Nobody seems to know what happened to October, but November showed up this morning so we must keep the line moving. The good thing is that it’s traditionally a beautiful month, full of plans and anticipation for many, a time to start the pre-hibernation ritual for most. The clock returns to its rightful setting (and oh that “they” would LEAVE it there), while darkness falls like a theatre curtain by 5:30 and earlier. Messes with my head all the way to my toes every time “they” tweak reality, so Greenwich Mean Time year ’round would be super-great, thanks.
As we streak toward the end of a year that feels three months long, everything in our nation and elsewhere is in a state of flux. Our entire way of life is under assault, with wildly disturbing things happening every day without fail, and there’s not a damn thing any of us can do about it. It’s heartbreaking to think there are still people who watch what’s going on and say, “Yes, this is exactly what I wanted,” or at the least, “Nope, not a dealbreaker yet.” I wish I had answers. I wish SOMEbody did.
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Most everything gets better eventually so let’s all keep on keeping on.
Yesterday we had a week’s grace before the apocalypse hits, this morning we’re down to six days. Then five, then four… and we’ll finally arrive at Day One, being billed as the greatest day in human history, hosted by CF47, gonna be lit! The entire world waits and watches.
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Christmas already feels like it came and went long months ago without making a ripple in the fabric of society. As a nation, we achieved the full measure of hypocrisy during this past season, simply by pretending to celebrate something we don’t actually believe in, as evidenced by our actions.
CF47 has said the deportations will begin on Day One.
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And because we’re not going to bow down to not only a dictator, but his racist apartheid insane sidekick, who seems to have appointed himself King of the Known World.
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So on we go, hoping this isn’t the end of life as we’ve known it, doing what we can to preserve “truth, justice, and the American way” and against all odds, I must add.
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We have… maybe… one more week of relative peace before the storm. Gird your loins and other parts, kids.
I’m old enough to remember when people cared about each other and life wasn’t entirely transactional. We may or may not ever see that vibe again, but living felt a little more fair, considerably sweeter, and we had a sixth sense as to whom we could trust. Someday, CF47 and all who bow to him will be gone, but we’ll never forget what he’s done to destroy our lives, and what people we respected did to facilitate that debacle. Trust, once squandered, is a total bitch to recover because of all it entails. People thought one thing, were told one thing, wanted one thing, and entirely different things happened. We’re being told to live with the untenable, the implausible, the preposterous and unthinkable, and it’s a psychic stretch we’ve likely not had to pull off until now.
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Whatever’s coming… the things we hold no sway over… it’s on us to find a way to survive because of course. Simply by existing, we cheat the oligarchs out of pennies and crumbs we have no right to subsist on. My question becomes: Are they planning to implement indentured servitude in order for their laundry to be done, their mansions cleaned, and prime food delivered hot and plentiful to their mouths? And if not, will it be robots doing those things?
It matters not how it all happens, we’ll eventually bow the knee when we get hungry enough. The Rule Book, Project 2025, has been written and published, so they’ll say we knew what was expected of us and therefore deserve whatever punishment is meted out. I still want to live to at least 95, but not in THAT world.
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There are so many people I miss, but I don’t entertain thoughts of that changing because it feels like we’re past that point. Love and friendship require trust and respect. And sadly, that’s the end of the story.
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Come back tomorrow for a Pollyanna happy-post. Had to purge my psyche so I can keep being real with you and me.
America, it’s the dawning of a Brave New World. By all accounts this letter is legit, although apparently not published by an official government entity, so if it isn’t satire we have three choices: denounce it / embrace it / or ignore it, knowing how willful blindness turned out last time the world was in this mood. We can now see the precipice from here, kids.
Take note of the instructions to the churches and neighborhoods.
An Indian Nations University is part of my town so I see lots of beautiful brown people I won’t be turning in to anyone ever. Nor anyone else whose pigment is enviably dark and compelling. Nor anyone, ever. It seems impossible that this country is really at this ugly juncture and that the lives and livelihoods of Americans are being openly threatened for their place of origin and the shade of their skin-suit. The language of the notice is chilling… how can this be America?
We need to all, at this moment, embrace the awareness. We can’t claim we didn’t know. That light at the end of the tunnel? It’s a freight train.
