Goodbye 2020

salmagundi
noun
sal · ma · gun · di | \ ˌSal-ma-ˈgen-dē\

1: a salad plate of chopped meats, anchovies, eggs, and vegetables arranged in rows for contrast and dressed with a salad dressing

2: a heterogeneous mixture : POTPOURRI

/Bigotry - subheading Racism/ is like owning a big dog. We shall call the dog ICK.

I have no problem with your ICK as long as you (global not personal you) keep it at home or on a leash. Nurture your ICK. Cuddle it to your heart's content. Feed it beer and jerky in front of the TV. Be as ICKY as you like.

When you take ICK out in public, and ICK bites me or defecates on my lawn or hurts children, you make your ICK my and the public's problem. And we must and do have appropriate remedies for that. This is a sign that appeared in minority neighborhoods in 2016.

I am frightened. We are close enough to the edge of the cliff that I can see a bit over it. I try not to shove people into groups so forcefully they cannot and do not exist as individuals. That is a Sin, if Sin can be said to exist. I want to give up, and want others to give up, doing politics as a team sport. I will take ideas how we can do that.

It is only in my lifetime that Women can have a bank account and a mortgage without permission from a Father or Husband. It is only in my lifetime I can walk down the street holding hands with a Black friend and not be noticed at all. It is only in my lifetime that a Black entertainer can stay overnight at a hotel s/he is working at. We can be back there in 1959 in an instant.

Last but not least, we need some Dirt. See photo below. I see two balls. Where is the penis? That is some severe tucking. I think I know how the works is tucked, but I hesitate to elaborate. Let me just say Spanx and folds. I do not care if I am fat shaming. I am a tolerant Liberal. That means I even tolerate my nasty self. 

"We ought to leave this world behind." - Dary from Letterkenny

Merry Christmas Cat

cat haiku

You never feed me.  Perhaps I'll sleep on your face.  That will sure show you. You must scratch me there!  Yes, above my tail!  Behold, elevator butt. The rule for today:  Touch my tail, I shred your hand.  New rule tomorrow. In deep sleep hear sound  cat vomit hairball somewhere  will find in morning. Grace personified.  I leap into the window.  I meant to do that. Blur of motion, then --  silence, me, a paper bag.  What is so funny? The mighty hunter  Returns with gifts of plump birds --  your foot just squashed one. You're always typing.  Well, let's see you ignore my  sitting on your hands. My small cardboard box.  You cannot see me if I  can just hide my head. Terrible battle.  I fought for hours. Come and see!  What's a 'term paper?' Small brave carnivores  Kill pine cones and mosquitoes,  Fear vacuum cleaner I want to be close  to you. Can I fit my head  inside your armpit? Wanna go outside.  Oh, poop! Help! I got outside!  Let me back inside! Oh no! Big One  has been trapped by newspaper!  Cat to the rescue! Humans are so strange.  Mine lies still in bed, then screams;  My claws are not that sharp.

mail welcome: admin @ strangeplaces.net

I finally got this poem right. Merry Christmas to me and thee.

A Bitty Ditty for Marilyn

Fornicate! Fornicate!

Who gave us this SEX so great?

It's God.

As I do the in and out,

I have oft been known to shout:

Oh God!
Amen.

And here is a Christmas poem for your enjoyment
by Anonymous .

Twelve Days of Christmas

On the 12th day of Christmas, my Rupert gave to Me:

12 dullards droning
11 ranters ranting
10 bores-a-boring
9 baggers bragging
8 hawks-a-hawking
7 spinners spinning
6 geezers greying
5 Ben-gha-zis
4 Blondes with Thongs
3 Freedom Fowl
2 Phony Facts
and a pervert named Bill O' Reilly.

Thought for Today

PabloDali • 16 hours ago

Religious bigots

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  Will Richard  PabloDali • 13 hours ago

  are they like atheist bigots? lol

   

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    PabloDali  Will Richard • 10 hours ago

    Much worse

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      Cherry The Tart  PabloDali • 4 hours ago

      Yeah because theist bigots are organized. Atheist bigots go it on their own.

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The Rule of Law is More Fragile than We Know

Poster Art from the WPA.

It is against the law to sell an ounce of MaryJane. Or sell a couple of your Percocets to get cigarette money.  And both those events go on in my Hood on a regular basis.  And the people committing these "crimes" are just everyday good folk. I know them. They are my neighbors. Draconian drug laws caused the Philly police to illegally search my daughter one day when she was coming home from work. Just putzing along one block from our door. They ridiculed her, they attempted to intimidate her, and they searched her.

