Winter Is Coming

Will Roy Moore win? Maybe. If he does, Alabama will feel the wrath of 157 million women across the country AND the men who love and support them. If the citizens of Alabama elect a child molester who was TWICE removed from office (chief justice) for ethics violations, well baby dolls...the fury of the out and no longer cowed survivors of sexual harassment and assault will be something to behold.

Should the people of Alabama send a child molesting, racist, gay bashing, lying sack of criminally fetid gerbil feces to the senate, the state should lose beaucoup tourist, conventioneer and other business buckos. The state needs to be boycotted, it's gotta become a no-go zone.

I have similar hopes for the Rapist in Chief and his grifterella family of dim-bulbs. If they manage to avoid jail time, their businesses, at the least, should all tank BIGLY. In a perfect world, they’d all end up living in ONE two room, fifth floor, no AC walk-up in Prichard, Alabama.

The Orange Menace’s Republican Party is fixin' to ram through a tax "reform” package that has fuck-all to do with reform and everything to do with gilding the Richie Rich's solid gold lilies. Taxes for the middle class will be raised so that billionaires and giant corporations can pay less. It’s a bloody, monstro scam and senators, elected to serve ALL the citizens of this country NOT just big business and the one percenter wealthies, are about to push this travesty through. What this means is that a lot of us are gonna die but they don’t care. If these shitheels and their buds can afford a seventh vaca house and another solid gold toilet, our deaths are AOK by them. Just an unavoidable cost of doing bidness and shit.

Call your congress-critter NOW! The ones who are up for reelection next year might be more responsive. If you talk to just one, talk to the one who could lose his/her cushy gig next year. (you’ll get an aid on the horn, not the senator him/herself)

We have a president, elected by an elite group of electoral college idiots – NOT by you or I, who tweets snuff vids and steady, roiling rivers of lies. And he’s, naturally, backing his Southern brother in appallingly vile priapic abuse.

How can you tell 45’s lying? His mouth is open.

My mother, back in the ‘60s, always said that “the south is uncivilized .” Wee kiddle me, watching the news with Muti and Vati, understood and was deeply afraid.

If Alabama elects Moore, they will be proving that my mother's words are still true.

Sneaky, Sneaky

This time next week, I’ll be landing in Dublin. Why the Emerald Isle trip? My awesome pal Brenda lives a little north of the Dubs in Slane. Haven’t seen her in way too bloody long.

Also too, my head’s been stuck in a deep murky mire. My usual Amazing Bob melancholia has been up in the stratosphere (or, mebbe, it's in the mesosphere OR it's up in fucking deep space). Fueling the grief monster is the raft of fuzzy pics I just now found of him and I from some party, attended in the winter before his exit stage left. And then, of course, there’s the daily horrors of the current Republican regime and their tangerine hued, vainglorious, dimbulbed and bullying leader.

I SO need this big escape .

Still, this holiday away’s sneaking up on me. There’s much to do before I fly – work projects, computer fixing, housecleaning (hate to come home to a messy crib), truckloads of cat fud and treats to stock up on so’s the fuzzy bairn don’t go hungry and general life-upkeep crapoli.

I’m feeling all overwhelmed and shit.

'That's your solution? Have a cookie?' Astrid asked. 'No, my solution is to run down to the beach and hide out until this is all over,' Sam said. 'But a cookie never hurts.'
~ Michael Grant, Gone

I’m with Sam on this.

He was swimming in a sea of other people’s expectations. Men had drowned in seas like that.
~ Robert Jordan, New Spring

Yes, there’s that too.

The benefit of carrying the entire world on your shoulders was that you didn’t have to stare it in the face.
~ Rhian J. Martin, A Different Familiar

Heh, TRUTH!

The law of centrifugal force seems to be as true for the human condition as it is for the Newtonian mechanics. The faster our lives spin, the more things tend to fly apart.
~ Richard Paul Evans, Lost December

Yup. I'm off now to attend to that encyclopedian To Do list and, possibly, have a cookie.

