Monday, October 8, 2018


Today I figured out how to unfriend someone.
I hadn't wanted to friend this old boyfriend to begin with, but wishing somebody a happy birthday was a nice thing to do.
Figuring out he was a real asshole took a bit longer, but yesterday's post showing his true colors was the end.

I unfriended you, asshole.

I do not agree or think it is funny to call me a libtard and laugh at Hillary Clinton.

You're the one who deserves all the shit possible in your life.

I hope you get what you deserve.


Saturday, August 25, 2018

Guns and poses

Growing up, television was entertainment. I mean, it was there to keep the regular folk happy with wrestling matches, a few news shows, a couple of doctor shows and westerns.

Ah, westerns. Legendary cowboys in the frontier, totin' six guns and killing injuns. Or bad guys wearing black hats. Or Mexican banditos who had huge mustaches and wore bandoleers full of brass encased bullets who knew a surprising amount of English.

When it came to the television shows, there were at least fifty westerns, ranging from Disney's Davy Crockett (he died at the Alamo, killed by a legitimate Mexican army protecting its land) to stage coach guards to gamblers to adventurers, to killers for hire to lawmen to bounty hunters...the list goes on and on.

All these stories had someone protecting something with a fast gun and life or death in an ambush, or a bank robbery or water rights or cattle theft or preventing or causing a hanging.

I sincerely doubt that there were as many gunfights and/or hangings as occurred every week on television.

Matt Dillon kills someone every week on the main street of his town. The Rifleman had a special rifle that shot more rounds quickly because of a little latch on the trigger thing. Paladin was a gun for hire...for a thousand dollars, he'd kill anybody while spouting proverbs or Shakespeare and the occasional sonnet. Bounty hunters always brought miscreants in dead, not alive. Maverick won everybody's money and had a derringer hidden away so he had one shot to kill the person who wanted his money back. Sawed off shotguns, Steve McQueen. Buntline Special, an elongated barrel carried by Gene Barry portraying a cowboy who later became a sports writer in Chicago. 

Everybody was packing and ready to kill.
We grew up feeding on this, like suckling babies. I guess it was all right because that was all there was to watch. Wrestling was fake, anyway. Doctor shows were on after bedtime. generation had guns in front of them constantly. We should have been crazed killers, shooting up schools and blasting from '57 Chevy windows at kids on the street playing hopscotch. We may have on rare occasions, but they never ever made the news.

But, perhaps Vietnam happened and killing was necessary for our boys' survival. Kill or be killed definitely puts a different light on the need for weapons.

Our generation is old now. We remember Woodstock, days of music and mud and good old groups where most of the members have passed on. We remember those television cowpokes fondly, but when we watch these programs now, we become aware of all the killing. Bad Indians and Mexicans and rustlers and those who would block the water from their neighbors. 
We don't shoot much anymore.

No, we leave that to our kids who never had the exposure to televised make-believe killing that we did.

Somewhere along the line, what we witnessed and chose to forget leaked into the brains of our children. Maybe our memories were passed in vitro. Maybe the three wars that have happened since Vietnam finally got through to them and killing was necessary once more.

Perhaps the anger at not being privileged or being bullied or being looked down upon or being loners has turned our next generation into killers.

Maybe, just maybe, it is fear of being unimportant without a weapon of destruction that is behind it all.

I don't know. Maybe it is because guns still make people something important. Maybe it is because anybody can shoot a gun and kill or maim a living thing. 
Who knows?

Just something I was thinking about this morning. Maybe you'd like to respond? Go ahead.
I'll listen.

Thursday, August 23, 2018


Elyse posted one of her Elyse Explosion videos in which I have no small part.

I look hideous.

No links from me.

This is what it has come to! Alas, it's all gone.

I also sound as if I am choking on something. I am not, rest assured. My voice apparently sucks, too.

Gone are the days.

The one on the bottom was the best I've taken in years. I look like shit.

Monday, August 20, 2018

Yes, she did

I wholeheartedly applaud Mayor Muriel Bowser for single handedly stopping the Big Parade.

Muriel Bowser

Photo of Mayor Muriel Bowser
Muriel Bowser serves as Washington, DC’s seventh elected Mayor.  Sworn in on January 2, 2015, she pledged to bring a fresh start to the District of Columbia, create pathways to the middle class for residents, and foster a culture of inclusion, transparency and action. 

If the men can't or won't do it, as usual, it is up to a woman.

Friday, August 17, 2018

Body Parts

Old story.
The parts of the body were arguing over which was most important.
The brain stated, "I am, because I do all the thinking for the body and the world."

After some short time, the heart responded, "No, I am, because I deal with the relationships and love and sort things out that way. You must admit, I am the most important body part."

After a long time, the lowly anus decided to say something. "You're both good parts, and useful, but I am the most useful of all. Without me, you all are nothing."

Aghast, the other body parts all protested. "No way. Idiot. What does it think it is?"

So, the anus decided to prove its point and shut down. Completely.

The brain started to get fuzzy, unable to think of anything but the bathroom.
The heart actually started pumping erratically, missing some beats altogether. 
Every other part of the body got really messed up.

Finally, after a week, the body called on the anus. "Oh, please! You were right! You are the most important part of us all."

Smugly, the anus released its grip
to the relief of the entire bodily organization.

So, we know which part of the body is the most important, the most valuable.

Sometimes I wonder which part I am.

Friday, July 27, 2018

Boss 'n' Me Around

Yes, I am a big fan. He represents the wild New Jersey of my secret life...basically the summer of 1965 with Sandy down the shore. We saw him there, on the boardwalk. Did not know what he would become.

But, as usual, I digress.

I had a dream this morning that lasted a very long time.

It involved me singing backup for Bruce while he started work on an epic, the song that would be the end all of all his creations.

Only trouble is, he was working on it in a small meadow near a river/lake, with great acoustics because of the rise of land on either side. There were more than ten backup people and the band, but he was weeding people out who couldn't follow directions, who couldn't sing, who offered nothing to the composition.

Yeah, me. I was left with about five other people after a long process of him writing down words and music, eliminating what didn't work. I suggested one word change (my superior editing skills and vocabulary) and he used it. More people came. The day wore on.
Then it rained. Heavily. (pictures of flooding on the news here)

I had to wade through up to the top of my boots because he insisted on working in that same place. The water eventually ebbed.

Then two famous people came by to sing with him, along with Bigfoot, who had a great bass voice.

I was now working with him on the wording...waiting to see what would happen.

I woke up.

Thanks for the recognition, Bruce!

Sunday, July 1, 2018

Me on YouTube

Well,well, well. I have hit the bigtime.

As you may know, my daughter has a YouTube channel.
She has been working on it for about a year and most of the time she opens boxes of foreign treats and tastes some of them so people can judge for themselves whether they're worth trying. Or buying the box.

She and her sister film in her apartment or in our living room or lately, in her old bedroom.
Karyn seldom appears on camera, but when they do anime conventions and K is selling her artwork, sometimes she gets caught in the lens.

Today, I was asked to be in a video.

Several weeks go, we got a suitcase of some of my old dolls as my nephew was cleaning out my mother's attic.

They were all just about 60 years old and in pretty bad shape, but they wanted to go through it and get my stories about the dolls. For them, let's face it, it is nearly ancient history.

So, I did it.

I told stories about my dolls.

Nostalgia caught me and I am afraid I went on a little too much.

If I sound like an idiot, I do hope the kid will edit me out.

But, when it gets put up on Wednesday, I will include the link for you all.

The very last doll I received is killer....