Tag: Democratic National Convention

My Girl

Work-at-home Friday this morning, and Sparky let me sleep a little later this morning before getting insistent (the swipes at the face have claws out more). So here I sit, with my first cup of coffee and the weather is supposed to be cooler today; we’re having a cold front. Hilariously, the local weather source I use said today is “false fall” because it’s only going to be ninety…temperatures here are definitely skewed over what most of the rest of the country experiences. I also slept very well last night, deeply and restfully and through the night, which was lovely and kind of why I feel so good this morning. I have some things to get done around the house today in addition to my usual work-at-home duties, and some errands to get done later as well.

The DNC concluded last night, and while the evening had a different vibe than the rest of the week, it was lovely seeing the Exonerated Five calling out the demented Martyr of Mar-a-Lago did my heart very good (reminder to self: watch When They See Us) and the Vice-President’s acceptance speech was incredibly powerful. There were other speakers–the young Black congressional candidate from Alabama was amazing; as was Elizabeth Warren (and it was great seeing her get her flowers from the crowd)–and so were many of the others. I feel very hopeful about the future for the first time since November of 2016, and that’s saying something. It isn’t going to be what we hope, and the Republicans will fight her agenda every step of the way with their lies and smears and general awfulness; those of us who can remember the rise of the racist Tea Party will have to continually remind people of who and what they are. The MAGA movement has always been toxic and most Americans have always seen it that way. But like the Know-Nothings, the Whigs, and the Federalists, MAGA just needs to die, and can we but hope that this election will finish that anti-American racist movement once and for all.

A fine example of how awful they are is their reaction to, and treatment of, Gus Walz; whose emotions overcame him during his father’s acceptance speech, burst into tears as he jumped to his feet with love and pride and shouted “that’s my Dad!” on camera. Anyone who saw that and wasn’t moved and touched touched by this testament to the strength of their family love (and what amazing parents the governor and his wife are) is a soulless, craven monster. The same people who’ve been screaming that “Barron is off limits!” (as were the Bush twins) but then went after a seventeen-year-old? You’re trash, and Barron is no longer off-limits, as far as I am concerned; these are the same people who called Amy Carter ugly and Chelsea Clinton the White House dog…not to mention all the racist hate they threw at the Obama girls. Imagine being raised in the Trump family; what choice did the kid have to be anything other than a sociopath like his tragic older half-siblings?1

But we’re supposed to ignore the Right’s children and leave them alone, like the sociopathic Palin children, or Lauren Boebert’s felon son “because the kids are off-limits” until a new Democratic candidate comes around with kids and the story about politicians’ kids change.I am tired of Republicans and the media holding the Democrats and the left to a standard of behavior that is never applied to the Right. They are literally the biggest hypocrites of all time, and it’s past time they get dragged for the filth they are. Ann Coulter’s attack (now deleted) on Twitter about Gus Walz was about what one can expect from the talking heads on the Right. MAGA already hates her for turning on Trump, the Left hates her because she’s always been a horrible woman, so who exactly is listening to her nowadays anyway? She never is on television any more because no one wants to watch, and she’s no better than the irrelevant TERF bitch in Scotland. I can only imagine the kind of toxic environment/household she grew up in. I had started writing a book a while back where I killed off a Ann Coulter-type character; I’ve hated that woman for years. Maybe I should find that manuscript…

This weekend my goal is to do some reading and writing. I can’t believe it’s almost Labor Day already. I’m not sorry to see this brutally hot summer come to a close (I never am) and of course, I love the fall, with the cooler weather and it being football season. Plus, I can no longer use the heat as an excuse to not get things done!

And on that note, I am heading back into the spice mines to get my work-at-home duties completed. Have a lovely day, Constant Reader, and I’ll be back later.

  1. And for the record, I am also tired of people making victims out of Republican wives. They are exactly where they want to be. Melania could have left at anytime, and so could Usha Vance. But they are craven grifters just like the men they married. They deserve no consideration from us. None. They are not women like Hilary Clinton or Michelle Obama or Rosalynn Carter. They are the modern-day equivalent of Klan wives who falsely accused young Black men and got them lynched. Save your sympathies for the women he assaulted. ↩︎

I Got You Babe

Well, I survived returning back to work yesterday. I really thought I’d have trouble getting up yesterday morning, but I was awake when the alarm went off the first time–and yes, Sparky was a kitty puddle at the foot of the bed who immediately woke and strolled up along the side of the bed for head butts and purring to get me up. I also made it through the day without ever getting tired, and I was sure I would; I woke up several times during the night, and it seemed to always take a while for me to go back to sleep. I did sleep more deeply last night, and I feel pretty good this morning. Which is weird, of course; I shouldn’t feel more rested and better later in the work week, but when have I ever been normal?

