Set List

I’m, maybe, a bit of an over-planner in some respects. I wouldn’t say that I’m a control freak (of course I wouldn’t — I have some self-respect) but I do want to have a say in how I’m represented and shit. Who wouldn’t?!

So, I was thinking, if there’s a funeral or memorial service for yurs ever-so-humble truly, after I shuffle off this mortal coil (NOT that I’m planning on or anticipating this happening anytime soon), I’d like a few specific tunes played. 

Such as:

Tubthumping by Chumbawamba OF FUCKING COURSE! I want folks to be just a touch concerned that I might get back up again (even if I’m no more than ashes in a jar). You know, you’re never gonna keep me down!

Warren Zevon’s Werewolves of London. Why? It’s fun. I love the song and I don’t need any other reason. My funeral, my choice. Got it?! Also I just love the alliteration of this line and how he shoots it out rat-a-tat-tat:
     Little old lady got mutilated late last night

There’s gotta be a whole section devoted to Queen. I mean, c’MON!

Start with We Are the Champions 

I’ve paid my dues
Time after time
I’ve done my sentence
But committed no crime

And bad mistakes
I’ve made a few (🚨understatement alert 🚨)
I’ve had my share of sand kicked in my face
But I’ve come through and I mean to go on, and on, and on, and on

We are the champions, my friends
And we’ll keep on fighting ‘til the end

Yes, it's over the top, melodramatic, and just a bit preciously oh-poor-me BUT it's also awesomely anthemic. I mean, I could, whilst dead, win a bowling championship with that playing in the background and I don't bowl! Sort of like Fleetwood Mac's Tusk. Hell, let's play that one too — an ode to my marching band years.

Second Queen tune, Another One Bites the Dust 

Lastly, Fat Bottomed Girls because we make the rockin’ world go round! We abso do.

The Rolling Stones, You Can’t Always Get What You Want. Sad reality.

A few by Bowie Aladdin Sane, Panic in Detroit  (which totally got me through my last months with that jank-ass traveling carnival), and Diamond Dogs.

The Who, I’m Free 
     I’m free
     And freedom tastes of reality

Liza Minelli, Life is a Cabaret from the musical Cabaret 

Talking Heads, Burning Down the House 

Disco Inferno by The Trammps. I dunno, could be fun … a good way to liven things up, mebbe?

Run DMC/Aerosmith, Walk This Way 

Closer to Fine by the Indigo Girls for their harmonies which abso-totally slay.

A Day in the Life, Beatles just because.

Doctor My Eyes, Jackson Browne

The 1812 Overture because I like cannons going off in my symphonies. OK?

And I couldn’t possibly leave out Monty Python’s Always Look on the Bright Side of Life from Life of Brian!

Some things in life are bad
They can really make you mad
Other things just make you swear and curse
When you’re chewing on life’s gristle
Don’t grumble, give a whistle
And this’ll help things turn out for the best
And

Always look on the bright side of life
Always look on the light side of life

Basically, I'd like to go out on an up note and shit. 

Death and the Maiden

Meanwhile back at Thursday's appointment with Doc Plotkin, my tumor minder and advisor, I got some other good news (besides the fact that I don’t need surgery or more radiation at the moment). I’ve somehow lost five more pounds. This is especially surprising since I’ve been unable to exercise due to my stupid, ongoing left foot problem (which is beginning to clear up FINALLY!).

Gotta say, that perked me up ALMOST as much as the report of my tumor farm’s lack of major developments and blossomings. I'm now 10 pounds away from my goal weight. Am I trying, at my advanced age, to get a fabulous beach bod in time for ... ummmm ... something. Fuck no. This is New England — we're in thick sweaters, vests, turtlenecks, and scarves season now!  Also, weight loss is about attempting to tip the balances a TINY bit towards healthy in the face of all my egregious tumor shit.

The good doc and I discussed death — the fact that so many of my fellow NF2 warrior friends have fallen. Most were younger than me. Not Michie — she was a year older. I told Plotkin that it feels like I’m gonna be the last NF2er standing, (with my trusty rollator), in the rubble at the end of the world. Survivor guilt.

He asked, “do you want to be the last one standing?” 

I reflexively said “FUCK YEAH!” I am a stone competitive bitch. Also, for some stupid reason the theme song from Fame started playing in my head at that moment.

They Can Talk

I'm gonna live forever
Baby, remember my name

No, I don’t want to live forever and I honestly DO understand that, as Plotkin put it, it's about the quality of life not just being alive.