Opinion | Pardon our devastation. Millions of you put a criminal in the White House.
Pardon our devastation. More than 75 million of our fellow citizens put a malevolent, criminal madman in the White House. We’ve watched you embrace him as he destroys your faith in science, education, and our government. You stuck with him after he lied and incited a deadly insurrection. You champion him as he demonizes and endangers nonwhite immigrants. You swallow his ridiculous lies about our public schools doing “sex change” surgeries. You ignore his plans to reverse the rights of our LGBTQ brothers and sisters, even when you have loved ones that this will profoundly affect. You numbly nod as he repeatedly speaks of black jobs. Not a flicker of alarm when he stated immigrants were “poisoning the blood of our country.” You support his promises to destroy families with immigrant camps and mass deportations. You cheer for him as he promises revenge on his political opponents. You excused him when he demeaned our dead war heroes. You ignore that he is a convicted felon, found liable for rape.
For eight years, the rest of America has made excuses for you. You’re brainwashed. Misinformed by Fox commentary. But that no longer tracks. You heard the words straight from his mouth. Even low information voters know he was convicted of 34 felony counts. That he was found liable for rape. His vile words and behavior don’t matter to you. You’re either in it for the promised tax break or the lawlessness or the hate. But you’re all in.
Decent Americans can no longer ignore or navigate our moral incompatibility with you. That is why so many people were devastated last week. We didn’t just lose an election. We lost friends and family and neighbors to a vision of America that is corrupt and dishonorable and cruel. We’re grappling with the reality that everything we ever learned about kindness, decency, honesty, respect, patriotism, fairness, and democracy has been relinquished by half of our citizens. We optimistically hoped that deep down, you were better than this. We learned you weren’t.
So what you now see aren’t liberal tears over a lost election. It’s brutal grief over our losses of friends and family who no longer share our understanding of right and wrong and what it means to be a decent citizen. And it’s fear for our daughters and our minority friends and neighbors who now have targets on their backs. We won’t expect you to feel shame. Our new clarity assures us you’ll laugh or shrug this off, turn on Fox News, and continue to gorge yourselves on immigrant crime, hate porn, and the evils of feeding school children a free lunch. You’ll consume more nonsense about how men supporting women turns them into women. Your hate and fear control you.
In my view, you are now inextricably connected to the man you support. When the next Asian woman is assaulted, you will be one of the attackers. When families are ripped apart and put in camps, you will be one of their guards. When another woman dies from a ruptured ectopic pregnancy, you’re one of the people barring the door to her doctor. When the next trans woman or gay man is beaten up, your foot is on their throat. You voted to hurt people and that is unacceptable.
What your guy refers to as the Lunatic Left, Communist Left, Radical Left, will still be here. We won’t don cult gear, denigrate our flag or corrupt the term “patriot.” We won’t grab our guns and bear spray and storm the Capitol. We’ll organize locally in an effort to protect the targets of your cruelty. We’ll push back against the destruction of our public schools. We’ll stand between racist and target; misogynist and our daughters. We’ll teach our children and grandchildren the difference between tolerance of people’s differences and tolerance of hate. We’ll work our jobs, pay our bills and our taxes, and love our families. We just won’t be doing it in relationship with you anymore than is absolutely necessary.
Jan Scherrer is a speech language pathologist and mother of two who lives in Versailles, Ky., and I’m honored to reprint her here.
Nothing puts us in our place quicker than events over which we have zero control, so those are the most disheartening and therefore damaging. Things happen, we register the shock to our psyches, and then, because we’re human and it’s in us, we start trying to process the whole thing. Unfortunately in this case (post-election) there are big chunks missing from the narrative, unwieldy boxes full of things we don’t know, power loose in places we’ve underestimated, so we’re left to piece together the governmental and societal cataclysm that’s been set in motion, one which will eventually change every aspect of life in our nation if allowed to run unchecked. Figuring out exactly what’s happened to us and what the everliving hell we can do about it is like assembling a 5,000-piece jigsaw puzzle in the dark.