I haven’t wanted to be normal in decades. And this particular oddness is something I’ve noticed before.

But overall, yesterday was a pleasant day. I wasn’t terribly tired when I got off work, which I’d been concerned about, and ran my errand and came home to play with Sparky. Paul worked at home yesterday and went to Hoshun to get us dinner (a treat for my birthday, delayed a day) and we watched the convention again last night. The DNC is simply killing it this year, aren’t they? Whoever planned this convention deserves a huge raise. It’s also lovely getting reminders of how good and deep the bench of next generation party leaders actually is. Who do they have? Lauren Boebert, Marjorie Taylor Greene, and Matt Gaetz? Give me Jasmine Crockett, Wes Moore, Josh Shapiro, Andy Beshear, Pete Buttigieg, and Eric Swalwell any day of the week over those fools. I stayed up to watch Governor Walz–and what a wonderful, amazing, normal family he has, and how much do they all love each other? I know Vance’s biracial children have been completely moved by how their dad has defended their mom–oops, never mind.

And tonight the Vice-President will accept the nomination, and I can’t wait to watch.

The humidity has broken here for a few days; we’re having an unusual cold spell which will result in lots of storms all week next week, and then…it’s Labor Day weekend and college football starts. LSU plays USC in Las Vegas that weekend on Sunday night, and I don’t know if I’m ready for another college football season this soon. I don’t think we’ll be going to any games this year, alas, but that’s okay. No one is really sure how good LSU will or won’t be this year, but most seem to be cautiously optimistic. The schedule is rough this year, too. Two of the non-conference games are USC and UCLA, and I think they play both Texas and Oklahoma this year in addition to the usual SEC meat grinder–although Auburn and Mississippi State have come off the schedule. (Note to self: print the schedule and put it on the fridge; same with the Saints. Sigh. I can’t believe it’s already football season! But I am ready for fall weather–or what passes for it around here, LOL.)

I managed to book an eye appointment for a Saturday in September, and yes, I booked it during the scheduled game that day, at South Carolina. Which is fine, actually; I don’t mind driving out to Metairie in the morning, and I can always get something to eat out there that I usually don’t have access to–which is even better. I probably should stop and make groceries tonight–we need a few things–and I also need to get gas as well. I keep forgetting I need to get gas every night this week on my way home, and if I’m not careful I’m going to wind up stranded on the side of the road somewhere. (Not the end of the world; my insurance has roadside service so I’d just have to wait for someone to bring me some gas so I can get to a station–but this is something I’d have had anxiety about before the new medications, and boy do I not miss the anxiety!) Note to self: get gas on the way home tonight.

I’m working at home tomorrow, so I get to sleep a little later than usual (if His Royal Highness Sparky will allow it–he will most likely not), and of course, I have some chores to get done this weekend. I ordered new kitchen towels for my birthday, which delights me to no end, and I am thinking about upgrading some other things around the house. I also need to clear out some more books and get the boxes down from on top of the cabinets, and maybe even start on the boxes in the attic. Whoa, Nelly, slow down; you’re feeling awfully ambitious this morning (it’s the coffee, no doubt) and by this afternoon you won’t feel like doing anything at all when you get home. There’s a load of dishes in the dishwasher to run, and there’s also some laundry to finish, too. It truly never ends!

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have an awesome Thursday, and I may be back later. I’m tricky that way.

The Birds and the Bees

Wednesday morning and back to the office with me today. It’s a good thing, but I did really enjoy my four days of rest and relaxation. Yesterday I did nothing. I mean, I didn’t put any pressure on myself to do anything and was just a lazy slug for most of the day. I did do some of the dishes, and I did make salisbury steak for dinner (I really do like it, and it wasn’t that difficult) and even took a nap yesterday afternoon (fell asleep for almost two hours in my chair). I watched the DNC last night, and was reminded of how much I love the Obamas; Michelle certainly burned the Republicans to the ground, and after years of them going high–it was nice to see them drag the right and Trump for the racist, juvenile filth they are. It was very cathartic to see and hear, frankly. I feel so much better about the election it’s like a whole new world for us to live in now. Oh, I know it’s going to be much closer than it should be (bigotry and prejudice will still sway some people, alas), and election night is going to be incredibly stressful. But I no longer dread the election, even if it there is an eternity until the votes are counted.