Definition

Current definition:

trump
noun
in cards: any playing card of a suit that for the time outranks the other suits, such a card being able to take any card of another suit. A trump card.

This doesn’t describe the tangerine hued tyrannical fascist, pimpled assface in the White House.

The verb phrase of the current definition, though, is spot on though.

 trump up
to devise deceitfully or dishonestly, as an accusation; fabricate:

Trump’s trumped up charges against Clinton and Obama would be gruesomely hilarious if he didn’t have such a loyal dimwitted batshit following.

I need a new definition.

Trump
adjective
behavior characterized by abominable levels of self-serving, egomaniacal, even narcissistic words and actions.
Delia, with her constant trumpness, was unbearable.

I can hardly forbear hurling things at him.
~ William Shakespeare

Andy Borowitz writes that the Bar Officially Cannot Be Lowered. I’d agree but I feel certain the Racist Disgrace can, in fact, go lower. This seems to be his only talent – flying his tiny-brained, bigoted, narcissistic flag high and proud.

WHEN will his Republican party grow a pair and impeach this ugly toadfucker? I know, I know. Never. Which is why we all have to VOTE! Midterms are coming.

The part of her that should have been disgusted was numb.
~ Fuyumi Ono, The Twelve Kingdoms: Sea of Shadow

I’d welcome numbness but it doesn’t stop by, not even for quick cuppa and a spot of gossip.

I used to be disgusted; now I try to be amused.
~ Elvis Costello

I’m not there yet. Hard to rock an amused mien when you’re vulnerable.

The truth does not change according to our ability to stomach it emotionally.
~ Flannery O’Connor

Take note all you Trump supporters. Take serious, bloody note.

There is not a more repulsive spectacle than on old man who will not forsake the world, which has already forsaken him.
~ T. S. Eliot

When will the world full-on forsake the evil, deranged Orange Menace? In a just universe, his mother would’ve done it 71 years ago.

I have seen the dark universe yawning
Where the black planets roll without aim,
~ Charles Baudelaire

[Horror fiction] shows us that the control we believe we have is purely illusory, and that every moment we teeter on chaos and oblivion.
~ Clive Barker

I hate to post a Clive Barker quote but this one resonates. At work once, The Amazing Bob had the “pleasure” of waiting on him. Barker was a preening twat, horrified that TAB wasn’t a fan of his work. Like me, TAB was familiar with the dude’s name but that was it. Barker was background noise.

No live organism can continue for long to exist sanely under conditions of absolute reality; even larks and katydids are supposed, by some, to dream.
~ Shirley Jackson, The Haunting of Hill House

How long can we hold out? How long can we remain all prudent-y, keeping our marbles dry and our oars wet?

Eddie discovered one of his childhood's great truths. Grownups are the real monsters, he thought.
~ Stephen King, It

I’d go one step farther – humankind is the real monster. We are them.

Me? I’m a dragon.

The Book Nook

Coco, of course, in front of a painting done by Kevin (in college)

From The Guardian’s Bad sex award 2017 shortlist:

The Seventh Function of Language by Laurent Binet

    He puts his hands on Bianca’s shoulders and slips off her low-cut top. Suddenly inspired, he whispers into her ear, as if to himself: ‘I desire the landscape that is enveloped in this woman, a landscape I do not know but that I can feel, and until I have unfolded that landscape, I will not be happy …’

    Bianca shivers with pleasure. Simon whispers to her with an authority that he has never felt before: ‘Let’s construct an assemblage.’