We don’t know how deep and wide the corruption is, but apparently it’s become the end-all-be-all entity in this situation, and we regular peons have no weapon against a concerted determination toward total control. Lots of “regular peons” are actually saying they WANT to be ruled, WANT to be told what to do, and we’ll see how long that attitude holds. Those same regulars think they’ll be immune to the downside of oligarchy, and that’s just sadly laughable. We aren’t all in the same boat, but we’re all floating on the same crowded pond.
I’m not old, but at 77 most young people (under 30) would consider me ancient. Still, I have yet to make any such noises as: “life’s too hard, I’ve been here long enough, time for me to shuffle off to Buffalo and leave it to the kids,” because I’m not finished living. Somewhere along the way I asked for a long life, and I did at the same time think to ask that my life not turn ugly and scary before it reaches its end, but here we are, we rarely get everything we ask for.
If we survive this era, it will be because we remembered how to love and care for each other. What I’ve seen to this point makes me a skeptic. Prove me wrong, world.
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Something Americans traditionally have a difficult time with.
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Your life, my life, the life of the nation. We’re really here.
Here we are, kids, facing trauma of a sort that hasn’t been seen within our shores until now. It’s a heavy thing, watching night close in, knowing our way of life is more than likely ending in favor of a terrifying unknown. But as the numbness and DENIAL start to wear off a bit our psyches move into other stages of grief, and next up is ANGER. Elizabeth Kübler-Ross taught us that the five primary grief levels are DENIAL, ANGER, BARGAINING, DEPRESSION, and ACCEPTANCE, but also that those levels don’t remain in a nice neat order or follow an easy progression, and let me just say that ANGER feels like it’s setting in for the longterm. I mean, who the hell would I BARGAIN with anyway… I’ve had quite enough of DEPRESSION over the last decade… and ACCEPTANCE? Seriously?
There’s no accepting that my Black and Brown friends’ lives will become infinitely more fraught with danger, my trans friends will be exposed to unspeakable jeopardy, my gay friends and family will have to make decisions about safe places to live, somewhere on the planet, anyone who is different will be subject to scrutiny requiring them to justify their own existence. Lives will be in a state of upheaval for the foreseeable future so I can find no form of acceptance in my heart for the fact that people I once trusted have bowed the knee to a madman filled with hatred for the world and everything in it.
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The people who voted in favor of fascism seem to think we’ve simply had another transition from one political party to another, when what we’ve done is shifted into an entirely new way of being, and we don’t know yet what that will look like. Those same people believe they’re the favored ones and what happens to us won’t happen to them.
They know not what they’ve done.
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Nothing about the next four years and the ones thereafter will be easy, so we’ll all definitely know what we’re made of if we survive intact. There are things to keep in mind as dusk approaches:
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The world we wanted, the one where everybody gets to be who they are, is still a bridge too far and we see that now, don’t we. I’ve unbelieved a lot of things, but I’ll always believe that beautiful world exists… if only we knew how to live in it.
There’s still much to process so it’s really lame that my processor is on the fritz this week. Heart says “address this stuff,” brain says “let’s do another iPad painting.” I would describe myself today as uncomfortably numb.
It’s funny, I almost feel worse for the rest of the civilized world than for the U.S. population. We’ve been busy screwing things up, all the while they’ve continued to think we knew what we were doing. Surprise!
Don’t we all.
Some perspective:
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It only happens to “lesser societies,” right?
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Sometimes communication with people we care about suffers, not because we hate them but because we’ve made each other feel that the other doesn’t really matter, a sorry human trait.
So here we are. What was to have been a healing interval in American history will instead be an unsettling exercise in survival as a nation and as a population. The Reagan-era fascists hung in there like dogs, faithfully passing the torch to each new set of believers and simultaneously tearing away at the foundations of democracy until the Golden Goose of New York City fell into their hands, after which it was simply a matter of time. America won’t have to wait long before the effects start to show up; therefore, I’m leaving this here for posterity so we can all reminisce later:
We’ve either been steamrolled… or we’ve been had. Either way, it seems to be over for democracy-loving citizens, although we gave it a mighty effort, at least in terms of righteous indignation over the possibilities.
Those unthinkable possibilities have arrived on a silver platter, and we can expect events to unfold very quickly, no time wasted in bringing this former proud nation to its knees. So unless you’re solely motivated by hate and revenge, prepare to have your life stripped of everything that makes it meaningful and livable.
