Oh yeah, I'm wicked deep

A person posted this question on Threads:

Who are the five writers who made you?

Oh please, that is such a limited way of looking at things. There are works (or a singular work) by a great many authors that have really spoken to me, caused me to stop and think deeply, reconsider and/or totally expand on my beliefs. There are also myriad books that transport me — whether it’s due to the incredible way the author wields words or the heights of creativity they’ve attained.

But to ask or assume that an author or any artist “made” me — as though they’re some grand Poobah of a cult leader — is just wicked odd. Sounds like we're getting into Scientology, Mormon or MAGA territory here. I’d like to get the questioner’s definition/explanation of what they mean by “made.” Possibly they meant to say "influenced" or "greatly inspired?"

What are five books that have made me think a LOT? So much so that I come back and reread them ... maybe even get something new out of them too.

1. Alan Watts, The Wisdom of Insecurity
2. Christopher Moore, Lamb: The Gospel According to Biff, Christ's Childhood Pal
3. Dee Brown, Bury My Heart at Wounded Knee
4. John Scalzi, Old Man’s War
5. Martha Wells, The Murderbot Diaries

There are are so many others:

•  Margaret Atwood, The Handmaid’s Tale 
•  Virginia Woolf, Orlando 
•  Kurt Vonnegut, Slaughterhouse-five 
•  Catherynne M. Valente, Space Opera
•  Philip K. Dick, Man in the High Castle 
•  George Orwell, 1984

to name just half a dozen.

That’s not even touching on Shakespeare, fer fuck’s sake!

Do you get the same thing out of, fer instance, the B side of Abbey Road or The Downward Spiral every time you listen to it? Or, at different times does it hit you in a fresh way? I kept discovering new things on repeat Aladdin Sane listenings — at least I did until my hearing went kaput. Same with David Byrne's The Forest.

How about a Klimt, Kandinsky or a Kokoschka painting. Do you see the exact same things when you come back and look at them 10, 20 or 30 years after first seeing them? Do they tell you something new? These are three painters, amongst many, who spoke deeply to me. My own work looks nothing like theirs but still they talked to me as did Max Beckmann, Otto Dix, Käthe Kollwitz, Max Ernst, etc.

“Who made you” is a rookie question. I’m in the back end of life — there aren’t five writers, five artists, five composers/musicians, five anyTHING that made me who I am today.  More like 5,000,000 plus me.

What makes anyone is a wickedly complex mixture not unlike the intensely complicated chemistry that goes into making a pot come out of a kiln a certain way.

It depends on:

• The clay body – the minerals in the clay can interact with the glaze layered over top.
• The base chemistry of the glaze plus the colorants and opacifiers. 
• The firing method – just to start, the oxygen levels inside the kiln.
• The firing temperature. 
• The pot’s placement in the kiln.
• The glazes that are on the pots that are next to your pot. Depending on the chemical compositions of each, the firing temperature, the kiln atmosphere, the glaze used on one pot can flash/interact with the glaze on another. This can be really awesome or … you know … not, depending on your needs and expectations.
• How fast or slow the kiln was fired and left to cool down. 

And this is putting it incredibly simply.

So, like yeah. Who we are, what “makes” each of us who we are can’t be reduced to a list of five people, events or things, let alone authors. That’s just abso-fucking-ridiculous. 

If we’re gonna be all blindingly reductive, well, let's fucking go! The five big-ass events/people, outside of my immediate family, that “made” me who I am today, are:

1. Martin Luther King’s assassination on April 4, 1968 (so I guess I should send James Earl Ray a, wut, note of acknowledgement? He's been dead for 28 years. I'm a little late.)
2. RFK’s assassination on June 5, 1968 (same note to Sirhan Sirhan? Dude's 82-years old and in a state prison in San Diego. I guess he'll die there.)
3. The 1973 71-day occupation of Wounded Knee by the American Indian Movement (AIM). 
4. The humor of Jonathan Winters, George Carlin, and the Smothers Brothers.
5. Paul Simon, The Beatles, Emerson, Lake and Palmer, and Led Zeppelin.  

Also, let's give a big, special shout-out to neurofibromatosis type 2! 

And that’s my short list. Of fucking course.

