Loser Boys

What the fuck is the Patriot Front?

Patriot Front is a white nationalist hate group that broke off from Vanguard America in the aftermath of the deadly “Unite the Right” rally in Charlottesville, Virginia, of August 12, 2017.

Patriot Front is an image-obsessed organization that rehabilitated the explicitly fascist agenda of Vanguard America with garish patriotism. Patriot Front focuses on theatrical rhetoric and activism that can be easily distributed as propaganda for its chapters across the country. (source) 

Thomas Ryan Rousseau

They’re led by 27-year-old Thomas Ryan Rousseau of Grapevine, Texas (located between Dallas and Fort Worth) who, it seems, is trying to make Patriot Front into a Lands End/LL Bean/Abercrombie & Fitch style KuKlux Klan. Young Tommy’s style conscious (if you call this “style”). A theater kid gone bad?

Yesterday, hundreds of these face wrapped dudes, who couldn’t get laid at the Bunny Ranch with a grand in their wallets and stiffies made of granite in their shorts, “marched” around DC carrying Confederate and US flags. They were chanting “life, liberty, victory!” and “reclaim America!” 

WHAT stratospherically ignorant, entitled, mollycoddled, stunted turnip-brained wastes of flesh! As if these white boys have ever been denied anything here in it's-all-about-WHITE-men America.

Joke was on these 21st century KKK losers though — the temps were up around 103º - 105º and the heat index hit between 110º to 115º in DC yesterday. 

The temperatures were so nasty that the formal, real DC 4rth of July parade was canceled. So, Patriot Front asswipes didn’t get to strut around playing big-swinging-dick, Joe tough-guy xenophobe before a huge audience. Their martyr/hero fascist complexes didn’t get fed because precious few protesters wasted their time on them. Why bother? Either the heat and humidity would take them out, especially with their weather inappropriate uniforms: 

• the tales from the crypt/mummy face covering
• the head shape and hair obscuring ballcaps
• long pants
• the heat absorbing dark blue polo shirts

OR maybe, the protesters noticed that the Junior KKK were sweating to death for nothing. No audience means no impact/no converts. Sure, there’s been press but these dudes just look like little boys cosplaying a Klan rally and failing at it ... laughingly badly. I mean, add some wacky music in the background and you've got a scene straight out of Monty Python. Somehow, Monty Python's army seems less silly though.

Then there were yesterday's high winds and the thunderstorm delaying Prez Pedo’s blathering, bullshit, grandstanding, lie-filled campaign style speech. Mind you, he doesn’t know how to make any other kind of speech. 

He issued big warnings about communism. ‘the fuck? Can someone please clue the old douche-brain in that this is 2026 not 1956 – we’re not doing that fearmongering communism horseshit anymore. On top of that, it’s all just a bit (understatement alert) ridiculous seeing as how he simply LURVS Kim Jong Un and bows down to Putin.

Here’s a real hero for our dying country’s 250th birthday – US Air Force major Jason Watson.

Watson’s criticism of Trump and Vance focused on the administration’s actions in Venezuela and Iran, calling them “an unconstitutional usurpation of Congress’ authority and a violation of the War Powers Clause.”

“These violations resulted in the deaths of 13 service members and injuries of hundreds more,” he said, referring to the number of U.S. military deaths tied to the Iran war. “For this, the president and vice president must be impeached, convicted and removed.” (source)

Major Jason Watson supports the Constitution not some cult-ish, corrupt Party with their griftasaurusly criminal, pedophilic President and his sycophantic, greedheaded administration.

Dissent is the highest form of patriotism
~ Howard Zinn

The time is fast approaching when to call a man a patriot will be the deepest insult you can offer him. Patriotism now means advocating plunder in the interest of the privileged classes of the particular State system into which we have happened to be born.
~ Leo Tolstoy

Professed patriotism may be made the cover for a multitude of sins.
~ Robert C. Winthrop 

Nothing strengthens authority so much as silence.
~ Leonardo da Vinci

I love America more than any other country in the world and, exactly for this reason, I insist on the right to criticize her perpetually.
~ James Baldwin

Those who make peaceful revolution impossible will make violent revolution inevitable.
~ John F. Kennedy

One has a moral responsibility to disobey unjust laws.
~ Martin Luther King Jr.

