelosi, she is the poster child for TDS.) Markers for the disease are the firm belief the election was rigged, that Biden is a brain-addled puppet of the Machine, and that his agenda is to not only to placate China but also turn America into China, complete with its broad censorship, constant surveillance of the populous, and the ruination of anyone who dares to dissent.

Unless we are vigilant, victims of BDS are in a world of hurt since Biden's ugly mug is everywhere, causing alternating waves of nausea and horror. (For the first time I'm grateful for coronavirus because half of his pasty-white face is often covered with a mask.) Following are some steps you can take to keep most of the symptoms -- depression, sadness, shock, disbelief, anger, sobbing alternating with wild laughter -- under control:

1. Never turn on the TV.

2. Don't look at any newspapers or the Internet.

3. Do not engage in political conversations.

4. Stay in bed, preferably under the covers.

5. Learn Chinese. 

Doing Our Part for Diversity

Two articles caught my attention in today's Wall Street Journal. One reported the appointment of the first black female CEO of a Forbes 500 company. Walgreens, the country's largest drugstore chain, found the woman through a search run by an outside firm. The current CEO was quite excited to make a newsworthy statement about how diversity is the most important thing in this "current climate of systemic racism." (What he didn't say but was probably thinking was please don't loot our stores and all black people should shop at Walgreen's.)

The second article reported that the San Francisco school board, by a vote of 6 to 1, will remove the names George Washington, Abraham Lincoln and Dianne Feinstein from public schools after deeming them "unworthy of the honor." Forty-four schools are slated for new names "unconnected to slavery, oppression or racism."

I realized that this was the only instance in which George Washington, Abraham Lincoln and Sen. Dianne Feinstein would be seen as equals. I also thought of all the other things that would have to go: The George Washington Bridge, the Lincoln Tunnel and Lincoln Center in New York City, every town and city in America named either Washington (311) or Lincoln (205), the city of Washington, D.C. the state of Washington, the Washington Memorial, the newly-named Washington Football Team, Denzel Washington, the Lincoln Memorial and the Abraham Lincoln Bridge in Louisville, Kentucky.  

This all got me thinking that never in 34 years of marriage have my husband and I hired a black person. We are guilty of systemic racism! So our next pet-sitter will have to be black. (It'll be tough breaking the news to Mary, the white woman we've hired for the last five years who our cat has finally bonded with, but hey -- time marches on.) Ditto every window-washer, house painter, plow guy (or gal), landscaper and cleaning person, who until now have all been white. It's gonna be tough accomplishing this in Maine where the black population is only 2.23%, but it's the least we can do. That, and shop at Walgreen's from now on.

Film Review: ADRIFT

The doomed lovers at sea.

What do you do when it's snowing outside, there's a pandemic going on, you're sick with a cold and you just bought a new 65-inch TV? Clearly, you settle in for some big-screen viewing. Since I was alone I got to choose anything, and the more distracting the better. This led me to Adrift, a 2018 romance/adventure based on a true story and resulting book. It stars Shailene Woodley and Sam Claflin as young lovers Tami and Richard who endure a harrowing experience in the middle of the Pacific Ocean.

Hired to sail a luxury yacht from Tahiti to San Diego for a fee of $10,000 and airfare home to wherever, the couple see it as a grand adventure. Until, of course, the hurricane hits, which explains the title of the film. Adrift opens after the disaster has hit and jumps back and forth between the postcard meeting and courtship of the pair five months earlier and the horrible post-storm reality: Richard is gone, having been swept overboard, and Tami is alone, drifting at sea for 41 days, living on peanut butter, hallucinating that Richard is alive, and blah-blah-blah. Despite it being a true story and at its heart quite an exciting tale, the film's telling of it is somehow fairly predictable and, dare I say, boring. 

What's not boring is the storm, which is quite impressive and reaffirms Hollywood's uncanny ability to transport us from our humdrum lives to wholly other worlds. Watching Adrift in my cosy heated house, I was thankful I only had a cold, that it was only snowing a little and that I still don't have Covid. So in one sense, it was a great therapy session. If you're seeking a way to feel better about your own life, this film does it. Otherwise, I'd suggest searching for "The Making of The Impossible" on YouTube. It's much more fun and explains how the magic happens.

