Tag: MAGA

You’re the Reason Our Kids Are Ugly

You can always count on country music for great titles, you know? “Drop Kick Me Jesus (Through the Goalposts of Life)” remains an all-time favorite title for anything, really. But it’s Sunday morning of the time change, I got to sleep a bit more than usual, and I am feeling pretty good this morning. Paul was worn out from working on a grant into the wee hours of the morning yesterday, so we didn’t run any errands yesterday. I cleaned and organized for the most part–it was so lovely coming downstairs to a very clean and neat and orderly kitchen–and worked on filing and so forth. I decided to just give my brain the day off and not worry about either reading or writing anything or pressuring myself into something out of guilt, and it was kind of nice and relaxing.

I did watch some football games yesterday–well, had them on while I was doing other things, at any rate. The games I had on yesterday were Vanderbilt-Texas, Oklahoma-Tennessee, and Georgia-Florida. No one I was rooting for in any of these games won, and it was particularly galling to root for Tennessee and Florida1 (both of whom I despise), only to have them lose. They were all good games that kind of came down to the wire, and I was really hoping that Vandy would finish their comeback; they came soooo close. I’m rooting for them to go to the playoffs, to be honest; I almost always will root for an underdog program like theirs to shine when it gets a chance, you know? It’s also not being vested in the season anymore, too; now I can just kind of watch from a remote distant and make observations.

What I did do for the most part yesterday, as far as intellectual stimulation is concerned, was revisit The Haunting of Hill House a bit as I worked on my newsletter about the book and why I love it so much. It is such an extraordinary piece of writing, with so much left vague and uncertain that it’s very easy for the reader to fill in the blanks and interpret the story and the characters in their own way–and it’s also possible to read it very differently every time you read it, gleaning new thoughts and interpretations with each reread (like Rebecca, which also should be taught). I’m hoping to get it finished and posted either today or tomorrow, as part of Halloween Horror Month’s last gasp, which also includes reading another horror novel, too. (Finishing the one I started–the Scott Carson–before returning to The Hunting Wives and moving forward from there.) And props to me, he typed modestly, for really sticking with HHM and focusing on it. I had also wanted to rewatch Scream 2 and A Nightmare on Elm Street to talk about; I even thought about rewatching the original Halloween again, so I could write about all of them…but I managed to do most of the things I wanted to do for it, so it’s a win that I am feeling pleased on this chilly Sunday November morning.

And isn’t that mentally healthy? Before anxiety medication I would be bashing myself and feeling like a lazy loser, which has always been a self-perpetuating thing for me anyway. I consider that excellent progress, and by accepting it as a victory rather than as a loss, maybe I can start being a little kinder with myself. I would always set the bar for myself so damned high that it would be impossible for 99% of people to clear, let alone me, so I could berate myself and go through the entire “you’re such a lazy loser” cycle of mental self-abuse, including such treasured gems of self-defeat like this is why you never get anywhere or way to prove all those awful people right and on it goes, spiraling down into the Pit of Despair.

I really hate the Pit of Despair, and never, ever want to go back there.

We also watched this week’s The Morning Show, which was interesting and good (during the second half of the Tennessee game), and probably this evening will watch some more of our shows and possibly the Jurassic World movie we never got around the seeing in the theater this summer as well as our other shows, including The Diplomat, which is most excellent.

I’ve not commented on the weirdness between the couch-fucker and the the non-grieving, grifting widow in pleather pants so tight she must have gotten a yeast infection, mainly because the unholy alliance everyone is predicting developing on social media doesn’t interest me in the least. Yes, people grieve differently, but if there was an actual investigation into the gum-challenged one’s murder, she would be suspect number one; how many times have we seen someone convicted incorrectly because they didn’t grieve their spouse/children the way everyone thinks they should? I know one thing; if Paul was murdered, there would be no pyrotechnics and high production values for his funeral, and I wouldn’t be getting groped on national television mere months afterward. But sure, it’s same-sex marriage that is unnatural, right? My dad is still not over my mother, and it’s been almost three years.

Then again, Dad loved Mom. Not judging the Widow, mind you, but I do find it strange, but MAGA evangelicals are strange. Imagine if the Widow were Hillary Clinton, and what MAGA would say about her in this situation.

And on that note, I have some filing and reading to do. Have a lovely Sunday, Constant Reader, and I’ll see you tomorrow morning before I head into the office.