A patriot must always be ready to defend his country against his government.
~ Edward Abbey

Get up, stand up, Stand up for your rights. Get up, stand up, Don't give up the fight.
~ Bob Marley

I cannot salute the flag; I know that I am a black man in a white world. In 1972, in 1947, at my birth in 1919, I know that I never had it made.
~ Jackie Robinson

What Would Chocolate Bunny Do?

REJOICE! It's the day the chocolate bunny rose from the dead and I am eternally grateful for her selfless sacrifice to the world. 

Naturally, while I slovenly indulge in my Bunny Day basket of goodies, the patriarchy spins disastrously onward.

Right-wing penis Americans: "Women shouldn't be in positions of power and authority. Women shouldn't be allowed vote either. They're too emotional – not rational and logical like men."

Also, right-wing penis toters: "The hand of God teleported me to a Waffle House.”

“I was with my boys one time, and I was telling them I was gonna go to Waffle House and get Waffle House. And I ended up at a Waffle House – this was in Georgia, and I end up at a Waffle House like 50 miles away from where I was,” Phillips said on the podcast Onward, co-hosted by rightwing activist Catherine Engelbrecht.

Phillips added: “And they said, ‘where are you?’ and I said, ‘a Waffle House.’ And: ‘a Waffle House where?’ And I said: ‘Waffle House in Rome, Georgia.’ And they said: “‘That’s not possible, you just left here a moment ago.’ But it was possible. It was real.”

But Phillips did warn about the dangers of teleportation.

“Teleporting is no fun,” he said “You know it’s happening, but you can’t do anything about it, and so you just go, you just go with the ride. And wow, what just an incredible adventure it all was.” (source) 

This is Gregg Phillips who Prez Pedo chose to head FEMA. You know, the Federal Emergency Management Agency. The folks who used to help people before, during, and after disasters – like hurricanes, floods, and fires. FEMA provided funding, sent response teams, and tried to find ways to stave off damages from future disasters.

That is, FEMA did this until Prez Griftasaurus Dipshit scammed his way back into office. Pedo CHOSE this wackaloon to head up a profoundly serious agency on which we the taxpaying people all rely in times of extreme trouble.

Maybe old Greggles isn't actually nuts and was just drunk off his ass, tripping his balls off, and spun a weak-ass fairy tale to cover staying out too late with the boys. In any case, he should’ve made a financial investment in witnesses.

…as the outlet phrased it, none of the interviewees “said they were aware of anyone traveling to the 24-hour restaurants by paranormal means.”

“I’ve seen it all,” longtime Waffle House server Shastoni Burge told the outlet. “But I’ve never seen that.” (source) 

Obviously, if Greggles is a rational, stable, logical, stoic example of the males of our species, humanity is stone fucked. Dude is seriously missing more than half his brain cells. I wonder if he’s even able to feed or bathe himself. A dead toad would do a better job of running FEMA.

This is, of course, par for the course. Trump only hires complete imbeciles because he’s too insecure to have anyone more intelligent or sane than himself in his employ. Pedo is demonstrably a complete radish brained Froot Loop so...

Speaking of barely sentient radishes – there’s the Fox weekend couch sitter who was booted from the Army National Guard for being an “insider threat.” This is the vain, volatile pinheaded christian nationalist who’s running the war in Iran. You know, the war that we’re losing BADLY. The war where every day we as a nation embarrass ourselves to levels no one has ever seen before – that no one thought possible. 

Apparently Piss Drunk Pete’s a bit paranoid about getting canned despite the fact that he’s white and usually looks “good” on camera (to MAGAt viewers). He should be nervous. Kegseth’s making his boss look as incompetent as he actually is. He’s exposing Trump’s asininity and colossal ineptitude to the entire world. Don’cha know, Pedo’s a bit sensitive about that shit. 

So then, Perpetually Plastered Pete is out there firing all the folks who know what the fuck they’re doing. Ya know, like any emotionally secure, intelligent, leader who's focused on achieving measurable goals would be doing. Of course.

Anniversaries and Dinosaurs

Today’s a big day. Not only is it this the seventh anniversary of Ten and I jumping over the broom it is Raptor Day!

