Tag: Nazis

Good for the Soul

Work-at-home Friday! Huzzah! I was a bit on the tired side yesterday, which was to be expected. I had to go to work in person every day last week, and I always am a little tired come Thursdays. It was surprisingly pleasant outside when I went to work yesterday morning–in the low eighties–and everything was glistening and wet from the previous night’s rains. The city was also low-key and kind of mellow, too. It was a slow day at the office, and I decided not to head uptown after work to run my few errands, I was a bit tired and I forgot my list, too. I want to get a lot of cleaning and organizing done this weekend, and I also have a lot of quality assurance to get caught up on today. We’re going to go to Costco later , which is also going to be incredibly expensive, especially since it’s been so long since we’ve gone. Over a month, I’d say–or at least since Paul’s surgery, and that was definitely a while back. (I have ordered some things to be delivered from them–not much of anything, really–but supplies are low.) But…the tired wasn’t too bad, I did some chores when I got home, we watched an episode of Cross, and I caught up on the news, which was either not horribly depressing or I’m becoming deadened and desensitized; I’m not sure which. And I came down to a picked-up apartment, and a clean kitchen, so am already off to a good start this morning. The first load of blankets are in the washer, and I need to unload the dishwasher.

I also have chores to do today around the work and the errands, and I would also like to get some writing time in, too. It will, of course, entirely depend on how long everything takes and how tired I het doing everything. It was cool when I left the office yesterday–for this time of year, mind you–and there was a lovely breeze. The car was an oven, though. I did sleep in a bit this morning before Sparky became insistent on being fed. I feel pretty good so far this morning and my coffee is excellent, so no complaints here.

I am missing the World Cup, honestly; what a delightful few weeks that was. I’m very glad that Spain beat Argentina; what a pathetic group of sore losers and dirty players. That great player of theirs (I won’t mention his poor sport ass name) is also a piece of shit, apparently; decades of being ‘the greatest’ etc, only to throw it all away as a poor sport. Always remember the Nazi to Argentina pipeline, and I will always wonder why they made a musical glorifying that fascist grifter Eva Peron. I’ve never gotten a good answer to the question. Some gays don’t like having their theater standards questioned, but why not do one on Imelda Marcos? She actually fancied herself a singer, at least. I am missing the world cup, though. There’s any number of monstrous fascist women in history; did Eva stand out because she started out as a prostitute and actress?

Oh, well, college football will be here before we know it, and then my weekends will be built around college football and the Saints–errands on Fridays and Sundays only, etc. I’m cautiously optimistic about both LSU and the Saints this year, but LSU’s schedule is brutal. Auburn, Alabama, Mississippi, Texas, Texas A&M, Florida and Tennessee, and the opener is Clemson. That’s eight games they could lose, right there. Oh, well. Fingers crossed! Hope always springs eternal down here on the bayou.

I am also hoping that having a “normal” weekend will set me back to normality. I feel good and rested already this morning, which is delightful, and of course my coffee is starting to hit me with its best shot…I should get out the espresso machine this weekend and make myself some cappuccinos, because it’s been a hot hot minute. We’re apparently in a heat advisory all weekend, too, and into next week again. And yes, it would be nice to stay inside all weekend, but I will run those other errands tomorrow, because I don’t think we’ll be out of this heat any time soon.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely day, Constant Reader, and wherever you are, stay hydrated! I’ll be back bright and early tomorrow morning, so until then, be safe!

Heracles battling the Hydra. It’s always bugged me that people use his Roman name when talking about Greek mythology; in Greek, his name was HERACLES. In other words, if you’re talking about Zeus and Hera, his nam is Heracles. If you say Hercules, you need to use Jupiter and Juno. (I blame Disney for a lot of this, but it happened before their movie, too.) I’ve also kind of always wanted to write about him, too.

All the Gold in California

…is in a bank in the middle of Beverly Hills, in somebody else’s name….

I always loved that song, and when I was planning on submitting a story to the Sacramento Bouchercon anthology, I was using that as the title. I don’t think I got any further than the title, the main character, and that was a “friend of” the Real Housewives. Maybe someday I’ll get around to working on it again. This, by the way, is what I am like all of the time. Yesterday was rough on me; we were busy in the clinic and I had a lot of work to catch up on. Today will be more of the same, I’m afraid, but am hoping it won’t be too bad. I did make groceries on the way home (only two insane drivers I managed to evade successfully; I swear sometimes it’s like people don’t care if they’re in an accident or not), and the traffic wasn’t too terrible. It really hasn’t been bad in quite a while, actually, even going in on the highway. Or maybe my timing has just been good lately, I don’t know for sure. But I was tired when I got home. Paul and I almost finished Stick, which I am really enjoying a lot and highly recommend, and then I had to do the dishes before going to bed. I did sleep well, and I feel more awake than I did yesterday.

I was so tired last night, y’all, it wasn’t even funny.