  1. I did see that Auburn somehow lost to Kentucky; which should be the obituary for Hugh Freeze’s career there. Glad I didn’t watch that. ↩︎

Season of the Witch

Happy All Saints Day! And welcome to November, I suppose. This year is slipping away like sands through the hour glass (hat tip: Days of Our Lives), but the terrorist attack of New Year’s seems like it was a million years ago, too. When I think about where we are now as opposed to where we were ten months ago, though…it seems like a decade has passed since my New Year’s blog, doesn’t it? I slept deeply and well last night, and Sparky let me sleep later (although he got his razor blades trimmed yesterday, so him smacking me in the face in the morning doesn’t have the same impact) than I usually do, so that was nice too. We have to run some errands today we didn’t get to yesterday, but that’s fine. LSU isn’t playing today so I don’t have a vested interest in watching games today, so I don’t really care to be home for them all day, either. I probably won’t get any writing or much reading done, but…I also am not going to worry about it. Yes, time is slipping away, but I also need to allow myself to get rest and be lazy without beating myself up about it all the damned time, too. Progress?

Perhaps. We shall see.

I also have to pay some bills this morning before we do anything, and probably get some of the chores done, too. I made good progress on chores yesterday; the bed linens all got laundered, the dishes are done and put away, the counters are cleaned and cleared, and all I really need to do is vacuum the rugs and mop the floors, and potentially prune more of the books down. I need to be more ruthless, too.

The backlash to governor Janky Jeff’s massive interference with LSU apparently taught the moron some sort of lesson, because he backed the fuck down after Scott Woodward (best of luck to you, sir, you worked wonders at LSU and I am sorry Janky Jeff decided to show his ass) was fired. To paraphrase Mean Girls, “he didn’t even go there.” He also got some pushback when he tried to force Loyola (a Jesuit Catholic private university in New Orleans) to charter a chapter of Turning Point USA after the student senate flatly rejected their application, mainly because they don’t share the same values as the Society of Jesus. Bitch slap! I was glad to see a Catholic university stand their ground against political interference from TEMU Huey Long. Don’t stand with the evangelicals, Catholics–they will come for you eventually as idolators and papists and pagans. They don’t think you’re real Christians in the first place, so less than what they see as “white.” Janky Jeff is not popular in Louisiana; only 19% of registered voters even voted in that gubernatorial election because we had no options. All the candidates were different degrees of MAGA, anyway. I don’t even remember who I voted for, but I have never cast a ballot for Jeff Landry and I never will.

I can only hope to be seated in the jury for his inevitable trial for corruption and malfeasance. No, they wouldn’t seat me, because no one could ever convince me he isn’t guilty.

Then again, Jindal was never charged with anything. And he definitely should have been; his wife was just as corrupt as Casey DeSantis, and the corrupt always corrupt. (Note to everyone: their women are just as bad as, if not worse, than their husbands. See: Usha Vance, Melania Trump, Lara Trump…the list is lengthy.)

Sigh.

My mind is still deeply entrenched in horror, by the way, which is something I don’t remember Halloween Horror Month doing to me before; maybe because I was always trying to finish a book before the end of the year? This entire decade has been mentally draining and fatiguing, frankly, and I’ve had a lot of brain fog and increasing loss of memory. I do wonder occasionally about how different my career would be had I gone into horror rather than crime; rather than just being a fan. I did want to write horror when I was in my twenties, and even tried. I laugh now when I remember thinking my personalized rejections with suggestions and tips and encouragement to keep writing and submitting to them, from horror magazine editors, was just them being nice. Editors are never nice like that, ever, as I have since learned. I guess I was so down on myself and had such a lack of self-esteem (as well as knowledge; there was no one to tell me differently) that I focused on the rejection rather than accepting the encouragement. Each rejection was further confirmation that I was a loser, and I was in such a spiral of misery in the 1980s there wasn’t any way I could have seriously pursued being a writer. I don’t have regrets–I never do–but sometimes I do wonder. I played the cards I was dealt and everything eventually turned out, didn’t it? But I am going to try to work on some things tomorrow, since I don’t have to leave the house at all and Paul is, I think, going to his office.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely Saturday, Constant Reader, and I’ll be back here in the morning.

Born This Way

Saturday and my first day officially being on vacation! I feel pretty good this morning. My sleep was most excellent last night, and this morning I am even up before eight! I have a lot to do today, and while it is very daunting, there’s no LSU game today so I may not even wake the television up, let alone put games on. But I feel no stress or anxiety (thank you, not-so-new-anymore medications), and I feel very confident I’ll be able to get this all done by Monday afternoon. Huzzah? Huzzah! I don’t even hate the book, nor am I sick of it–an interesting turn of events, is it not?

We did make it to Costco after I finished working for the day, and ran some other errands. My copies of Double-Crossing Van Dine, an anthology I have a co-editor credit for, also arrived and the book is quite lovely. I’m looking forward to reading it, along with the other anthologies I have a story in that have come out lately. I also cleaned up around here a bit, so it’s not horrible this morning in the apartment. Note to self: if you can do chores on a weeknight, do them. It means less cleaning on the weekend, and that is definitely a plus.