These changes over the last month or so have been so incredible. I went from feeling like I was living under another dark cloud–the same one that’s been up there since 2016–and that dark cloud just made everything else so much worse. Everything just seemed bleak, and then so much else happened in the time since. I think that also had a lot to do with the writing burnout I was/am experiencing on top of everything else awful that has happened in the intervening eight years. There were a lot of dark clouds since 2016, and of course when you’re already prone to things because of your anxiety and some deeply imbedded self-loathing that you’ve never really gotten past, it makes the writing so much harder. I’ve clearly slowed down over the last seven years or so–and the successes I’ve had I’ve not really been able to enjoy. I’ve been nominated for a lot of mainstream awards since the sewage rode the escalator down and grifted his way into the White House, which is incredibly cool.

It’ hard to believe it has only been a month since the President decided not to run again.

I’m also on the fence about Never Kiss a Stranger, and I am slowly coming to the conclusion that it just may not be the time for me to write it. I think I am going to go back over those chapters I’ve already done this week and try fixing them. I think that it’s not so much “Imposter Syndrome” or burnout or even laziness as it is maybe not the right time to write this book. Maybe it’s not a book and should just remain novella length? Not everything has to be a novel, after all. It does, as a novella, need more work; but it also needs more work as a book. And if I can’t decide right now which one it should be…maybe it’s just not the right time for me to be writing this book. Maybe I should just write another Scotty–not that it will be easy to do so–but just to get back into the swing of writing again. There is something comforting about revisiting Scotty’s world; and it means I need to revisit those books, and maybe–just maybe–it’s time to copy edit Jackson Square Jazz and get that ebook up and available.

And it’s also entirely possible that Never Kiss a Stranger is one of those projects destined to remain unfinished. I have quite a few of those on hand these days, it seems! But not everything needs to be finished, and not every idea plays out in a story or a novella or into a book, you know? I also worry about repeating myself with my work; what if I’ve already written this character or this story or used this subplot already1; the problem is I’ve been creating and writing for so long–as well as plundering old stuff for plots and character names–that the possibility of completely forgetting that I’ve used a plot or characters already is pretty high.

So, I am going to futz around the rest of this week, work on some stories, and maybe see how a new Scotty might flow for me. Hey, you never know.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely Wednesday, Constant Reader, and I will check in with you again later on or tomorrow!

  1. Absolutely no disrespect intended, but even Agatha Christie recycled plots. ↩︎

King of the Road

Well, happy birthday to me. It’s actually midnight and I am up far past my bedtime. I stayed up watching the Democratic National Convention, and wow, what an evening that was. Then I realized it wasn’t that long until the end of my sixty-third year and the start of my sixty-fourth. Yikes indeed! Who’d have thought the old queen would last this long? I certainly never gave it a thought, and just always dismissed with it a shrug and oh I’ll be long dead by then. Surprise! Here I am, a little at sea and dealing with the complicated feelings of being older and all that serious stuff I’ve managed to avoid thinking about or dealing with for so much of my life. And yet…here I am, still alive and kicking and with a brain that’s only slightly slower and a memory that has a lot more blanks than it used to and really, a lot less energy than I used to have but that’s all kind of normal. I am also still getting used to the free time I have now, and kind of enjoying just having no pressure on me.

There are worse things than turning sixty-three, frankly. Seventy, for example. Just kidding, I have no idea how bad or good that will feel when it happens.

I had a nice day yesterday. I went to the grocery store and mostly cleaned and picked up things around the house, and worked on the kitchen. I actually took the rugs out and shook them for the first time in I don’t want to know how long, and came down to a nice, orderly looking kitchen. I was thinking yesterday that I don’t really want to do anything today–but then realized I actually like organizing and cleaning, so won’t rule any of that out while heading into the day. I am going to try to not leave the house–I may go to Five Guys for lunch, but the jury is still out on that. We’re not in a heat advisory today, which is also kind of great–first day in many weeks that we’ve not been in one, so indeed happy birthday to me! I am also not rushing to finish this either; I am going to finish this and post it whenever I feel like it. (Who am I kidding, I’ll finish and post while I am sitting here, won’t I?)

