Look a Boat!

Did you know that you Ron DeathSantis and his cape-wearing, teevee host wife got married at Disney World? That tells me everything I need to know about this midget-dicked, imbecilic, diaper dictator. Getting married at an expensive theme park, created by a company hellbent on denuding fairy tales of their important lessons and all the original horror, is just 99 kinds of non-recyclable plastic. Sadly, they reproduced. They have three kids who, even if they rebel and become decent, thoughtful humans, can’t escape the taint of parents like that.

Then there’s Prick Scott (AKA Voldemort), also of Florida. You remember him, right? He’s the wanker who got rich by defrauding Medicare, went on to become Florida’s governor and now senator. As senator he’s doing his level best to kill Social Security and Medicare  I gotta wonder if he suffered some horrific Medicare related tragedy in the crib which he’s, obviously, never gotten over. He has two, now adult, children. I wonder if they’re heartless motherfuckers just like their dear old dad.

The other Florida senator, Li’l Marco Rubio the Trump cheerleader and doormat, has four kids. Will they learn to lie and disingenuously quote bible verses just like their spineless pop?

I’m betting the children of these famous assholes won’t grow up (in Voldemort's case, haven’t) to be much different than their disgraceful parents. Not everyone can be a Ron Reagan Jr.

Today is father’s day. I was lucky. Daddy, while far from perfect (as are we all) always encouraged me, loved me and understood that, while I wasn’t all girlie and shit, I was aces in his book.I miss our long, meandering phone conversations, showing him off to my friends when he’d come up to visit, talking politics, art and music together, the folk festivals he took us to as kids, sitting around eating ice cream at Toscanini’s, watching Star Trek together and on and on. 

I never matched him in my education and working career—I didn’t earn a Ph.D. or become a college professor but, nonetheless, I know he was proud of me.

Tomorrow is the second anniversary of his exit, stage left of course, from this beautiful but beleaguered, sad world. Two years ago, I was still much too fragile from my latest mondo spine surgery and unable to go to the funeral. I know that funerals, wakes and such are for the living—Daddy wouldn’t have been upset that I couldn’t make it. I wish I’d been able though.