White Trash America

Construction crews have begun the next step in the white trashification of the White House. They’re building a “cage” on the lawn for an Ultimate Fighting Championship event which will be part of Pedo’s “Great American State Fair” – the Freedom 250 extravaganza.

I hear the concert series portion of the 16 day event, announced with an array of big, BIG 🙄 performers (i.e not the usual losers seen with Pedo), is turning into the Great American Shit Show.

At least seven of the nine performers – people like Martina McBride, Morris Day and The Time, The Commodores, and Young MC have already backed out. Why? Turns out they were misled.

The artists were never told about any political involvement with the event. And despite the claims by the organizers that the event is nonpartisan, SPIN magazine describes it as ‘Trump-backed.’ (source) 

Freedom 250 was launched by Pedo late in ‘25. It purposely, deceptively describes itself as a "national, non-partisan organization leading the celebration of our Nation's 250th birthday." Shitzenpantz appointed Keith Krach, who served as an under secretary of state during his first term, as the organization's CEO. Make no mistake, this IS a Trump-backed org and anything to do with Trump is ALL about him.

The goal of the event is to make Dipshit Demento Donnie look magnificent and munificent – the grand impresario, the magnanimous dictator providing his adoring subjects entertainments to celebrate that he allows them to live in his country.

In order to get real, actual talent though, the organizers had to hide the fact that the concert series was a Trump deal. No sane artist wants to be associated with that world destroying, idiot madman. If nothing else, playing on Donnie’s stage is career suicide. At least one group wasn’t even asked about performing – their name was just included on the posters.

Can you say “desperate” kids? Sure ya can.