I feel pretty sure that Felicity, Michie, Nissa, Carmel, and my mother (who died at the age of 85, having triumphed over cancer AND NF2) were ready to clock out when the Reaper came to the door. The fight to carry on and find workarounds for my pushy and ever intruding, fresh impairments gets exhausting. Wicked draining.

I know that, in their last years, Felicity and Nissa (maybe Michie too) experienced extreme difficulty taking in food due to nerve neuropathy — this on top of being deaf, half blind, robbed of mobility, and confined to hospital/nursing home beds. They were fed via feeding tubes. Do I want to be the last one standing if I can’t stand? If I've lost my sight? If I can’t eat an ice cream cone or a nice dish of saag paneer? Do I want to go on if I can no longer rage against the machine?

I don't know but I think not. Medical Aid in Dying should be legal in Massachusetts. It is in 13 states and Washington D.C. Why not here? 

On that upbeat note, here — have some memes that amused me. Yur welcome.

 

Gloria Steinem

Gloria Steinem has died. She was 92.

Steinem brought a feminist perspective into the mainstream through rigorous journalism, public speaking and activism. The author of nine books, she campaigned against domestic violence, female genital mutilation, the pornography industry and the Vietnam and Gulf wars. She also worked in support of causes including Black Lives Matter, the reunification of Korea, female reproductive rights, LGBTQ rights and the Times Up movement. In 1984, she was arrested while protesting against apartheid outside the South African embassy in Washington DC. 
~~~
She also credited black feminists including Florynce Kennedy, Evelyn Cunningham, Shirley Chisholm and Fannie Lou Hamer for teaching her the importance of activism. “It was like finding a family,” she said of that time. “As wildly different as we may be, and we certainly were, women share hopes and a certain vision of the world, and a certain shit detector.” (source) 

Gloria Steinem was one of my first heroes. When I was 11, 12, 13 and coming into more of an awareness of the bullshit inequality of my gender, not just at home but in this world (to put it ultra mildly), Gloria Steinem was a beacon – someone I could turn to (well, Ms. magazine anyway – when I could get my hands on a copy, that is). She was someone who wasn’t going to tell me that my future was limited to baby making, housewifery, and maybe a gig as a junior high music teacher.

Ahhh, small town Midwest America in the early ‘70s where men and boys ruled. If you were a girl or a woman with a mind of your own, if you didn’t play by the rules or fit into any tidy categories, you were ostracized. That and called a slut whether you slept around or not. 

Boys who fucked anything that moved (or tried to and this included cows and sheep) – were they called sluts, were they shamed? OF COURSE NOT! THEY were lauded. 🙄 😡 💥

Not enough is said about the other woman in this famous double portrait.

Dorothy Pitman Hughes was a community activist in New York City. She organized the first shelter for battered women there (WOW!) and co-founded the New York City Agency for Child Development which broadened childcare services. She established a community center on the West Side which offered day care, job training, advocacy training and more. Pitman was also a co-founder of Ms. magazine.

Steinem and Pitman Hughes met in 1968 when Steinem was writing a story for New York Magazine about Pitman Hughes’ West 80th Community Childcare Center. They became fast friends. From 1969 to 1973, they spoke across the country at college campuses, community centers, union halls and more. At the time, Steinem did not like public speaking, but was encouraged by Pitman Hughes, who “as a former nightclub singer, was perfectly at home on the stage.” They worked well together, demonstrating “the possibility of interracial sisterhood, of being ‘sisters under the skin,’ as they frequently put it.”

“Dorothy’s style was to call out the racism she saw in the white women’s movement. She frequently took to the stage to articulate the way in which white women’s privilege oppressed Black women but also offered her friendship with Gloria as proof this obstacle could be overcome,” said Lovett. (source) 

Dorothy Pitman Hughes died four years ago, in December of ’22, at the age of 84.

Both women died peacefully at their homes, surrounded by loved ones. Causes of death? They were old. Bodies break down. We die.

A few words of wisdom from a departed sage:

A feminist is anyone who recognizes the equality and full humanity of women and men.

America is an enormous frosted cupcake in the middle of millions of starving people.

the most reliable predictor of whether a country is violent within itself—or will use military violence against another country—is not poverty, natural resources, religion, or even degree of democracy; it’s violence against females. It normalizes all other violence.

Men should think twice before making widowhood women's only path to power.

There are black doctors and doctors and women novelists and novelists. Any less powerful group gets the adjective, while the powerful group takes the noun. The less powerful group usually knows the more powerful one much better than vice versa. People of color have to understand white people in order to survive; women have had to know men. Only the powerful group can afford to regard the less powerful one as a mystery.