The new Taylor Swift album dropped yesterday, so we listened to it in the car as we ran our errands and I liked it a lot. I saw on-line that there were criticisms of the album from the Swifties and the critics, but..what can I say? I liked it. I need to listen to it again when I can actually focus on listening to it; maybe I can do that on Tuesday once the book is over and done and turned in. But I certainly didn’t think it was terrible, either, or lame or any of the other things I saw on-line. It was inevitable that people would turn on her, I suppose, now that she’s happy and in-love and getting married and super-successful, and MAGA already hated her. Ah, well. She can always lock herself and Travis in their money vault and laugh all the way to the bank.

A new development came to light in the Kyren Lacy case. A former LSU star wide receiver (he was so fun to watch play), he was accused of causing an accident that killed someone in Lafourche Parish–and was charged with multiple counts. The day before his grand jury hearing, he killed himself. The news media was relentless in hounding him, as was the general public. Thing was, he didn’t cause the accident, he was innocent, and the fucking white bitch who blamed him to the cops (it was her fault, of course, may she burn in eternal hell. My guess is she won’t even be charged with anything, because Lafourche fucking parish) who of course told the white woman tears as gospel. I hope his family sues the fuck out of the Lafourche Parish sheriff’s department. “Loss of future income” will be enormous, because he went pro and signed for a shit ton of money.

Yes, racism is alive and well and completely healthy in southeastern Louisiana. Bet the Lafourche sheriffs thought he was “uppity” and “got above himself” and “needed to be put back in his place and know that white people always will matter more.”

Seriously–all you racists so terrified of Black people: if Black people were everything you say they are, they would have justifiably killed us all in our beds long ago.

I suppose my own marginalized status in this country has made me more empathetic and sympathetic to anyone and everyone who is not in the “dominant” culture. It really is staggering to realize how sociopathic so many white people are.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely day, Constant Reader, and I’ll be back with a status update tomorrow morning.

You Belong with Me

Thursday morning and my last day in the office for the week–and until a week from Monday, at that! Huzzah! The dark is pressing up against my windows this morning, which means the time change is coming. I still get to come home from work in the daylight, though. I slept pretty decently last night, and my legs are tired this morning but they don’t ache, which is much, much better than earlier this week. The bed also felt warm and comfortable this morning. Sparky was a cuddle puddle, too, which wasn’t exactly motivating me to get up, you know? Ah, well.

I was very tired when I got home from work last night, but did my chores so the house isn’t a disaster area this morning. I worked on the book first, caught up on the news (which is truly grim every day), and then cleaned out the sink and ran the dishwasher. I also finished two loads of laundry and folded everything before I started dozing off in my chair. I started my reread of The Haunting of Hill House, and it always, on every reread, just blows me away. Shirley Jackson was such a master.

What a bizarre week this has been, and it’s only Thursday. It hasn’t been bizarre for me, per se, but more along the lines of “I’m not enjoying this final season of United States.” We have Senator Rafael Cruz insisting that we need to “stop attacking pedophiles” (for which I have rechristened him Tedophile), to the government shutting down, to the cowardice of the House Speaker in not swearing in a duly elected congressperson to protect the Epstein files from coming out, to whatever the fuck that was with the top military brass the other day. (Someone posted on social media that the generals were calling them “Fat Man and Little Boy” because they bombed so hard, which made me howl with laughter.)

I do love how President Canks1 seems to think destroying the major cities in this country–which also are the primary economic engines of the country–won’t bankrupt the nation, not to mention a president threatening US cities with military reprisals because they don’t like him is a kind of a terrifying new wrinkle (gee, if only someone could have said something about this before the election…), but not a surprise. MAGA has been running this country as a fascist state since at least 1/20/25, and anyone who doesn’t see that is too stupid to engage with other than a simple “hello” in passing. Is it any wonder everything is fraying and decaying, including everyone’s emotional and mental states? Prices certainly are out of control and getting worse every time I go to the grocery store or order groceries for delivery; how’s that cost of eggs no one on the Right seems to care about anymore? Fortunately I only use eggs for cooking (rarely), and while Paul loves them, he doesn’t eat them very often–thank the Lord. And who would have ever thought the so-called “answer” to illegal immigration was to make the country such a hellhole that no one would want to come here for opportunity anymore? I always thought illegal immigration was the ultimate compliment to our country–that whole “land of opportunity” thing I was brainwashed into believing when I was a kid. My generation was completely gaslighted into the dual mythology of American exceptionalism and white supremacy; talk about a miseducation! I’ve spent most of my adulthood unlearning those lessons.