No, I’m not talking about National Velociraptor Awareness Day (which is on April 18th, thenkewveddymuch), National Bird of Prey (Raptor) Day (October 3rd), OR the rapture  – which we won’t ever have date for according to the christian's very own ultra holy guide book. *ahem* Matthew 24:36 anyone?

NOPE. According to the internet, raptors (presumably of the small, carnivorous dinosaur variety) will be returning to Earth today to…dunno.

Is today like dinosaur Christmas? Do we watch Jurassic Park, cheer on the Dilophosaurus and Gallimimus as they run by and then sit down for a hearty holiday rotisserie chicken dinner? Is there an exchange of presents? Do we hang Raptor stockings on the hearth? What's the traditional Raptor Day cheer? Maybe the Bird of Paradise (Aperol, pineapple juice, and overproof rum)?

 Is Raptor Day more like Easter where we go to midnight mass and celebrate the divine Velociraptor rising from the dead, thus saving all life on Earth (NOT just humanity) from an eternity in Hades? Will there be Velociraptor egg hunts? Were we supposed to paint Velociraptor eggs yesterday and hide them for the kids to find today? Was I supposed to have kids? I forgot to do both of these things. Everything seems to have gotten away from me. *sigh*

I’ve read that we’re supposed to have put Costco rotisserie chickens out last night for the raptors to feast on – that and green Jello. We didn’t – we didn’t know. I don’t even know where the nearest Costco is. Also, being pescatarians, we’d feel kind of funny about buying meat even if we’re not going to be the ones eating it. (cat food doesn’t count) Besides, our coyote and raccoon neighbors would probably get to it before the raptors got here (I don’t know what time they’re scheduled to arrive – they didn't reply to my text).

Why the green Jello? Are the raptors having joint pain or indigestion? Why green? Lime flavor goes with their skin tone better than cherry?

Is Raptor Day a dressy holiday? Do I need to dig in my closet for a nice spring dress? I don’t think that’s gonna work – I don’t do dresses and stockings anymore. No fancy shoes either. I have some flashy tie dye leggings though and a lovely faux tiger skin jacket. That’ll do, right?

I only mention it but, as we all know, our birdy buddies are descended from dinosaurs – birds ARE dinosaurs. AND Big Bird’s birthday was March 20th – just TWO little days ago! Coincidence? I think,the fuck NOT. Is Big Bird coming today to bring us all to the Sesame Street in the sky where we forever share cookies with Cookie Monster, count with the Count, shuffle around with Mr. Snuffleupagus, or sit and listen to Janice, Animal, and the rest of the band play on? I'd like that.

Oh, as it turns out, I got the date of our anniversary wrong. It was on March 30th of 2019 that Ten and I arrived in Valhalla after driving 3,259 miles from Oregon with all his possessions. We're still celebrating today though. I mean, Big Bird's birthday, raptors, anniversaries – bring it all on, baby! The more to celebrate the better. Ten and I can always celebrate our connubial bliss again next week.

Eve

So look, today is the last day of the year. Blog tradition, which I normally follow, is to do a year end wrap up. Well, fuck that shit with a rusty spork. This year has been a constant ride on rough seas. Between my health mysteries, challenges, and setbacks and the rat-fucking nightmare of our government’s takeover and destruction by a a bunch of slaveringly sadistic, soulless, pedophilic, oligarchs, 2025 was an absolute horror show. 

I’m in no way saying that I will forget what I’ve learned this year. You shouldn’t either! Of fucking course not. I’m just focusing on moving ahead. The Spanish Inquisition IS totally expected. Also, while strange women lying in ponds distributing swords isn't a basis for a system of government, I’ll be damned if I’m turning down a weapon lobbed at me by a watery tart. You never know when you’ll need one, eh?

I only mention it but I think Ten could put together a neat scabbard for me to go on the side of my walker or the wheelchair, if it comes to that.