“Unfortunately, what was presented to us as a celebration of our country has evolved into something much more divisive than what I agreed to be a part of,” the frontman (Bret Michaels) of the band Poison said in a statement on social media.
   ~~~
The first to drop out, hours after Wednesday’s announcement, was Morris Day, who called his scheduled participation in the summer concert series on Washington DC’s National Mall a baseless “rumor”. 

Later on Wednesday, Young MC posted a message that began: “I have informed my agents that I will not be performing at the Freedom 250 event.” 

“The artists were never told about any political involvement with the event,” he added, before casting doubt on the claim from Freedom 250, the group created by Donald Trump to organize the celebration of the US’s semiquincentennial, that the series was nonpartisan. 

And on Thursday, the Commodores, C+C Music Factory, Martina McBride and Milli Vanilli all either dropped out or expressed surprise that they had ever been booked.  (source) 

Now, if the audience was just Pedo’s halfwit, white trash MAGAts, the planners could’ve put any two-bit talentless hack on stage. Hell, MAGAts’ll cheer and dance to a stack of yodeling turds – e.g. “Kid” Rock, Jason Aldean, Ted Nugent. Why didn’t they book these clowns? Because those barking butt plugs don’t draw the big crowds they’re looking for. Those old boys are crowd repellents.

Optics would be muy, muy bad. A serious embarrassment for Dear Leader.

Vanilla Ice will still be performing. I know. WHO?! Bobby Van Winkle is almost 60-years-old now. His big claim to fame is the song Ice Ice Baby which he wrote when he was 16 – 42 years ago. That’s just ridiculously sad. It reeks of all those pathetic old dudes who still brag about their glory days on the gridiron way back in high school. Bobby can feel reassured that he’s still hip and now – the infamous puppy killer Kristie Noem and undead Stephen Miller enjoyed grooving to his four decade old artistic spewings at Mar-a-Lago on New Years Eve. 

I saw someone describing the White House’s decor as "Temu Versailles.” With the big “wrestling” cage and stands going up out front though, it’s beginning to look more like a traveling carnival had a headlong collision with an ‘80s rapper and a museum dedicated to Liberace, curated by three totally tweaked out meth heads. All of the over-the-top bling, none of the pizzazz.

What can you expect from a man who, as John Oliver put it, looks like a clown made of mummified foreskin and cotton candy.

Body Count

I don’t remember any of their songs but then, in 1991, I wasn’t into rap or thrash metal. Apart from hometown Boston bands (Concussion Ensemble, The Zulus, Mission of Burma, etc, etc.), I was into Talking Heads, Pearl Jam (Ten had just come out), Paul Simon (Rhythm of the Saints came out the year before), Morphine (a Boston band, by the by) and the more experimental sounds of Brian Eno, Birdsongs of the Mesozoic, Kronos Quartet, etc.

Back to Body Count though — their biggest hits were Cop Killer, Body Count's in the House, Institutionalized 2014, Talk Shit, Get Shot, No Lives Matter, and their heavy version of Pink Floyd’s Comfortably Numb. 

Jesus, I would do serious damage to be able to hear all of these right now!

WHY does this come up this morning? I saw another one of those ultra obvi, I’m-so-desperately-insecure-and-I-listen-to-WAY-too many-“alpha”-brocasts-about-how-to-get-girls-and-make-them-my-sex-slave/mother-replacement. 

Here’s the post:

Friend is in an absolute pickle rn…

He’s been on like 7+ dates with this girl, really likes her, everything’s going great.

Then last night for whatever reason he asked her body count.

70+.

Now he wants to end it immediately.

She’s 27, he’s 30.

Is this valid or is he being soft?

Dude is clearly asking for himself. He’s looking for support for his knee-jerk mysogynistic, micro-dicked, red pill/Andrew Tate influenced ego but doesn’t want to expose himself to the ridicule he so richly deserves. What gives the game away?

He’s dead specific about the number of dates his “friend” had with the woman – seven. If he really was asking for advice about a chum, he’d be more general. e.g., “a few dates” or “several dates.”

The “friend” asks the body count question for “whatever reason” – implying that the answer holds no weight – they're just curious – but on hearing an answer that intimidates, he wants to run away. THIS is the big reveal. The aged out hemotional teen is wearing an ultra thin cloak of I’m-hip-I’m-cool-just-curious but it blew right off with a light breeze of reality.

Threads gave him the advice he deserved. Some examples:

I mean, he can call it off if he wants but give me her number because 70+ murders without getting caught is a spectacular run.

If you drew a Venn diagram of "Dudes who question & judge body-count" and "Dudes who get shitty if a woman doesn't "put out" by the second date" it would be a circle.

Wow, she got away with that many and hasn’t been caught yet? My question is – where did she put the bodies??

If a guy asks my body count, I'm saying 1,000 and he can fuck all the way off as I've just lost all interest.

