It Might be Love

I’ve been awfully hard on Donald Trump’s relationship with Vladimir Putin. The two of them are so cozy that to all appearances it looks like perhaps Trump is committing treason.

But then I got to thinking, maybe, just maybe their relationship goes beyond politics. They might have formed a bond of manly love. Let’s let the two lovebirds have some privacy, shall we?

Oh hell, no. Trump’s a freaking traitor and Putin is feeding him his lines. Here are just a few political cartoons on the subject:

If you’re still supporting this wannabe tyrant, ask yourself why.

Peace, people.

Midnight Thoughts

From the border lands

We feel the children weeping

Lord, please hear their cries

Agents cold as ICE

Breaking families apart

Following orders

What would Jesus do?

We don’t have to speculate

Lord, hear our prayer

Matthew 19:14 King James Version (KJV)

14 But Jesus said, Suffer little children, and forbid them not, to come unto me: for of such is the kingdom of heaven.

A Pink Bicycle

I might have been five. My parents had taken me shopping at Sears in Lubbock for my first bicycle. There was one I really wanted. It was bright pink and had purple streamers attached to the grips. It was the most beautiful bike I’d ever seen.

My mommy and daddy tried to get me interested in a different bike. I don’t remember what it looked like, only that it had a lack of streamers. I’m sure it was more in line with their meager budget, but at the tender age of five budgets didn’t matter much.

I turned my back on the offensive bike, and I’m sure I stuck out my bottom lip and crossed my arms in protest, striking a petulant pose in the middle of the busy department store. When I turned back around, I was by myself. I thought my parents had left me because I was pouting about the bicycle. Suddenly all my anger evaporated and I began to wail.

A kind woman came and took me to customer service, but I was sobbing too hard to tell anyone my name. When my parents realized I hadn’t followed them out of the bike section they hurried to customer service to find me inconsolable. They hugged and fussed over me and finally I was able to calm down. They’d been “missing” for maybe five minutes. I’m 61 and I remember the separation like it happened yesterday.

So, let’s think about these children being separated from their parents at the border, their cries haunted my dreams last night. Let’s think about the trauma our trump-led government is inflicting on innocent children. Let’s pray that the harm we are doing isn’t permanent.

We will pay for what we are doing. Maybe not now, but we will watch these young people reach adulthood with righteous anger in their hearts. And we will deserve the consequences.

By the way, I got the plain bicycle, but Daddy put streamers on the handlebars and added a squeaky horn and a white wicker basket onto the front. I embraced it. I had a change of heart.

Peace, people.

Buhbye to Roseanne

When ABC revived the Roseanne show I didn’t pay much attention. I’d seldom watched the original program and had no desire to watch the reboot. All politics aside, I always found the show to be mean spirited.

When we lived outside of Champaign, Illinois, I saw Roseanne Barr do standup live at the venerable Virginia Theater. Studly Doright was out of town that week and I got bored, so at the last minute I bought a ticket.

She was good that night. Not great. She seemed subdued, talking about how becoming a grandmother had changed her. There was nothing political about her performance, as I recall, and I gave her scant thought after I left the theater.

But these past couple of years Roseanne has become a vocal trump supporter. Her tweets on Twitter were peppered with insults aimed at Liberals, some were of a blatantly racist nature. She even embraced hardcore right wing conspiracy theories and shared them with no regard for the truth.

In spite of this, ABC brought her back into the fold hoping, perhaps, that she could keep her racist ideology under wraps long enough to make big bucks for the network. Yesterday, though, she finally went too far for ABC and parent company, Disney.

From a local ABC affiliate:

Roseanne Barr wrote early Tuesday morning, “Muslim brotherhood & planet of the apes had a baby=vj.” Barr was responding to a comment about Valerie Jarrett, a top former aide to president Obama. She later deleted the tweet.

The show was quickly cancelled following the abrupt resignations of show writers, Wanda Sykes and Whitney Cummings. I’d say, “bravo, ABC,” but they knew she was a racist, right wing troll when they hired her. Public outcry was the driving force behind her termination.

So let us bid adieu to Roseanne, at least for now. I wouldn’t be surprised to see her honored for her actions by the Racist-in-Chief.

Peace, people

Here are somewhat relevant photos of The Virginia Theater in Champaign. I adore this old place.

And an even more relevant photo of a younger Roseanne grabbing her crotch during her heinous performance of the national anthem before a sporting event.

Too Much Whining

Dear Readers, I’m frightened. Donald Trump seems hell bent on destroying everything we as Americans have always held dear. The Constitution is under assault and his administration’s war on the separation between church and state is the stuff of nightmares.

Thank goodness for political cartoonists who are still churning out the truth one frame at a time. Here is just a small sampling from social media:

This deserves the seal of approval.

He’s a notoriously bad speller, so….

