180703 — Does Donald Trump use the Federal Reserve and the United States Treasury Department to funnel funds to his friends in the Kremlin to support their shared anti-woman, anti-trans, anti-gay, anti-worker, anti-environmental, white supremacist agenda?
We may never know until we conduct a thorough and complete
audit of the F’eral Reserve, find out how they framed Hillary,
who’s funding Russian Collusion, what happened to America’s gold,
and why the frogs are turning gay!
a correspondent [enquires after my intent and sincerity]…
… wants to know: “What… are you talking about? Is this supposed to be sarcastic?” It was intended to be both sincere AND sarcastic. Sincere insofar as yearning for an audit of the F’eral Reserve (at least!) and sarcastic in the I-stick-my-thumb-in-your-eye kind of way to lefties who reflexively suspect all things Trump.
I’m sorry when I’m neither as clear nor as funny as I intend.
190106 — Why do fools say, “I know, right,” immediately after I’ve corrected them? They clearly DIDN’T know before their correction, and now they’re trying to take credit for it (or even to deny their error.)
But if they didn’t know in the first place, how do they know now?
And how do they know now that I’m not fucking with them?
190924 — Earth People (meter stolen from Randy Newman)
Earth people got… no reason.
Earth people got… no common sense.
Earth people got… no logic at all.
They got… whims and wishes and biases,
They act as if “Give me!” is the same as “please.”
They got… little minds that squirm in delight
When the weaker and the smaller are given a fright.
I can’t take you Earth people!
What’s wrong with you Earth people?
There’s no tellin’ with Earth people down here!
You are seldom abashed and you’re rarely ashamed
As you wallow in your misery and compound jour pain.
You got… little souls that cower in fright
And run from the purifying power of light.
I don’t get you Earth people.
What’s up with you Earth people?
I can’t figure out Earth people at all!
Things that Hep Dudes do that Groovy Chicks must Dig 200412
Gunning your motorcycle for twenty minutes in the driveway. Driving fast! Braking hard! Burning rubber! Subwoofers! Wolf Whistles! Cat calls! Bar fights. Soy muffins. Dressing like a prison hooker? (The faces may tell us it is “more comfortable” to wear saggy trousers. The hands tell the truth. They are constantly pulling them back up. One does NOT adjust a comfortable fit. Once again, when the face and the hands tell different stories, believe the hands; faces lie.)
200614 — Anger Therapy
As a relentless optimist I find good news in unusual places. After a couple of weeks (the alleged outside incubation period) of angry and courageous demonstrations against “systemic racist bigotry” (an issue upon which you are likely to find agreement among about 99% of Americans), we find no significant new outbreaks of Wuhan Flu™.
Apparently, extreme unction (or “woakness”) is as toxic, noxious, and destructive to the CoronaVirusMark19™ as it is to civil society.
210316 — If Only…
If I only managed to contract Wuhan Flu™ months ago, AND given it to Sugar and Bud, we’d all likely be over it by now. Okeh… maybe Bud, with his compromised lungs, might have suffered mightily, and maybe even succumbed to it. At any rate, it would likely be all over, and I would be forgiven, or ejected, or forgotten.
But it would be over.
210317 — Now, if she’ll only take “yes” for an answer…
Tad stopped over yesterday, so I reflexively stepped out and talked to him for a bit, inadvertently resetting my to-the-letter microbial mitigation protocol back to day zero (and AFTER hitting the new local ChowMart™ for a gallon of cow juice all properly muzzled up, too!)
Anyway, he’d come over to request that I feed his cats for the ten days or so that he and the other Fredericks were in Florida. He hit me with a big bag of kitty kibble, a scoop, and sufficiently detailed instructions, because, of course, I agreed. They’ll be gone, he says, until Saturday, the twenty-seventh, after which time I shall be free again for casual delivery of your accumulated mail. Unless something of a more urgent nature arises, at which time I can, if it is judged needful, do a BonzaiExpress™.
Having finally gotten accustomed to the strange new lighting patterns spilling in through the front door, I figured some more disorientation is in order. I removed most of the cardboard from the bedroom windows, since my metabolism has finally synced up with the daylight. So now there’s light spilling down the hallway from the bedroom and I frequently find myself stepping that way to shut off the damned lights until I realize…
I managed to get that dead bush ratted out, mostly burned up, and the hole backfilled and levelled, but it is still (mostly) too wet and cold to be outside chasing weeds just yet… but their days (like mine) are numbered!
31 July 2021
I suppose it makes sense for people to assume that I don’t care, or that I’m not hurt when they would otherwise think that I should be. I don’t react right.
I remember carrying a hot and heavy vessel while calmly stating:
“Ow, it’s hot. Ow, it’s hot.” Then I put it down.
“Was it hot?”
“Yes. Very hot.” I had said it was hot so people would not be in my way as I carried it. Other than that useful transmission of information, I didn’t see any point in making any more fuss than that. It wouldn’t have made it burn any less.
4 September 2021
Pushy people don’t like it when you stay pushed
“Can’t you take a joke?”
If it’s actually funny.
“I was just givin’ you a hard time!”
Did I ask for a hard time? Or is my irreplaceable time so valueless that it should be squandered for your amusement?
“Lighten up, dude! It’s just a saying.”
If that means to stop taking you seriously, then thank you.
That would probably be best. Go away now, please.