Women have two choices: Either she's a feminist or a masochist.

I was angry because young men in politics were treated like rising stars and young women were treated like - well - young women. {...}
I was angry about the human talent that was lost just because it was born into a female body, and the mediocrity that was rewarded because it was born into a male one.

Voting isn't the most we can do, but the least. To have a democracy, you have to want one.

If You Don’t Have Anything Nice To Say…

Come sit next to me. (I just LOVE Dorothy Parker)

Goddamn I woke up in such a good mood today!

So, Lindsey Graham, that soulless, sycophantic, Trump footstool has died. He was only 71 too. That’s only a few years older than me but, boy howdy, dude looked a solid ten, fifteen years older, MINIMUM. I mean, we’re talking seriously bloated, baggy, tired, and dragged the fuck out. Fer fuck’s sake, after 9 million brain surgeries and the resulting facial paralysis, I don’t even look that played out.

Graham looked like he’d spent all his adult years sitting on a bar stool with a plate of overcooked steak, greasy French fries, and 12 too many Mint Juleps and Old Fashioneds in front of him while he chatted up the devil himself. He was telling Lucy every damned thing he imagined the old serpent wanted to hear. Oh wait … apart from those few years he spent hanging with John McCain, I believe that’s exactly how dead old Linds spent his life.

Who, I ask you, WHO, didn’t see this coming (besides every-fucking-one)?

I wonder how much the old boy banked when he sold his soul? Can he spend that money now?

Of course there’s conspiracy theories brewing. Did Russia have something to do with this? Russia is, after all, infamous for its enemies falling out of windows or having other odd accidents, getting poisoned or shot, and "mysteriously" dying in prison. It’s not wholly implausible. Graham was working on a bipartisan bill which was designed to impose heavy sanctions on Russia. 

In a recent press conference, after meeting with President Zelenskyy, in Ukraine:

“We’ve reached an agreement with the White House on a version of the Russian sanctions bill that they will support. It means it’s going to become law,” he said at the press conference.

“So, when I get back to Washington, I’m going to go with Senator Blumenthal to the Republican and Democratic leaders to see if we can find time to move this Russian sanctions package that would give tools to President Trump to help end this war.” (source) 

Iran wasn’t a big fan of his either.

Who knows?

And another thing … Schrödinger’s Mitch McConnell has either outlived Graham or he hasn’t. We can't know until we observe him (which we can’t because the GOP is hiding his body away whilst taking turns lying to the press about their 20 minute convos with him). 

Kentucky Gov. Andy Beshear on Wednesday asked the office of Sen. Mitch McConnell’s, R-Ky., to provide an update on the senator’s health, escalating public pressure for more information as the 84-year-old remains hospitalized more than three weeks after being admitted. (source) 

Good luck with that, Andy. I'm sure asking nicely will totally compel Republicans to comply! 🙄

It’s pretty clear the perpetually duplicitous Republicans are playing a shell game with Mitch’s corpse. Even the far-right influencer Laura Loomer and an independent journo, Desiree Townsend, are saying that their sources are telling them that the old turtle is brain dead. He ain't comin' outta that shell anymore.

In the Dead Olympics, Linds stole Mitch’s spotlight. What a queen. 

I only mention it but these big deaths usually come in threes, right? The universe could do us all SUCH a solid right now!

Frankly, I’d be okay if our buddies, the Fates – Lachesis, Atropos, and Clotho, took out some of the other demons. There are a ton to choose from and they all gotta go – amirite?

Finally, Biden outliving both these motherfuckers is icing on my motherfucking cake! I feel a wee celebration is called for. Break out the cuppycakes!

Gone Too Soon

As you’ve probably already heard, Rupert Giles, Buffy’s Watcher, her mentor, her father figure, has died. Okay, it was the amazing actor Anthony Head who played Giles who died. He was only 72 – just a handful of years older than yurs truly.

Jesus Vampire Christ, I’m bummed.

Giles had some of the best lines on Buffy. Granted, that’s the writers but his desiccated, wry, yet still, somehow, warm delivery was absofucking brilliant. Of all the actors on the show, Giles was the most fully realized – he was seamless. Spike was a close second.

Below are some of his witty, pithy lines – all delivered with that wonderful, tone. If you’re unfamiliar with Buffy the Vampire Slayer (What? Have you been living under a rock?) or weren’t a fan (? HOW can this be? Next you’ll be telling me you don’t like ice cream!!!) this’ll be a bit inside baseball-ish. You can however find the show on something called Hulu – go binge.

~~~

Buffy: Does it ever get easy? [she asks after killing a newly risen vampire]

Giles: You mean life?

Buffy: Yeah. Does it get easy?

Giles: What do you want me to say?

Buffy: Lie to me.

