Tuesday and we somehow managed to survive Monday, did we not? It was weird for me, because I now have to go into the office later now that I am the only person working in the clinic (don’t ask), because I have to stay until five now; my other person would have taken the last client so I could get out earlier. I now have to rearrange my life to comply with the ability to stay later, but it’s not the end of the world and there are always worse things; there are always worse things possible.
I finally sent out my newsletter on Jordan Harper’s A Violent Masterpiece, which you can read by clicking the title there. It’s a most excellent book, written brilliantly and the story etches itself into your brain with acid as you read…it’s about terrible people doing terrible things and the people who help them get away with it. You know, like Hollywood itself and well, the rest of the world, too…which is a nice segue into the next paragraph.
I saw a news report Sunday about a missing eighteen-year-old Black community college football player named Nolan Wells. He’d gone on a boat trip with friends from Ocean Springs to Horn Island, one of the Alabama-Mississippi barrier islands along the coast. The picture that was shown of young Nolan showed him with three white kids about his age…and as soon as I saw that picture, my right eyebrow arched upward, my eyes narrowed and my head tilted. My initial reaction was to be very skeptical of the story being told by “his friends”–they couldn’t find him, thought he’d left with someone else (but didn’t take his cell phone…sure, Klan) and it wasn’t until later that his parents began worrying about him when he didn’t come home. I hoped I was wrong, that he had gotten off the island with someone else and forgot his phone, which happens, and he’d turn up.
Well, they found Nolan Wells’ body yesterday out there on Horn Island, which opens up a whole lot of questions and his so-called friends are looking mighty suspicious, if you ask me. Horn Island is, at best, a barrier island and at worst, a sandbar slightly above sea level with few trees, no houses or anything, really, besides sea oats, grass and white sand. I will be following this story–just as I still am following the Noah Presgrove case over in Oklahoma. Both stories involve mysterious deaths of athletic young men, and a group of people that weren’t their friends. Of course, there’s a racial component as well in Nolan’s case–and his “friends” have all lawyered up. I’ve not checked the story again yet this morning, but it saddens me that a bright young life has been silenced, and because it’s Ocean Springs, Mississippi, nothing will be done about his death. Apparently, one of his “friends” has a mom who is a local judge and another is connected to local law enforcement, so there’s no telling what these young sociopaths have already gotten away with.
And no, I am not giving spoiled young white boys the benefit of the doubt. They are very dangerous in groups.
And the World Cup dream has died for the USMNT, in what was an apparently horribly embarrassing loss to Belgium last night. I knew that once the Baron Harkonnen smeared himself all over it, they were going to lose; everything the Harkonnens touch dies. I do think it’s hilarious that evangelicals–who would be reading the augurs against Biden or Harris or Obama had they the same track record of destroying everything–aren’t seeing God’s hand in any of this–especially the horror that was Saturday on the national mall.
Sigh. But good for Belgium, and now I can pull for Norway and Erling Haalang completely guilt-free, at least. I love the big Viking!
We finished watching Sugar last night, highly recommend, and we’re going to start season 2 tonight. We also watched an episode of a documentary series The American Experiment, which again is about the lead up to the Revolutionary War and the war itself. I did do some work on the book yesterday, but I also worked on a newsletter to send out later this week, if I’ve not already overdone it with the newsletters over the holiday weekend. Three was probably a bit excessive…although I am writing a counterpoint to that disgusting homophobic op-ed from a self-loathing Christian queen; bitch, you don’t speak for any of us, quisling, and how very fucking dare you? I think that’s a theme I can work with in my Julia Sugarbaker mode.
And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely Taco Tuesday, Constant Reader, and I will be back on mid-week Wednesday morning. Till then!
Queer and Loathing in America 