Staying Calm the Millennial Way

Covid has made everyone a little jumpy, we can all agree. It takes nerves of steel not to collapse like a heap of Jello and sob. Can anything help? That depends.

In case you have ever wondered just how stupid some people are, here's a bit of evidence: Back in November 2019, a cell phone app called Calm boasted 2 million paid subscribers with a median age of 30-35. But then along came Covid, and since then their numbers have grown substantially. For example, in April of 2020, 3.9 million new users downloaded the app.

What exactly is Calm and how can it help you relax? I tried it once and all it did was make me laugh. But I can't describe it better than my dear cousin Brian, who posted the following on Facebook:

"There’s an app called Calm. If I’m all crazy with myself, I pick up my phone, try to remember my password and stare at a stupid screen while listening to sound effects, for $14.99 a month. Or I could go outside and look at a real tree and hear real sounds for free." 

He makes a great point. It's like paying Jenny Craig, or any of those diet gurus, to lose your own weight by eating frozen food they send in the mail and which tastes like army rations during wartime. In layman's terms, it's called "a rip-off."

If you're still interested in trying the app, Brian's got an idea that might prove its efficacy: "Go find the CEO of Calm and egg his car - see how calm Calm makes him then."

Life is Too Short for Politics

This morning I woke up with a cold. Or is it more? I can't tell. One thing I know for sure is that my health is not impacted by any politician promising me anything. Joe Biden said he would "knock out Covid!" Well guess what: he hasn't. In fact, cases have steadily risen since he took the oath of office. Come on, man -- what are you waiting for?

Since Biden was sworn in, three of my friends got Covid. Until then I didn't know anyone personally with the disease. Now it's gone from something "out there" to something "right here." It also reinforces the truth that death lurks everywhere, peering over our shoulders, getting all of us eventually, and nobody is exempt. (Covid doesn't care who you voted for.)

Stop arguing about Donald Trump and Nancy Pelosi. It's meaningless. Instead, have a nice day and be kind to someone.

Stuck On Trump

Trump is gone. Get over it. I suggest the mainstream media and everyday Americans try to find something else to talk about, write about and obsess over. Isn't there anyone in the Democratic Party that is the least bit interesting besides Bernie Sanders and his mittens?

Fat vs. FOX

My husband's really, really, really fat nephew, at least 300 pounds, who obviously hates himself which is why he is so fat and thus has looked about for a scapegoat and landed on all things Republican, is now calling for an end to FOX News, which he likens to Jospeh Goebbels, the Nazi propaganda minister. His equally fat, if not a tad fatter, brother agrees, I suppose during one of their eating sessions when they roll around ingesting pizza and cookies and chips and ice cream; after all, getting that fat takes effort.

FOX News is no more slanted than any and every news outlet, in fact if anything it is less so. CNN is the worst, with that smarmy Chris Cuomo smirkingly blaming everything on the Republicans, now that Trump is gone. PBS, NPR, MSNBC, ABC and all the rest are just ditto machines of the Democratic Party.

My husband forces me to watch all the networks every night. It is sickening to do so but that's the only way to get even an inkling of the truth about our government. Meanwhile the Fat Brothers only watch "their side," so have no idea what the heck is going on, yet they rant and rave on Facebook about how hateful FOX News must be taken down. I suspect if they each lost about 100 pounds they would become more charitable to the other half of the country that differs with them.

Pelosi Must Go

Deranged Nancy Pelosi wields her gavel.

The more I thought about the message I got from an old friend saying I must be "in a dark place" and she "felt sad" for me, all because I stated my dislike of Joe Biden and Kamala Harris, the angrier I got. Janice (the old friend) is a perfect example of why America is split in half. Thankfully, not all Democrats are like her. My four closest friends and my son are all Democrats. They do not pity me, or consider me to be a fucked up idiot. They simply accept that we don't agree on some issues. 

But Janice, and probably her husband Larry too, consider it a travesty -- horrible, even unthinkable, to be a Republican, or even an Independent, which is how I am registered.  Their faulty thinking, created wholly by the masterminds over at CNN, MSNBC and Nancy Pelosi, continues to fan the flames of war between the two parties and split our nation in two. 

Pelosi ripping up Trump's State of the Union speech on national TV, while he was giving the speech, set the tone for the crazies in her party to come out swinging. Pelosi must go if things are to ever improve.

