Funny Girls

It’s like this – my 50th high school class reunion is coming up this summer. I’m not attending – I’ve not gone to any reunions. Why start now? I am, however, curious about one person. 

Wendy was pretty, smart, popular, upbeat, and had cute sense of humor. We sat next to each other in orchestra (the flute section) for three years. Wendy and I were friendly but not friends – no reason beyond the fact that we socialized in vastly different circles. Hers being the football player/cheerleader/prom queen/popular kids parties circle. Mine was the home alone watching M*A*S*H and Mary Tyler Moore circle. 

So, after high school we didn’t keep in touch. Through the reunion booklets, which came out every five years, I read that she’d married some hot, up and coming comedian and was moving out to Los Angeles. Next reunion – no mention of the comedian or the marriage but now Wendy was working as a comic out in LA. WOW!

A couple things here:

One – I didn’t know Wendy had it in her! I mean, in high school she had a cute, safe, Hallmark greeting card kind of sense of humor. Who knew that, lurking below this sweet, safe, all-American-girl exterior was a woman who could get up in front of an audience and make people laugh out loud? AWESOME – talk about a post-high school bloom!

Two – Comedy is a HARD business, especially for women. Watching The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel, but maybe more, I’m Dying Up Here, really brought that into crystal clear focus.

Comedian Alison Stevenson writes:

Women in comedy have to work 10 times harder to gain not only the respect of our audience, but our peers as well. We have to have way thicker skin, and put up with a lot more bullshit. Each and every one of us has to face the inevitable, unwanted sexual advances, as well as comments on our appearance – not to mention that so many people truly do believe that women are not funny. When we perform, we have to deal with knowing that our comedy is going to be considered “niche”, simply because it’s from our point of view. Men don’t have to fear that, because when they preach about their dicks, or rant about their relationships, or their family, it isn’t considered “male humor”. It is regarded simply as humor. (source) 

Wendy was out there trying to break into the stand-up big leagues 20 years after Joan Rivers started and not even a full 10 years after Elayne Boosler dared to defy the traditional female comedian self-dissing stylings (for which she was banned from The Tonight Show).

Despite frequently being hailed as the next big success, Boosler could not achieve the same feats as her male peers. She booked her first spot on The Tonight Show only when Helen Reddy guest-hosted in 1977. Later that year, she performed on the show when Johnny Carson was hosting, but she was assigned hacky, self-deprecating material she refused to use. Afterward, Carson reportedly told his comedy booker, “I don’t ever want to see that waitress on my show again.”  (source) 

WHAT a hamster-dicked asshole

Rivers was heavily self-deprecating and that’s the thing I remember most about her. It’s, ultimately, what turned me off too. I mean, George Carlin, Richard Pryor, and Jonathan Winters didn’t have to do that shit. Oh wait…that’s right…they had penises. Somehow that means you don’t have to make yourself smaller or lesser. You don’t need to make excuses for yourself, no matter how funny you may be. Not if you have a dick.

When Whoopi Goldberg came out doing stand-up, she was more of an actress doing character-driven longer bits. She was funny but hitting hard too. 

Gilda Radner and Lily Tomlin were also character-driven but much more in the Carol Burnett/situational comedy vein.

Early on, Bette Midler did stand-up. Actually, I guess it’d be more accurate to term them cabaret performances. She joked, told stories, and sang.

Who – what women – are doing arch, tart, insightful, observational stand-up now? Not Saturday Night Live sketch comedy but stand-up. I wanna know – I wanna see who’s out there now.

And whatever happened to Wendy? What kind of comedy did she do and is she still doing it? Frankly, I’d be muy surprised. Struggling through the comedy scene’s a young person’s game and we’re a few decades or so distant from that young shit.

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?

Women and Fonts

Did you know? Representative Ilhan Omar, who Bozo von Ass Clown says is an illegal alien, has been an American citizen longer than Pedo’s current wife, Melania. Rep. Omar’s family came here, after securing asylum, when she was a child in 1995. In 2000, at the age of 17, she became a citizen.

Melania? We’ve all heard that ridiculous, phony baloney fairy tale about the fake ‘genius waiver,’ the Einstein Visa she got. C’mon man, we all know she got here on an Epstein Visa. We’ve all seen the nudies. They’re weird but…whatever. In trying to pass off a lad mag/softcore porn model as some kind of a brainiac Einstein, Dim Don truly oversold the con. 