But I do feel good this morning–I know I’ll be tired tonight, but the only chore left is folding that last load of laundry, so I can probably do a spot of writing before collapsing into my easy chair for the evening. I do hope Paul gets home early enough before I fall asleep/go to bed, so we can watch some shows and get caught up with each other. I think they’re finished moving the office to their new, temporary space.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely day, Constant Reader, and don’t let the news get to you too much; I need to follow my own advice, don’t I? See you tomorrow morning!

Julie Do You Love Me

One can never go wrong with old Bobby Sherman hits, can one? 🙂

Well, it’s Saturday morning, the apartment looks a lot better, and I am not feeling tired this morning, as opposed to yesterday morning. I had a good night’s sleep before my alarm kitty went off this morning–he let me sleep a while longer–and now I am awake, swilling coffee, and ready to get to work today. I have to get my COVID shot today (more on that story later), so am hoping for no adverse reactions so I can get some work done today. Paul is working with his trainer and then going by his office–they have to move out by the end of the month (remember the building collapse last year?), and so he is packing and throwing things away. There are football games all day today, too–including LSU-Mississippi and some other terrific match-ups, so the siren song of my easy chair and the television is going to be difficult to resist, but I do have work to do today, that I have to get done if I am going to be finished with this book on time.

Several weeks ago, I talked to my doctor about the COVID shot (I am not sixty-five yet, but I am immunocompromised), at which point I was informed that in Louisiana you now need a prescription for it and if you aren’t 65 or older you have to be at “risk”. Well, everyone’s at risk, since it spreads so easily from person to person, thank you again, MAGA garbage human beings who are seriously too stupid to breathe if it weren’t involuntary. Your doctor has to write a prescription for it, send it to the pharmacy, and you have to know which version of the shot they have. So first, you have to check with said pharmacy to see which brand they offer, and let your doctor know so he can write the scrip for the correct version. So, you can’t just can’t get a prescription–if it’s written for the wrong version they won’t give you either. Idiotic, right? This is what comes from living in a MAGA majority state filled with temporarily embarrassed millionaires. After jumping through these hoops, it turned out that CVS, my pharmacy of choice, wasn’t offering it in New Orleans at all…which meant biting the bullet and getting it at a Walgreens. I hate Walgreens. I’ve been boycotting Walgreens for the most part (other than the convenience of having one a short block away, so I might go get milk or bread from there in a pinch)and don’t spend money there if at all possible. Since the convenient one is the one I used to call the Marsten House on St. Charles, I decided to have it called into the one in the Garden District, by Breaux Mart on Magazine. When I went, they made me wait almost an hour–I had another appointment and had to leave. After leaving, about half an hour later I got a notice that my appointment was cancelled–so they expected me to sit there for an hour and half? And were rude about it when I finally asked? Yeah, I walked out and gave them one-star on Yelp. I also was more than happy to fill out the “customer satisfaction survey” they sent me because I had checked in for my appointment. I refuse to go back to that one, but still need the vaccine so had my doctor call it into the Marsten House on St. Charles. I will report back, for sure.

Paul didn’t get home until after I went to bed, and I imagine I won’t see an awful lot of him until they are finished moving into their new, temporary office space. DISLIKE.

A lovely review of Double Crossing Van Dine by Oline Cogdill in the South Florida Sun-Sentinel was published this week:

Double Crossing Van Dine, edited by Donna Andrews, Greg Herren and Art Taylor; introduction by Catriona McPherson; Crippen & Landru; 310 pages; $22

The Golden Age of Detective Fiction that launched the classic genre novel is considered to be from the 1920s to 1930s. But contemporary readers know that a second Golden Age began in the mid-1980s when the novels became more emotionally involving along with the introduction of detectives from myriad backgrounds and cultures. The genre continues to evolve, seeing several golden ages in the past decades.Going out on a limb here, many authors from the ’20s and ’30s haven’t survived the test of time, aside from a few, such as Agatha Christie. And going out on another limb here, S.S. Van Dine, the focus of this short story anthology, probably is among those only recognized by readers steeped in the history of mystery fiction.Van Dine, whose real name was Willard Huntington Wright, was an American art critic, literary editor, biographer and author who wrote the series about detective Philo Vance.