The Haughty Democrats

I recently received a comment on my blog from a former friend asking, after reading a post expressing my dislike of Biden and Harris, "How did you end up in such a dark place? I feel sad for you." 

That smirking, self-righteous attitude of so many Democrats, embodied by Kamala Harris, makes me sick to my stomach every day, and is why I can no longer watch TV or read the news. Their conviction that to be a Republican is "to be in a dark place" permeates all of them, including our newly elected president who has yet to display the slightest shred of his stated intention to unite the country.

Not to mention the fact that if my old friend really felt sad for me, she would call or write to see how I'm doing and not just leave a nasty barb online. Hey, maybe I am in a dark place! Maybe I was diagnosed with Stage 4 cancer and have just months to live. Maybe my heart attack left a lot of damage. Maybe my son is sick, maybe my sister died, maybe I have Covid. Or maybe I just have a different opinion than hers.

Hurry Up With That Makeover, Doc!

Besides having to see the sickening vision of Joe Biden's frail skinniness and pasty face splashed all over the place, I will miss seeing Melania the most, and not just her to-die-for wardrobe designed by the super-talented Herve Pierre. A truly beautiful woman, her unfailing grace, glamor, and sweetness were a balm against the daily arrows the incredibly nasty press shot at the Trump family every minute of every day since the second he took office.

Now we have an ordinary schoolmarm as First Lady. Offering nothing special, she will not intimidate anyone in her off-the-rack Nordstrom outfits. She will be lauded, loved and celebrated by the press. On the positive side, it will be fun to watch her makeover, which should get started as soon as possible, certainly in time for her first Vogue cover. Besides some Botox, I'd suggest a new hair style and color since that Barbie-blond mop is not doing her any favors.

If I sound bitter it's because I am.  

The Creeps & the Willies

President Herbert the Pervert 

Today is the inauguration of President Grampa. I will not be attending, virtually or otherwise. I just can't. I hate the guy. He reminds me of that old geezer on Family Guy who likes little boys. He's pasty-faced and always yelling and pointing a finger at someone. He gives me the creeps. I shall never watch him, on TV or elsewhere.

His VP gives me the willies. She cackles wildly like a witch. And those stupid sneakers she wears, what a joke. And on the cover of Vogue! That must be to get the young vote since you can tell that everything she does is calculated. I won't mention her name, standard procedure on TV with criminals convicted of dastardly things. She already has done and surely will do more dastardly things. 

People may ask, "Andrea, what's the difference between the creeps and the willies?" I anticipated that and here it is: If someone gives you the creeps, they make you feel very nervous and frightened, whereas the willies indicates strong apprehension and discomfort. Who needs more of that? (I already feel that way just from ordinary living.)

Meanwhile, Donald Trump always makes me laugh and/or shrug my shoulders. I do not find him scary in the least. I never saw him harass a woman or engage in a racist activity. I was not bothered by his hair or his skin tone. I never saw him "tear babies from the arms of their mothers." And while I disagreed with his constant tweeting, I did agree with two of his beliefs for which he received a lot of criticism: 1, Rosie O'Donnell was, at one time, a fat pig and 2, I also prefer people in the army who don't get captured.

The Ridiculousness of Celebrity

There are so many things wrong with Man, it's hard to know where to start. First off, let me clarify that when I say Man I mean mankind, a term encompassing men, women, and any others who think they are legitimate genders -- I cannot begin to name them all here since there are new ones popping up every day. Anyway, of the things that are wrong with Man, possibly the worst is the adoration of and interest in false idols, i.e. celebrities. For example, today I saw the following headline on the Internet:"Find Out What Martha Stewart Really Thinks of Snoop Dogg." I did not click, but I'm betting some people did. To be interested in such a story requires a stunning set of circumstances:

1. You have to know who Martha Stewart is and who Snoop Dogg is. This knowledge demands constant vigilance on your part, involving the reading of celebrity magazines and watching TV a lot, and for many years.

2. While not really necessary but definitely helpful, you have to know that Snoop Dogg is a human. Then you have to have a preconceived notion of what the person named Martha Stewart thinks of Snoop Dogg. This article will replace what you thought you knew, and will likely surprise you, by informing you of her true feelings for him (or her).