Randomly today:

The very talented and handsome British actor Idris Elba (full name and title, Dr. Idrissa Akuna Elba) has been knighted by King Charles for his work with young people through his charity, the Elba Hope Foundation. He is now Sir Idris Elba. Cool, eh? 
~~~
So far this year, nationwide, 3,100 people have died of flu and we’ve got months to go of flu season. I've had my shot. Have you?

Mass General Hospital, my home away from home, sent out an email notification regarding masking protocols. My next appointment is next Wednesday, it’ll interesting to see how many people are actually masking up.
~~~
A word to the Universe:

Yet again, you’ve taken out the WRONG Kennedy!
~~~
When this shitshow is over, all the assets of the Trump family should be seized to pay for the reconstruction of the USA.
~ Andy Borowitz
~~~
I really have nothing else to say this year. 

My big plan for this evening is to eat a bunch of Chinese, Japanese, and Thai food, watch teevee, read, and go to sleep well before midnight. I’m exciting like that.

I expect cookies and pie will be consumed as well.

Meanwhile, here are some lovely parting memes and comix. Yur welcome.

Mike Luckovich

Rick McKee

Jack Ohman

David Horsey

So this is Christmas

We probably won't get what we really want for Christmas this year but, hopefully, we'll have a spot of peace and quiet from the rabid, slavering jackals from the deep end of humanity's depravity.

Yes, I woke on the cheery, upbeat, sparkly side of the bed!  You're surprised?

And so this is Christmas
For weak and for strong
For rich and the poor ones
The world is so wrong

And so happy Christmas
For black and for white
For yellow and red ones
Let’s stop all the fight

A very merry Christmas
And a happy New Year
Let’s hope it’s a good one
Without any fear
~ John Lennon 

You’re a bum, you’re a punk, you’re an old slut on junk
Lying there almost dead on a drip in that bed
You scumbag, you maggot, you cheap, lousy faggot
Happy Christmas, your arse, I pray God it’s our last
The boys of the NYPD choir, still singing “Galway Bay”
And the bells are ringing out for Christmas Day
~ The Pogues, featuring Kirsty MacColl – Fairytale of New York 

Fight poverty, give to the needy
Don’t be like The Grinch cause The Grinch is greedy.
~ Run-D.M.C. — Christmas Is 

No, they don’t have Christmas in Kentucky
There’s no holly on a West Virginia door
For the trees don’t twinkle when you’re hungry
And the Jingle Bells don’t jingle when you’re poor

Let’s drink a toast to Congress and a toast to Santa Claus
and a toast to all the speeches that bring the loud applause
There’s not enough to give, no, there’s not enough to share
So let’s drown the sounds of sorrow with a hearty Christmas cheer

No, they don’t have Christmas in Kentucky
~ Phil Ochs – No Christmas in Kentucky 

Have you ever heard Simon & Garfunkel's 7 O’clock News / Silent Night?

In this recording, the nightly news from the summer of 1966 plays under Paul and Artie’s beautiful duet of the carol Silent Night. I was eight years old when it came out. OF FUCKING COURSE I grew up to be an angry, aware, left-wing, misanthropic bitch. It was either that or crawl into a bottle and never come out, eh?

Silent night, holy night
All is calm, all is bright
Round yon virgin mother and child
Holy infant so tender and mild
Sleep in heavenly peace
Sleep in heavenly peace

. . .Brought traditional enemies together but it left the defenders of
the measure without the votes of their strongest supporters.
President Johnson originally proposed an outright ban covering
discrimination by everyone for every type of housing, but it had no
chance from the start and everyone in Congress knew it.
A compromise was painfully worked out in the House Judiciary
Committee.

In Los Angeles today comedian Lenny Bruce died of what was
believed to be an overdose of narcotics.
Bruce was fourty-two years old.

Dr. Martin Luther King says he does not intend to cancel plans for an
open housing march Sunday into the Chicago suburb of Cicero.
Cook County sheriff Richard Ogleby asked King to call of the
March, and the police in Cicero said they would ask the National
Guard be called out if it is held.

King, now in Atlanta, Georgia, plans to return to Chicago Tuesday.
In Chicago, Richard Speck, accused murderer of nine student nurses,
was brought before a grand jury today for indictment.
The nurses were found stabbed and strangled in their Chicago
Apartment.

In Washington, the atmosphere was tense today as a special
sub-committee of the House Committee on Un-American
Activities continued its probe into anti –Vietnam war protest.
Demonstrators were forcibly evicted from the hearings when they
began chanting anti-war slogans.