But sure, insult Rep. Omar and other women who are actually smarter than you, your family of drugged out, plastic, ding dongs, and your entire cabinet of incompetent, sycophantic clowns.

Trumplethinskin, the most insecure and easily triggered president in our nation's history, is on a solid roll. He really can’t take it when smart, Vagina Americans ask him questions, stand firm, and don’t fawn and flatter. 

Like when ABC reporter Rachel Scott simply asked him if he would order Kegstand to release the full video of a “double tap” strike against an alleged drug boat from September 2. 

Apparently doing her job, asking a question makes her “the most obnoxious reporter in the whole place. Let me just tell you, you are an obnoxious – a terrible, actually a terrible reporter.” 

The Liar In Chief raged at Nancy Cordes for asking why he blamed Biden for something that Trump's administration had handled, saying “Are you stupid? Are you a stupid person?” 

He referred to New York Times correspondent Katie Rogers as "third rate" and "ugly, both inside and out.” This, probably, in retaliation for a piece she co-authored on his advanced age and lack of stamina. 

Bloomberg White House correspondent Catherine Lucey had the temerity to perform a journalism, asking him about the release of the Epstein files, earning her the infamous, “Quiet. Quiet, piggy.”  I doubt very much that Prez Piggy could’ve foreseen how that would come back on him. He’s just not that bright. Not at all.

Pig Man berated ABC News chief White House correspondent Mary Bruce as "horrible" and “insubordinate" for asking Crown Prince Bone Saw about the murder of Washington Post columnist Jamal Khashoggi. *Oopsie* another journalism been committed!

Most recently, Trump snapped at CNN’s Kaitlan Collins via Truth Social, calling her “stupid and nasty.”  He also referred to CBS News’ chief White House correspondent Nancy Cordes as a “stupid person,” and called New York Times Katie Rogers “ugly.” (source) 

While I imagine he lashes out at anyone who asks him a question that makes him uncomfortable, it seems Prez Midget Mushroom Dick feels most anxious, unstable, and insecure when questioned by women.

Did you see? While Prez Pedo and his pet attorney general, Bleach Bondi, were playing Pirates of the Caribbean, Secretary of State Rubio was having a big meltdown over a font.

“Typography shapes how official documents are perceived in terms of cohesion, professionalism and formality,” Rubio said in a cable sent to all U.S. embassies and consulates abroad Tuesday.

In it, he said the 2023 shift to the sans serif Calibri font emerged from misguided diversity, equity and inclusion policies pursued by his predecessor, Antony Blinken. (source) 

The U.S. Coast Guard just stole a Venezuelan oil tanker OFF THE COAST OF VENEZUELA and Marco’s fussing over Calibri versus Times New Roman.

The Secretary of State apparently has nothing better to do than worry about which font gives off the right amount of macho vibe. I guess when Rubio joined the Trump admin he turned in his spine, brain, and all sense of decency figuring he wouldn’t be needing those anymore. 

Who Was She?

 Who was Martha Gellhorn?

She was a journalist, a novelist, and a top war correspondent who covered most of the 20th century’s major conflicts. She was a hero.

At 24, Gellhorn was hired by FERA (Federal Emergency Relief Administration) and worked with Eleanor Roosevelt and photographer Dorthea Lange in documenting the personal suffering of the Great Depression.

She was on Omaha Beach on D-Day, June 6, 1944.

Martha found her way onto a landing craft serving as a water ambulance. In the process, she became one of the only women, and journalists, to land on June 6, 1944. She waded ashore and worked with the medics to get wounded men back to the hospital ship for treatment. When she got back to the hospital ship, she took time to record the conversations of the wounded soldiers from the beach as they waited to be retrieved from the beach on D-Day—again showing the human spirit in the face of war and devastation. (source) 

She reported firsthand on the liberation of Dachau, the Battle of the Bulge, the Spanish Civil War, the Nuremberg trials, the Vietnam War, and the invasion of Panama.

During World War II, TIME called Martha one of Collier’s star reporters. One reason for that recognition was her tenacious spirit and commitment to tell the stories of ordinary people during the war. She demonstrated incredible strength and perseverance. Through her writing, she was able to show how war’s devastation impacts all parts of life. (source) 

One of the first things her Wikipedia entry tells you though, is that she was the third wife of that trophy hunting misogynist, Ernest Hemingway.  What patriarchal snotwaddle, fer fucks sake!