3. Most important, you have to give a shit. Like it has to impact your life in some way. Since it won't matter in 99.99% of cases, what's it worth? Not a damn thing. It will only serve to take up valuable, and shrinking as you get older, brain space you might better use for things like doing your taxes or figuring out how to fix that light in your kitchen that comes on sometimes and not others. Or you might read a good book that will enlighten you to the mysteries of the Universe, neither of which Martha Stewart and Snoop Dogg are. The possibilities are endless.

Celebrity is defined as the condition of being well-known by a broad base of the population as a result of attention being paid them by mass media. That's it. The category is huge, encompassing Jeffrey Dahmer, who ate his victim's body parts after he killed and dismembered them, and Don Lemon, a total idiot hired by a CNN to spew his opinions simply because he is black and gay. Then there's Whoopie Goldberg, a woman who looks like a cartoon who talks for a living and has crazy hair and wears outlandish clothing, as if that's enough. 

Celebrities are considered by most average people to be better than the rest of us. This is certainly not true, as evidenced by the large proportion of them who are cheaters, liars, embezzlers, drug addicts, alcoholics, and suicides who from time to time end up in jail or dead in a bathtub filled with their own vomit. So what's with all the adulation?

Personally, I'd rather know what Snoop Dogg thinks of Martha Stewart.

Ten Best Movies, 9 Worst Foods, 8 Most Harmful Celebrities, 4 Must-Read Books and A Talking Cat

Like the rest of the Internet, my blog is usually meaningless pap nobody needs. Once in awhile I insert a few valuable nuggets, but those days are rare; they depend on how much I weigh in the morning. If I'm fatter than usual I'm useless, but if I've hit a new low I'm inspired to reach new heights.

"How shallow," you must be thinking. But really, what can we control in life besides our own bodies, moods and actions? I can't even get my cat to do what I ask, like speak English. After all, he's got a larynx, he's lived with us for ten years and he's perfectly capable of making sounds, especially in the middle of the night. Would it kill him to squeak out an "I love you" occasionally?

Anyway, today's post is one of the good ones. Trust me.

10 Best Movies: Apollo 13, Defending Your Life, Adaptation, Leave No Trace, Inglorious Basterds, Birdman, Synechdoche, Captain Phillips, The Hangover, Django Unchained

9 Worst Foods: Cool Whip, Oreos, Boxed Sugary Breakfast Cereal, Caramel Apples, Fried Dough, Cotton Candy, Cheetos, Bottled Salad Dressing, Taffy

8 Most Harmful Celebrities: Nancy Pelosi, Anderson Cooper, Don Lemon, Hillary Clinton, Al Sharpton, Bill Maher, Whoopie Goldberg, Bill Clinton

4 Must-Read Books: Ethan Frome (Edith Wharton), The Lottery (Shirley Jackson), The Bonfire of the Vanities (Tom Wolfe), White Noise (Don DeLillo)

George Orwell's Rules to Live By

Starting today I am going to date all my checks "1984." I suggest you do the same.

Yesterday a golfer on a PGA Tour lost his sponsorship from Ralph Lauren, and has been publicly lambasted by about a million people, for muttering to himself under his breath, "Ouch, faggot!" when he missed an easy putt. His comment was picked up on a microphone he was wearing.

OH MY GOD. NOW YOU CANNOT EVEN TALK TO YOURSELF AND CALL YOURSELF SOMETHING THAT IS CONSIDERED POLITICALLY INCORRECT.  LIKE DON'T CALL YOURSELF A CUNT, A PUSSY, A FAG, A COON, A KIKE, A SLUT, A SPIC, A WOP, A JEWBOY, A CRACKER, AND OF COURSE A NIGGER!!!!

Oh wait -- you can call yourself a nigger if it's in a rap song and you're black. Or even if it's not in a rap song and you are just saying hello to someone you like. And of course if you are in the shower and have the radio on and there are no listening devices around, you can say all those things and even direct them at people who fit the description. And it's always acceptable to call yourself a white supremacist piece of shit. Or just a white piece of shit. Nobody will argue with that.

TV is for Movies

My husband and I have stopped watching TV news at night. It offers nothing, and if you are reasonably alert during the day you already know everything you need to know about what happened that might be of interest. Otherwise it's just a bunch of hot-air egomaniacs who think what they have to say matters. (It doesn't, except maybe to their mommies.) And here is something you might find interesting: A friend of mine is a booker for those news shows and she divulged that many guests actually pay to get on those news shows in order to promote their new book, their podcast or whatever.