Surrounding himself with all the right people:

What he meant to say never jibes with what he actually says. And still his sycophants give him a pass.

He played us for suckers from the start.

Go away little Lord Trumpleroy.

Trump’s only exit strategy?


Sums it up nicely.

He does have some talents:

Sadly, not too far fetched.

And something I’d enjoy seeing:

And here’s a meme that has nothing to do with the Cheeto-in-Chief. This one just made me laugh. And if we can’t laugh, we might as well surrender to the bastards, right?

Peace, people.

In Today’s News

I smiled at myself in the bathroom mirror this morning. That might not seem like such a big deal, but it’s huge in my world. After being sick for a week now, I feel like maybe things are looking up. I also feel like I’ve made that claim more than once in the past seven days, so I’m not putting any money on it.

I tried to ignore all of the news about trump reneging on the deal with Iran yesterday. Remember when we wondered how to deal with the mad men of other countries? Now, we have our own homegrown mad man. Lucky us. Makes me nostalgic for Qaddafi.

Instead, I focused on the fun news.

https://www.nbcnews.com/news/us-news/massive-rockefeller-family-art-auction-opens-646-million-haul-n872566

The Rockefeller family’s auction set more than one record yesterday. Unfortunately my illness, and a few million dollars, kept me from buying anything.

Above, Picasso’s Young Girl with a Flower Basket sold for $115,000,000. Gertrude Stein’s brother originally purchased it for $30 in 1905.

Monet’s Water Lilies in Bloom sold for a record $87.4 million.

The Matisse, perhaps my favorite, sold for more than $80 million.

So I’ll likely never own an original Picasso, or Monet, or Matisse. At least I’ve got my health, right? Right? Damn.

Peace, people.

O Canada!

On Thursday night I was bedeviled by a bout of insomnia. I’d broken a cardinal rule and continued reading well past what I’ve come to think of as the “sleep tipping point.” It’s that point when I can feel my eyelids drooping and my breaths relaxing into the rhythms of sleep.

If I’d put the kindle down in that moment I’d have been fine, but no. I was reading James Comey’s book, A Higher Loyalty, and had just gotten to the period of time following trump’s inauguration. There was no way I could stop. Soon I was wide awake and had swung in the opposite direction of the sleep tipping point.

Studly Doright’s sciatic pain awakened him around 11 p.m., so he went to the den to try resting on the couch for awhile. I finished the book just before midnight, and my brain was churning furiously. I checked my phone–another bad decision, but what the heck? I wouldn’t be sleeping for awhile anyway.

WordPress had a message for me. It said my stats were booming. “Well, well, well,” I thought. “Finally hit the big time.”

Actually, since this wasn’t my first rodeo that thought never crossed my mind at all. I reckoned, and rightly so, that someone had found my blog and had taken the time to read more than one post. I love it when that happens. I always picture someone very much like me sitting somewhere in the world making connections through our shared experiences.

When I looked on my stats page I saw this graphic:

Clearly someone from Canada liked my blog well enough to read 75 different posts. Whoever you are, thank you. This is for you.

https://youtu.be/-98Jg_4p_O8

The Post, Not a Review

Studly Doright was out of town most of last week, and by noon on Wednesday I was bored. The best cure for boredom is a movie, so I took myself out to see The Post, starring Meryl Streep and Tom Hanks. I must say I’m an excellent date. I don’t order outrageously priced snacks and I don’t talk during the movie.

I’m not going to review this film other than to say “For the love of country, go see it!”

The acting is incredible and the story so timely it’ll make your heart hurt. There are journalists out there right this minute who are working their butts off to bring us the truth in the tradition of the courageous and tenacious men and women who prevailed during the Nixon years. Never forget that when trump starts calling their work “fake news.”

The film should be required viewing by every American. Peace, people.

Kind of a Big Deal

Several years ago during spring break a friend and I were visiting Nashville, Tennessee, for the first time. We’d gone on a bus tour of the city and sung karaoke in a downtown bar. We’d even checked out Coyote Ugly, which was a bit disappointing. Maybe if we’d been a couple of guys it would’ve been more fun.

One of the oddest occurrences from the trip was when an obviously drunk guy in a well-tailored grey suit stumbled across a crowded bar, weaving between tables as a singer belted out a Charlie Daniels cover from the stage. To our shock, the drunk approached our table, pulled out a chair and sat down.

With no preamble the first words out of his mouth were, “I’m kind of a big fu**ing deal.”

My friend and I exchanged looks, rose from our seats, and left the bar. Neither of us needed this guy’s line of b.s.

I feel like Donald Trump is the drunk at my table. He keeps telling me what a big deal he is, and I keep walking away. He keeps spewing b.s., but no one holds him accountable. When will the GOP controlled Congress say, “Enough!” and walk away from the table? Once Kim Jong Un hits the nuclear button, it’s gonna be way too late.