By the by, their four year marriage blew up because the tiny schwanzed jerk was jealous of her talent and career. He wanted a beautiful, sexy, smart BUT ornamental, stay-at-home wifey-poo NOT a partner who was every bit as talented, courageous, and adventurous as he was.

Their marital troubles climaxed in 1944 when Hemingway stole Martha’s credential from Collier’s and traveled to England to cover the impending Allied invasion at Normandy, in her stead. Desperate to cover the opening of a Second Front in Europe, she eventually crossed the Atlantic in a ship filled with explosives after Hemingway blocked her attempts to get a press credential to take a flight. (source) 

Motherfucker STOLE her press credentials and then blocked her from getting others because he was so fucking insecure, envious and resentful of her brilliance and success. WHAT a midget dicked fucker! All his malicious, scheming weaselshit efforts to sink her career, her passion and she was still on the ground at Normandy. Fuck you, Ernie, you fuck!

Gellhorn was an immensely talented, brave, strong, intelligent, liberated, and complex woman.

…Gellhorn’s last years are a primer on how not to grow old. She was bitter about the state of the world, which remained stupid and unjust. She mourned the happy romantic relationship that had mysteriously eluded her. She was plagued by painful ailments and by knowledge of her lost beauty. She found writing excruciating. Perhaps worst of all, the lifelong reader was losing her sight. In 1998, at the age of 89 and ill with cancer, she swallowed a pill that ended her life, dying in a cream silk nightgown. (source) 

Understandable. Very understandable.

There has to be a better way to run the world and we had better see that we get it.
~ Martha Gellhorn 1908-1998

Real Astronauts

Not the obscenely wealthy space tourists. I'm talking about real scientists like Mae Jemison.

Dr. Mae C. Jemison worked as a General Practitioner in Los Angeles, California, before becoming a Peace Corps Medical Officer for Sierra Leone and Liberia in West Africa. After returning to the United States, Dr. Jemison applied and was selected by NASA as an astronaut candidate in 1987 and became the first African American woman in space.

I'm sure I've missed more than a few. Check out the Women at NASA site for more info and cool pics.

If you don’t face your fears, the only thing you’ll ever see is what’s in your comfort zone.
~ Anne McClain

Never limit yourself because of others’ limited imagination; never limit others because of your own limited imagination.
~ Mae Jemison

A bird cannot fly with one wing only. Human space flight cannot develop any further without the active participation of women.
~ Valentina Tereshkova

Reading Matter

What am I reading now? Well, I’ll tell ya. I’m almost finished with When Women Were Dragons by Kelly Barnhill and I don’t want it to end.

This tale supposes an alt 1950s where women, who are fed up with patriarchal suppression, abuse, and general horseshittery, break free by transforming into dragons. Sometimes it happens spontaneously when the much put-upon woman has just had ENOUGH. Sometimes it happens when the woman is overcome with joy, like the pilot who was beyond thrilled by the ecstasy of flight. (considerate soul that she was, she ejected so her metamorphoses wouldn’t damage the plane AND then carried it safely back to the landing field) Sometimes, for unknown reasons, thousands of women all transformed at the same time.

After an episode of “Mass Dragoning” there were a lot of vanished husbands (devoured by their pissed off and fed up, now in dragon form, wives) and burned out houses. Apparently these were fire breathing, meat eating dragons.

Alex Green is a young girl in a world much like ours, except for its most seminal event: the Mass Dragoning of 1955, when hundreds of thousands of ordinary wives and mothers sprouted wings, scales, and talons; left a trail of fiery destruction in their path; and took to the skies. Was it their choice? What will become of those left behind? Why did Alex's beloved aunt Marla transform but her mother did not? Alex doesn't know. It's taboo to speak of.

Forced into silence, Alex nevertheless must face the consequences of this astonishing event: a mother more protective than ever; an absentee father; the upsetting insistence that her aunt never even existed; and watching her beloved cousin Bea become dangerously obsessed with the forbidden. (source)

This may sound like a comedy but it’s not—not entirely. There are some amusing scenes but, so far, the book’s more about dealing with existence in the tiny-dicked, exploitive, degrading, and presumptuous world of men. Barnhill also hits on why it helps no one to keep all your thoughts and feelings locked inside.

Oh and, did you know? Dragons can talk, knit, and some of them wear lipstick.