The news is always the same, differing of course from station to station. Here's what you will miss by not tuning in:

MSNBC: "Trump sucks. He is the worst. He is Hitler. He incited a riot. He is a hateful monster. He was impeached and now he should be tried and sent to jail to rot there." Interviews with a variety of "strategists" will deliver this message in other words but it's always the same message.

CNN: "Trump sucks. He is the worst. He is Hitler. He incited a riot. He is a hateful monster. He was impeached and now he should be tried and sent to jail to rot there." Interviews with a variety of "strategists" will deliver this message in other words but it's always the same message.

FOX News: "All the other news outlets suck. They misreported everything to do with the protest at the Capitol. Last summer there were much worse protests across the country with looters stealing and burning down building and beating people and rioting, and nobody stopped them. The left is out of control and out of ideas, Joe Biden is a demented old fool and Kamala Harris cackles and plays the race card."

So what's TV for? Watching movies. We saw two really great ones this week, both from PIXAR: Soul and Inside Out. Really fun and uplifting!

Democrats Lower the Bar

It's so embarrassing to be an American right now. And not because of Donald Trump but because of the low bar set by the Democrat Party back when Bill Clinton not only shoved a cigar up the vagina of a young woman who worked for him in the Oval Office, he also ejaculated on her pretty blue dress. And all this during the work day! He could have at least waited until after hours and maybe gone to her place. But as appalling as that was, the Democrats -- every last one of them (including Carol Anderson, a holier-than-thou prude if you ever wanted to see one) excused him by saying, "His sex life is his business." 

They've gone straight downhill ever since. In fact, if anything I think Donald Trump raised the bar back to a decent level. That's what they hate most about him; he makes them all look bad. And just to be clear: I am no fan of Donald Trump. But I'm not a vindictive hater either. Trump is just a regular human being; it is the Democrats who have imbued him with qualities he does not possess and whose hatred for him culminated in the mob of protesters who broke into the Capitol building last week. Or whenever it was.

And now they are wasting more of our money, AGAIN, by spending their time impeaching him just days before he leaves office. What a bunch of lunatics. 

It's the Melanin, Stupid!

Joe Biden, who promises to "unite the country," has chosen a woman named Kristen Clark to head the  DOJ's civil rights division. While she was the president of the Black Student Association at Harvard, Clark wrote a letter to the school paper explaining her views on race science. Sadly it did not explain why black students receive lower test scores on all tests given anywhere but hey, another time maybe.

Following is an excerpt from Clark's 1994 letter:

"Black infants sit, stand, crawl and walk sooner than whites..... 

Carol Barnes notes that human mental processes are controlled by melanin – that same chemical which gives Blacks their superior physical and mental abilities.....  

Some scientists have revealed that most whites are unable to produce melanin because their pineal glands are often calcified or non-functioning. Pineal calcification rates with Africans are five to 15 percent, Asians 15 to 25 percent and Europeans 60 to 80 percent. This is the chemical basis for the cultural differences between Blacks and whites..... 

Melanin endows Blacks with greater mental, physical and spiritual abilities — something which cannot be measured based on Eurocentric standards.”

I wonder on which standards it can be measured. Extra-planetary?

Stop the Steal

I read in the Wall Street Journal that Facebook is removing all content that mentions "stop the steal." Supposedly if you utter that phrase that you are a domestic terrorist bent on blocking Joe Biden from taking office, insinuating he was not elected fairly.

Let's see.

There Are No White People

 Kamala Harris and spouse: One is white, the other is black. They both look pink.

I have recently started painting portraits of my friends and family and have made an important discovery: There are no white people. There are pink people, and melon-colored people, and sort of yellowish-pinkish people, but certainly no white people among those labeled as Caucasians.

Kamala Harris is definitely one of those with skin that might be called "white," even though the only reason she was chosen as Vice President is because she is "black". Ha! Black on what planet?  In fact, her recent Vogue magazine cover has caused an outcry, with critics accusing the editors of deliberately lightening her skin. Why would they do that when the only thing she has going for her is that she is a "woman of color?"

It's all pretty funny because skin color is not supposed to matter, when really it is all that matters to the Democrats.