Did she go to an assassin school taught by Black Widow? 70+ is impressive at the tender age of 27, without being caught. He should be impressed!!!

I mean, clearly she's a pro. Over 70+ murders and not caught by age 27? She's definitely an elite assassin or a mastermind serial killer. Bro is already cooked if it's the latter and she's on the hunt for her next target.

Best of luck to him surviving.

What sane, mature adult could take a body count question seriously? How fucking puerile!

No one’s ever asked me but if they had, I probably would have answered “I stopped counting after the first hundred” and then walked right out the door. 

What I really wanna know is this – are reviews involved? Can they be? If/when men ask for your body count can you respond that you will answer him as soon as he submits his numbers along with the corresponding Yelp, Google, and Consumer Reports reviews/reports?

What’s good for the gander/goose is good for the goose/gander, amiright?

Steppin' Stones

Woke up with Micky Dolenz singing (I’m Not Your) Steppin’ Stone in my head. Christ on a melting clock, I loved the Monkees and was so disappointed to find out that they weren’t a real band. Mike Nesmith was a real musician and songwriter. So was Peter Tork (bass, guitar, banjo, keyboards, and French horn). Micky Dolenz was an actor who learned to play the drums for his part on the show. Davy Jones? He was a jockey who could sing. Behind the scenes, other songwriters wrote their tunes and session musicians covered everything except the vocals.

I was a kid when I found this out but it bugged the hell out of me. I wanted them to be a real band, songwriters, genuine wacky creative talents.

Similarly, when I found out that Art Garfunkel was getting songwriting credits on all of Paul Simons tunes in the ‘60s but was just contributing vocals, I was pissed. Yes, dude had a lovely choirboy voice. He provided a sweet voice BUT he didn’t co-write those poetic songs. I hated that my girlfriend Jean went all swoony over him – acting like he was more than a singer.

Mind you, being a talented performer is grand – Dionne Warwick, Diana Ross, Frank Sinatra, Joe Cocker anyone? Just don’t try to put yourself out there as an original artist. Fer gawd’s sake.

Maybe it’s like it’s Patrick Stewart playing Oberon in a A Midsummer Night's Dream. I’m certain he was absolutely brilliant but he didn’t write the play – Shakespeare did. Stewart would NEVER in a zillion years claim or imply that he’d had anything to do with the writing of the play though.

The songwriting team of Tommy Boyce and Bobby Hart wrote a lot of the Monkees’ songs. Neil Diamond, Carole Bayer Sager, Neil Sedaka, Harry Nilsson, Carole King and her husband Gerry Goffin also wrote for them.

The teevee show was cancelled after two short seasons. Frank Zappa supposedly asked Dolenz (who, remember, had only just learned to play for the show) to be his drummer but I can’t believe this was a serious invitation. Either that or Frank was tripping his auditory cortex clean off. I mean, Zappa wrote compositions with time signatures like 7/4, 11/8, and 19/16. Yeah Micky, that invitation wasn’t meant to be taken so earnestly. 

An aside: One of Zappa’s drummer was Terry Bozzio who I had the unbelievable luck to see at a drum festival in Amsterdam. This was probably three million years ago when early hominids were first sparking doobies along the Leidseplein. Bozzio was massively BRILLIANT. His playing was fucking transportational. My soul soared into the stratosphere. Swear ta Bast!

This interview with Micky Dolenz at The Guardian’s  website reminded me of their movie Head. I saw that way back in 1980 or ’81 at some odd little backstreet cafe/movie house in Cambridge’s Central Square. Back then, Central Square was still gritty with The Red Bookstore (located near the Massachusetts chapter of the Communist Party), the Orson Welles Cinema (picketed by nuns for showing a movie portraying the Virgin Mary as a pregnant basketball player), and Mary Chung’s – the small, dark Chinese restaurant in which I regularly dined.

In any case, Head, I dimly recall, was a real trip and I’d love to see it again. It was written by Jack Nicholson. Apparently I can watch the whole thing on YouTube. Huh. Waddyaknow.

Mike Nesmith died from heart failure in 2021. He was 78.
Peter Tork died in 2019 from a rare cancer – adenoid cystic carcinoma – at the age of 77.
Davy Jones died in 2012 of a heart attack. He was just 66 years old.

In the dream previous to the (I’m Not Your) Steppin’ Stone one, I was designing business cards for my company’s rebranding. We were no longer going to be an offset print and copy house. Nope. We were going to specialize in assassinations and demolitions of mega-corporations.

I was kind of stuck on the logo. The old one (a cartoonish English Bobby) just didn’t seem to fit the new biz identity. Huh.

Honestly Now

I understand there was a big, BIG concert last night that was briefly interrupted by a football game. Green Day opened for Bad Bunny and I saw that Lady Gaga made an appearance too. Cool. 