I have some things I need to get done today and I think we’re busy in the clinic again too. It’s a busy scheduled week, methinks, which is okay and fine. My supervisor is about to go to London for two weeks, which will make the next weeks interesting around the office. Sigh. But it’s always something, isn’t it? I have to go to Alabama for Decoration Day, and then down to Panama City Beach to visit with my aunt and Dad, at the end of the month. It’s also Paul’s birthday later this month, and I should get him something nice.

The country’s madness continues to rage, and will until it entirely burns itself out. Humanity never learns anything, does it? I don’t know what will be left when that finally does occur, and what will rise from the ashes as a phoenix. I can’t speak for anyone else, but it really does seem sometimes like civilization will never advance or progress because there’s always some completely horrible people in power somewhere. (I do think some people are beginning to understand why Iran has hated the USA for decades, which is something, one supposes.) As I was watching some of those Iranian LEGO videos the other day–they’re actually kind of entertaining, and very well done–because someone claimed we were “losing the propaganda war.” (I’d heard about them but hadn’t paid a lot of attention), which made me think about my childhood again, and how I–all of us–were essentially brainwashed by pro-American propaganda, especially when it came to history, while at the same time we studied propaganda as an evil on society. They showed us both Soviet and Nazi German propaganda, taught us that all propaganda was bad…while teaching us an idealized iteration of this country and its history, centering colonizers as heroes. (Which, I think, is yet another reason I never much cared for Westerns growing up; I could tell it was “natives bad!” propaganda, and not reflective of the west as it truly was. (Robert Altman’s McCabe and Mrs. Miller1, which was derided by Western purists, pretty much showed the actual reality that the west was “won” by whores, grifters and drifters.)

Likewise, Columbus was a genocidal monster who didn’t really discover the Americas; it can only be said that he opened the era of American colonization and indigenous genocide.

Not a hero, really.2

I am starting to feel awake, and I don’t feel very achy or groggy this morning. Maybe I’m adapting to getting up at six again; I really shouldn’t let myself sleep in so late on weekends because adjusting back is such a fucking bitch. But this past weekend was messed up; I’ve not had a normal weekend in several weeks, and I would really like for that to go back to normal…which it will, in time for me to take another trip out of state. Woo-hoo. I don’t mind, though, it’s always nice to spend time with Dad and my newly widowed aunt. I really need to stop drifting through my life and starting to get it back under control again; I don’t necessarily have the anxiety of not knowing what I need to be doing or what is coming up and forgetting things anymore; but it still bothers me on some levels. I know I have doctors’ appointments and an injection and labs and things that need to be done, and I need to mark up my day-to-day calendar. I do feel better this morning than I did yesterday, when I just felt a bit overwhelmed about everything. I know I can get everything done that I need to get done; I just need to consult my on-going to-do list to center myself, and come out of that coasting through life feeling.

And on that cheery note, I am going to have a bit of breakfast before I head into the spice mines for the day. Have a lovely Wednesday, Constant Reader, and I will check in with you again tomorrow morning.

  1. Note to self: watch again. ↩︎
  2. He really was a horrible person. Most Americans never learn much about him other than the standard “discovered America, funded by Ferdinand and Isabella, his three ships were the Nina, the Pinta, and the Santa Maria. But he was absolutely a monster; if you don’t believe me, look it up. ↩︎

Doing the Best That I Can

Sunday in the Lost Apartment and all is quiet here. Today’s four parades start later this morning and literally run all day. I suspect I’m going to skip them all today. I wandered out to Iris, but just can’t stand for very long; I’m just not in good enough physical condition yet to exert myself into anything other than sitting in a chair resting and icing my ankles, which I did for quite some time yesterday. I overslept in the morning–Sparky was cuddled up with me again, with the occasional plaintive “mew” to try to wake me up. The bed did feel marvelous yesterday morning, but the morning was already pretty much over by the time I was caffeinated and finished with yesterday’s blog entry. I read for a while (and this reread of The Secret of Hangman’s Inn is showing me, at long last, the primary flaw in kids’ detective fiction–which is also why The Three Investigators have held up better than most of their contemporaries), and did some here and there chores. I don’t, after all, have to go back to the office until Wednesday morning, so having another day that was mostly for resting my body and my brain didn’t seem like a waste, you know?

I finished rewatching Judgment at Nuremberg and it remarkably holds up still in modern times. Not going to lie, and if the reasons I rewatched it aren’t quite as obvious in this modern time, let me explai it to you: we are, despite all the lessons and warnings from the past, sliding into that same kind of world where “just following orders” is no longer merely about ‘doing your job’ but doing evil. Nuremberg is one of the best films–if American propaganda heavy–dealing with these questions of national guilt and national morality; I remember someone writing (or saying) after 1945 how amazing it was that no German was really a Nazi and how none of them “knew.”

Did people admit shamefacedly to being in the Klan after? Still?

I’ve always given the common German people a bit of slack about being Nazis, simply because, monstrous as Nazism was, they weren’t making the plans and the decisions. So, how much culpability did the rank-and-file people actually bear? The cogs in the killing machine?

For example, how culpable are all Americans in what is going on in the country now? Was it possible for every day Germans to not know what was being done in their name?

