Sunday, February 18, 2018

Random Thoughts Generated by This Week's News

Remember, the last blog when I mentioned I had a rant simmering, and that it was, for the nonce, contained? Well, it's still contained. This one is a whole new rant. You'll get last week's rant next week. This is this week's rant. Got all that? Good ;-)

1.  Criteria for sex. Here we go again. p45's alleged affairs are once again in the headlines. Do I care? In a word: NO. I've long been of the mind that there are two, and only two, criteria for sex:
            1. Consenting and,
            2. Adult.
Anything else is illegal, immoral, and worthy of prison time. Now, if either of those two is married, then they really should have the consent of said spouse before entering into a liaison with another person or persons.

However, there are some serious side effects to p45's sex life – he is obviously open to blackmail. If he weren't, he wouldn't (allegedly) be paying hush money to the women. And that is, in a word: Concerning. It does make me wonder if that's why he's such a... uh... um... polesmoker to Putin. What does his master, Putin, have on him? Why does he drop to his knees and pucker in obeisance every time Putin or Russia is even mentioned?

2.  Melania's escape? There was a note in the news the other night about p45's inauguration expenditures. Slowly, those expenditures are coming to light. I remember 3 items from the list of nearly $107M allegedly spent on events, etc. First, $25M was paid to some company that for the last several inaugurations has been in charge of setting them up. Apparently, $25M is a reasonable expense. Well, to them. Having never been inaugurated, I have no idea. Then there was something like $1.5M going to a friend and business associate of Melania's, with a further $25M going to that same friend and associate's business for undetermined and unspecified services.

Now, the first thing that popped into my head when I saw that clip was: "Good!" My evil little mind started thinking, maybe this friend of Melania's has put the money in a safe place, and Melania now has a way for her to take Barron and escape the madness. Assuming, of course, she wants to escape. Perhaps she sees great theater in all this. But somehow I don't think so.

3.  Is p45 a traitor? That's a serious question. A traitor is defined as, "a person who betrays a friend, country, principle, etc.," and p45 has definitely betrayed our country. We have been attacked by a foreign power. It was and is a long and sustained attack, which we are still undergoing. He has denied it. No matter that fully 17 of our 17 Intelligence agencies all say it was and is so. And now that he has the proof, he is still looking at Putin with puppy dog eyes of love and adoration and HAS DONE NOTHING to protect us. As one pundit said about it (words to the effect of), "Can you imagine if FDR had gone over a year denying that Pearl Harbor ever happened???"

Congress passed a bill, a list of sanctions against Russia for meddling in our elections, a bi-partisan law, and p45 has refused to sign it. Why? What is worth more to him than our country?

4. Another one bites the dust. Actually another 17 bit the dust. Yes, we've had another school shooting and the little pissant Paul Ryan says more facts are needed before he can do anything constructive to end this madness. And the bigger pissant Mitch McConnell says the same thing. As well as Orrin Hatch, and all the other congresspeople and politicians such as Florida Governor Rick Scott, who bow down and lick the boots of the NRA for money and recognition. They continue to block passage of any laws that will allow law enforcement and medical personnel to collect the facts needed in order to justify rising up against their lord and master, the NRA, and put our country first. But, by golly, they demand those same facts before they can legislate common sense laws. Can anyone here say, "Catch 22?" In case you forgot, here is our Second Amendment in its entirety: "A well regulated Militia, being necessary to the security of a free State, the right of the people to keep and bear Arms, shall not be infringed." (Emphasis mine.)

Hatch says we have an "enumerated right" to carry guns. Yes. We do. We also have a "right" to fly an airplane or drive a car or truck or tank. But not anyone can do so. They must learn to do so safely, be tested, photographed, licensed, and in many states fingerprinted in order to get their state-issued license. They must also show proof of insurance. Now, I'm a vet (you already know that) and I strongly support the Second Amendment, and my right to carry a weapon, as well as yours, but I also strongly support some common sense reason along with that. You know, universal background checks for starters. Then licenses, and maybe proof of insurance in case your weapon is used in a crime. Oh, and how about, for every weapon that rolls off the assembly line a projectile is fired, and the bullet and casing are photographed and entered into a database for use by law enforcement if need be? Yeah, it would add a dollar or two to the cost, but damn well would be worth it. And I'm not even going to mention curtailing the purchase of military and military-style weapons with one and only one purpose to civilians. No, I won't mention that at all, because if I do, my blood pressure goes dangerously high.