This could be hilarious and a stone turn on but only if Simon’s trying to be funny with his WAY over the top palaver. Yes, I do sincerely believe that sex is a great time for silliness and laughter. We’re there, we’re doing it to have fun…right? Fun isn’t one dimensional, don’cha know.
~~~
This meme. If the bottom tout were true, I’d be a sci fi expert many times over. Would love to know where the memester got his/her figures. Also, they talk about books purchased versus borrowed from the local public library or downloaded FREE via the intertoobz.

Free, free, FREE books are available at:
Goodreads They link to popular, contemporary reads.
Gutenberg has The Complete Works of William Shakespeare, Mark Twain and a whole fuck-ton more.
There’s BookLending.com, a website which matches lenders and borrowers of Kindle ebooks.
And MIT has the Science Fiction Society

The world's largest public open-shelf collection of science fiction is the MITSFS Library. Our database of books can be searched here. We have both science fiction and fantasy, including sf horror; our collection includes magazines, some foreign-language material and science-fiction related books as well.

Anyone can come and browse whenever the Library is open (see the schedule), and members can borrow from our circulating section. Membership is open to anyone.

 I used to live a short ten minute walk from the MIT campus – WHY didn’t I know about this then?!

I found some bits in the Pew Research post, Who doesn’t read books in America? Their results are similar-ish to the meme. Similarly depressing.

About a quarter of American adults (26%) say they haven’t read a book in whole or in part in the past year, whether in print, electronic or audio form

Related, sort of, at right is my new reading corner. I set this up at the side of my bed. Why? I like reading in my bedroom, especially now that I’ve rearranged, making the joint way more softly cozified. I wanted to create somewhere else, besides my comfy cot, to curl up for getting lost in a good book time. I’m afraid that spending so much of my time in bed – working, reading and whatevs – is banjaxing my Morpheus time.

This soft corner’s creation was mostly about healthier snooze time BUT, I love this little snug – under the eves, right by the window to the bay, the sea. Win/win and shit.

Also too, that book in my nook? It's What If?: Serious Scientific Answers to Absurd Hypothetical Questions by Randall Munroe AKA XKCD. He writes XKCD, the absolutely brill webcomic of romance, sarcasm, math, and language. The science and math would be seriously over my head BUT Munroe explains things in non-jargony plain English so I'm able to follow and understand. Also, there are drawings. Loving this!

Spaced

It's too easy to see nothing but the evil, the bad that's going on in the world right now. It's easy to feel that this, this heinousosity, is everything. It's too easy to feel like the rapacious fuckers who are trying to take away all our rights are winning.

Us supposed inferior types should never criticize or question the imagined imperial intelligence, authority or sanity of our overlords. They get all sniffy and toddler-ish when we do, don'cha know.

It's too easy to despair, to lose hope.

And then, in the wee hours with sleep eluding me and the fires of both personal and political horrors burning, I found NASA pics in my Instagram feed. Oh my shining nebulae! Such imagination igniting magnificence, what glorious wonderosity!

I jumped over to NASA's website for more, more, MORE. Wild stuff.

Also too, there's an International Space Station. Did you know about this? People are living in space and have been for the past 17 years! Yes yezz, I was aware of this BUT, with all that’s been goin’ down, it kinda slipped my mind – entered the realm of fantasy. This is so sci fi. Living and working in space – WOW! 

If I could live all the different alternate lives I wanted, would I be an astronaut, a space dweller, in one of them? Yup.

Taraji P. Henson, who played the brill mathmetician Katherine Johnson in Hidden Figures, confessed: "Math and science scares me. It makes my heart palpitate.” (source)

I felt the same way when I was in school. Even now, on occasion, simple, non-art stuff causes me to freeze up – at first.  Women have, generally, not been encouraged in math and science. Duh! Jennifer Welsh, writing at Business Insider, lists Seven Things Keeping Women Out Of Science Careers amongst which are teasing in school, negative stereotypes, marginalization and “good old boy" networks. 'the fuck and shit?

Unsurprisingly, new research shows that …

In countries with high levels of gender equality, the math gap disappeared or sometimes even reversed, the researchers found. (source)

Huh, if you raise girls to know they're equal, they are. Waddya know?!

Now, just imagine the steep climb out of Prejudicial Bullshitville when you’re both female AND Brown or Black.