Jen and Oni watched the show and said it was malvada fabulosa. They slept through the game, of course. I don’t really understand why the musicians felt they needed to stick a football game in the middle of their show but, whatever. Maybe it was some kind of marketing gimmick. A bid to widen the artists’ audiences?

In other wonderful world of sports news, I understand that VP Many Names has won the gold, as expected, in the Downhill Douche competition. He also was the recipient of a giant wall of boos, not that anyone watching the broadcast here in the U.S. would have heard it. Reports are that, unlike viewers in Canada, the UK and, presumably, the rest of the world, NBC muted the crowd’s thumbs-down to the world’s most socially inept, offensive politician (apart from Prez Pedo and his cabinet of meth addled sewer clowns). Yep, NBC is covering for asshole JD. It’s not just American citizens who despise this lying-ass, money-grubbing, soulless, suck-up to pedos. The whole world sees who he is and wants to wipe him off the bottom of their shoes – stat!

We know that they are lying, they know that they are lying, they even know that we know they are lying, we also know that they know we know they are lying too, they of course know that we certainly know they know we know they are lying too as well, but they are still lying. In our country, the lie has become not just moral category, but the pillar industry of this country.
~ Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn 

Meanwhile, Israel continues to dismember Palestine. Looks like Palestinian land is gonna be up for sale to Israeli settlers soon. I suspect Jared Kushner and his corporate buddies just so happen to be deemed Israeli settlers now.

We are at day 1,446 of Russia’s war on Ukraine. Zelenskyy said that, in this past week, Russia launched more than 2,000 attack drones, 1,200 guided aerial bombs, and 116 missiles at Ukraine’s cities and villages. They're NOT interested in peace. DUH!

And Hillel and his lovely wife are still in Thailand where it’s warmer than 18º. I shouldn’t complain. Yesterday’s high, here in Valhalla was 4º. 18º is practically a heat wave. Woohoo.

Between all the snow, ice, arctic blasts off the bay and temps that would freeze a polar bear's ass, my sinuses are utterly fucked and I’m distinctly disinclined to go outside. Ten is not keen on taking our Mini out on the road either. Yes, this means I’ve canceled my dental surgery yet again. I feel rather embarrassed about this but it just can’t be helped. First cancellation – I was in hospital with my foot issue. Second cancellation – blizzard.

So, it’s understandable and not really my fault, right?! I think I’d be less anxious, more at ease about dental surgeries if they’d just knock me the fuck out for this shit. WHY do I have to be awake for this kind of torture?

Honestly! 

I'll Sleep When I'm Dead

I could NOT sleep a wink last night. What the Bast-forsaken-fuck was that all about?! 

I suspect my inability to surrender to Hypnos had much to do with the fact that I had an absolutely fabulous, foofy coffee drink (okay, I had two of them WITH whipped cream!) at breakfast yesterday. Yes, these were caffeinated beverages. I don’t do the jitter juice anymore and, apparently, my system is now quite the delicate little flower when it comes to even the faintest of these demonic coffee elixirs.

Rats!

So then, what did I do all night besides fuss about my taxes? (which I’ve neglected to do for the past couple of years. HEY, I’ve been busy with surgeries and shit! Life’s been a bit overwhelming. Cut me some motherfucking slack!)

Well, I thought about this…what IF…. just WHAT IF I could get my hearing back for a day, what would I listen to? Okay, let’s make it a few days…maybe more.

On the classical front I’d start with:
Liszt – Hungarian Rhapsody No. 2 in C-sharp minor, Totentanz 
Handel – Messiah 
Vivaldi – The Four Seasons 
Orff – O Fortuna (Carmina Burana) 
Stravinsky – The Rite of Spring 
Steve Reich – Different Trains 
David Byrne – The Forest 

I’ve never been a Jazzhead but I’d really love to hear these again:
Dave Brubeck – Time Out 
Ornette Coleman – Tone Dialing
Miles Davis – Kind of Blue, Sketches of Spain, Bitches Brew

And then we move on to a bunch of other favorites:
Dylan – Blood on the Tracks, Desire, Bringing It All Back Home, Hard Rain
Paul Simon – There Goes Rhymin’ Simon, Still Crazy After All These Years, Graceland, The Rhythm of the Saints
Beatles – B side of Abbey Road
Stones – Let It Bleed
The Who – Who’s Next
Led Zeppelin – Led Zeppelin III, Led Zeppelin IV (EXCEPT for Stairway to Heaven – I honestly never need to hear that one ever again.)

Emerson, Lake & Palmer – Brain Salad Surgery
David Bowie – Aladdin Sane, Diamond Dogs, Station to Station, Heroes
King Crimson – a few cuts off the albums Discipline and Beat
Brian Eno – Here Come the Warm Jets 
Robert Fripp – Exposure 

Linda Thompson and Richard Thompson – Shoot Out the Lights
Richard Thompson – Hand of Kindness, Rumor and Sigh
Leo Kotke – That's What 
Tracy Chapman 
Talking Heads – Stop Making Sense 
Los Lobos – La Pistola y El Corazón
Morphine – Good, Cure for Pain

Belly – King (or Star or both!)
Concrete Blonde – Mexican Moon