This isn’t a drill, it’s all really happening. We woke up this morning to see that we’ve been quietly taken over by patient fascists who were fronted by clowns in order to keep us distracted. Step by determined step they’ve actually done it… brought the mighty United States of America down to their level, and now we’re a captive audience while events play out.
It’s going to be a steep learning curve for his “chosen ones.” At least the rest of us already know how this works.
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I’ll meet you right here as soon as they turn some of the lights back on. Stay safe.
Good morning, my fellow round-the-bend players, how’s July shaping up for you? Okay, yeah, kinda what I thought. A lot going on, huh. There’s such a general upheaval in progress at all times now, it’s tricky to keep things sorted out. What’s important? What really matters? How can I be helpful instead of simply in the way? We have an incredible array of life or death issues in the air around us at once, none of which we hold any real sway over, and it’s fairly mindnumbing.
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Having spent the past week on the knife-edge of mortality, in the throes of Martian Death Flu, I’m back better than ever and ready to tear a chunk in the space-time continuum. Today, Monday, in a surprise fierce attack, it’s List-Making Day, and we’re in great shape on that so far, Alex. The determination and sense of purpose fairly leap off the page and the ecclesiastical “we” can’t wait to get started. In fact, we’ve already ticked two things off the list, including one from yesterday just to double up on the endorphins.
In light of what we wake up to every morning, we need all the good endorphins we can get, mainlined into the system. There are strange dichotomies at work that we aren’t used to dealing with, and that turns normally-mundane things very weird. I’m not Catholic, so no dog in the fight, but for the first time in 600 years two popes are alive at the same time. That raises chain-of-command questions I’m not sure anyone really wants to address, so I’ll just leave it here for posterity.
By somewhat the same token, we’ve basically had two presidents simultaneously in the U.S. since 2021, and I do have a big woolly-bear of a dog in that fight. The legitimate president calls the shots and gets things done, the pretender shoots wildly in every direction and keeps his cul… um, base, on fire. His own family, including niece Mary, a Phd in clinical psychology, calls him batshit crazy, but a percentage of people in the country think he’s better than sex, which is worrisome on every level.
At the SAME EXACT TIME we have two hugely influential generations aging out… the Silent Generation and the Boomers. Every day my Facebook feed is sprinkled with stories and cool photos of people from my parents’ generation, all the celebrities I grew up knowing about. The vast majority are in their 90s and past 100, still doing that thing they do, which is generally to make life feel better to the rest of us. They’re leaving a very large void as they slip away one by one. I’ll wake up one of these mornings to find that Willie Nelson is no longer a citizen of this earth and I don’t know if I can bear it.
I remember people saying that as we age time speeds up. Yes and no. Twelve straight hours of daylight can seem like a week, but the weekends arrive and depart in double-time. The Silents and we Boomers are reaping the benefits of better nutrition as it came to us along the way, and it’s showing up not only in longevity but also productivity. A whole lot of us still have all our faculties, strange as that may sound coming from someone out of the 1960s and 70s (if you remember it, you weren’t there), and we’re still a force, but the world has no idea what to do with us. The law writers and hangers-on DO mos def want to get their hands on all the Social Security monies we’ve paid into the system our entire working lives, and let’s just say it, to do that they need us dead. I mean, how else? These and other realities keep me awake for whole seconds at night before I slip into my own “little death” and shuttle my brain over to dreamland. And hoo-boy, there have been some bizarre scenarios lately, what’s up with that.
While I’m rolling, imma say this too: Any way we slice it, however it turns out, the presidential election of 2024 is not simply that. Change is coming regardless, the question now is how much and how fast. Will this be the year America turns its broad backside on our WWII defenders and simply strolls into fascism like it’s a Sunday picnic, or will we wake up in time to take a shot at doing it right? America willingly sauntering into Christian Nationalism, hands behind our backs, sounds ridiculous. I hope we won’t do that, but I don’t draw up the plans. No one ever even asks me, despite dedicated years of opinionated observation. Someone who does know what the plan is, by the name of Kevin Roberts, should be checked out and taken seriously, though. He means it.