Each story begins describing one of Van Dine’s rules, then crushing it. Fort Lauderdale author Elaine Viets’ “Sweet Poison,” about two young women struggling in New York’s Lower East Side during 1921, forgets the rule that “all clues must be publicly stated,” as they deal with the unexpected death of one’s “Wall Street sugar daddy.”Barb Goffman puts aside the “no love interest” rule in “Baby Love” as a fledgling-but-broke private detective tries to launch his career so he and his very loving wife can afford a baby. Co-editor Greg Herren stifles the “no supernatural” rule with “The Spirit Tree,” in which the solution to a murder comes from beyond. The “only one detective rule” doesn’t work for Delia Pitts’ “Better Together,” which finds two heads are better than one.Boca Raton author Alan Orloff’s “The Society Set” takes a butler who has several jobs for his persnickety employer on a journey of a jewelry heist that actually embraces Van Dine’s version of a “fascinating crime.” Leigh Perry has a work-around for the “no secret societies” ban in “Guilted Lily,” in which a tight-knit group of grifters seek a score.Tom Mead dismisses the rule that servants should never be the culprits in “The Tell-Tale Thumb.” Some people, Mead writes, see only the uniform, not the person who hides in plain sight.The majority of the authors in “Double Crossing Van Dine” have either won or been nominated for awards. A handy brief bio of each of the authors may inspire readers to seek out more of their stories.

Pretty cool!

And on that note, I am heading back into the spice mines. Have a lovely day, Constant Reader, and I will be back tomorrow morning.

Love the One You’re With

GEAUX TIGERS!

I feel good this morning, like I slept well and recharged, which is always a nice feeling. My coffee tastes great, and so does the coffee cake we got at Costco yesterday. It was a pretty good day, despite some missteps (is every Walgreens in New Orleans a portal to hell?) and I had a strange experience getting gas, which I’ll have to sort out once the charge hits, but other than that and the horrible accident at Jackson and Prytania I saw the aftermath of (someone ran a red light and totaled their car hitting another one, thoughts and prayers) as the cops and tow trucks cleared the intersection. After finishing my work, we picked up my copy of the new Lou Berney and went to Costco. It wasn’t that expensive, comparatively speaking, compared to other shopping trips there. We came home, settled in after putting everything away, and watched this week’s Peacemaker before finishing Wednesday, which was a lot of fun before going to bed (I fell asleep in my chair catching up on news). Today I am going to order groceries, read (and edit), and work on the house during the football games today. Great games today, too–capping off with Florida at LSU (Geaux Tigers!) tonight!

Turns out Charlie Kirk’s murder was MAGA-on-MAGA crime, and not someone on the left at all. With their usual hypocrisy, MAGA was all in on “civil war” and “killing Democrats” before the truth was revealed and they immediately went in to “oh, no mental health that poor troubled young man” with no acknowledgement of their most recent blunder (they really are tiresome). And they wonder why we fucking hate them? I also didn’t have “Broadway icon whose entire career is due to gays being MAGA” on my 2025 Bingo card, either, the disgusting piece of shit. I never cared much for her–her voice, both speaking and singing, always sounded like a castrated chipmunk to me–but seriously, bitch? And you’re opening a new show on Broadway soon? I do wonder if the shrunken-headed leather-skinned flotilla of sewer shit will walk it back, but we really aren’t the ones…as she is about to fucking find out. Thoughts and prayers, trash. How’d that work out for Donna Summer? Do you think anyone is going to be booking Gloria Gaynor anywhere for the rest of her life? Gays have long memories, and we never forget being betrayed by someone who pretended to be an ally for money and fame.

I also loved the “free speech” advocates screaming about the communities he targeted not feeling bad enough about his murder. Remind me of the memorial day Jews have annually to mourn Hitler? If you weren’t targeted by this money-grubbing grifter and merchant of hate you don’t get to lecture or scold those who were. I blocked a lot of people over the last couple of days. Being reminded of how much trash is in the crime writing community is never a bad thing…another reminder of why I will never go to another crime writers’ conference ever again.

And for the record, that’s to protect these pieces of shit from me, because I am done being Mr. Nice Gay.

Sigh.

And on that note, I need to get my day going before the morning slips through my fingers. Have a great Saturday, Constant Reader, and GEAUX TIGERS!

The blues in this image are exceptional, making him look better, too.

Abraham, Martin and John

Wednesday and Pay-the-Bills Day has rolled around for the first time in September. I didn’t sleep all that great, but don’t feel groggy at all this morning. However, if I had to I could easily go back to bed and fall asleep all over again. I am slowly starting to lift myself out of the abyss and pull my life back together. Yesterday was a pretty good day, actually. I felt great all day, not tired at all, and was able to get a lot done at the office. I wasn’t even tired when I got home after work, either! Huzzah and hurray! I spent some time getting caught up on the news when I got home, and then read for a while before Paul got home and I went to bed. I don’t know if this is all because of the injection on Monday, but whatever caused it, I am delighted and thrilled it happened. I suspect I’ll be a bit more tired this evening than I was yesterday, but I will happily take it, you know? The fatigue over the weekend was so intense and brutal–I’ve never been so tired it hurt, you know?–and I hope I never experience that again.