Concussion Ensemble – Tragically, I don’t think there are any extant, decent recordings of this MOST awesome band. They were composed of three standing drummers (each kit distinct), one standing percussionist with a rack of random metal objects and other bits plus two guitarists and a bass player. No singer. They were spectacular!
Pearl Jam – Ten
Nine Inch Nails (NIN) – The Downward Spiral 

And I’d love to watch the Beastie Boys video Awesome, I Fuckin’ Shot That! and be able to actually hear it.

This is, of course, just off the top of my head as I watched the digital clock flip later and later to earlier and earlier while the sky got lighter and lighter.

*sigh* no more coffee for Donna.

Subterranean Rebellion

I’ve got Subterranean Homesick Blues in my head this morning. Yes, again or as usual – take your pick. If I could manage the steps I would head to the basement to mix up the medicine. If it wasn’t so damn cold out this morning maybe I’d be on the pavement thinkin' about the government. I believe I can still do that inside my home with a warm cat, husband, and cup of tea though.

Look out kid
It’s somethin’ you did
God knows when
But you’re doin’ it again
You better duck down the alley way
Lookin’ for a new friend
The man in the coon-skin cap
By the big pen
Wants eleven dollar bills
You only got ten

Banksy

Word for the day?

Rebellion
     noun
: opposition to one in authority or dominance 

When tyranny becomes law, rebellion becomes duty.
~  Thomas Jefferson

The greatest crimes in the world are not committed by people breaking the rules but by people following the rules. It’s people who follow orders that drop bombs and massacre villages. 
~  Banksy, Wall and Piece 

The greatest purveyor of violence in the world : My own government, I can not be silent. 
~  Martin Luther King Jr. 

Watch the plain clothes
You don’t need a weatherman
To know which way the wind blows

Just because something bears the aspect of the inevitable one should not, therefore, go along willingly with it.
~  Philip K. Dick, The Transmigration of Timothy Archer 

He who obeys, does not listen to himself!
~  Friedrich Nietzsche, Thus Spoke Zarathustra 

Look out kid
You’re gonna get hit
But users, cheaters
Six-time losers
Hang around the theaters
Girl by the whirlpool
Lookin’ for a new fool
Don’t follow leaders
Watch the parkin’ meters

So long as we are brave enough to accept the consequences of our actions, no one can take away our freedom of choice. 
~  Mike Norton

With rebellion, awareness is born.
~  Albert Camus, The Rebel 

Banksy

How can even the idea of rebellion against corporate culture stay meaningful when Chrysler Inc. advertises trucks by invoking “The Dodge Rebellion”? How is one to be bona fide iconoclast when Burger King sells onion rings with “Sometimes You Gotta Break the Rules”? How can an Image-Fiction writer hope to make people more critical of televisual culture by parodying television as a self-serving commercial enterprise when Pepsi and Subaru and FedEx parodies of self-serving commercials are already doing big business? It’s almost a history lesson: I’m starting to see just why turn-of-the-century Americans’ biggest fear was of anarchist and anarchy. For if anarchy actually wins, if rulelessness become the rule, then protest and change become not just impossible but incoherent. It’d be like casting a ballot for Stalin: you are voting for an end to all voting.
~  David Foster Wallace, A Supposedly Fun Thing I’ll Never Do Again: Essays and Arguments 

Never doubt that a small group of thoughtful, committed citizens can change the world; indeed, it's the only thing that ever has.
~  Margaret Mead 

Don't depend on governments or corporations to fix problems. Social revolutions are led by passionate individuals and that's what makes the difference.
~  Margaret Mead

      The pump don’t work
      ’Cause the vandals took the handles 

My father was right – Dylan was a god. 

This and That

 Ignacia Fernández is a contestant for the title of Miss World Chile. Normally, I totally hate these superficial, reductive, objectifying, misogynistic, patriarchal promotions of boringly homogenized beauty (with ridiculous nods to intelligence or mainstream talent). Ignacia brings something different to the stage though.

DECESSUS is a progressive death metal band formed in 2020 in Santiago, Chile. The band was founded by vocalist Ignacia Fernández, who gathered talented musicians such as Carlos Palma on guitar, Martín Fénix on drums, and more recently, Jaime Pape on bass. With a powerful and unique sound,
 DECESSUS has managed to establish itself as one of the most promising emerging acts in Chilean metal. (source) 

Well, well, well. This is some incredibly creative band marketing! I can’t say that I’ve heard any death metal bands (but then, I’ve been deaf for nearly 20 years) but I’ve def liked some metal. I mean, who doesn’t love Iron Man, Immigrant Song, and Cult of Personality? Rilly now!

“I’m not trying to fit in. I’m trying to show myself as I am,” the beauty queen said in an interview after her performance. (source) 

Way to tweak the status quo, Ignacia!
~~~
It was not Hitler or Himmler who abducted me, beat me and shot my family. It was the shoemaker, the milkman, the neighbor, who received a uniform and then believed they were the master race.
~ Karl Stojka, Auschwitz survivor