Not only did women, back in early '60s Hidden Figure days, not have the same opportunities as men but the West Computers (the team of Black women) were constantly made aware of their second-class citizen status.

They worked in a separate facility from the white computers, had to use separate washrooms, and had to sit at a colored table in the cafeteria. A few years into the program, the unmarried white computers were housed in a fancy dorm. Meanwhile, the unmarried black computers had to find lodging in town, which wasn’t always easy. (source)

Hells bells, the West Computers didn’t even have a motherfucking bathroom within the actual separate-and-most-def-NOT-equal building where they worked!

Back to the the mindboggling NASA space pics though. I used to buy big books of glossy NASA porn for The Amazing Bob. The titles should've been Cosmos Cheesecake Through the Ages, Planet Centerfolds by Hubble, Exploded Star Sex and You. Stuff like that there. I was gonna donate them all to the local library but maybe I'll hold off for a bit. Like TAB when he couldn't sleep, I'll sit in my big chair, gawking at the radient splendor.

Black Market Boston

I never shop on the day after Thanksgiving. Not ever. The idea of being trapped within hyped up, gotta-grab-that-bargain-and-spend-money-NOW crowds, gives me the rockin' demophobia and the boogie woogie agitata. I can’t even bear the benign mobs at the grocery store.

Yesterday though, Jen and I decided to brave the hordes and hit Black Market over in Roxbury. All the goods – clothing, soaps, body lotions, art, jewelry and more are made by hand by local artisans. You may recall my yearly rant – if you're going to buy prezzies, buy handmade and local (whenever possible). Boost your local makers and economy, dammit!

Black Market features a couple different clothing designers and I was having serious swoon fits over some of the magnificent, bright, beautiful frocks. Reality was the only thing keeping me from putting skid marks on my credit card.

Huh??? What's this reality shit? I don’t dress up anymore. Working from home and hanging at the local pubs and movie emporiums doesn’t exactly necessitate fancy duds. I go to museums and galleries but that’s during the day – not for gala openings. Where would I wear these brill raiments?
In the depths of my closet, a couple spiffy, luxe (now antique?) outfits already dwell. Rilly. Given my low maintainence, caszh life, buying new would feel all spendthriftily extravagant.

Still, Stanley Rameau’s brilliant, billowing designs called to me…loudly. I may return (Black Market is open through Sunday) and splurge on a pair of his resplendent trousers.

I didn’t walk outta the place empty handed – goodness no!
Natasha Williams of Natasha’s Homemade Organic Body Butter had the MOST amazing butters. I snagged a pot of orange blossom verbena and one of mango kiwi. Damn, my skin's gonna make it through the dry, dry winter all soft and awesomely scented. mmmm.

Lorraine Gatora of Kanga’s Closet  makes the most fab necklaces – like wide collars. Gorgeous. I would have taken a couple home but I don’t wear the necklaces I already have. Jen and I both picked up sweet, funky earrings though. 

Royletta Romain of lularoeroeromain had a wide selection of warm, gorgeously patterned leggings. I’m pretty sure I need to go back and pick up another pair or two.

Cagen Luse of 950 Design had some very fun Ts and more.

And I brought home a bar of lemongrass soap made by Nissi Natural Hair and Skin Care.

Possibly my fave find yesterday came from a small, crowded with gorgeous goods, clothing shop near Black Market. Jen and I had gotten to Dudley Square early, before the Market opened and just had to get outta the cold. I saw this – my new chapeau – in the window and had to zoom in.

My eyes have become mega light sensitive over the years so I need a lid. Ball caps provide perfect shade. Plus they’re small and flex enough to wad up and stuff in my bag when I get indoors. Problem, I’m not a sports fan – I really wouldn’t wear a Sox cap. Nope. Most other caps are beyond dull or just cringingly twee. There are plain color caps but, c'mon, how boring! THIS one, however, is perfect and, better yet, it matches my sneaks.

So, mon ami, if you're in the Boston area this weekend, swing by Black Market – it's fabola!

Gym Ratness

I managed a double workout yesterday morning – pool time (laps and H2O aerobics) as well as a full session on the recumbent elliptical. Yea me! The Y was jam packed. Of course it was – we were all trying to work off all those feast-time calories in advance.

Now then, during my usual, midday exercise sessions the crowd is mixed.  On weekdays there are loads of olds, disableds (differently abled?), mothers and/or fathers with toddlers with just a few ultra fit younger adult types for spice. On weekends there are TONS of families.

Yesterday morning though, the gym rat crowd was out in force. I’ve never seen so many hardbodies in one place at one time before. Six months ago I would’ve been intimidated beyond belief – I prolly would've dejectedly pissed outta there, feeling all fat and frail. Now? I’ve lost a bunch ’o’ weight. While I’ll never be mistaken for a 30 year old triathleting endorphin addict, I feel and look better. I’m not done with the diet (will I ever be? don’t answer that) but I’ve gotten to a much better place. Onward!