5. What Should Obama Have Done in regards to the "Russiar Thing"? As I recall, he notified Congress and wanted to make it public, and pissant McConnell threatened that if Obama tried it he (pissant) would create havoc. You may remember that one of the McConnell's most proud achievements, by his own statement, is that he thwarted President Obama at every turn possible, no matter what the end goal was. No matter if it was good for the country or not.

So, frankly, I find it more than a little disingenuous that certain members of Congress, as well as p45, are now trying to lay all this mess at the feet of President Obama. And, at this point, it's useless to play the blame game over spilled milk. What we need now is a President of the United States. Someone who will uphold his (or her) oath of office, who will defend our Constitution, who will defend our country, who will grow up to become an adult and quit whining to twitter every time someone looks at him cross-eyed.


Boycott Football.
Boycott the NRA and the Asshat Politicians they support.
Save Brains.
Save Lives.

...and remember, when the swamp drains, there's a plethora of 'gators and gallons of ooey gooey stinky swamp slime to clean...

Want to know if your politician is on the list of NRA supported? Check out Open Secrets here:

Monday, February 12, 2018

Elimination of Swamp Slime

I don't often tout books on this blog, other than my own, and I try to keep that to a minimum (but please, feel free to buy mine at any time. They make excellent presents if you already have a copy. Buy more, share.). However, on Friday I finished a book that had me in stitches, and considering the news it was either rant--or rave.

The rant is contained for the moment, simmering under the surface. I was able to beat it into submission. For now.

The book I'm suggesting, oh, shucks let's be honest here, I'm begging you to read, is The Housewife Assassin'sHandbook (#1) by Josie Brown. It will make you forget the news and all the swamp slime oozing under the door. At least for a while. Hmmm, now that I think about it, I'm sure there is a hint in there on how to remove swamp slime from your oval carpet. I obviously need to re-read the book. I was laughing out loud a lot, and it's possible I missed a few household hints during those belly-busting laughs.

Seriously, if you want a fun read, calorie-free brain candy, get the book. It can be purchased through your neighborhood bookseller, at The book is chock full of household hints from disposing of the body to making the body and still be at your son's soccer game in time to watch him play—and car-pool everyone home safely.


Boycott football.
Save brains.
Save lives.

Monday, February 5, 2018

I'm Sorry, So Sorry...

...(or) Be Afraid, Be Very Afraid.

I'm not a particularly brave person, but then, I'm seldom in a situation where bravery is called for, so I just bumble along in my daily life happy as the devout coward I am.

Now, I do admit to terror of certain things—spiders being one. Oh. My. Gawd!! Those little buggers scare the socks off me. I'm bigger than they are, probably meaner, but just ask Favorite Son. He will verify my irrational fear of them. Be honest now, but wouldn't you be afraid if they came at you with a napkin tied under their wee tiny chin, a knife in one hand, a fork in another, and a bottle of ketchup in a third? Perhaps my fear is due to having been bitten when a child by a Black Widow?

I also don't like tight spaces, but that's something I can work on, and am doing better. I'll probably never truly love riding in elevators, but I can ride in them without tears running down my cheeks. But I'm still not allowed to go on a tour of a submarine. I keep trying. But as soon as I get in one to go on a tour, the crew spots my claustrophobia, and thwart my dream of touring one.

And, if you're a devoted reader of this blog, you now know I don't like heavy, low, gray, wet clouds pushing down on me. I love sunshine. It's happy, cheerful, and the primary reason I'm moving to ABQ. Sunshine makes me happy. Sunshine makes shadows, and shadows are great playmates, and often extremely artistic and photogenic.