You’ve undoubtedly heard that Sandwich Guy has been acquitted. This case is peak absurdity, so far, in America under Trump and his ridiculous administration of drunk petty tyrants.

On the second day of the trial, Lairmore testified that the impact of the sandwich was so severe that it "exploded" all over his uniform and left behind the unmistakable smell of "onions and mustard." During cross-examination, the defense pounced on the inconsistencies in Lairmore's testimony, pointing out that the contents of the sub never in fact escaped their packaging. (source) 

These Border Patrol and Ice Assholes are responsible for atrocities but bleat in court over the smell of (nonexistent) onions and mustard on their bullet proof vests?

That this ever went to trial at all is SUCH a waste of taxpayer’s (OUR!) money. Border Patrol agent Greg Lairmore LIED under oath. That’s a crime – it’s called perjury. Will he be prosecuted? Will he lose his cushy job as a state sponsored bully? HAH, doubt it. The whiny little snowflake should, however, be the butt of every joke in his workplace and social circle now until the day he dies. I’d call him a pathetic moron but even they’ve got more sense and dignity than onion-fearing, douchebag Greggles.
~~~
The billionaire class has sought to convince those making $30-an-hour that their enemies are those earning $20-an-hour. They want the people to fight amongst ourselves so that we remain distracted from the work of remaking a long, broken system. 
~ Zohran Mamdani

We can have democracy in this country, or we can have great wealth concentrated in the hands of a few, but we can't have both.
~ Louis D. Brandeis 

Gingerbread and Sh*t

 As you may (or mayn’t) know, I don’t get outta the neighborhood much. When I do, it’s to go to the Y, rehab or Mass General for one of my never-ending series of appointments. On the way, we pass this bakery and its attached shop. All they make is gingerbread – cookies, houses, and, I assume, loaves. That’s pretty niche and, biz-wise, bold, eh? I mean, gingerbread is all fine and dandy but is there really enough gingerbread love out there to support a dedicated bakery AND a retail outlet?  My town’s not a big tourist stop so the owners have to be relying on locals to snarf up all those goodies.

I stop in there a couple times a year – usually only in December. There’s a variety of ginger cookies and they do make for lovely little gifts. I seem to recall they sell a few types of loose candies too.

Here’s the thing – last time we drove by there, all the windows were plastered with Turning Point USA signs. Weird. Very.

The name of the bakery is still over the front door and the awnings are still up but the windows, from the inside, are covered. Has the bakery closed and been replaced by a Saint Chiclets’ hard-right, extremist, hate emporium? TPUSA is a hate group that grooms children to become imbecilic spooge-bags. They actually pay teens to spread lies and propaganda on social media.  

Maybe the bakery is still there but has covered all their windows with pro-idiot, pro-racist, pro-bullshit posters in support of their "martyred" hero? If so – not a smart biz move. I mean, my town may not be quite as blue as Cambridge but this is still Massachusetts and it is pretty damn blue here. Announcing your bigotry, your hate, and utter, stone boneheadedness is a great way to lose customers. There ARE at least two other very good, small bakeries in town and I’m sure they sell gingerbread in November and December as well.

I read that Saint Chiclets’ hate org is thinking about cancelling their planned Super Bowl halftime show due to lack of interest. Seems they can’t find a right wing star who will draw a crowd. 

Let’s see now….who are the big right-wing musical acts?

There’s 54 year old Robert Ritchie, AKA Kid Rock, who hasn’t had a hit song since 2015. I bet they could get 76 year old Ted Nugent whose last hit was in 1975 — 50 years ago. 48 year old country music singer Jason Aldean might be available. Act fast and 84 year old Beach Boy Mike Love would probably turn up. Hey, give Johnny Ramone, Elvis Presley or Meat Loaf a call! Oh wait, they’re all dead. Nevermind. So much for appealing to the young'uns.

Why is dead Chuckie’s White is Right group trying to put on a different show? They don’t like Bad Bunny’s politics, his color, the language he speaks, the territory he hails from. Basically, they hate that he’s not a zombie white fascist. Sucks to be them, huh?

Hey, did you see this headline? It’s from 2021 but seems appropriate today.

Man Arrested After Allegedly Swinging Full Colostomy Bag at Kid Rock’s Bar 

Twitter account @ScanNashville, which regularly reports on Tennessee police activity, received word that law enforcement had been called to Kid Rock's Honky Tonk Rock 'N Roll Steakhouse to handle a disruptive patron outside the establishment.
~~~
"When the Metro police officers arrived to the location to assist security the defendant took out his colostomy bag from the inside of his front pants area and started to swing the bag around from left to right hitting two of the Metro police officers with his feces.” (source)  