Former Vice-President Richard Nixon says that unless there is a
substantial increase in the present war effort in Vietnam, the U.S.
should look forward to five more years of war.
In a speech before the Convention of the Veterans of Foreign Wars in
New York, Nixon also said opposition to the war in this country is
the greatest single weapon working against the U.S.

That’s the 7 o’clock edition of the news. Good-night.

Silent night, holy night
All is calm, all is bright
Round yon virgin mother and child
Holy infant so tender and mild
Sleep in heavenly peace
Sleep in heavenly peace

I hope your day is free from pain, annoyance, misery, and idiots.

Día de los Muertos

Today is the first day of the two day Día de los Muertos holiday. This is a Mexican festivity on which deceased loved ones are honored and remembered. It’s a celebration of life.

Supposedly, if you believe in spirit beings (which I may or may not, depending on my mood, the weather, the state of my chakras, and whether my avocados are ripe on that particular day), the border between the spirit world and our physical world is thin from November first through the second. The souls of the dead come home at this time for a big-ass party. Us oxygen-sucking types honor our temporarily undead, beloved guests by putting out their favorite foods and other offerings at gravesites or on ofrendas – altars set up in our homes.

On my altar this morning? In place of pan de muerto and calavera we have doughnuts because, c’mon, who doesn’t love doughnuts! 

I’m remembering all the times in college when Kevin and I walked down the hill from the art building to the doughnut shop to get Bavarian Cream Donuts (or Cum Buns as he called them. Hey, we were 19. Our senses of humor weren’t exactly evolved at the time! Cut us some slack here). I’m thinking of the frosted and plain old-fashioned I’d get with The Amazing Bob.

The Aztecs and other Nahua peoples living in what is now central Mexico held a cyclical view of the universe and saw death as an integral, ever-present part of life.

Upon dying, a person was believed to travel to Chicunamictlán, the Land of the Dead. Only after getting through nine challenging levels, a journey of several years, could the person’s soul finally reach Mictlán, the final resting place. (source) 

…and, presumably, pick up a dozen fresh doughnuts.

This is also Samhain, which is pronounced “sow-win.” I never would’ve guessed – I will never, ever be able to remember how to properly pronounce Gaelic words. On top of being about the dead coming back for a visit, Samhain is a harvest festival and a welcoming of the darker part of the year. I’m not so sure that I welcome the increased darkness. With my rat bastard NF2 and advanced bloody age, I’m a hell of a fall risk.

Early texts describe Samhain as a mandatory three-day, three-night festival during which people were required to appear before local kings or chieftains. Those who failed to participate risked punishment from the gods, often in the form of illness or death. (source) 

A party that my king says I HAVE to go to? How fucking insecure were these dudes? This is on the same level as Kegseth making all the generals fly in for his inane, weirdo, damaged-dick swinging speech and Trump’s clap or I’ll demote you shtick.  

WHAT were these Celts required to do in their compulsory appearances before their midget dicked rulers?

If I was fabulously wealthy, I believe I would spend Día de los Muertos until April each year in the Southern Hemisphere – specifically, in Uruguay. It’s an ultra civilized country (weed and abortion are legal, marriage equality is law, and they’re a founding member of the UN) and, unlike the US, they’re an actual, solid democracy. Also, they have art, art, and more of it. I’ve never been there before but I’m game for a stay. 

Well, if I had the bucks, that is.

BIRFDAY!

Yesterday, it was my birthday
I hung one more year on the line
I should be depressed
My life’s a mess
But I’m having a good time
~ Paul Simon, Have a Good Time

Okay, it’s today – today is my birthday but the sentiment’s the same.

Is my life really a mess though? I’d say no more, and certainly far less of a mess than a shit-ton of other people. My health is abysmal but I’m still alive, able to enjoy cookies, the love of a very patient, good man, AND the rest of my Valhallan famiglia.

To riff on Oliver Sacks, At 11, I could say I am sodium (element 11), and now at 67, I am a Ho – i.e., holmium. 

Holmium is a rare-earth element with the atomic number 67. It has the symbol Ho.

Holmium can absorb neutrons, so it is used in nuclear reactors to keep a chain reaction under control. 

 I absorb neutrons, I contain multitudes. Apologies to old Walt there.