I am a bit tired this morning (mostly because of restless sleep and waking up several times during the night), but it’s not that horrible fatigue, which I fucking despise. I feel a little off, but nothing terrible that I can’t deal with, but no promises for this afternoon, you know? I was thinking about ordering groceries to be delivered this evening, but am not sure I shouldn’t just wait until Saturday. I am going to barbecue for the LSU-Florida game–burgers and cheese dogs, the regular tailgating action–and there are an awful lot of great games Saturday–Georgia-Tennessee, Wisconsin-Alabama, and two other games at the same time as LSU, Vanderbilt-South Carolina and Texas A&M-Notre Dame. I do love football season, even as it takes away from my productivity.

At least I enjoy cleaning while the games are on.

The world and country continue to burn to the ground, and social media continues to be filled with bots, grifters, rage baiters, and sad, broken people lashing out in a pathetic attempt to somehow feel better about themselves as American mediocrities and failures. I have very little hope for the future of this country, now that the small-minded hateful bigots who don’t understand the first thing about freedom and liberty are in control. It’s also interesting to see how many Americans are into the whole fascism thing. Sinclair Lewis was very prescient with It Can’t Happen Here, wasn’t he? I also saw some insane shit-posting about To Kill a Mockingbird being racist1, but not for the reasons most people do. No, this empty-minded moron was bitching about the book being racist because it showed an all-white jury wrongfully convicting a Black man for a crime they knew he didn’t commit thus making white people look bad.

Excuse the fuck out of me?

As I replied, you’re right–it would have never gotten to trial. He would have been lynched the same night he was accused.

Because that was how it was done in Alabama in the 1930s, and to suggest anything else is a blatant lie.

I also love the MAGA bitch from Georgia who got the proposed Hyundai plant shut down completely, dealing a harsh blow to her own state’s economy and that of the district she is running to represent. If this were an episode of Law & Order, her body would be found and they’d work their way back around to her ignorance and stupidity. I am so tired of the rampant stupidity as the American empire crumbles and dies…this is going to be one of those times future history students will look back on and think but why were they so stupid? Couldn’t they SEE?

I was once that child reading history.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely, lovely day, Constant Reader, and I’ll be back tomorrow.

Artist’s rendering of the Temple at Edfu, Egypt
  1. My feelings about To Kill a Mockingbird are very conflicted, as I don’t see it as a great American novel about race the way most white people see it, and that may become an essay at some point. ↩︎

Kiss You All Over

Thursday morning last day in the office blog, and it’s also the start of Southern Decadence here in New Orleans. Decadence was my favorite time of year for a very long time, but now I’m too old to stand and walk for hours (let alone dance all night) and I also can no longer handle the heat, so I can’t be out there for very long anyway. The last time I was at Decadence was to pass out condoms in 2017 or 2018, I’m not sure which, honestly, but I do remember it was so hot and humid and so many people were out on that Sunday, that I thought I was going to be sick. It had also rained that morning so…yeah, major league humidity that day. Shudder.

How on earth did I ever spend so much time over a weekend partying and dancing in this kind of heat? I guess the drugs helped. And of course, back when I used to participate in the revelry, I was used to the heat more because we generally went out every weekend, and thus was acclimated to it. Not being used to it anymore is my primary problem with the summers here.

I feel rested with just a touch of fatigue this morning. That’s fine, because I can sleep later tomorrow and so I just have to make it through today. On the way home last night I stopped and made groceries; it was odd because there wasn’t much traffic in the CBD. Since school started, getting to work in the morning is more of a pain because there’s heavier traffic both before and after work now–as well as the bane of my existence, school busses on I-10. After I got home I was a kitty bed for a while, and I did do some work and some chores (that still need to be finished). I did make a terrific and comprehensive to-do list yesterday afternoon as well, which was a good feeling. Tonight after work I’ll probably come home and just rest since I work at home tomorrow and it’s a three day weekend. I’m going to DoorDash lunch today at the office so I don’t have so much to carry in this morning, and thus won’t have as much to carry on the way home tonight, either. I also made an appointment for a flu shot (fuck you, RFK Jr and MAGA, now and forever) for Friday morning.

And of course, tomorrow is the Katrina anniversary. I see there’s a new documentary on Netflix about Katrina, I think called Come Hell and High Water, that I want to watch as part of my coping with it all again to try to get it all out of my psyche. I also need to finish my newsletter about the anniversary so I can get it sent out tomorrow. It’s been such a long time now that I suppose it’s “safe” to talk about things that happened decades ago, but I was tired of talking about them and worse, worried that the audience (here or on panels, etc.) was bored with hearing about it. I never want to bore anyone!