I’m just going to do today the way I want to do today, and do what I feel like and won’t feel any pressure to do anything I don’t want to do, or rather, don’t feel like doing. It’s a very weird feeling, frankly. I realized yesterday that part of the problem is that period of physically not being able to write very much (or at all) has gotten me out of the habits, and that means I don’t remember how to focus, which is also why I am having trouble reading (I am going to try to do some this morning to kickstart those sleeping muscles and hoping that reading will remind my brain how to focus). Part of it is memory loss, of course–the COVID experience in 2022 seemingly wiped my memory banks, and that’s only gotten somewhat worse. But that’s okay. The creativity has come back (which I always worry about) but what’s missing is the focus; I have to harness the creativity and make it work for me going forward.

I also found myself, as is my wont, having all kinds of thoughts and ideas about works already in progress or potential future projects, all the while remembering all the way back when my novels first started coming out–and how different the world I first published in was from today’s. I also started thinking about my next Scotty book, and what the plot of that is going to be. Interestingly enough, I was also thinking about a future Scotty book, in which we address Cancer Alley at long last. Maybe it’s not out of my scope to write environmental crime novels set in Louisiana, exploring how the conservatives have essentially allowed the state to be looted and plundered, environment be damned, for generations and do not want any changes to the status quo. Why not me? It’ll be challenging, for sure, but doing the research will be fun and informative. Or…maybe Cancer Alley would be the kind of story that would be better for a Chanse novel? Do I want to bring him back? It IS fun to think about, to be honest.

I also decided that as I build the Substack essay audience, I have to do better work to post there. I’ve been doing it mostly the same way I do this blog–find a topic to discuss from my life (whether it’s media I’ve consumed, something about writing, the trials of being gay, life lessons learned, experiences that made me who I am today) and then sit down and write and post it, without edits or rewrites. If I ever move it to a paid model, I have to give people something that they are willing to pay for to read–and that’s why I am thinking it’s a good place for these essays, even a short story here and there, and so on–and that means I have to start thinking of the Substack in a more professional manner.

And maybe, just maybe, I should start looking at this blog as more of a professional endeavor for me than something I just dash off in the morning while I am waking up.

Big thoughts on my birthday. And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. I am getting another cup of coffee, heating up a breakfast sandwich in the microwave, and then I am getting into my chair with the new Alison Gaylin ARC. Happy birthday to me, and may you have a marvelous day, Constant Reader; it’s highly doubtful I’ll be back before tomorrow morning when I return to work and get up ungodly early again.

Can’t You Hear My Heartbeat

Ah, Saturday. I have things to do outside the home–vaccinations, mail, groceries, book sale, possibly gym–and I am sure it’s going to be miserably hot outside. That’s okay, I am settling into my long weekend and just relaxing. Yesterday was great. I got the labs drawn, went to the office, came home and finished my work day, and then Paul and I ran errands. We picked up a prescription for him before heading to Costco, and even that was fine. We found most everything we were looking for, I got some new sweats and a book (The Seventh Veil of Salome by Silvia Moreno-Garcia) for my birthday, and then we came home. Paul listened along with me in the car to My Dad Wrote a Porno (he agreed it was hilarious and laughed out loud several times; I forgot to sync the phone when we left the pharmacy and headed to Costco, and he insisted that I put it on again! So, I synced the phone when we stopped at the next light and we laughed merrily as we drove around. It was quite fun, and very pleasant. It wasn’t even a hassle getting everything inside and put away, either.

We then had a very pleasant evening watching a Hulu show called Solar Opposites, an animated show which is basically the same premise as Third Rock from the Sun, but way crazier and much more irreverent and completely hilarious (we never really watched Third Rock, and maybe we should remedy that). I was in a very pleasant mood, and even was thinking about writing and the short stories I’m currently working on. I am hoping to get to spend some time with at least one of them today, and if not, well, maybe I’ll have some time to read.