At dinner with the McMurrer clan, everyone was asking me if I’d been triking much. No, no I haven’t begun outdoor pedaling yet. I need primo concentration to trike and that shattered when my brilliant man died. Wut up with the total attention need?
A) I wanna avoid being run over by passing tanks. Traffic – it's a three headed dog from Hell.
B) I also don’t want to roll the damn thing and break myself into a zillion pieces. Yes, a 3 wheeler CAN tip and tumble end over end. I’ve done it...twice. What can I say? I’m talented. I still want to trike the Hebrides – that dream, while back-burnered, lives.

Swimming laps helps my focus. I'm getting there.

While looking for an out-of-water tai chi or barre class, I found these savage offerings:

Body Combat
This fiercely energetic program is inspired by martial arts and draws from a wide array of disciplines such as Karate, boxing, Tae kwondo, Tai Chi and Muay Thai.

Coco, who is naturally lithe, doesn't understand this diet shit.

Sounds awesome but the name implies, to me anyway, that I’m at war with my body. Shouldn’t I be working with my bag ’o’ muscles and bones – ya know, becoming one with myself and shit? Also, what's up with the cafeteria style Eastern disciplining? Is this for folks who saw The Matrix too many times and wanna live it all at once?

Insanity
Transform your body with this total body conditioning program.

Again, the name puts me off. Insanity does NOT seem like a smart goal. Maybe that's just me.

RIPPED
The one stop body shock fitness system is a total body workout.

The title – all caps. That means it’s a SERIOUS workout, yes? Also “shock fitness?” I do not want to shock my body. I want to be stronger and more toned, not stunned.

GRIT
HIGH-INTENSITY INTERVAL TRAINING

OK, now this is clearly a class that’ll work my bod into a small pile of fine ash. That's the goal or so it seems. The tip off is that both name AND description are in all caps. It’s shouting at me, THIS CLASS IS FOR INTENSE GYM RATS GOING AFTER 6-PACK ABS ONLY!

Yeah, no thanks.

I think today's high intensity workout will involve stretching (and more of it) and a long Nantasket walk. Yup.

Wut, Wut

A blindingly brief and in no particular order, off the top of my head and shit, list of what I’m thankful for this morning:

1) The mindbogglingly brilliant 30 years I had with my spectacular hunny-pie, The Amazing Bob.

2) Jen and Oni – they are the bestest friends on the planet. They’ve seen me through insanely hard times.

dictionary.com defines friend as:
noun

1. a person attached to another by feelings of affection or personal regard.
2. a person who gives assistance; patron; supporter: friends of the Boston Symphony.
3. a person who is on good terms with another; a person who is not hostile: Who goes there? Friend or foe?
4. a member of the same nation, party, etc.
5. a person associated with another as a contact on a social media website: We've never met, but we're Facebook friends.

Cool but so very pale, It doesn’t begin to characterize the long amazing friendship that I share with J&O. Jen has said “we’re family.” I cringe at that but ya see, here’s the thing – Jen comes from a brill, wonderful, loving famiglia. Growing up wasn’t a sugar coated, marmalade unicorned, happy, Disney funfest – no. Even happy realities are still real versus Puppy Party, Tigger & Pooh works of pink buttercream frosted fantasy. My family, conversely, now and during the whole childhood thing was…emmm…we’ll call it bristlingly fraught and leave it as that.

I need/want a different term for who J&O are to me.

There’s a million words to describe who TAB was to me – husband, life partner, center of my universe, love of mi vida Loca, soul mate, kindred spirit, my heart, etc.

Any ideas on what to call Jen and Oni? Possibly I need to invent a new word. Thoughts?

And now, because my head is a vast ocean of randomosity, the John Sayles movie, starring très handsome Joe Morton, Brother From Another Planet comes to mind. I was wild for this flick. Must find it – need to see it again.

3) Hearing – I had 46 years of music.
To paraphrase my old buddy, Roy:

I've heard things you people wouldn't believe.
Tom Cora’s cello on fire off the shoulder of The Rat.
I’ve watched Leo Kotke’s magic in the dark of the Orpheum Theater

Yeah, the next line’s something about tears in the rain and lost and shit but that’s a step too poetically gloomy for me today.

4) Art.
In a couple weeks I’ll be in Dublin where, amongst other artists, I’ll get to see Cian McLoughlin’s work live, up close and in person. Psyched!

The Foundry Artists Holiday Show open next week and Jen and I will be there. I can’t wait to see what James Polisky and Belinda Gabryl are showing.