Also, yesterday the anthology Celluloid Crimes dropped, with my story “The Last To See Him Alive” in it! I also realized yesterday I have short stories in three anthologies all coming out over a period of a week or so. Wild, isn’t it? My story is an adaptation of the first chapter of Chlorine, so it serves as a preview of the book to come. (It’s different from the first chapter that will appear in Chlorine, but you can get a sense of the novel’s story from the short story that appears here.)

The weather has oddly remained mostly humidity free and cooler than usual, and we’ve not had any rain now for a couple of days. Interesting.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely Thursday, Constant Reader, and I’ll be back tomorrow morning.

Whenever I Call You “Friend”

Good morning, Sunday! I slept late again this morning despite Sparky’s best efforts, and after all those years of insomnia, I do enjoy getting up later. Yesterday was a pretty decent day, overall. I did some things, ran some errands, did chores and kind of overdid it…I was tired by the mid-afternoon, so just hung out in my chair with Sparky in my lap, and we watched some television while Paul dozed on and off for the rest of the day. Some of what we watched was research, so it’s not like I blew off the entire day or anything. The weather has also cooled; it was in the mid-eighties yesterday with a very low degree of humidity so it was actually pleasant outside (and yes, calling the mid-eighties pleasant and almost fall-like is an indication of how hellishly hot here these last few months)–supposed to be similar today, and since I have to walk to Walgreens later on, I’m hoping it is just like yesterday. I think we’re supposed to have cooler weather the rest of the week? The Katrina anniversary is also this Friday–so glad it’s my work-at-home day.

We finished watching Smoke last night and we really enjoyed it. Taron Egerton is a terrific actor, and I love Jurnee Smollett in everything I see her in. There were lots of twists and turns, and the show changes its centering in almost every episode, with some very clever writing sleight-of-hand along the way that always keeps you guessing. It was very well done, and I do recommend it.

I also watched the HBO documentary The Serial Killer’s Apprentice (I also have the book in my TBR stack). I’ve been interested in the Dean Corll/Candyman murders since I first heard about them when I lived in Houston back in 1989-1991, and one of my future projects is rooted in that horrific true crime story. We certainly do know a lot more about psychology, abuse, and grooming nowadays, and so Dr. Katherine Ramsland, who wrote the book based on her interviews with Corll’s teenaged ‘helper’, Elmer Wayne Henley Jr. The documentary doesn’t get into what Corll and his helpers did to those poor boys, but it was horrific. One torture detail that has stuck in my mind all these years since I first heard about the case and read a book about it–I don’t remember the title, but it was fairly old and was written shortly after the trials, and wasn’t terribly long. (When I talk about The Summer of Lost Boys, that’s my Candyman book.) Watching this documentary gave me some other ideas about how to write and structure said book.

I also had the television on for background noise while I was cleaning and doing things yesterday, and tuned in for the Kansas State-Iowa State game from Dublin (KSU lost). I cannot believe it’s football season already, with LSU playing this coming Saturday at Clemson.

The Cracker Barrel uproar from the MAGA morons has been incredibly amusing, but they do have a point. The redesign of the interiors is soulless and horrible, but as for removing the old man and the barrel and the words “old country store” off their logo? It is just rebranding to try to get a new customer base since theirs is dying off. Why is change so hard and terrifying for people to accept? I’ll never understand the perpetual victimhood of right-wingers, myself–yet they call us snowflakes. God, there are few things I despise more than hypocrisy. The only constant in life is change, so fighting change is a fool’s errand, and I sure don’t have time for that, although it sure seems a lot of other people do. It must be nice having a life that allows you the energy and time to waste bitching about a corporate decision that ultimately doesn’t affect or impact anyone in any way, shape or form.

But they have opinions, and of course, it’s the libs’ fault, even though most of couldn’t possibly give less of a shit about Cracker Barrel’s logo. But that redesign of the restaurant space is a mistake, a very big mistake. I maybe eat at a Cracker Barrel once a year with Dad when I’m in Kentucky, but that’s about it. Cracker Barrel hasn’t gotten this kind of attention since they were racist homophobes back in the day.

Had I but known how triggering this would be for the right-wing snowflakes, I would have pushed for a logo redesign for Cracker Barrel decades ago.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. There’s a lot of mess I need to clean up this morning, and I want to read a bit before Paul goes to his trainer. Have a lovely Sunday, Constant Reader, and I’ll be back either later or tomorrow, okay?

Ah, those Chippendales calendars in the 80s!