Giles: Yes, it’s terribly simple. The good guys are always stalwart and true, the bad guys are easily distinguished by their pointy horns or black hats, and, uh, we always defeat them and save the day. No one ever dies, and everybody lives happily ever after.

Buffy: Liar.

~~~

Giles: Don’t taunt the fear demon.

Xander: Why? Can it hurt me?

Giles: No, it’s just…tacky.

~~~

I just think it’s rather odd that a nation that prides itself on its virility should feel compelled to strap on forty pounds of protective gear just in order to play rugby.

~~~

I watched Passions (a Twin Peaks by way of All My Children daytime soap) with Spike. Let us never speak of it.

~~~

You have the emotional maturity of a blueberry scone.

~~~

Forgiveness is an act of compassion, Buffy. It’s not done because people deserve it, but because they need it.

~~~

Giles on playing D&D: I used to be a highly respected watcher, now I’m a wounded dwarf with the mystical strength of a doily.

~~~

Books smell. Musty and rich. The knowledge gained from a computer, it has no texture, no context. It’s there and then it’s gone. If it’s to last, then the getting of knowledge should be tangible, it should be...smelly.

~~~

When Buffy was trying out for the cheerleading squad:
You have a sacred birthright, Buffy. You were chosen to destroy vampires, not to ... wave pompoms at people. And as the Watcher I forbid it.

~~~

We listened to aggressively cheerful music sung by people chosen for their ability to dance.

~~~

Xander: Am I right, Giles?

Giles: Almost certainly not, but to be fair, I wasn’t listening.

~~~

Xander: Here's your coffee. Brewed from the finest Colombian lighter fluid.

Giles: Thank you. [takes a sip]

Giles: Horrible. [takes another sip]

Xander: Aren't you supposed to be drinking tea, anyway?

Giles: Tea is soothing. I wish to be tense.

Xander: Okay, but you're destroying a perfectly good cultural stereotype here.

~~~

On driving an automatic: I loathe just sitting here, not contributing.

~~~

Buffy: We don’t say ‘Indian’.

Giles: Oh, oh, right! Yes, yes. Um, always behind on the terms. Still trying not to refer to you lot as ‘bloody colonials’.

~~~

But that's the thrill of living on the Hellmouth! There's a veritable cornucopia of fiends and devils and ghouls to engage. (pause) Pardon me for finding the glass half full.

~~~

Alright, I'll just jump in my time machine, go back to the twelfth century and ask the vampires to postpone their ancient prophecy for a few days while you take in dinner and a show. (To Buffy who wanted to go out on a date instead of slay vampires) 

