Sunday, May 28, 2017
or is our president this transparently desperate and petulantly dumb?
"I don't understand farm subsidies but I'm going to pretend I do blah blah blah my inauguration crowds were bigger than the entire population of the United States blah blah blah no president in the history of the galaxy has been treated worse than I have blah blah blah beautiful babies and chocolate cake blah blah blah I just got back from Europe where I counted all the way to G7 blah blah blah next question, as long as it's about MEEEEEEEEE. Oh, and blah blah blah."
Just this month, Franklin Graham in a fiery keynote speech at the World Summit in Defense of Persecuted Christians -- yes, apparently that's a thing now -- declared without citing figures or sources beyond his own made-upness that "I am sure the number of Christians who are in prison or martyred each year would stagger our mind if we really knew what the total number really was."
Oh, the heartbreak of "if only." And I'm sure the collective singular "our mind" was just a typo in the transcript. Because surely these hapless persecution victims have more than one mind between them.
Oh, Scott. Scott, Scott, Scott. Bless your heart. I'll try to keep this short so you can get back to showing off your import:
1. The fact that you feel obligated to state that you're not afraid is tacit acknowledgement that we're well past the tipping point where most of your swamp friends are afraid to admit they support Melania's Profound Regret and all thinking people are afraid for reasons that are apparently beyond your understanding.
2. Speaking of understanding, "tacit" means "understood or implied without being stated."
3. Really. One little sticker is more than enough to proclaim to the world your catastrophic lack of judgment. But five little stickers AND an entire bottle of rub-on shoe polish? That just exponentiates your bad judgment about your bad judgment.
4. "Exponentiates" means "raises one quantity to the power of another."
5. Don't worry. Betsy DeVos took that last one off the test. Math is apparently too Satany.
6. Your car photo doesn't show your license plate so I can't discern what state you live in -- gratuitous "of denial" and "of delusion" jokes notwithstanding -- but a perfunctory google search just showed me that obstructing your rear window outside of a varying allowance of a few square inches in each corner is considered dangerous and illegal in all of the state traffic codes I read.
7. STATES' RIGHTS! YEAH!
8. "Perfunctory" means "carried out with a minimum of effort."
9. I apologize. I know I promised to keep this short. But there are so many things profoundly wrong with you.
10. Mazda is a Japanese multinational automaker based in Fuchū, Aki District, Hiroshima Prefecture, Japan. Four of the five little stickers on your Japan-is-not-America Mazda clearly -- CLEARLY! -- state "MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN!" In all caps! With exclamation points! One has to wonder the level of cognitive dissonance required to put multiple pro-America stickers on an imported car and declare a "love" of "showing off" that car in presumably pro-American "support" of a by clear implication pro-American "president."
11. "Cognitive dissonance" means ... oh, never mind. Betsy won't allow it on the test either. Enjoy your metaphorical obstructed-view drive.
12. "Metaphor" means ... oy ... let's just say it's one fewer than metaphive so you won't have to count so high.
Friday, May 26, 2017
1. Bitch Kitty does something cute, like pose with her paws out like she's a superhero.
2. Bitch Kitty lets me get close enough to take her picture without hissing and running away.
3. Bitch Kitty even cooperatively looks up at the camera and gives a wan smile for her picture.
4. Melania makes a public appearance in a $51,500 Dolce & Gabbana jacket while her husband can't find money in the national budget for Meals on Wheels.
Thursday, May 25, 2017
3. His head was so round and so bald for so long that I'm pretty sure when he was about five my sister traded him in for a kid with cheekbones and a tube of Rogaine because I totally don't recognize my nephew of today in the pictures of my nephew as a baby.
4. Once he could walk, I bought him some rain boots with feet decorated to look like duck bills and ankles decorated with duck eyes that he wore every chance he got until well after he outgrew them and his toes stuck out of the cracked rubber and the smell coming from them sometimes made him difficult to hug but for some reason I was proud to the point of tears that he loved them because *I* bought them for him.
5. He more than once wore those duck boots with a hard hat and a pair of safety goggles and went into a DEEPLY focused zone as he pretended to edge the lawn with his toy weed whacker. We adults kinda saw this as alarming but mostly saw it as a profoundly funny way to keep him quiet for remarkable lengths of time.
6. He loved fire trucks. FIRE TRUCKS! I bought him a fireman suit with his name on the chest one year for Christmas and I thought we'd have to throw buckets of water on him to calm him down after he opened it.