Please avail yourself of a copy of Project 2025 to see what the end of democratic rule and beginning of religious oppression looks like.There’s also a documentary called “Bad Faith.”But let’s focus on Project 2024 so we don’t have to worry about 2025!
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One thing we’ve discovered is that Joseph Heller was a prophet:
“It was miraculous. It was almost no trick at all, he saw, to turn vice into virtue and slander into truth, impotence into abstinence, arrogance into humility, plunder into philanthropy, thievery into honor, blasphemy into wisdom, brutality into patriotism, and sadism into justice. Anybody could do it; it required no brains at all. It merely required no character.”
A note of hope writ large today: England and France, both leaning seriously right for a worrisome time, managed to rein it in and lean the other way in their recent elections, both putting left-ish moderates in office. That’s two first-world nations bucking the global trend toward Christian Nationalism, let’s make it three and start a wildfire. And since I’m likely already at max friend-loss on the day, here’s this. She did everything she could to warn us about every bit of this.
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It’s a lot. I haven’t written much lately because I can’t do it without getting into the truth. Turns out I can hoard my thoughts for only so long, however, so take ’em as they’re meant. And survive the long hot summer.
It’s been an ISH kind of spring so far. Rain-ish. Bluster-ish. Wind-ish. Gray-ish. Not a problem, just a challenge, especially in light of the general bluster coming at us from all quarters. No question, these are strange times, putting a layer of uncertainty under everything, to which the solution seems to be “Keep your head up and keep moving.”
That’s likely the essence of what our college and high school grads heard the past two weekends from speakers who had everyone’s best interests in mind, with one notable exception, a man who kicks balls for a living. This girl is just thankful she can see the TV from the kitchen, because FOOTBALL, man (see how equal-opportunity I am?). And the kitchen isn’t even my territory, it’s the domain of the guy who can REALLY COOK. OMG, we are SO out of compliance with current regs! If the Household Quality Control Department totes us away, please send banana bread containing keys, thx.
So… we’re in hiatus again, with some 28,000 university students mostly gone with the wind. Mass Street, jammed for two solid weekends, is now kinda quiet, kinda slow. This state of being lasts only a couple of months, though, before new life returns and it’s on again: students looking for housing, furniture at the curb all over town, baby freshmen getting their college legs, and a happy Mass Street. Football. Basketball. Bread and circuses, bring it on.
In the interim we’ve consciously broken a habit of several years running, that of NOT watching news on TV. The various shenanigans and happenings have heightened our need to know, so we tune in to trial coverage enough that it reminds me of watching the Watergate hearings on a little black & white TV with rabbit ears while my toddler played and napped.
That whole thing, Watergate, seems so innocent in retrospect. I wasn’t here for slavery (the official version) and I missed the Civil War and both World Wars. By the end of the Korean War I was six years old and just beginning to be cognizant of events outside my small sphere of existence. By the time Viet Nam became an acknowledged war I was becoming very aware of world events and how politics, in the end, shape everything. (See definition of “woke.”) Despite the ugliness and division of that era and my own personal fears, I never really expected to see the globe in tatters and headed for a bad end in my lifetime. Why, I don’t know, because here we are.
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While I wasn’t old enough for WWII, I fully understand what it was about, and I know its sinister vibe is very much with us right now, this week, underscored by words from a disgraced ex-“president.” Words like “unified Reich” and “immigrants are poisoning the blood of America” and political opponents referred to as “vermin.” Germany doesn’t allow Nazi rhetoric, why are we tolerating it? The language and intent are such that every time I’ve tried to write about it (or anything else) my brain fogs over and tears clog my throat. As a country we’ve never quite been who we thought we were, but we were for sure better than this and the world is aghast to see our crumbling feet of clay because if the U.S. is a sham, how do they maintain hope for their own nations?
I’ll always be a Pollyanna, the girl who looks for the pony in the manure pile, always hopeful, forever optimistic, but I must say it takes a mighty amount more effort to maintain that mental state now.
I’ve tried for days to write something, just to sort things a little and get a handle on the current prevailing vibe, but as soon as I sit down here my mind goes blank. It feels almost too big to deal with… the massive governmental changes lurking just over the horizon… the sense of walking on eggshells around friends and family… everything in a state of flux, resulting in endless limbo. Our skies have been gray with rain lately… but there’s also a general charcoaled-out mood to the rest of life as well. Beautiful friends who deserve only life’s sweetness are caught in the pain and darkness of loss and grief… and I’m helpless in the face of all that, just as I am in looking at the planet’s woes and knowing I can’t make any of it better. These are the days that try little white-haired women’s souls.