We have many people in everyday and political life who are "moral indignation junkies." They love being able to pounce on people and prove what morally superior people they are. And they genuinely believe they are morally superior. Kind of like Religious Authoritarians do. They have no idea how off putting and morally offensive they themselves are. Too bad malignant scrupulosity is not painful, except to others.

For the powerful, this moral indignation and scrupulosity and enforcement does not seem to apply. Being a SCOTUS Justice is a license to cheat on your income tax evidently. The IRS will ignore your August Ass "forgetting" to file all your income, although Al Capone went to jail for that. What would happen to the Average Joe who hid thousands from the IRS for years?

Being a law abiding person is not a sane strategy in America any more. When the government takes money from us to run things properly, and we see corruption at every level of leadership, what is the incentive not to be a Crook or a Corpo? There is none. Public corruption destroys more than the economy. Public corruption destroys public trust. Public corruption is turning our cities into wastelands, our roads into rubble and destroying our souls.

57

Govern the country by regular rules;
Direct the army by cunning moves;
But win the world by avoiding fuss.
How do I know that this is so?
Inward light!

Beneath heaven,
The more rules and prohibitions there are,
The poorer the people become.
The sharper the weapons there are,
The greater the country's confusion.
The cleverer the people become,
The more cunning acts take place.
The more laws and orders there are,
The more thieves and robbers appear.

Therefore the sage says:
I do nothing,
And the people of themselves reform.
I love stillness,
And the people of themselves grow straight.
I don't fuss,
And the people of themselves get rich.
I don't want,
And the people of themselves grow simple.

Time Wounds All Heels. Did somebody famous say that? TO BE CONTINUED - I NEED COFFEE.

Graphic by Favianna Rodriguez

Fannie Brice: “Time heals all wounds and wounds all heels.”

I have killed people. God saved me from succeeding. I would tell the story, but in our current civil condition, it would seem more like braggadocio than confession. Lady Shrink and I are talking about rage, mine specifically and otherwise.

I have not been able to write more so I have not come back for awhile. While I was trying to figure out wtf I am doing here, I came across the best depiction of bipolar rage and working class pain I know about. And I discovered that Nina Simone is also bipolar. So I am sharing it to compensate you for this literary interruptus. It is embarrassing but I do not want to tell lies...

If you want or need Attitude Adjustment on Turkey Day...

...this is what you take PRN. 

Illegitimi non carborundum. 

Joy to the World!

Ram Sex. Seriously?

UPDATE: 
I think it important to note that Albert Mohler Jr. was running for President of Southern Baptist Convention.

Citing a desire to serve as a uniter amid turbulent times, Southern Baptist Theological Seminary President R. Albert Mohler Jr. said in October he had agreed to accept a nomination to serve as SBC president at the 2021 SBC Annual Meeting.

So, I made myself read an essay Is Your Baby Gay? What If You Could Know? What If You Could Do Something About It? by Albert Mohler Jr.. Nothing like a good dose of old time Religion early in the day. Bracing. Woke me right up.

Mohler makes a mad dash for Reality. You, Cher Reader, must tell me if he made it. This is one of his conclusions:

Christians must be very careful not to claim that science can never prove a biological basis for sexual orientation. We can and must insist that no scientific finding can change the basic sinfulness of all homosexual behavior. The general trend of the research points to at least some biological factors behind sexual attraction, gender identity, and sexual orientation. This does not alter God's moral verdict on homosexual sin (or heterosexual sin, for that matter), but it does hold some promise that a deeper knowledge of homosexuality and its cause will allow for more effective ministries to those who struggle with this particular pattern of temptation. If such knowledge should ever be discovered, we should embrace it and use it for the greater good of humanity and for the greater glory of God.

The essay gave me cold chills. My Pervert Alarm is clanging bigtime. There is a detailed discussion about the mechanics of turning gay Rams straight. Not the football kind of Rams.

The most interesting research along these lines relates to the study of sheep. Scientists at the U.S. Sheep Experiment Station are conducting research into the sexual orientation of sheep through "sexual partner preference testing." As William Saletan at Slate.com explains:

A bare majority of rams turn out to be heterosexual. One in five swings both ways. About 15 percent are asexual, and 7 percent to 10 percent are gay. What makes the sheep "sexual partner preference testing" research so interesting is that the same scientists who are documenting the rather surprising sexual behaviors of male sheep think they can also change the sexual orientation of the animals.