Kid Rock’s bar was throwing a big party to celebrate the lifting of the mask mandates. What a great time and place to be maskless –a crowded bar with sweaty patrons, one of whom is spraying the crowd with shit. I’m just a little surprised the poo flinger wasn’t Kid himself.

Song Cue!

I used to be a morning person.

There are some days when performing basic ablutions, getting dressed and making it down the stairs is a tremendous effort, a motherfucking challenge of Herculean proportions. I was whining to myself about how much work it is just to stay alive...and then…then? The Bee Gees came into my head. Yes, Stayin’ Alive.

Whether you’re a brother or whether you’re a mother
You’re stayin’ alive, stayin’ alive
Feel the city breakin’ and everybody shakin’
And we’re stayin’ alive, stayin’ alive
Ah, ha, ha, ha, stayin’ alive, stayin’ alive
Ah, ha, ha, ha, stayin’ alive

Life goin’ nowhere, somebody help me
Somebody help me, yeah
Life goin’ nowhere, somebody help me
I’m stayin’ alive

Yeah, how could I NOT boogie my ass into the shower and down to the elliptical with that shit going through my head? Honestly. I’m askin’ ya? Also too, tell me you're NOT humming that to yourself right now. Don't lie to me dolls – I KNOW you're singing. I can hear you from here!

Okay, then there’s this morning. I asked Ten to pass me my bed jacket (a lovely, furry, leopard print thing) because I couldn’t be arsed to lean forward to grab it off the foot of the bed. Dylan’s Leopard-skin Pill-box Hat magically (?) popped into my bean because OF COURSE it did!

Well you, look so pretty in it
Honey, can I jump on it sometime?
Yes, I just wanna see
If it’s really that expensive kind
You know it balances on your head just like a
Mattress balances on a bottle of wine
Your brand new leopard-skin pill-box hat

Everything is a song cue. Of course.

Last night, right before bed, I read a post on Threads where someone was rhapsodizing about Paul Simon’s song American Tune. Mein GOTT! In the third verse, the sixth jump from g above middle c to the f above (I’m sure I’m describing this poorly), when he sings the line And high above my eyes could clearly see… is absolutely brainstoppingly transcendent. Go listen to the song – full lyrics here and below.

Many’s the time I’ve been mistaken
And many times confused
Yes, and I’ve often felt forsaken
And certainly misused
Oh, but I’m all right, I’m all right
I’m just weary to my bones
Still, you don’t expect to be
Bright and bon vivant
So far away from home, so far away from home

I don’t know a soul who’s not been battered
I don’t have a friend who feels at ease
I don’t know a dream that’s not been shattered
Or driven to its knees
Oh, but it’s all right, it’s all right
For lived so well so long
Still, when I think of the road
We’re traveling on
I wonder what went wrong
I can’t help it, I wonder what’s gone wrong

And I dreamed I was dying
And I dreamed that my soul rose unexpectedly
And looking back down at me
Smiled reassuringly
And I dreamed I was flying
And high above my eyes could clearly see
The Statue of Liberty
Sailing away to sea
And I dreamed I was flying

Oh, we come on the ship they call the Mayflower
We come on the ship that sailed the moon
We come in the age’s most uncertain hour
And sing an American tune
Oh, it’s all right, it’s all right
It’s all right, it’s all right
You can’t be forever blessed
Still, tomorrow’s going to be another working day
And I’m trying to get some rest
That’s all I’m trying to get some rest

 Being a morning person was a normal, natural thing with music. I miss musical propulsion – healthier and more effective than coffee.