And, sometime next month, I’ll pick up Jim Innes’ painting of a nude riding a red bird. Not sure how I’ll get it from Western Pennsylvania to Boston (short of renting a car and driving it home //shudder//) but this beauty will soon be mine, mine ALL MINE.

5) Helen. Always.

I hope you're all with people you love today even if that's just yourself.

Dogs from Hell

Grief, as a friend recently, wicked aptly put it, is a motherfucker. It's a slavering hound from hell – a beast from the lowest realms of the inferno. The bastard lacks even the faintest whiff of civility and decorum.

Right now I'm churning with a bestial rage. Why? Because my brilliant, beautiful wise man has been ripped from me – THAT’S WHY! Ya know, I do get it. Honest and true. I understand this life/death/circle of existence shit but, Jesus tyrannical Christ on naan, this is blindingly, astro painful.

What's up with this big grief surge? I mean, it's been 506 days since the end of life as I knew it – shouldn't I be, dunno, calmly melancholy with a gloss-coat of yearning at this point?

Tomorrow is Turkey Day. I was telling a friend that I didn't expect a mondo hod of sad over the day because The Amazing Bob and I never made a big Thanksgiving deal.

Ding dong, I'm wrong.

We'd cook for each other, make each other's favorite foods. I'd oven up some turkey breast with gravy and mashed taters for him. He'd magic me a raft of curried string beans and sweet potatoes. My talented baker man made flights of pies – Apple, pumpkin and the most awesome apple/pear. Sometimes there was blueberry too. We'd watch a movie and just be mellow together. It was always a brilliantly, sweet, quiet day. He'd watch some football, I'd read. We'd play with the cats. Blissful tranquility.

This wasn't a huge party day with a packed house BUT, in point of fact, it WAS a big fucking deal. We'd have a wonderful day together, we always did, and I miss it to a staggering degree.

At this time of year, in particular, the house reeked of fresh baked cookies (gingerbread, butterscotch/oatmeal/spinach, chocolate chip!) and happiness. Now? The kitchen smells of coffee, oil paint and loss.

I'm making she-Hulkian efforts to contain my tidal waves of fury and pain. I don't want to rip some poor unsuspecting friend's head off for their heinous crime of....dunno, not being TAB? I suppose that's what it all comes down to.

This will be my second Thanksgiving without him. I don't remember last year's at all. Tomorrow I'll be over at Jen and Oni's. Erin (with fam) and Mom and Pop McMurrer will be there. The meal will be lovely, the company cheery. TAB and his beautiful, beatific smiles and nimble, laid back wit won’t be there though.

When I saw my GP on Monday, I asked her if she thought it might help if I "dated." I've had some very nice offers and that might, ya know, perk me up, get me outta this thrashing pit of loss and anger. Mebbe.  

"Do you want to “date?” she asked. “Do you honestly feel like it?"
"Fuck no!," I quickly and oh-so-charmingly replied.
"Then don't. Wait until you're ready. You'll know when you are."

Huh, OK. Makes an abundance of sense. I guess I'm just looking for a magic pill so's I can beanstalk my way out of the pain.

I've Got Questions

Had my annual physical yesterday – this is the one with my GP versus the brain deal (which I had last month, thanks). The good doc took a lot of blood (possibly she’s a vampire?), gave me a flu shot (my arm is STILL sore – what is she Wonder Woman?!) and we talked about my various struggles (weight loss and my continuing big sad over The Amazing Bob’s demise. Also too, I seem to be deaf).

The intake form, with its limited multiple choice answers, as usual, frustrated me. By the time I go to question 13, “how have things been going for you over the last four weeks,” I’d lost my ability to simply tick A, B, C or D. Doc Amy allowed she could help with one but not both of my noted issues (at right). Naturally I assumed she meant that she could bring TAB back from the dead. AWESOME!

Wut? No? DAMN!

As for the other prob – we do what we can. Vote, make phone calls, stand together and resist. As John Lewis recommends, it’s time to get in good trouble, necessary trouble; to push and resist what is happening. She's on-board.

My very patient and understanding doc’s office is a few doors down from The Old West Church. Originally, and for its first 150 years, its was of the Congregational stripe of Protestant, whatever that means in practice. Since 1961 it’s been owned by The United Methodist Church. I dunno what the ownership entails but the sign seems to indicate they’re a lot truer to the original meanings and intentions of Christianity than the current, loud and monstrously hypocritical evangelical/fundamentalist wing.

Roy Moore, Republican candidate for Senate and alleged child molester, enjoys much of his political longevity to his celebrity status within the Christian right. (source)

Can the christianist right not see the glib faux piety of their politicians and preachers? Are these people so spectacularly focused on their imagined victimhood that all a grifter’s gotta do is bash gays, Muslims (though any darker hued individual will do) and scream to high heaven about ABORTION and they’re hooked? 