“Strange to be almost fifty, no? I feel like I just understood how to be young.”

"Yes! It's like the last day in a foreign country. You finally figure out where to get coffee, and drinks, and a good steak. And then you have to leave. And you won't ever be back.” 
~ Andrew Sean Greer, Less 

And here I am, just a few years shy of 70. Back in my ultra recent surgery marathon years (2020 - 2024), I honestly, seriously, and for sure thought I’d be gone by now. I mean, how many times can I get my bean and spine opened up like a can of Campbell’s soup before the old bod says ENOUGH!? How many times can I recover to the point where I can bathe, dress, and feed myself? Take a bit of daily exercise? Enjoy the company of my chosen famiglia? Read, blog, and doodle?

Luckily, the answer is more than five.

I want to grow old without facelifts... I want to have the courage to be loyal to the face I've made. Sometimes I think it would be easier to avoid old age, to die young, but then you'd never complete your life, would you? You'd never wholly know you. 
~ Marilyn Monroe 

She never got the chance to know. Monroe was 36 when she overdosed. If she had lived, she would have turned 99 this past June.

I know a few women who’ve had work done. No judgement – their bodies/their choice. If I had the spare dosh and wasn’t already being sliced open on the regular, would I have fountain of youth type work done? Doubt it. I’d rather spend my money on other things. Like what? Travel, planting forests and fields of wildflowers, cleaning up oceans, cats, medical science research shit, and a 1970 baby blue Karmann Ghia – you know, STUFF.

So, how am I celebrating my birthday? Well, it’s a gorgeous day here in Valhalla so maybe Ten and I will take a walk down to the seawall. I won’t be able to do more than that as, in a fit of exuberance, I over-exercised the other day and re-banjaxed my left foot (joy). I might sit on the porch, reading and watching the tide come in. Later, when Jen and Oni get home from work there’ll be tacos and cake. Mmmmmmmmm!

Pop

Today is the fourth anniversary of my father’s death. He had a good, though challenging, life and made it to a decent age (85). He, like all of us, had his flaws but, for me, he was a fabola father. He got me. He encouraged me to be true to myself. He was open, accepting, and as supportive as possible given the wild craziness of life. 

I think of him, even if just for brief moments, daily. It’s been a long time since we could engage in our long, free range convos that ran the gamut from wacky general riffs to serious life commentaries, familial crapoli, books, concerts, best music EVAH, art, language, friends, and on and on. Why such a long time since we had those great convos? Mostly because I lost all my hearing almost 20 years ago – we couldn’t chat on the phone anymore. Also, as he got older and mother’s health steadily declined, Daddy became less vibrant, less present.

I wasn’t able to go visit him during his last months, weeks, and days. Why not? He lived 540 miles away, in a small, hard-to-get-to town in Western Pennsylvania. To get there from Valhalla would take either a flight from Boston to Pittsburgh (getting to and from the airports + security check-ins and waits + flight time = 6.5 hours minimum travel time each way) or a 10 hour drive (each way). The length and hassle of the trips wouldn’t have been a big deal except for the fact that his final health downturn happened during my two year surgery-a-thon. You remember, ’20 and ’21 when I had brain surgery followed by spine surgery followed by more bean cutting (which took out my brain’s ability to talk to my left leg, which meant I had to retrain my head to communicate with my leg) which was followed by yet another spine op. Yeah, those were some serious big fun times.

Even after I was able to get around with a brace and walker, I was in a shit-ton of pain. Car rides? Yeah, NOT a happening thing. Even a 15 minute jaunt to my physical therapy appointments were killer. They made time spent on a rack or in an iron maiden look like cushy spa adventures. Let’s say I took a metric fuck-ton of painkillers and powered my way down to see him. What then? It was high COVID times.  I may, but more likely, may NOT have been allowed in to see him in his nursing home.

So, the old man clocked out on Juneteenth in 2021. Mia famiglia likes to exit on holidays. Why? Decorations are already up, big meal’s already planned, guests are already invited – just tryin’ to make life easier for the party planners, ya know? My mother left on Halloween. Daddy on Juneteenth. The Amazing Bob on July 4th and my Aunt Mary Ann on July 5th (close enough). Cousin Gary took the last train for the coast two days after New Year’s Day.