So, I ask you, why is it that one day out of the year, my shadow, normally a docile companion, becomes the most frightening monster of my life? P. Phil has the same problem. Most sunny days he lazes in the sun, maybe bats at his shadow if it gets in his way, but on this one, terrifying day, if he sees his shadow, he scampers back into his den to sleep out another six weeks of winter.

I'm not quite that bad—but I do have an unaccountable urge to apologize to one and all when I see my shadow on "our" day.

I know my shadow isn't a monster, I know neither it, nor P. Phil's, have any bearing on the weather for the next six weeks, but as Brenda Lee sings, I'm sorry, so please accept my most abject and sincere apologies for screwing up your Spring plans—and putting Brenda Lee's earworm in your brain.

Mea culpa, mea culpa, mea maxima grande.


Boycott Football
Save Brains

Save Lives

Monday, January 29, 2018

Chicken Little was Right and So was Perry Como

As you know from last week’s blog, I was in Bellevue to see if I can re-acclimate to the weather. It didn't work. Or, actually, it did work. It drizzled most days I was there, though we did have sun for a wee bit one day. I was cold since arriving — not bone deep aching cold like in Kennewick, but skin hurting cold, if that makes sense.

On Tuesday, my hostess took me to her cabin on Whidbey Island. A beautiful drive through 8.3 billion cars all playing dodge 'em on the roads (and it wasn’t even rush hour yet), through tree lined highways and y-ways, on a ferryboat ride (always fun, even when short), and up ever narrower tree lined by-ways and lanes to her cabin.

Have I mentioned how claustrophobic I am? They (those wonder people, They) won’t even let me go through a large, nuke submarine due to my claustrophobia. Anyhow, the trees were tall, and carried clubs, and marched closer and closer and ever closer to the road, to the lane, to the car in which I was a helpless passenger. I’m not paranoid, those trees wanted to club me to death. Would I lie to you?

And then the sky fell. Literally. The clouds swooped down, hovered right above us, threatened all kinds of mayhem, and dumped gallons of water on us. There was little to see but gray, and those marching trees bearing their clubs as they stealthily came toward us.

Even out on Peter Puget’s Pond, the cloud was so low one could barely see anything that wasn’t at water level.

So, I was cold, claustrophobic, and sliding into SADDs—a mild depression caused by too much gloom and not enough sunlight. In other words, I ain’t gonna move back home. Thomas Wolfe was correct, “You can’t go home again.”

But Perry Como was also correct. The bluest skies you’ve ever seen, are in Seattle. Alas, for this converted Desert Rat, they just don’t happen often enough. I was raised in Portland, Oregon and Seattle, Washington. I worked for years in both cities; I raised my children in Seattle. Well, in the Seattle area. I worked at The Boeing Company and eventually retired from there. I love Seattle. It’s a happening place. I wanted to come home. At least I thought I did.

Do you know that Seattle gets less rainfall (37.49 in/year) than where I used to live in Port Charlotte, Florida (52 in/year). In Florida, aka the Sunshine State, rain clouds swoop in, dump their rain, and leave. In Seattle, the rain clouds sort of sashay in, settle down like a setting hen for 9 months, give or take, and drizzle with a now and then rain and an occasional sun break. OK, I exaggerate a tad, but only a tad. Honest. Trust me. And, yes, the term 'sun break' is both valid and understood by the local weatherpersons.

There is an average of 152 sunny days a year in Seattle, 280 sunny days per year in ABQ, and 191 sunny days in Kennewick, where I currently reside. The July high in Kennewick is around 90 degrees; the July high in ABQ is around 92 degrees; the July high in Seattle is around 75 degrees.

The upshot of all this is to tell you that I’m taking a road trip, I hope, to ABQ the end of Feb to check out the area. I’m pretty sure that’s where I’ll end up. Yes, the winter nights are cold, but the winter days are (for the most part) sunny and warm. Except, of course, when they aren’t. 


Boycott Football.
Save Brains.
Save Lives.

And buy books at The Book Tree
609 Market, Kirkland WA