Are they blind and deaf or are they just the biggest suckers since Charles Ponzi and Soapy Smith walked this good green earth?

The charlatanic pharisee and their sheep give Christianity an horrific name. Jim Wallis of Sojourners feels the white evangelical bubble is about to burst.

It’s time for other white evangelicals to call out the white American evangelical leaders who have yet to speak out against the racial politics of President Donald Trump...

Will they? Will anyone besides us agnostic types? Will anyone within the evangelical brand, besides Jim Wallis, stand up to Jerry Falwell and the rest of the choir of cons? Is there a Ripley to take out these corrupt abominations?

More Randomosity

This, at left (duh), is Umlaut. He, (possibly she), comes by a couple times a day but doesn’t keep regular hours like our other visitor cats over the years.  Jen actually patted Um while he/she was eating once!  Um didn’t zoom off but Jen got a profoundly nasty “I’m eating here, woman” glare for her efforts.
~~~
Now that all the motorboats are in winter storage, the bay is brilliantly crystal clear. Though I can’t hear the loathsome rumble of their engines, speedboat are of the devil. Sailboats are ever so much more lovely and don’t churn up the bay floor.
~~~
The quality of light at this time of year is brilliant, precious. On a sunny day, at three o’clock in the afternoon, the mellow orange-ish cast makes me wonder if I’ve stepped to a far quantum dimension …or something. Almost makes up for the chill temps too.
~~~
My tremendously talented schmooze-beast and mouse assassin, Coco, has ticked off another notch on her rodent kill belt. I feel terrible for the wee vermin but, well, Coco’s gotta do what she’s gotta do. Fish gotta swim, cats gotta chase mousies, toy with them like cruel and demented sci fi villians and then, finally, kill the poor bastards. //shrugs//
~~~
Jen, Oni and I watched Galaxy Quest yesterday. Yes. Again. LOVE this flick! Given my sci fi addiction, OF COURSE, I do. The movie's got killer dialogue and brill acting.

I played Richard III. There were five curtain calls. I was an actor once, damn it. Now look at me. Look at me! I won’t go out there and say that stupid line one more time. – Alexander (Alan Rickman)

I remember that sound. That's a bad sound.  – Gwen (Sigourney Weaver)

Gwen: What is this thing? I mean, it serves no useful purpose for there to be a bunch of chompy, crushy things in the middle of a hallway. No, I mean we shouldn’t have to do this, it makes no logical sense, why is it here? 

Jason (Tim Allen): 'Cause it’s on the television show.

Gwen: Well forget it! I’m not doing it! This episode was badly written!

And then there’s the pre-Redshirts, Guy, played by Sam Rockwell:

I'm not even supposed to be here. I'm just "Crewman Number Six." I'm expendable. I'm the guy in the episode who dies to prove how serious the situation is. I've gotta get outta here.

Guy: I changed my mind. I wanna go back.

Alexander: After the fuss you made about getting left behind?

Guy: Yeah, but that's when I thought I was the crewman that stays on the ship, and something is up there, and it kills me. But now I'm thinking I'm the guy who gets killed by some monster five minutes after we land on the planet.

Jason: You're not gonna die on the planet, Guy.

Guy: I'm not? Then what's my last name?

Jason: It's, uh, uh - -I don't know.

Guy : Nobody knows. Do you know why? Because my character isn't important enough for a last name, because I'm gonna die five minutes in.

Gwen: Guy, you have a last name.

Guy: DO I? DO I? For all you know, I'm "Crewman Number Six"! Mommy... mommy...

Alexander: Are we there yet?

Yeah, I could watch that for the 5,000,000th time today.

Ramblings

Word for the day
Macaronic
It's an adjective:

denoting language, especially burlesque verse, containing words or inflections from one language introduced into the context of another.

A fine example of this is the fun poem The Motor Bus by A.D. Godley.

I’m loving the word origin:

early 17th century: from modern Latin macaronicus, from obsolete Italian macaronico – from the association of macaroni as peasant food with the vernacular language of peasants

Food as word stylings – fabulous! Would a pecan pie soliloquy be speech which is overly sweet and dense but obscenely delicious? Would a turkey filled monologue cause drowsiness and the desire to watch football? Just trying to get ready for Thursday, ya know.
~~~
Blake Shelton? Who the hell is this guy? He’s not ugly but PUH-LEEZE — sexy? Let alone Sexiest Man Alive™? He looks like your friend’s bro who can NEVER get a date – joins a frat because he’s lonely, insecure and still can't get laid. Also too, that name? If it’s his birth name versus stage name, I gotta wonder if his parents were hooked on The Young and The Restless or some other soap. That's not a name, it's a flowery, painted character.