~~~

Testosterone is a great equalizer, it turns all men into morons.

~~~

James Marsters (Spike):

“There’s a hole in the World. Anthony Head has passed on from us. He was an unflaggingly kind and steady presence on the set of Buffy, and the best actor in the cast. He was the best of us. I was lucky to have known, and learned from him. He left the world a better place for his presence. Thank you Tony for all you gave.” (source) 

Behind Blue Eyes – Anthony Stewart Head 

Hard Day

Yesterday, December 29, 2024, was a rough one.

Jimmy Carter was the first president I voted for. I solidly believed in him. While he was a devout Christian, he actually walked the talk. He lived the teachings of his god as opposed to the political charlatans, grifters, and lackeys fucking over the world whilst spewing bible verses.

Jimmy Carter, the 39th president of the United States, a broker of peace in the Middle East in his time, and a tireless advocate for global health and human rights, has died, it was announced on Sunday. He was 100 years old.

“My father was a hero, not only to me but to everyone who believes in peace, human rights, and unselfish love,” said Chip Carter, the former president’s son, in a statement.” (source)

Carter, like Biden, became president after his corrupt, despicable, power-mad predecessor fucked us over good. Both Carter and Biden had giant messes to clean up.

The Republican Party ratfucked us out of another four Carter years by, amongst other things, meeting with Iran to convince them to delay the release of American hostages in order to sabotage his re-election campaign. Republican fuckery gave us an easily manipulated (by them) B movie actor. Between 1981 and 1990 Reagan killed 100,777 Americans through his inaction on the AIDS epidemic. Sound familiar? 

In the final year of Donald Trump’s presidency, more than 450,000 Americans died from COVID-19, and life expectancy fell by 1.13 years, the biggest decrease since World War II. Many of the deaths were avoidable; COVID-19 mortality in the U.S. was 40 percent higher than the average of the other wealthy nations in the Group of Seven (G7).
     ~~~
His incompetent and malevolent response to the COVID-19 pandemic capped a presidency suffused with health-harming policies and actions. (source)

And yet, he was re-elected. Those who don't pay some goddamned attention and fail to learn history are doomed to repeat it.

While the President of the United States, George W. Bush, was planning war on Iraq in the autumn of 2002, former President Jimmy Carter was awarded the Peace Prize for undertaking peace negotiations, campaigning for human rights, and working for social welfare. According to the Chairman of the Nobel Committee, Carter ought to have been awarded the Prize as early as in 1978, when he successfully mediated a peace agreement between Egypt and Israel. (source)Gee, ya think?!

Yesterday was also the anniversary of the Wounded Knee Massacre of December 29, 1890.

Ghost Dance Drum by George Beaver

“When I look back now from this high hill of my old age,” survivor Black Elk recalled in 1931, “I can still see the butchered women and children lying heaped and scattered all along the crooked gulch as plain as when I saw them with eyes still young. And I can see that something else died there in the bloody mud and was buried in the blizzard. A people’s dream died there.” (source)

This country is built on eejit racism and lies and the Republican Party is the standard-bearer for hate. They inspire fear, resentment, and violence against all of us who won’t bow down to their ridiculously rigid edicts and prejudices.

Earlier this year, the Pentagon announced it would review 20 Medals of Honor awarded to soldiers who took part in the massacre as the military continues efforts to acknowledge the role that racism may have played in its past and that not all of its awardees meet modern standards of heroism. (source)

Gee, ya think?! It certainly took the military long enough to notice.

The End?

Death. Yeah that’s a topic few want to touch on, at least not the in “polite” company. As you all probably know by now, me and "polite" aren’t exactly on regular speaking terms. 

Given the myriad surgeries and procedures I’ve lived through over the past six years (and my no-end-in-sight recovery efforts), considering the ugly, barbarous hell state that trump, his puppet masters and worshippers have ushered in, seeing as the Masters of War (well, hello Putin, Hamas, Netanyahu, Rapid Support Forces (RSF), etc.) I'm not so much afraid of death anymore. That is, I don’t fear a quiet, natural, non-violent exit from this world. Mind you, I'm not inviting it over for punch and cookies either.

I don’t have even one small enigmatic gem to impart here. I’m just tired of all the endless struggles. Maybe it’s my age and shitty health talking.

My next great adventure, aged 90, is going to be dying. There’s either nothing or something. If there’s nothing there’s nothing, that’s it. If there’s something I can’t think of a greater adventure than finding out what it is. I happen to think there is something because of the experiences I’ve had, because of experiences other people have had. Very powerful ones.
~ Jane Goodall

I don’t necessarily think there’s anything on the other side of the River Styx. I'll find out after the boat docks, eh?

Dying happens to everyone, even stars. Even the stuff between the stars. But if you believe in yourself and achieve your goals, you can die so hard that no one will ever forget you, and that’s almost as good as not dying at all. Well, it isn’t, really, it isn’t at all, and believing and achieving is just something sportscasters say, but what are you gonna do, not die? Try it. I’ll wait.
~ Catherynne M. Valente, Space Opera 

It is fine to say ‘what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.’ It is admirable. But it no longer applies when you’re eighty. When you are eighty, whatever doesn’t kill you just ushers you through the next door, and the next door and the next, and all of these doors lock behind you.
~ Richard Osman

I was thinking about an old Captain Beefheart song the other day (yes, I’m fully aware that, like me, all Captain Beefheart songs are old) and thought I must call Tom, who turned me on to the Captain, tomorrow. Problem. Okay, that should be “problems”—plural.
A) I’m deaf now so won’t be ringing anyone up.
B) Tom died of cancer five and a half years ago.

Last night I was reading something (I forget what now) that made me laugh. My first thought was I’ll tell Daddy about this on my next visit—he’ll enjoy it. We’ll have a good chuckle together. Problem. Daddy died three years ago.

I’ve been having a lot of dreams featuring The Amazing Bob lately. Nothing deep, no earth shattering or uplifting epiphanies—the dreams are merely scenes from some sort of journey or quest. TAB’s been gone for eight years.

You know how you sometimes have the most exhausting day and you can't wait to get home and fall into bed and sleep for hours? I feel that way about life. There are people out there who read books about vampires and they crave immortality, but sometimes I'm so thankful that at the end of it all, we get to sleep forever. No more pain. No more exhaustion. Death is the reward for having lived.
~ Krystal Sutherland, Our Chemical Hearts

I wonder what, if any dreams, were playing in TAB, Kevin, Tom, Holly, Sean, Felicity and Daddy’s heads as they slept, drifting closer and closer to Charon’s ferry.

And now this song is playing in my head—Grand Funk Railroad’s I’m Your Captain (Closer to Home).