Why Am I A Racist?

Grape soda makes me sick. It always has. Even when I was a little kid who actually drank soda from time to time, usually at a friend's birthday party since we never had the stuff at home, seltzer being the only carbonated beverage we were allowed, I found it to be more disgusting, gross and nauseating than the other flavors. Now it turns out that saying "grape soda" is a slur against black people because they like it or drink it or it was popular in the South or some sort of twisted lefty anti-logic like that. Who knew?

So am I now considered a racist because I don't like grape soda? Or maybe because I have never dated or been attracted to a black man, despite having had many black male friends over the years? (The one exception was Gregory Hines, who's dead now and has been for years, sadly.) Could it be because I refuse to capitalize the word "black" in my writing? (I don't because the word black indicates a color, like green or yellow or red or white or purple or ochre or tan or magenta or cyan, and not a proper noun.) And I absolutely detest collard greens and also fried chicken. That might be proof enough. 

Hmm, the case against me is growing. I do not have a Black Lives Matter sign on my lawn, in fact I consider them embarrassing examples of virtue signaling by people who possibly have never even met a black person, especially here in Maine. I won't vacation in the South, unless you count Florida which is more like going to New York, although I did go to Haiti and loved it. (That should help my defense.) I never saw 12 Years A Slave because I find slavery extremely depressing so why would I sit and watch it in a movie? I also never saw Hidden Figures, Fences or Hamilton -- no interest.

Oh well, once Biden and what's-her-face -- I don't use her name because I'm afraid I'll pronounce it wrong and be accused of racism -- take over and average white Americans start being tried for racism and thought crimes, I guess I'll find out what I've been doing wrong. Until then I'll keep wondering why my son says I am a racist.

Shooting A Dead Man

The Democrats, as nutty ever, are hoping to impeach the President to get him out of office before he can do something that "threatens our national security," something they insist last week's assault on the Capitol did. Not sure how some idiot putting his feet up on Nancy Pelosi's desk or those clods in costume smashing windows threatened our security, but okay, whatever. 

Anyway, according to several reliable reports in print and on air, the complex plans to dump Trump would likely not congeal until the day before his term ends. It got me wondering if there could ever be a more futile undertaking. I came up with the following: 

Shopping for maternity clothes the week before you give birth

Dying your hair the day before you start chemo

Applying sunblock as you're leaving the beach

Putting on your car's snow tires in April

Throwing a baby shower the night before your abortion

Renovating your kitchen a month before your house is torn down for a new highway

Film Review: BOHEMIAN RHAPSODY

The real Freddie on the left, Rami Malek as Freddie on the right.

I was late to this party because the universally bad reviews by paid professional critics talked me out of it, despite raves from friends who saw it. Now I know better. Bohemian Rhapsody, the 2019 biopic concerning British rock band Queen with special attention paid to the greatest frontman of all time, Freddie Mercury, is a two-hour and 13-minute ride to Outtahere, and isn't that where we all want to go these days? 

Besides the film's indisputable escape factor, it's a patchwork of great music, a witty script, artful editing and a trip back in time to the 70s and 80s, almost but not quite pre-AIDS. Played by Rami Malek, who won the Best Actor Oscar for his performance, Freddie is an unceasingly entertaining character. The supporting characters are terrific too, each one a convincing replica of the original band member. It's almost freaky.

Admittedly it's all sort of soap-operatic, but that's fitting for a band whose whole "shtick" was over-the-top and melodramatic. The recreated Live Aid concert scene alone was worth the whole film. Spoiler alert:  There's a heavy dose of homosexuality, what with Freddie being gay, running through several lovers, hanging with drag queens and ultimately getting sick and dying of AIDS. If you don't like that stuff then stay away. Otherwise, put it on your short list and think of it as a mini-vacation.

This Is Who We Are

Ever since the unruly mob of marauders illegally entered the Capitol a few days ago, almost every parroting reporter, journalist and TV pundit has uttered the words, "This is not who we are." Even Peggy Noonan, writer for the Wall Street Journal who once upon a time offered great insight in a unique way, begins her column today saying that in order to deal with this incident, "We must remember who we are." 

Well guess what, that is who we are since it happened and "we" did it.  To clarify, here is a snapshot of "who we are" in 2020:

One in every 10 Americans is on antidepressants.