The vision of a bunch of men sweating in a barn, tugging off some ram's penises and telling themselves they are doing Science cracks me up. Think their penises were flaccid during the event? I wonder if there were any women present.  LMAO. Fluffing rams for Jesus.

Asexual folks need to recuse themselves from discussions about Sex and Society. Illiterate consumers of the Bible the same. Most folk with sexual fetishes do the decent thing and make home videos. Albert Mohler, in the marketplace of ideas, all you are is what you write. Bestiality for Science and God? Cover your proclivities, Love, because your ramrod is out.

Note: I work with this definition of Religion. One can be an anti-theist or atheist and still be 'religious' if we see Religion as a function of the human psyche as Wm. James attests:

Religion...shall mean for us the feelings, acts, and experiences of individual men in their solitude, so far as they apprehend themselves to stand in relation to whatever they may consider the divine. Since the relation may be either moral, physical, or ritual, it is evident that out of religion in the sense in which we take it, theologies, philosophies, and ecclesiastical organizations may secondarily grow. - The Varieties of Religious Experience, Lecture II, "Circumscription of the Topic"

I think the Revolution might be all my Sister's fault.

Graphic by Buddy McCue. If you go to the subject panel on the left panel and click on his name, you can see more of his work. 

My Sister Margie is a righteous all hymning no sinning Bible believing Black Woman. Margie calls me her "Italian Sister." We canvased for Obama together. 

I wanted a house. Margie and I prayed about it. I got a house. I needed money for a new roof. We prayed about it. New roof. I do not invoke our little prayer circle lightly. Be sure you want whatever it is you trying to get from Universe. Hang with Margie and you might get it. 

About 6 years ago, Margie and I started praying for a Revolution. We were of the opinion that we needed one bigtime. Ta da! Shazam! One appeared.

I am a terrible Christian. Terrible. Lapsed Catholic. Angry Quaker. Margie is one of the best people I know. So, our current upheaval must all be Margie's fault. I know God loves me absolutely. I think God does not take me seriously. 

I know I am not the only one who takes Gil Scott Heron seriously.

I am a Twitter Reject

Twits say I advocated violence. I say I write Doggerel. Doggerel is vicious and funny and it has to rhyme. Meter is usually simple. Twitter told me "Here's your hat, do not come back."

Here is my crime in a poem below. I also said Kevin McCarthy is a dumbass. That made me persona non grata. Oh, and I suggested facebook and twitter be made public utilities. I just do not know how to shut up.

Spineless Susan is a dick.
Smack her with a goodly stick.
Eat her liver with a nice Chianti
Or beat her peacefully with Avenatti.

How about a filthy one just for fun. Hey, after a dry  time, at least I am writing.

Song #2 for My Hero

Avenatti does not come from Madras
But his balls must be made out of brass.
In Stormy weather,
They clanged clang together
And sparks burned Michael Cohen in the ass.   

  copyright MDeAngelis

My Dad's Long Drive in the Country Car Songs

My Mom and Dad loved to take long car trips. We all sang on long car drives. Sometimes we had a radio and sometimes we did not. We sang these songs anyway. Con brio.

We always stopped at an ice cream stand that looked like an ice cream cone. Roadside attractions in the 50s tended to look like what they were selling.

We would drive down the Delaware River sometimes and at one bridge you could get charcoal broiled hot dogs and real root beer from the window of an old frame house. 

Everytime I hear one of these songs, I am transported to happy. Love you, Dad. Miss you every day.

ACCENTUATE THE POSITIVE ~ Johnny Mercer & The Pied Pipers (1945) (live recording). Words by: Johnny Mercer - Music by: Harold Arlen - copyright: 1944

Minnie the Moocher is a jazz song first recorded in 1931 by Cab Calloway and His Orchestra, selling over a million copies. He sings it in this Betty Boop cartoon disguised as a dancing walrus.

Louis Prima (December 7, 1910 – August 24, 1978) was an Italian-American singer, actor, songwriter, and trumpeter. Prima rode the musical trends of his time, starting with his seven-piece New Orleans style jazz band in the late 1920s, then leading a swing combo in the 1930s, a big band in the 1940s, a Vegas lounge act in the 1950s, and a pop-rock band in the 1960s.