I’m LOVING this story!
~~~
I just finished an Alexander McCall Smith book. I’d read a few in his No. 1 Ladies' Detective Agency series and thought I’d give his Detective Varg series a try.

In the Swedish criminal justice system, certain cases are considered especially strange and difficult—cases for the Department of Sensitive Crimes and Detective Ulf Varg. (source)

The Discreet Charm of the Big Bad Wolf was a bit of a disappointment. Based on the Ladies' Detective Agency stories, I wasn’t expecting an edge-of-the-seat murder mystery but I also hadn’t anticipated being annoyed.

Annoyed? Warum? Varg’s girlfriend wants him to get his deaf dog a cochlear implant. Yes…a cochlear implant for a dog. In real life, there are scientists exploring whether this is possible. If it is, do you, as Spot or Fido’s parent, really want to put them through it? Cochlear implanting means opening up the brain cavity. There’s a month-long wait before it can be turned on and success (or lack thereof) can be determined. And that’s just for starters. Does it make sense to spend ultra mega bucks and put them through this level of trauma when Spike may be perfectly content without hearing?

I was stunned when the inspector agreed to the pricey, experimental surgery. Yes, yezzzz, I know this is fiction but it struck me as shortsighted, unfeeling, human-centric, and just plain stupid.

Maybe I’ll try his 44 Scotland Street series next. There are times when McCall Smith’s calm, soothing mysteries, where not a lot happens, is just what the doctor ordered.

Micro-brained Schmucks

Nick Fuentes is, apparently, a very stupid, hate filled, micro-dicked, pile of crocodile shit and, unsurprisingly, he can’t get a date…not even with an undiscriminating sex worker. This repugnant, barely sentient, trump fanboi seems to believe that, since the rapey, convicted felon, and regular on Epstein’s Lolita Express was elected, it’s now open season on women. In his worm-eaten skull, rape is now legal and he’s BIG encouraging it. To him and his fellow santorum-sucking trolls, women are nothing but sex slaves and sammich makers. And pedophilia is now “normal.” 

Fuckwit Fuentes is 26 years old. His only accomplishment to date seems to be inciting his fellow bullying, imbecilic, virgin halfwits to violence. His hero seems to be the follicly challenged  Andrew Tate, the human trafficking rapist who’s currently under house arrest in Romania.

Manosphere influencer Andrew Tate, in a post on X on November 7, stated: “I saw a woman crossing the road today but I just kept my foot down. Right of way? You no longer have rights.” The post received 688,000 views in under two hours. Another X user, stated: “women threatening sex strikes like LMAO as if you have a say”; the post has received 10 million views.  (source)

“My (Tate’s) job was to meet a girl, go on a few dates, sleep with her, test if she's quality, get her to fall in love with me to where she'd do anything I say and then get her on webcam so we could become rich together," he wrote on the page - which was subsequently taken down in February 2022. (source)

The agency said the defendants used the coercive “loverboy” method to exploit 34 vulnerable victims who were forced to produce pornographic materials for a fee online, and that more than $2.8 million (2.5 million euros) it generated was kept by the defendants. (source)

To girls and women, young and not so young—start taking self defense classes NOW. Practice, practice, practice what you learn. If you can’t afford a class and/or your parents won’t pay for one—find some instructional videos online.

• Learn how to say no clearly, directly, and with force. Keep saying it LOUDLY.

• Learn the human body’s weak points—eyes, nose, throat, groin, etc.

• It’s hard to remember anything when you’re overwhelmed and panicking. Keep basic moves in mind and practice.

• Be aware and observant of your surroundings, trust your instincts. Be prepared and don’t buy into the republican party gaslighting.

More tips here.

Are you a guy? Are you sane? Are you an ally? If one of your buds says some delulu misogynistic shit, respond with:

“What a weird thing to say”

“Do you hear yourself right now? You sound like an incel.”

“That’s a disgusting opinion to have”

“Shut the fuck up, dude”

“That’s fucked up bro. Why would you say that?” 

Ridicule, insult, condescend—do NOT treat what these deeply insecure degenerates spew as anything but the despicable insanity that it is.

Your daughters, wives, loved ones aren't safe. WE are not safe. FIGHT and do NOT surrender!

The War on Women

Texas is clearly in competition with Florida for the title of cruelest, most tiny dicked, inhumane pro-death state of all time. With Ken Paxton and his pet Supreme Court’s decision to deny Kate Cox the emergency medical care she needs, the state proves itself to be anything BUT pro-life. Is it too late to abort Paxton?