Also, did Idris Elba, Jason Momoa, Diego Luna and Jeff Bridges turn the mag down before they got to Blake?
~~~
and now a Star Trekian moment:
Earth Is Getting Hit by Too Much Anti-Matter, And Nobody Knows Why

Is this bad? Are we ALL GONNA DIE in a Deep Impact, Day the Sky Exploded, Death From the Skies kind of a way? Call it a hunch but I think, when the planet calls in it's chits, it'll be due to the actions of power-mad, crazy-ass world leaders.
~~~
Esquire has a very helpful post up now: The Drinks Most (and Least) Likely to Give You a Beer Gut and Man Boobs. Now then, I have my own boobs (thanks) and my gut’s from too much CAKE (mmmmm) but it’s still helpful to know what to embrace and what to avoid.

Turns out scotch is good. Yea, I like scotch.

Stick with the peat-heavy Islay region for extra weight loss.

K, no prob.

Wine too.

Red Wine
Good for you.

Duh

Vodka
Flavorless, odorless, and low in calories, it will completely sap you of all your interesting-person qualities.
Gin
A much better choice of clear spirit. It's like flavored vodka except the flavors are juniper and other oddball botanicals ….

What about cocktails? Can I get away with, say, a Blue Hawaii? NO! There are 325 calories in just one of these beauties. I made the dramatic mistake of having TWO of these the other night, BAD GIRL.

What about those “skinny” cocktails?

Oh, come on. At this point, you're not cut out for alcohol, and you should probably just smoke weed instead.

Good point.