Happy Birthday, Mr. T

Our dear leader turns 80 today, and he's celebrating by desecrating the White House lawn with a UFC fight that will be dripping with sweat and testosterone. Every morning I wake up thinking that he can't possibly do something worse than he already has, but he does it, anyway. It can't be easy to be this frigging awful every single day. I suppose that's an accomplishment of sorts.

A Limerick

Last night in bed I wrote a limerick in my head:

(And let's give it some space so it doesn't clump up next to this photo of Kara.)

---

A glorious platform called Twitter
Was bought by a Nazi most bitter
He gave hate a shot
Now X marks the spot
And Twitter has gone down the shitter.

I don't usually write limericks in my head in the middle of the night, so I thought I should share it with you all.

Sorry about the quiet for awhile. My cousin, who was my closest lifelong friend, took her own life in August and left everything to me. I've been dealing with grief and with her estate, a house that her parents bought in 1952.

And I'm learning to hate estate lawyers.

I'm dreaming of a sane 2022

I'm lucky. My household bubble includes Sammie and two mischievous young cats, so I haven't been alone for these past two years. I have a shabby apartment that nonetheless boasts a beautiful view of the mountains and the city. We have enough to eat and can pay the rent.

Hallelujah

I can't believe it's finally over.

And decrease the surplus population

Donald Trump doesn't care if I die. I can't help but take that personally.

I've been so angry for months now. Trying to figure out what I could possibly post that someone else hasn't already said, and better. Then I realized that that was it. Trump literally does not care if I die. It is my humble opinion that this is a serious flaw in a president.

My outrage won't fit on this blog

I just saw a protest placard that said, "My outrage won't fit on this sign." That touched a chord with me because my outrage won't fit on this blog. I've started writing political diatribes here dozens of times, and each time deleted it unposted. Because what's the point? I don't feel that I have anything new to say that isn't already being said in the Washington Post and the New York Times.

Save us, Stormy Daniels. The Republicans certainly won't

I've been compulsively watching the news the past couple of years, but haven't posted all that much here about our current president. Mostly because there's just too much going on. The scandals and outrages are coming so thick and fast that it's difficult to keep up.

Has sanity prevailed?

Courtesy of The CW

Maybe not. But last night's events were a promising first step.

We like sheep

Last year's tree. Much
like this year's tree

My mother loved Handel's Messiah, and the Eugene Ormandy/Mormon Tabernacle Choir recording in particular.

The End of the Republican Party

A couple of days ago on the way somewhere, we pulled up to a stoplight behind a pickup truck that had a prominent bumper sticker that said, "PRESIDENT TRUMP. DEAL WITH IT." And I lost it. I yelled "F--k you!" several times along with a couple of other choice epithets. Daniel, who was driving, was fortunately a lot more restrained.

Hate won

Hate won last night. Racism and misogyny and intolerance won.

It's a tough thing to accept. I had a terrible time getting to sleep last night (I gave up at 1 am) and awoke thinking, my god. We just elected a man who calls Mexican immigrants rapists and drug dealers, and boasts about grabbing women by the (yes, I'm going to say it) pussy.

Apologies in advance for discussing Trump

Like many Americans (and considering his disapproval rating, most Americans) I have been horrified by the recent political ascendancy of Donald Trump.

(I can't bring myself to post a photo of Trump. So here is my late and much loved cat Spike sitting in front of an American Library Association poster of Patrick Stewart. Probably my favorite poster ever, and one of my favorite Spike photos.)

Vive la France

I can't remember a time when I didn't long to go to Paris. In 2005, I finally got to go. Only for two days, but I filled those days by visiting the sites I'd always longed to see. I'll never, ever forget visiting Paris.

This is the second day of watching hours of news coverage of the senseless multiple murders in Paris, which happened only a day after the senseless multiple murders in Beirut. I will never, ever understand how human beings can do things like this to each other. Never.

Thanksgiving in Ferguson

Photo by Daniel Hallorann taken
today outside our home

It's the day before Thanksgiving in my little apartment in Pennsylvania, and fat snowflakes are falling outside my windows. Daniel is in the kitchen making pumpkin pie for tomorrow. I love the holidays, and even though Thanksgiving is not my favorite, it's always enjoyable.

George W. Bush, portrait artist

Billie's "painting" of Bush from an existing photo

"I think a lot of us wish he had become a painter as opposed to a president. We all could have been saved a lot of trouble." --art critic Deborah Solomon.

I once heard a simile about George W. Bush that stayed with me. It was that he was like a teenager who stole his father's car and crashed it into a brick wall.