7. I'm a gay man and I have no innate knowledge about how to raise children -- not that those two are mutually exclusive -- but I had no idea how to incorporate the gay part of my life into his understanding of who I am as he grew up in a world of naturally heterocentrist assumptions. And whether he figured it out gradually or all at once, one of the greatest gifts he ever gave me was totally not caring one way or the other. And one of the second greatest gifts he ever gave me was his enthusiasm about making totally tasteless gay jokes with me as he got older.
8. I'd kinda hoped that as he grew up he'd see me as the cool best-friend/trusted-confidant uncle in whom he could confide the vicissitudes of his teenage angst or from whom he could get private, non-judgmental answers to his questions about girls (or boys, but it ended up being girls), but all I really ended up getting was the friend part. Which I'm totally cool with.
9. Every kid's age is the best age, but I'm firmly in the camp that right now is the BEST best age because it comes with thoughtful conversations and informed opinions about current events and inside jokes that are a few steps above using the word "underpants" and -- and this is my favorite part for some reason -- the exchange of texts filled with inappropriate humor and exponentially inappropriate memes that show I have successfully completed my avuncular mission to thoroughly corrupt the boy.
10. After a whirlwind few months of senior awards ceremonies and final choir concerts and poorly-attended-by-me baseball games -- which cap off a whirlwind 18 years of time-has-flown-by-way-too-fast-for-me-to-savor-each-moment -- my nephew graduates from high school tonight. And I know it's just a milestone in a family of lives filled with milestones, but this milestone carries the weight of signifying the end of his childhood, of his belly laughs, of his duck boots, of his fire trucks, of his joy over eating Mickey Mouse waffles when he visited me in Chicago, of his need for me to pick him up from school, of his influence on me to make sure I live my life in a way that he grows up with a good example to emulate and a proud memory to eventually look back on. We're certainly not done raising him -- and I still have a niece I need to finish corrupting before she graduates -- but right now I'm overflowing with joy and sadness and worry and calm and immeasurable pride that I got to play a part in raising such a kind, intelligent, clever, responsible, conscientious, loving, eminently outstanding young man.
Wednesday, May 24, 2017
Tuesday, May 23, 2017
Monday, May 22, 2017
I don't cry much. As in ever. I don't cry ever. But I am right now. And the concert hasn't even started.
This is gonna be rough.
Sunday, May 21, 2017
Ya know, your man-boy husband does the same thing in his tweets: He always reports that he has "good meetings" with people as though that were newsworthy or valuable information to share with the public. He never reports topics discussed, commonalities found, diplomacies achieved ... just the relentless goodness of every meeting he has. It's like neither of you has critical thinking skills, the ability to interpret experiences or shape narratives, a useful education, or even shame over the fact that of all the things that happen in your glamorous, influential, tireless-public-servant lives, all you can ever seem to come up with when you decide Hey! I should put this on Twitter! is that your meetings were good ... or to your great fortune today, wonderful.
If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were both pointless, uneducated, narcissistic, tone-deaf hypocrites who suck the blood of taxpayers and sleep on beds of dead children. But we all know that's not true. As you told us in your tweet today, all you do with children is have a wonderful time with them. And that's just wonderful!
"Saudi Arabia and the United Arab Emirates will reportedly pledge $100 million toward a fund for women entrepreneurs that was built by Ivanka Trump."
--The Hill, May 21, 2017
• Flag pin
• Tan suit
• Chewing gum
• Private schools
• Healthy eating initiatives
• Michelle's bare arms
• Being black
• Oops! Did I just say being black?
• Overcoming a proudly obstructionist Congress to provide affordable healthcare for millions of Americans
• Being black
Saturday, May 20, 2017
Your dad literally tried to ban an entire religion from our country. To refresh your selective, delusional, self-serving memory, he demanded "a total and complete shutdown of Muslims entering the United States." Which is the exact OPPOSITE of "promotion of religious tolerance globally."
Either your entire family is stupid or you all desperately hope that what's left of your moral and intellectual swamp of a base is.
Don't come back from your trip, Ivanka. Any of you. You're not good enough to call yourselves Americans.
Friday, May 19, 2017
I'm trapped in my car right now listening to NPR list this week's day-by-day, sometimes hour-by-hour lies, machinations and appalling scandals that spilled out of the man-boy administration and its expanding, fetid orbit. It's exhausting. And infuriating. And I feel like I need to know what our country is up against so I can't stop listening.
