I got a bottle of Stella Artois and some decent doob. I got the Monday night quiets. And that is good. It is cooling down a bit outside.
Huma and Hillary prove the law. When a husband acts like a manwhore and follows his dick, it always his wife's sin/fault/responsibility. I get married and his dick becomes mine. I do not ever want to be a dicksitter. Walter brought me a copy of the Polish paper and the St. John Cantius festival is happening again. Maybe I can find some old Polish Eagle to jump on. And I need real Polish food like a drunkard needs his booze.
I will give more information about the festival, but at the moment I am trashed. And happy about it. And dancing my ass on out here in internetland.
Flip Benham's float or march presentation entered into a Pride Day Parade celebration can be seen in the video below.
Tasteless and poorly rehearsed. No feathers. No body paint. At least Westboro has banners.
Flip Benham is the guy way in the back wearing jeans, white shirt, red tie, suspenders and large bay window. Muscle and Bullhorns. So phallic.
I cannot understand why some sweet slightly crippled old lady like me has not walked up to this fat ugly Benham dude all smiling, crucifix flying and kicked him square in his junk.
One could roll up in one's wheelchair on one of the Twins, pretending to have found a rainbow dildo that has got you all twitterpated, and use your cane. Badda bing.
I admit that on manic days I advocate violence. I am a diagnosed nut. I do not hit people or disrespect them in real life. Only in my blog fantasy. What is Flip Benham and his Sons excuse? Why fret? They dissing folks for Jesus. We all know that is not good. Ain't Christian. But it is mighty Right.
Very often the comments on my little essays are better than my remarks. A fine intelligent creative set of folks bless me with their company.
PhoebeQueen said something in the comments recently that spoke to my condition.
I understand people are testy. I can see it all around me. People have lost their fucking minds.
I saw my handsome Black neighbor waiting on the EL by chance. So we chatting. He looks me dead in the eyes and tells me he is voting for Trump. And grins.
Man is about 55 and he must work in some serious sort of job. Always spotless white shirt. Black suit. Never jeans. If he wears jeans on Saturday they are pressed.
I try to find out why. For him, like a lot of Trump's supporters, this is a big fuck you to Republicans and Congress. Race has nothing to do with it. Or party really. Democrats included. Bi partisan FUCK YOU.
I am giving him the whole whitebread civil rights argument and he is steady nodding. I asked him straight out "I can tell by your grin you are going to vote for the monster." His grin got bigger.
"What have you got to lose?" asks Trump. And that is a good question.
Somebody tell this Hippy that my Neighbor is not correct. Tell me that the intelligent vote right now is not a big FUCK YOU in one form or another. Talk me down. I have lost my mind.
I get it. What is there to respect? Right now there is a Governor who is a proven poisoner of children and others. Public tax money is paying for his defense. He is wealthy; he will never see one day in prison. Nobody is fixing the poison pipes. We are paying, you and me, to save the Poisoner rather than stop the poisoning. I so get it. My Neighbor is correct. There needs to be a big FUCK YOU.
The Black Man who made this video knows where he stands and who he is. I am just a flaming ball of rage and sadness. Lady Shrink told me today that many folks are experiencing fear, sadness and rage during this endless disgusting campaign.
Fear and sadness and rage are contagious. Especially for those of us who are second generation Americans with Grandparents who immigrated here fleeing grinding poverty and/or war and Fascism. Lady Shrink says Do not Look. Disengage. But it is like a car wreck on the interstate. You cannot look away. I get it that the Black Men's forebears have been here, speaking English, longer than mine.
I learned a new phrase. Stochastic terrorism is the use of mass communications to incite random actors to carry out violent or terrorist acts that are statistically predictable but individually unpredictable. In short, remote-control murder by lone wolf. This is a disgusting election. It has to be over soon. Comment from my Millennial Daughter:
The problem is for a long time politicians. especially GOPers, no matter how much they "want" to lower taxes, use taxpayers as one big endless slush fund. I think they act this way because taxes are taken out automatically. No citizen is trusted to pay them ourselves like we do gas and electric bills.
To be fair I like paying taxes for things like schools, roads, social programs whether I benefit from these things or not, and I appreciate not having to remember to pay them but I am incensed by the sheer piglike attitude of some state, local and sometimes federal politicians and their assumption that I am a cash bearing tree, ever fruitful and never in need of gardening care.
Do I want to fund a big war machine? No. Do I want to keep sending military aid to countries with so so human rights. No. If you "love America" then start speaking up about what taxes you don't like while shutting up and paying up. Don't just shout no more taxes.
Where do you live that money is not needed to keep the ball rolling? I don't want to hear some old man with no kids tell me he doesn't want his taxes to pay for public schools. Do you want to live in a nation full of idiots incapable of creating, thinking, or even defending our country. This isn't about "issues" its about common sense use of public money.