I slept in this morning until nine, which felt wonderful and refreshing; I knew I was low-energy and tired all week and what I really needed was a lengthy night’s deep sleep. I was out, Constant Reader, and dead as a stone. It was rather nice, and I feel rather nice this morning as my brain returns from the depths of Morpheus. I’ve not paid much attention to the news as I could have; by the Democratic National Convention starts on Monday, so I will probably be spending next week watching that and the excitement around Vice-President Harris and Governor Walz continues to build and grow through November. I am a lot more hopeful about the future now–something I am still trying to stay grounded about. It’s going to be a struggle, and even after the voting is done, I seriously doubt MAGA is going to go away any time soon–but at least we have President Biden in the White House this time around. I still think there will be violence as MAGA expels its dying breath, but at least I have hope that we won’t have a useful idiot for Putin as the most powerful person on the planet anymore, praise Jesus.

Two friends had great news this week to share–John Copenhaver’s Hall of Mirrors was on Oprah’s summer reading list (may this sell a lot of books for him) and Alex Segura (aka one of my favorite people on the planet) not only launched a new Spiderman universe comic book he’s written, but he also announced he gets to write a run of one of my favorite comics, the very little known The Question. Yay, John and Alex! I am so happy for you both! I love when good things happen to great people, you know? I really do need to spend some time reading over these next few days–the terrific new books to read are always expanding my TBR pile and I have any number of books on hand that I definitely want to read. And what better way to spend my birthday weekend by doing two things that I really enjoy–writing and reading? Yes, I am planning on doing some writing this weekend. My birthday is simply going to be a relaxing, no pressure, don’t leave the house kind of day–my favorite kind, actually–and I am looking forward to that..although I do kind of want to see the new Alien movie. I also have an idea I’d like to tackle for my Substack–as I am beginning to try to separate the blog out from actual personal essays, which is what I want to post there. The news that the Vice-President worked at McDonalds in college made me think, hey, that was my first job, too and realized another thing I’ve never really talked about is my unemployability and all the shit jobs I’ve had. (For the record, I’ve had jobs I probably don’t remember; I worked at McDonalds, Wendy’s, Burger King, Arby’s, AM/PM, Toys R Us, a floral wholesaler, Marshalls, an insurance brokerage, Bank of America, a natural gas sales company, Continental Airlines, a travel agency, Lambda Literary Foundation, the YMCA, the queer community center, Harrington Park Press, and then finally NO/AIDS-Crescent Care. I also worked at numerous gyms as a trainer or teaching aerobics in there, and of course I was always writing for quite some time. I once wrote a short story about a kid who worked at McDonalds and had no moral compass, but I realized at some point I could never publish a noir story about a kid who worked there called “Quarter Pounders,” either.

But…I could use that title for an essay about working there, and I can adapt the story to another place to eat, a fictitious one.

And on that note, I am going to head into the spice mines for the moment. Have a lovely Saturday, Constant Reader, and as always, thanks for stopping by. I may be back later, one never really knows, does on?

Downtown

Sunday morning has rolled around again, and I am feeling pretty good. I slept well again before Sparky decided it was time for me to get up, and he let me sleep later (after he started) without much of a quibble. (I like to pretend he cuddles with me in the mornings before I get up because it’s nice; I know it’s because he wants to know the minute I get up so he can start meowing at me to come downstairs with him.) The closing ceremonies for the Olympics are today, which is a shame, as I always love the Olympics. There really is nothing more patriotic-feeling like rooting for young athletic Americans on the wolrd stage, is there? The fact that this was going on while the tides of our election have seemingly all turned to the positive has really been something. I’ve been thinking a lot lately about what patriotism is and what it means to be patriotic–and not in the least little bit because the Right has made patriotism so distasteful and embarrassing. I am seeing the crowds at the Vice-President’s rallies moving to take patriotism back from the Christian Nationalists (the flag, the USA chant, etc.) because what they call patriotism is actually anything but. But the Democratic National Convention is going to be pretty thrilling this year, methinks, reminiscent of another dark period coming to an end–the 2008 election ending the nightmare of the eight years of right-wing control and endless wars and lies. I know I am actually excited about the election now, and while the fear and dread are still there, there’s a lot of joy and optimism.