Candy-O

Thursday and it’s not my last day in the office this week. We’re have a staff development day tomorrow, so I have to go in for the full day. I’m not as bitter about this as one might think, primarily because next weekend is Labor Day so I get a three day weekend on top of working at home next Friday. Huzzah!

Working on my birthday was interesting. Nobody made a fuss1, which was so greatly appreciated, but everyone wished me a happy birthday, which was nice. I woke up feeling some fatigue in my legs (which is where it always starts), but that gradually went away during the day. I had a lovely day at the office, came straight home, and did little to nothing the rest of the night–no reading, no writing (I did work on a newsletter entry, tho), no anything–other than relax, catch up on the news, and watched some television when Paul was done with working before I went to bed. I don’t feel fatigued in any way this morning, which is nice, other than some tiredness in my legs–which I am thinking will clear up as the day progresses, the same as yesterday. I slept really well last night and feel mentally alert this morning, which is a good thing. I don’t have any errands to run tonight, either–so I get to come straight home after work, which is great; and for tomorrow, we don’t have to be at the office until nine-thirty…so I can sleep a little later tomorrow morning.

I also got a ton of birthday wishes on social media. I tried to like every post, but am not sure what degree of success I had with that. It was kind of nice. Nobody has to, after all, so getting so many is really nice. If I didn’t like your post, it was an oversight and my apologies. (I am never sure what the etiquette is with these sorts of things, either….I never know what the proper etiquette is in any situation.)

I think my favorite thing I saw yesterday while getting caught up on the news after work was watching conservatives melting down over Gavin Newsom’s tweets mocking their pathetic god-emperor2. Listening to them describing the mockery as childish, immature, and unbecoming for a GOVERNOR…while not realizing that everything they were saying applied tenfold to their POS fascist sun-downing grandpa poopy-pants lord and master. (The fact said orange-faced child rapist shit-gibbon has discovered and turned off the caps-lock and exclamation point key on his phone tells me its working on the shitgibbon. We never should have stopped calling them weird last summer.) But intellect has never been MAGA’s strong suit, has it?

And where are the Epstein files?

I also spent some time revisiting the early days of my blog, as I am writing about Katrina again. It is kind of amazing that I’ve been maintaining a blog for over twenty years. This December it will be twenty-one years. I sure didn’t think I’d be doing this for that long when I started all those years ago; I assumed I’d eventually bore of it and start missing days (also important to note that in the early days I didn’t write an entry every day, either) then weeks, and one morning I’d realize I’d not done one in years. I’m also researching hurricanes as I am writing a fictional one in the will-it-ever-be-finished Scotty book. The nice thing about writing is you can always do research when you’re not actually up for putting words on the page. Of course, it’s also incredibly easy to think “I’ll just do some research instead of writing” which happens far too frequently.

I am also sidetracked easily by things I find interesting. Oh, there’s a new three-hour documentary about the Thirty Years’ War on Youtube? Let me watch this even though I’ll probably never write about that war or that time period…and then I have to try to figure out a way to write a short story or something so I didn’t waste the time. I did watch some videos about the 1915 New Orleans hurricane, which has always interested me–still trying to figure out a way to write about Julia Brown, the “voodoo queen” of Frenier, a community completely destroyed by the storm. Frenier also interests me because it was only accessible by either train or boat; talk about a cut off, insular community! The storm also destroyed the Filipino community of St. Malo on Lake Borgne, which I also want to write about at some point. (I should read Isaac’s Storm by Erik Larson–which is about the 1900 storm that destroyed Galveston; I’ve always thought Galveston and its great storm would be a good foundation for a romantic suspense novel set in the present, a la Phyllis A. Whitney.

I also picked up some new-to-me books on Tuesday: Trespassers at the Golden Gate by Gary Krist; First Lie Wins by Ashley Elston (whom I met at the TWFest this past year and loved her); Havoc by Christopher Bollen; Mississippi Blue 42 by Eli Cranor; and Bitter Blood by Jerry Bledsoe (true crime). Yes, I know, I need to get rid of books instead of adding news ones to the TBR pile (I think I am now three books behind on Eli Cranor, and so many books behind that Christopher Bollen has published!). I also got my contributor copy of Crime Ink: Iconic, which is gorgeous and I will talk about some more at another time.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely Thursday, Constant Reader, and I’ll be back in the morning, undoubtedly whining about having to go into the office.

  1. I don’t really like making a big deal out of my birthday–cakes, balloons, cards, all that stuff associated with “my big day”–and haven’t for at least thirty years, if not longer. ↩︎
  2. I wish someone would redo the paperback cover of God Emperor of Dune changing it from ‘Dune’ to ‘MAGA’ and imposing his hideous face on the sandworm. ↩︎