Brushstrokes

Yesterday, while The Amazing Bob and I were cooling our heels in yet another MGH waiting room, I was reading author John Scalzi’s latest blog post A New York State of Mind and came across these two magnificent sentences.

Scalzi’s reviewing the NY primary results, starting with Lyin’ Ted Cruz’s spectacularly bad performance.

Which is to say that Cruz, a gross and despicable avulsion that yet managed to sprout opposable thumbs, just murdered any realistic chance he had of ever catching Trump in the delegate count, while at the same time giving Trump a hell of a boost going into next week’s primaries.

He goes on to clarify that

…I don’t want Trump to be the GOP’s candidate in the general, because humanity deserves better.  I don’t want Cruz either, because he’s a necrotic self-regarding blight on the face of American politics — but I’d be happy if the GOP fielded him because once he lost, and he would, oh my, how he would lose, then he’d be done as a serious presidential candidate and would nevermore potentially darken the door of the White House.

Christ that man can paint a vivid pic. Words are a writer’s brushstroke and this dude’s got a seriously brill stroke.

Why were TAB and I at our home away from home yesterday? Annual heart exam shit. My beloved had the second of this week’s artery look sees and then we met with his cardiac team – the wonderful nurse practioner, Patricia Jordano and the good doc and cutter Doug Drachman.

Before they arrived, a handsome nurse came in to perform an EKG. TAB needed to take off his shirt for this so, NATURALLY, I had to wildly leer and break out in a rousing (honest to Bast, it was rousing!) rendition of The Stripper. Lemme tell you, you’ve just not lived until you’ve heard a late middle aged, deaf broad belting it out. TAB, of course, played along, twirling his Henley above his head before throwing it at me.

Ahead of ducking out to EKG other patients, the nurse slipped me a couple bucks so’s I could tuck them into TAB’s shorts.

Yeah, you just can’t take us anywhere!

Lastly, here’s a thought…

Could we all just get along? No, seriously. What gives? Why do we humans go all rabid ouroboros on each other especially during election seasons (and it now feels as though it’s always election season).

Seriously, can we tone down the gratuitous cheap shotting and practice a little tolerance? Can we? Please? Huh?

More penned brushstrokes from another master:

My grandmother's greatest gift was tolerance. Now, in the old days, Indians used to be forgiving of any kind of eccentricity. In fact, weird people were often celebrated. Epileptics were often shamans because people just assumed that God gave seizure-visions to the lucky ones. Gay people were seen as magical too. I mean, like in many cultures, men were viewed as warriors and women were viewed as caregivers. But gay people, being both male and female, were seen as both warriors and caregivers. Gay people could do anything. They were like Swiss Army knives! My grandmother had no use for all the gay bashing and homophobia in the world, especially among other Indians. "Jeez," she said, Who cares if a man wants to marry another man? All I want to know is who's going to pick up all the dirty socks?”
~ Sherman Alexie, The Absolutely True Diary of a Part-Time Indian