Closer to home, our Dove family is settled in and weathering the storms so far. We’re increasingly worried about Snoop, though… he’s tiny compared to Willie Nelson and he shivers constantly, even under his mama or daddy’s feathers. We hope he’ll eventually thrive, but it isn’t looking good for lil’ Snoop. Life is hard, dude, and nowhere is it as close to the bone as in pure raw nature.
Willie and Snoop Dove. Best bros.Hatched a day apart.
I scroll social media every day looking for “good news” stories and gentle humor because we all need it right now like a favorite teddy bear. When we least feel like smiling, we need it most. Humor and kindness make life livable because they add up to love.
So… I wrote all of the above yesterday. It’s another sunny morning, and Snoop Dove is clinging to life, but just barely. Willie Nelson stays close and usually has Snoop tucked against his side or under his tail feathers, but Snoop has gotten even tinier and he shivers nonstop. David and Darlene are making themselves scarce most of the time, probably letting reality follow its own course. Willie looks big enough to fly away, so little Snoop’s window is closing. Life on the planet is a fight every day, whether or not we can sense our own struggle. It’s overwhelming, even without the people who do cruel things ON PURPOSE.
Fall and winter are big-deal sports seasons, mostly, I surmise, to save us from ourselves during The Time of Cold and Dark. My first go-to is always reading, but healthy competition runs a close second… entirely as a voyeur unless I’m playing Scrabble with Kim, or WordsWithFriends with my sisters. My justice-based mindset likes the fact that there are actual rules in sports, agreed upon by all parties and swiftly enforced when violated, with due penalties attached. Life out there in the rough isn’t like that, which troubles the anxious mind. Teamwork is a cool concept, and I play favorites, don’t you? My teams tend to be the good guys, rather than the bad boys of the sport. Competition shouldn’t equate to meanness. But I think that beyond the personalities and skills involved, the key aspect is the time frame. A contest is initiated, fought, won, and declared. Over. Next game, move on! In real life, nothing is ever really over. Highly frustrating to a neurotic, let me just say.
Which somehow brings to mind a social media trend that’s become increasingly obvious this year… memories, clips, photo montages, and tributes to my generation’s musicians. It goes without saying why this is happening, but we may as well acknowledge that they’re leaving us and the progression will continue. I’m loving the retrospectives on The Beatles, The Stones, Freddie Mercury, and the others who helped shape my youth, even knowing why I’m seeing them again on a daily basis. It’s both stunning and deeply comforting to understand that inside this 76-year-old shell beats the heart of the girl who first heard those voices, harmonies, impossible notes, unforgettable beats, and identifies with every part of it. Those memories don’t leave us, because they stay current. They grow with us. In some ways they define us. And so, when the last of the Fab Four have taken their leave, and Mick and the boys are no longer rocking (as far as we know), none of it will change for us. It’s all interwoven, part of our DNA. Thanks to technology, I’ll be over here with Roy Orbison, Tom Petty, Leon Russell, David Crosby, Tina Turner, and a long list of other friends, grateful to still have access. I remember the girl-slash-young mom who “grew up” with most of them, and it’s painful to lose their presence in the world.
It’s all simply part of feeling anything at all. The tragedy would be if we couldn’t feel what matters, so it isn’t really a choice, it’s just life. I choose that.
Fall has a thing she does every year called Bring On The Melancholy, and since October 4, 1985, she’s been bringing it with a vengeance. For the first time in 38 years I missed every signal while dancing with them all, so the denial is still strong with this one. Mystery solved. The crushing grief of the past couple of weeks has a direct source, beyond the usual fall mood.
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Welcome to my weekly blog on life's happiness. We are all human and we all deserve to smile. Click a blog title or scroll down. Thanks for stopping by.
Creative humour, satire and other bad ideas by Ross Murray, an author living in the Eastern Townships of Quebec, Canada. Is it truth or fiction? Only his hairdresser knows for sure.
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