Between one-third and one-half (42%) of all Americans are obese.

More than 2.12 million people are incarcerated.

Murder is on the rise, with 16,425 reported cases.

One person died every 36 seconds from a heart attack or stroke. (About 655,000 Americans, or 1 in every 4 deaths.)

Suicides rose to 48, 344 acknowledged and documented cases.

The DC Swamp Gets Muckier

Watching the horrific show of gleeful animosity being hurled at our president these past few days is sort of like being at a bullfight. The huge beast has many arrows stuck in his hide, yet he continues on, circling his tormentor, trying repeatedly to maintain his footage and keep breathing, but ultimately slowing down, growing ever weaker, and finally dropping in a bloody heap. And the crowd roars in excitement: "Ole! Ole! Ole!"

Insistent on taking the man down with mere days remaining in his administration, through impeachment or invoking the 25th Amendment claiming Trump is unfit to serve, every pore of Nancy Pelosi's desiccating body oozes the message, "We are orchestrating a bloody murder and we shall be victorious!" 

Bullfighting is outlawed in the United States. Fortunately all the sickos who enjoy the sport can pursue a career in politics.

What About Ashli Babbit?

This morning, members of the media aren't foaming at the mouth over the senseless shooting death yesterday by Capitol Police of a white woman named Ashli Babbit. The 35-year-old Air Force veteran was an ardent Trump supporter, so right away who cares, good thing she's dead, right?

Meanwhile, the death of any black person who can be held aloft as a fallen Democrat becomes an instant 24-hours-a-day news story, complete with videos of candlelight vigils, memorials at the site, and interviews ad nauseam with friends and family members who proclaim the deceased was "the nicest, sweetest, person who ever lived, with a heart of gold."

It is sickening. Yes, Ashli entered the Capitol, along with hundreds of others, to protest what she considered a fraud-ridden election. But so what? She was just standing there in a crowd, wrapped in a Trump flag, when a self-important and probably terrified guardian of the Capitol (only a building after all is said and done, and nothing more) shot her in the neck. Way to go, cop! That made everything better, didn't it?

So where is the outrage? Now imagine if she were a woman of color. OMG.

Trump and the Firing Squad

I watched a little of President Trump's last gasp on TV this morning. Although he had assembled, as usual, a huge crowd of several thousand followers chanting their love for him, the fact remains that he lost the election and refuses to accept it, and that's sad. Plus it pisses me off -- rather than hold on, he should just get the heck out of town, fly off to some beautiful Caribbean island, order a few Mai Tais, lay in the sun, play golf and forget his four-year political nightmare. That's what I would do. In fact, that's what I did in similar circumstances, about 36 years ago.

I was working as a graphic designer at The Washington Times, a right-wing newspaper run by the Reverend Sun Myung Moon. Despite disagreeing with the paper's politics, I needed the money and the job paid well. Single at the time, I embarked on a romance with a colleague, back when that was actually commonplace. What was not commonplace was that this particular guy was a "Moonie," or follower of the Reverend's weird religion, for whom fraternizing with non-Moonies was strictly prohibited.

When the office gossip reached my boss that I was seeing this guy, she, being a no-talent patsy who did what she was told, went straight to the top. Next thing you know I was fired without cause, the only time I was ever fired I might add, while my partner in crime was never seen or heard from again. Outraged, I decided to fight it and lodged a formal complaint. Soon I received a note stating the date and time I had to appear in a court of law in the city of Baltimore to plead my case.

I went alone, of course, because why wouldn't I? When I got there I found my boss, her boss, and about six lawyers all ready to pounce on me and make their case. I surveyed the scene, realized I had no chance, and besides if they didn't want me to work there that much, who wanted to work there? I left immediately, got in my car, went out for some coffee and the paper and started looking for a new job. I may have been unemployed, but at least I still had my dignity. 

Trump faces a much bigger firing squad: Everyone who works at CNN, MSNBC, The New York Times, The Washington Post, The Boston Globe, NPR, PBS, all of Hollywood, at least half of Congress and half the citizens of America, to name but a few. He would be wise to get out with what few shreds of dignity he can scrape together since there's no way he can win against that bunch. 

Nancy and the Crazy Congresspersons

Last June, wearing identical kente stoles to show solidarity with black people,
Nancy and the whole gang of Democrats just looked "silly."