“continuing the pregnancy puts her at high risk for severe complications threatening her life and future fertility, including uterine rupture and hysterectomy.”

 Let’s not forget about Brittany Watts in Ohio either. She faces felony charges for having a miscarriage.

Or Brittany Poolaw. Oklahoma charged her with manslaughter for her miscarriage. 

Republi/Fascists are trying to shove us back into a 19th century existence. Did you know that:

We couldn’t serve on jury duty until the mid/late ‘50s—the Civil Rights Act of 1957 gave women the right to serve on federal juries.

Birth control pills for, MARRIED COUPLES only, weren’t legal until 1965. The Supreme Court ruled in Griswold v. Connecticut that married couples have a Constitutional right to privacy that includes the right to use birth control. Unmarried women were unable to get the pill until the Supreme Court's 1972 decision in Eisenstadt v. Baird.

We couldn’t attend Ivy League Universities until the late '60s.

Princeton and Yale began admitting women in 1969, with Brown University following in 1971 and Dartmouth in 1972. The lone Ivy holdout, Columbia University, did not admit women until 1983. (source)

Women couldn’t officially run the Boston Marathon until 1972.

We couldn’t attend a military academy until 1976.

An unmarried woman couldn’t open a bank account until 1974—It wasn't okey dokey and law of the land until the Equal Credit Opportunity Act was passed.

It was legal to refuse to give a woman a mortgage on a house until 1974.

Couldn’t become an astronaut until 1978.

Maternity leave wasn’t enshrined in law until February of 1993’s passage of the Family and Medical Leave Act.

Marital rape wasn't a crime in all 50 states until 1993.

Women couldn’t serve in combat until 2013.

The last restriction on women's service ended in 2013 when Defense Secretary Leon Panetta lifted the Pentagon's 1994 ban on women in direct ground combat roles. (source)

I wasn’t hired for a lab assistant gig at Harvard in 1981 because the professor said he wanted to hire a man, not a woman who would just leave when she got married and pregnant. Also, he thought women weren’t strong enough to lift the trays of test tubes and shit. I let this fucker know that I was, at that time, regularly benching 130 AND would not be having rugrats. I walked out of the interview, called into the Harvard employment office and reported him…for all the good that did.

We’re NOT going back!

Fashion

First and most importantly, Jen dug up the Chucks she ordered for me back when I was still wearing the brace. Now that I’m getting around more, I need real sneakers for outdoor excursions—the Crocs just don’t do the trick. Sure, I can and have been wearing my silver Nikes but those lack the fashion pizazz that my soul cries out for.  (WHAT?)

So, here they are. Awesome, no? Only one problem—the white laces are just too…white. I need contrast, color, flair. I went on a hunt for happening laces and found brilliantly colored, shiny metallic laces. Now I need to choose. Turquoise? Pale green? Lavender?

Decisions, decisions.

In other “fashion” news:

Not that this’ll come as any surprise to anyone with half a brain but the orange shitstain really doesn’t possess even a microscopic lick of self knowledge. He gave skeevy praise for White House Press Secretary Jen Psaki’s 'really beautiful red hair' and commented that MSNBC hired her because:

“They need a redhead, they don’t have a redhead over there,”

Yup, the crumbling skid mark from Queens, is reducing an astoundingly awesome, spectacularly intelligent, skilled and accomplished woman to her hair color. To him, she’s no more than an object—a redhead—not someone who, given the opportunity, could neatly castrate him with just a look.

This useless fecal brained, roadkill faced piece of used jet trash hired the amazingly vapid, dimwitted K-Lie McNinny as his press secretary. Why? Undoubtedly because she’s young, “blonde” and ready-for-her-FOX-closeup “pretty.”

Ya know, if I was the University of Miami, Harvard, Oxford, and Georgetown, I’d rescind her degrees and file a cease and desist order to keep my name outta her mouth. Christ, she’d be an embarrassment to degree mills.

In other hair news, I understand that dolts like Bill Maher (and others) are now blaming Jada Pinkett Smith for Slapgate. Charming. I'm sure the blame-the-victim ploy really scores these bags of smelly toad smegma loads of hot sexy dates.

Nice to know that, no matter what we vagina Americans achieve, no matter what struggles we surmount, we will always be reduced to our looks. In these particular cases, hair and/or the lack thereof.

I only mention it but, after my last few brain surgeries, my scalp looks like a roadmap of downtown Boston. I’ve got some significant scars, infertile valleys and deep troughs where no hair will ever grow again. Shaving my head isn’t an option because:

A) Did I mention the valleys—ravines even? I'm not exactly rockin' the Brâncuși look here.  If ma tête was just scarred—man ’o’ man—I’d be showing those babies off. Scars are great get-to-know-you conversation starters. Most come with brill stories!
B) A shaved head doesn’t pair well with six chins. OKAY, okay, I don’t have a glut of chins but I’m hardly svelte. I’m not confident I could fabulously sport the look.

Okay, I gotta get back to the important business of choosing the right shoelaces to go with my zippy sparkle Chucks.

They Say It's My Birthday

Huh. I've hung one more year on the line and shit. Waddya know?

I ain't perfect. Nope, far the fuck from it and I've not accomplished much.

• I’m not a world renowned artist.
• I’ve only completed one measly degree (a B.A. in art with a minor concentration in music).
• I haven’t had a blisteringly awesome working career.
• Undoubtedly, yet inadvertently, I offend and disappoint friends, fam, strangers and assorted randos on the regular. (for which I am situationally sorry. YES, fer reals and shit!)
• I’ve not hiked the Inca Trail or taken the Transsiberian from Moscow to Vladivostok and doubt, at this point, I ever will. (priorities shift, don’cha know)
• I never moved to Berlin (a pre Nf2 notion) or saved the world, a la Constance Verity.

BUT!

• While I'm a work in perpetual, slow motion progress I, and this is key, like me.
• Self-evolution and me are buds. 
• I've survived/am surviving (ongoing struggle and shit) the loss of hearing and music, the ridiculous and ultra annoying preponderance of tumors shacking up in my brain and spine AND the fact that I can't seem to lose those persistently clingy, asshole 20 pounds.
• Inexplicably, I get to live with the most amazing crew – Ten, Jen, Oni AND our herd of cat. Weird how they put up with me, no?
• I get to paint and doodle as much as I want and read ALL the science fiction – high school dreams come true!
• I live in a sweet little cottage by the ocean in a state with a distinct minority of shitheelian, asswipe Fascists.

All this PLUS my bday falls on Taco Tuesday this year. What, I'm askin' ya, WHAT'S not to love?! 

Distraction Lessons

This past weekend, Jen, Oni and I watched Terminator: Dark Fate and it was exactly what I needed. Not a perfect movie by any means but it was fun, scary (and NOT in a Trump’s-so-stupendously-incompetent-we’ll-be-lucky-to survive kind of a way) and awesome+ to see Linda Hamilton looking good but, more importantly, looking her age. She’s one year older than me and an inspiration to keep on with my strength building workouts.

Other born-at-the-right-timers? Madonna, Michelle Pfeiffer and Sharon Stone who are all stunning BUT def look like they’ve had work done. That IS their right as wealthy celebs – also, as babe-type stars, unfair as it is, it’s part of their fight to remain appealing and relevant.

I get it but, since I’m not inclined – financially or otherwise – to have cosmetic surgery or wear makeup, I don’t see them as examples of attainable or even covetable old broadness.

Nope.

I’ll never be Linda Hamilton thin and that’s AOK. I can, however, be strong, confident, in the best shape this rickety bod’s capable of and NOT a pushover. Alright, this is as much about fortitude, tenacity and all that as it is about having toned, muscular arms.

Back at all things Terminatory – The last in the series that I saw was T2: Judgment Day (and the teevee series) so I found Dark Fate pretty confusing at first. In this version, Sarah Connor’s son dies at the hands of the T-800 (Schwarzenegger) so he’s not around to save the world from this timeline’s Skynet, Legion.

I want – NO – I NEED arms like this!

Sarah, despite her son’s devastating death, hangs in like the abso-fab, badass warrior she is. An unknown helper (the T-800 model who’s since retired from terminating and grown a conscience) tipped her off that Daniella Ramos is destined to be a significant player in machine world’s apocalyptic defeat. There’s a Rev-9 Term model coming back from the future to take Dani out. Dani needs a serious assist.

Sarah saves her and her cyber enhanced soldier/minder, Grace. The race and battle for survival is now ON.

So, there are three superhero-esque (but very human) women fighting AND triumphing over evil. YES! Better yet, the young woman who will save mankind from the murderous machines is Mexican. That is just a beautiful fuck you to pResident Stupid on Steroids.

Now, of course, I want to see all the ones I’ve missed even though Sarah Connor isn’t in them  – T3: Rise of the Machines, Terminator Salvation and Terminator Genisys.

Sarah Connor is an example of how I can get through this current national nightmare. Be brave. Be patient. Don’t be a dickwad. Help others. Also too, be kind...dammit!