Even though I am sick to death of this election, I am going to make telephone calls at the Democratic Party local headquarters on Wednesday night.
I give good phone. I used to work on the phone selling advertising for the Princeton Packet group of newspapers. I started in classified and won a prize selling the most Pick a Present ads at Christmas.
Never volunteered for a political party before. Did lots of volunteer church work. Trashmouth old me cleans up good if I have to. It is so hot that I spend most of my time at home in my undies. This was a good excuse to put on a skirt, some jewelry, a little Chanel.
I met Alvin, my section leader. He is 26 and cute. Too clean cut for me. I like the faintly evil type. August, the month of boredom and flies. Art from Freaking News.
Smile is based on an instrumental theme used in the soundtrack for the 1936 Charlie Chaplin movie Modern Times. Chaplin composed the music, inspired by Puccini's Tosca. John Turner and Geoffrey Parsons added the lyrics and title in 1954.
One who never smiled, carried a face as still and sad as a daguerreotype through some of the most preposterously ingenious and visually satisfying comedy ever invented. That was Buster Keaton. James Agee in "Comedy's Greatest Era" in LIFE magazine (5 September 1949), p. 75
Buster Keaton is one of the great physical comedians. This short film used to be hard to find. All Keaton's work is now in the public domain.
The seduction scene with Charlotte Greenwood is so funny, I almost choked from laughing so hard. Enjoy. The entire film was made by using Keaton's home as the set.
Red Skelton thought of himself a clown rather than a comic:
"A comedian goes out and hits people right on. A clown uses pathos. He can be funny, then turn right around and reach people and touch them with what life is like. I just want to be known as a clown, because to me that's the height of my profession. It means you can do everything—sing, dance and above all, make people laugh."
Red Skelton was also a fine painter and he sold a considerable amount of his work. See the illustration on the right entitled Holly Clown.
Skeletor rides again. I know PROGRESSIVES will whine now and call me looksist. Up their giggy. Implying Governor Rick Scott of Florida is a monster is right on point. See the article below. I think this would make a fabulous Halloween costume.
Better yet. Read the article in its entirety at the provided link. Then ask yourself:
Self - is this the kind of medical mind we want to have in charge of public health in the time of Ebola and antibiotic resistant Tuberculosis? And now Zika?
Essentially, Scott created a incurable virulent public disease vector to save money? So, how good is he on Zika? No good. Scott is offering Zika kits, we are told. Funny thing is, nobody knows where the kits are or how to get one.
I have been thinking and reading for awhile about this subject. If you feel like it, Cher Reader, kindly leave a comment and tell me what your Self thinks. I get lonely in the kitchen.
Welcome to the Sunshine State: Republican-run since 1998, tea party-controlled since 2010, and fast becoming one of the lowest-service states in the nation. Which helps explain how lawmakers shut down its only tuberculosis clinic last month, just as the worst outbreak of the infectious disease in America's recent history flared up with a vengeance in Jacksonville, Miami, and who knows where else—an outbreak that state and local officials sat on until last month, according to an investigation published by the Palm Beach Post.
Tuberculosis—the lung-liquefying disease of "consumption"—is the world's second-biggest infectious killer, but had been largely eradicated in America in the early 20th century, owing to improvements in health services. A few flare-ups, mostly of foreign origin and mostly affecting indigent populations, continued to occur sporadically in the United States, which was why Florida in 1950 opened the AG Holley State Hospital in Lantana, just west of Palm Beach. AG Holley's website (which has since been taken down by the state) billed the facility as "the only public health hospital in Florida," a safe place where TB victims could be quarantined and cured, and one of the last such facilities in the US. ... read more at Mother Jones.
I absolutely hate feeling this way. I can remember dancing for hours and hours to dance it away. Dance until you drop.
I had a newspaper columnist lover who wrote at home. He had a wooden floor and original 78s of folks like Nat King Cole. He would lend me his spare room and I would dance for hours. I miss him.
I ran my second husband over with a Volkswagen feeling this way. Hubby saw the look on my face and his face turned white. I floored it. He knew there was no way to outrun me and he looked around frantically for a savior. He saw a small wide ditch and dived for it. My wheels ran right the fuck over him. By the time I got ready for the second pass, he had made it to the house.
God saved me. Always had a soft spot for God after that. My child did not need to have a Mother in jail. Hubby stayed with me another 10 years. I often wonder who exactly was the crazy one? The whole thing was so sad.
So, all I have to say is, talk me down, Friends. I am lonesome, horny, maudlin and dangerous. Okay, Ativan kicking in. I will be napping in blessed peace and not stabbing anyone. Good thing. Be back later.