And what an amazing Olympiad this has been, the haters and agents of darkness aside1! so many great stories, so many redemptions, and so much fun to watch and enjoy as always. It also felt different; maybe the fucked up 2020 Tokyo Olympics caused a reset; it didn’t feel like an Olympics and now, all I did was (besides root for our athletes) be happy for the all the competitors and medalists–I finally developed the proper Olympic spirit that doesn’t villainize great athletes from other countries. I never liked that whole xenophobic need for the US to win the most medals to prove our superiority as a nation; I do not want to be anything like the Nat C’s. Probably twenty years ago I might have hated, for example, Rebeca Andrade as Simone’s biggest competition–but this time around I simply enjoyed her skills and abilities and applauded for her just as I did for our gymnasts. I think I have finally unpacked and emptied the last of my conditioning as an American.2

I had a lovely relaxing day yesterday. Paul and I watched Challengers, which was interesting, and then caught up on House of the Dragon, The Serpent Queen, and started watching the second season of the show with Rob Lowe and his son on Netflix, which is cute and funny. I can’t think of the name of the show, but the first season was pretty pleasant and fun, so I hope the second season isn’t a disappointment. Watching these shows about royals struggling over the throne and power put me to thinking, again, about actual history, and of course the Catherine de Medici story, which I’ve always enjoyed. The banker’s daughter who became queen of France and mother herself of three kings and two queens. The show jumped from actual history to nonsense toward the end of the first season, and this second season is diverging dramatically from what actually happened; Queen Elizabeth never visited the French court, nor did Holy Roman Emperor Charles V (who actually abdicated and died before Catherine’s husband, Henri II) and likewise, his son Philip II did actually marry Elisabeth de Valois, but it was at her wedding celebration that Henri was killed. And they are starting to set up her daughter Margot’s story, which is also endlessly interesting to me. I’m still reading Rival Queens, the story of the mother-daughter relationship during one of the most treacherous periods of French history. I was also thinking about how people always say George R. R. Martin based A Song of Fire and Ice on the Wars of the Roses; but there’s another series of French histories called The Accursed Kings by Maurice Druon, focusing on the years 1310-1337, about the end of the main branch of the Capetian dynasty and the rise of the Valois branch–and the Hundred Years’ War. This aspect of French history–the lead up to that epic war–isn’t as well known, and I tore through that series when I discovered it at the Emporia Library as a teenager. It’s a great series, a fascinating time in French history (there are many fascinating periods in French history), and you can probably see why I love French history (and France) so much.

I’ve also been thinking, not only about the book I’m writing now but the next Scotty, too. I’ve renamed it Hurricane Season Hustle (saying party instead of season seems like asking for it, frankly), and started coming up with ideas for the plot. I have also been thinking about my short stories in progress, and I think I’ve come up with any number of ways to fix the ones I want to get fixed. My goal is to finish the short story collection this month and get it out of the way while working on the new book. Football season will be here before you know it, which will start taking up my weekends, so I need to be starting to get back to the grind of everything. I did do some cleaning yesterday around the house, too, and plan to do some more this morning before I go make groceries at Rouse’s. I can’t decide if I want to make steak fajitas for dinner, or pepper steak.

I did read a short story yesterday, “The Amateur of Crime,” by Stephen Vincent Benet. It’s an old story, Benet is a famous writer not known for his crime stories, and it was interesting, if a bit…I don’t know, unrealistic? I have found that non-crime writers who write crime short stories for whatever reason always seem to go for the “huh?” solution to crimes. In this case, the amateur detective on the spot is helped by any number of coincidences that also happen to give him the knowledge to solve the crime (there was a Faulkner crime short story that’s solution had to do with cigarette smoke trapped beneath a radiator…again, not realistic), which seemed contrived to me. But it was an interesting story, and again, reading it gave me some ideas how to fix some of my own in-progress drafts, or the ones that are finished but need revision.

There’s always so much writing to do.

And on that note, I am going to head into the spice mines for the day. I do need to make a grocery list before running over to Rouse’s today; nothing major, a little run to get stuff for lunch and to make dinner a few nights this week. But for now, I am going to get cleaned up and do some filing and so forth, so I bid you adieu for now, Constant Reader, and I hope you have a marvelous Sunday.

  1. Hilariously, a while back when I did one of my Pride posts about how white women have always been the worst homophobes, a friend asked me why I didn’t mention the Chatelaine of Castle TERF, and I replied “she gets her own.’ But she is so evil and awful and horrible so regularly that before I can finish writing about her, she’ll do something even worse. Her behavior during these Olympics, along with the haters she’s embraced, was especially egregious and awful. ↩︎
  2. I sometime want to write about this, and the American mythology I was raised to believe that wasn’t the truth but something taught to justify white supremacy. ↩︎