Thursday, May 18, 2017
Wednesday, May 17, 2017
Tuesday, May 16, 2017
Monday, May 15, 2017
Why is my inbox suddenly overflowing with vaguely written, nonchalantly lying emails equating my 30 years' writing experience with a burning desire to sell insurance? And no, Jackie Schneiter of Farm Bureau, you didn't "run across my resume on Monster." I haven't updated my Monster profile since I lived in Chicago so I'm more than certain that Monster's algorithms have suppressed it as inactive and your desperate little search bots had to dig long and hard to find it. If you want me to not make fun of you by your made-up email name and your actual company name on Facebook and on my blog, your first six words to me are not allowed to me to be lies.
But it's lovely that you look forward to hearing from me. Just wait by your computer. I'll get back to you promptly. (Also six words!)
Sunday, May 14, 2017
Thrice (so far!)-married serial-adulterer Donald Trump, who just yesterday bellowed "In America we don’t worship government, we worship God!" to thunderous, effusive cheering at his commencement address at Jerry Falwell Jr.'s "faith-based" Liberty University and who today played golf instead of spending Mother's Day with any of the three mothers of his five known children, is appointing the one-time mistress and now third (so far!) wife of fellow serial-adulterer Newt Gingrich as the United States ambassador to the "faith-based" Vatican.
There are more faith-based family values on the bottom of my shoe than in the entirety of that last sentence.
Saturday, May 13, 2017
Friday, May 12, 2017
Whew. Never mind.
Anyway! We had our first dance rehearsal tonight for one of the numbers I intend to play in the show and even though I don't have the piano score yet, the vocal score shows it's in C! No sharps! Not even flats! Just pure, well-composed (ahem) C. Plus it literally has "boogie" in the title so it's pretty much guaranteed to be basic three-chord progressions. Which is just one chord more than you need to play "Chopsticks." So I think I'm up for the challenge.
Unfortunately, my last five years of obsessive but admirably diligent thumb-texting do not equal anything resembling a sustained level of piano-playing dexterity. So I'll be supplementing my daily texting training with some rigorous scales and arpeggios for the next few months.
And while I don't think I've played piano on stage in front of anyone in maybe 20 years, I will be now! And I'm treble-y excited about it. Well, I bass-ically am. No, I am. I flat-out am.
Yes, Kellyanne. He was rolling his eyes because of your boobs. It had nothing to do with your unyielding full-steam-ahead railroading of your laughably partisan narratives at the expense of all logic or empirical truth. It had nothing to do with your stubborn defense of our indefensible man-boy president. It had nothing to do with your chronic professional victimhood. (Remember that one time you conflated an eye roll over your moronity into a heartless act of sexism? That was classic!) It might have had a little to do with the Woody Woodpecker band uniform you chose to wear to the inauguration, though.
2. It's your surrogates' job to provide accurate information about your administration to the press. Not to hide in bushes. Not to yell at black people. If they don't provide accurate information, they can always use the time-honored "let me get back to you" duck and run, which at least gives everyone the impression that they're taking the time to ask questions and do research to be accurately informed while they're most likely stalling for time to find a way to spin your increasingly delusional and bizarre words and actions into a way to blame big black Barack Obama for your catastrophic failings.
3. Speaking of your catastrophic failings, if your surrogates don't have perfect accuracy, either they're incompetent or you are. Which, again, is Barack Obama's fault. Or Hillary's. Or now Comey's! Your hallucinatory little world is filled with wondrous possibilities.
4. "Lots of things happening" is a conveniently passive way of implying your schedule is just packed with important presidenty things, which in the real world do not involve golfing every weekend at tremendous taxpayer expense, locking up your third failing marriage in a gilded New York tower also at tremendous taxpayer expense, being an appallingly absent parent to all your children except the ones who actively sustain your practices of corruption and self-aggrandizement, and desperately changing your lies about why you fired the Republican-appointed, served-under-four-consecutive-presidents, in-the-middle-of-investigating-you-for-corruption FBI director on the national news and THEN by letter while you knew he was out of town instead of being a big brave professional "businessman" president and doing it in person.
5. "Cancel all press briefings"? Isn't that what a despotic dictator would do? I'll give you a moment to ask your presidential surrogates if anyone knows the word despot.
6. Getting back to point #1, your inability to write an accurate tweet makes your proposal to "hand out written responses" is the exact opposite of "the best thing to do."
7. And while we're on the topic of your tweets, they're getting longer and more punctuationy and more desperately-blame-everyone-else-but-yourselfy by the day. You're not fooling anyone but your arrogance; you are unhinged, flying off the rails, and hopefully literally and very soon slamming your smug face into the side of a mountain in a catastrophic crash of your own psychopathy.
8. I loathe you.
9. I loathe everyone who voted for and still defiantly supports you.
10. I loathe you.
Today's gonna have to work awfully hard not to be awesome.