Me? I want my own damn day when I go. 

How am I going to remember and honor my father today? By being true to myself – not putting up with shit, reading whatever the fuck I want to read, maybe watching Sigourney Weaver kick some ass, eating sushi, having my half thimble serving of Jamo, and doing some goddamn physical therapy exercising (god, I hate that shit!).

How will you spend this beautiful Juneteenth?

Hear Me Out Now…

For Easter, Jen got me a basket filled with fabola treats from Hilliards. They’re a fourth generation family-run chocolatier and candy maker.

The standout prize was a dark chocolate egg with cookies and cream type filling. Seems to me that these awesome eggs should be available every month—NOT just at Easter.

We could make them seasonally appropriate. Fer instance:

January

In January we celebrate Jen’s birthday. WHY this isn’t a national fucking holiday is beyond me. In honor of Saint Jen (who IS the patron saint of dark chocolate, perfectly grilled brussels sprouts, and spinach/feta scones) Hilliards should make dark chocolate, pistachio cream filled uteri to honor our very own cancer surviving hero.

February
This is such a bleak fucking month. Thank Boreas it’s the shortest one.

To get through it, I do believe we need white chocolate reproductions of roadside snowbanks. These will be festooned with dark choc sprinkles (to simulate the ever present filthy car exhaust coating) and filled with crushed hazelnuts.

They should also offer Lupercalia treats. Could there be anything nicer than that? Top off your traditional Lupercalian dinner of roasted goat with a raspberry cordial filled Romulus and Remus. Sweet, tasty, and you’ll be warding off evil spirits and infertility (or fertility—your choice).

March
Celebrate the month of Saint Patrick with milk chocolate serpents filled with a Jameson’s infused creamy ganache. Yes, we’re banishing the snakes from Ireland in the most delish manner. Okay, okay, like so much else in religions, this is bullshit (snake shit?). There never were any snakes for him to yeet BUT, we fragile humans need champions like the tooth fairy, Santa, and Superman. So, St. Patrick chocolate snakes it is!

April
April first is International Edible Book Day. I was unaware of this food loving bibliophile day. It’s a celebration of French gastronome Jean-Anthelme Brillat-Savarin. What better way to honor the man than with than with marzipan filled chocolate versions of your favorite tomes?

Me? I’m going with Pynchon’s Gravity's Rainbow because it's the only version I’ll ever finish and fully appreciate.

May
Celebrate Cinco de Mayo, the day the Mexican army trounced the French at the Battle of Puebla in 1862. Do it with Aztec Wonder Cookies!

Also Memorial Day is in May. This calls for dark chocolate tombstones filled with the ghosts (vanilla/mint cream) of our dearly departed loved ones, duh.

June
June is Black Music Month. Celebrate with milk and dark chocolate disks imprinted with fabola versions of the album covers of Jimi Hendrix, Richie Havens, Eartha Kitt, and Etta James.

July
The first of July is Canada Day. Celebrate our bedeviled-by-us northern neighbors with chocolate maple leaves filled with maple syrup.

August
August is my birthday month so, OF FUCKING COURSE, Hilliards should be making dark chocolate brains with all manner of fillings. There will be raspberry, cherry, Jamison’s, blackcurrant, and Amaretto cordials. Pecan and walnut butters. Grand Marnier ganache. Whole blueberries and cranberries. There will be one big brain with cookies and cream inside. //mmmmmmm//

September
This is Happy Cat Month. According to Cake, Skitter and Walter EVERY month is Cat Month. Of course.

Happy Cat Month is about recognizing the joy our feline friends bring to our lives and doing our best to return the favor. By creating a stimulating environment, engaging in regular play, and prioritizing their health, you can help your indoor cat live a rich and fulfilling life. (source)

October
Halloween’s treat will, naturally, be a ghost. White chocolate with coconut cream inside.

November
In honor of the harvest they should make gourds, pumpkins, ears of corn, and dark chocolate turkeys, all with cranberry filling.

December
Who doesn’t love chocolate dreidels? I’m askin’ ya?! For the adults, there will be rum ganache insides. The kids can have caramel dreidels.

Obviously Hilliards needs to hire me as a product developer. I’ve got zillions of ideas for chocolate.