Crazy people in America end up in one of two places: Roaming the halls of a mental hospital or roaming the halls of Congress. 

Okay, first of all I know I am not supposed to say the word "crazy" so as not to insult any crazy people. There are more politically-correct terms suggested by the Woke Police, like "silly" or "atypical." I guess, thinking back, I do sort of see how serial killer Jeffrey Dahmer's penchant for dismembering his victims, freezing their body parts, and then eating them was really, when you stop and think of it, atypical behavior.

As for all those "silly" people in Congress, they have written a bill suggesting changes to the House rules beginning this year. The changes would strike any language that is gender-specific, like father, mother, son, daughter, brother, sister, uncle, aunt, and blah-blah-blah all the way to parent-in-law, child-in-law, and sibling-in-law. They go on: "In clause 4 of rule XXVII, strike "himself" or "herself" and insert "themself."

So I guess am no longer my son's mother, I am my child's parent. Circa 2021, a toddler waking up terrified at three in the morning from a nightmare now has to shout, "Parent, parent, I'm scared!" No more Mother's Day or Father's Day. No more Gramma and Grampa. And I guess if it were made today, Dorothy in "The Wizard of Oz" would call out during the tornado, "Parent's sibling Em, parent's sibling Em!" (That movie will likely be banned soon enough.)

This is all to make that minority of citizens who have chosen a strange and unusual lifestyle -- wherein they mutilate their sex organs and take hormones to grow hair and stop getting their period -- feel more accepted by all the normal people. Yeah, you heard me, the normal people.

Modern Romance, 2021

The stocky young man drinking at the bar was so gullible, he accepted it as the honest truth when his pretty date, Evangeline, had said she was female. After all, why would she lie? What he didn't know was that she was a taker and only after his money. And even though he'd said he was 5'10" and she liked men to be taller than that, she had accepted Bob's dinner invitation because he'd boasted that he was athletic and rich. He was, in reality, neither.

As the night wore on it became obvious that Evangeline had lied about her age, being a lot older than 25 which is what she had said online. But Bob said nothing about it. He, an avowed Democrat completely lacking a sense of humor, would not find it funny if she admitted to shaving off about ten years. Evangeline understood that so kept quiet about being 35, and certainly about being transgender. That news would have to wait.

Little by little Bob started noticing things that were odd about Evangeline. Like her hairy knuckles. And if he looked closely, a bit of a five-o'clock shadow. "Oh well," he thought, "so she's got an excess of male hormones. I can relate to that. At least she's not fat." They ordered appetizers.

In the end it was Evangeline, nee Evan, who blew the raspberry on the date when she/they confirmed, through further conversation that Bob was in fact a Republican. Altered genitals paled in comparison to that! She stood up to leave and Bob asked for her half of the bill. "You mean you're not even rich?" he/they fairly shrieked.

"Well if you're 25 I'll eat my hat," Bob yelled back.

"Well, if you're not bald I'll eat your toupee!" Evangeline screamed. "And I have news for you, you are not even close to six feet tall!" She/they stormed out.

Bob left the restaurant happy. Evangeline had been so distracted by the shaved head underneath his wig that she hadn't picked up on the fact that he was actually female. He felt great, except for his menstrual cramps. "Damn period, I hate it," he thought to himself, glad he hadn't worn white pants.

 

How Dumb Are Democrats?

Twenty bucks buys this fantasy t-shirt: Kamala as a little black girl.

These days I hear from my Democrat friends less often. Like, never. I suppose this might be because I write unflattering things about Democrats in this space from time to time, and maybe some of them have read these. On the one hand, that's sad: people should be able to rise above politics and continue to share and enjoy what brought them together in the first place, right? On the other hand, how can they?

I have danced around the subject so as not to hurt anyone's feelings, but why? What kind of friendship cannot withstand some serious debate about important issues? 

But it's hard for me to believe that Joe Biden, a gaffe-prone cluck for as long as he has been in the public eye, and Kamala Harris, an unapologetic liar exploiting her own ethnicity (see photo) who ended her campaign for the nomination quite early due to lack of support from anyone of voting age, were fairly elected by more votes than anyone has ever gotten in the history of our presidential elections. 

Tell me you don't believe it but you hated Trump so much you don't care and I will still respect you. Otherwise, well, I can't promise.