We don’t know what’s going on in our own concentration camps, do we? But we know they exist and more are being built, don’t we? As Americans, how much culpability do we have as citizens? It is easy to say “we didn’t vote for this” or “I was opposed to Vietnam” or “dropping nuclear weapons on Japan was necessary to save American lives” or “my ancestors didn’t own slaves/weren’t in the Klan/didn’t benefit from systemic discrimination” but…wasn’t enslavement human trafficking, and on a scale modern minds can scarcely comprehend how big it was, how horrible it was, and historians and American propagandists have done an excellent job of downplaying the horrors and dismissing the immorality of owning other people. Human beings had less rights than animals in the so-called land of the free; and this is not even taking into consideration the genocide of the indigenous peoples and the mistreatment of those survivors for generations. History will not look back and think all of that horror was unknown to most Americans. They will say it was a horrible part of US History, a spreading stain that soaked in and spread for hundreds of years. Is not the whole world responsible for not stopping Hitler when they could have? The Allies knew about the camps as early as 1940, if not sooner, and did not only nothing but actively worked to suppress the information. Why?

And there were American Nazis before the war–lots of them. Still are, in fact. So much for never forgetting, right?

Heavy thoughts on Bacchus Sunday, but Judgment at Nuremberg is a still important and necessary film.

After the movie finished, we watched The Fighting Tiger, the ESPN documentary on D-D Breaux, the legendary LSU Gymnastics coach for over forty years, who single-handedly built the program up from nothing, which was incredibly fun and also reminded me of how long Paul and I have been watching LSU Gymnastics. I had been meaning to check out this most recent season of The Traitors, because Johnny Weir and Tara Lipinski are both on, so I switched over to that. We’d never watched the show before, but MY GOD were we entertained! I was kind of hesitant because I despise Lisa Rinna (a complete turn on her, by the way; I was a fan before she was a real housewife), but this show is perfect for her! She stopped being fun as a housewife, but this is the Rinna I enjoyed in her first seasons on the show. We stayed up much later than we intended because we simply couldn’t turn it off–and there are former seasons to catch up on, too! HUZZAH!!!

It looks like its going to be another gorgeous day out on the parade route–maybe I’ll wander down there to take some pictures; tomorrow I plan on walking over to Office Depot and take some current pictures of the bead trees; one of the many things I miss about our office on Frenchmen Street is walking to and from there during parade season, and all the bead debris along the way. There was also a racist moment in Tucks yesterday, apparently, with some riders hanging a black doll over the side of the float by the neck with beads–so it looked like a lynching victim, which is completely and totally disgusting and unacceptable. I hope the fucks who did it are publicly named and shamed; they deserve worse. There’s no excuse for that shit ever–let alone during Carnival. They should have been pulled off the float and had the shit kicked out of them.

And on that note, my easy chair and my ice machine are calling me this morning. Seriously, I cannot wait for Paul to get up so we can get back to The Traitors, which is my new addiction! Have a great Sunday wherever you are, and I’ll be back for a Lundi Gras post tomorrow.

Talk to Me

Monday morning and it’s still cold. Go figure. Parades start this very Friday, and if it’s cold, well, I won’t be bold. I am not going out there to get sick from being out in the cold, and besides, I’m old. Maybe it’s all that history I read where someone old caught a chill that developed into pneumonia and death within days. As much as I joke about it, I am not in any rush to leap into my grave (or the crematorium, as it were). I just don’t like being sick–and last spring I was sick enough to last me for a lifetime, thank you very much. I am about ready for this cold to take a serious hike. Although apparently tomorrow’s high is going to be seventy? But then it gets cold again for the rest of the week, but not nearly as bad as this weekend and today are going to be. Layers, layers, layers.

Yesterday morning was disrupted by the power outage. It was only out for an hour, but it was enough to disrupt the day and throw it off track. I did read in bed under my blankets with my coffee until the power came back on, which was lovely. After which, I went downstairs and read while watching the news. I was pleased that Carlos Alcaraz won the Australian Open (I am no longer a fan of anti-vaxxer Novak Djokovic). After Paul got up we finished The Night Manager before moving on to His and Hers, which is interesting so far. I do enjoy Jon Bernthal, so there’s always that. (I didn’t like his take on American Gigolo, which could have been really great, but we didn’t finish.) I didn’t get a lot of anything done yesterday, overall, but I did get some chores done and the house won’t take much to look orderly. We’ll see how I feel when I get home. I have to make groceries on the way, but that’s not a big deal. I have some dishes to do and such, but other than that and straightening out the kitchen rugs, I think I am pretty caught up on the house? There’s no laundry left to do, the dishwasher is empty and ready to be loaded, so once I put away the groceries, I can do that.

The news, for the most part, has been good lately–or at least, better than it has been. This weekend’s Epstein reveals were staggering, and are only going to continue to get worse and worse. Murder? Rape? Torture? Cannibalism? How nice that our modern elites looked at Caligula’s court and said “hold my beer”, right? I mean, we’re still living under a fascist government, so the news can only be so good, you know? Minneapolis is still under siege, the Supreme Court continues to be a joke on the regular, and day by day the trash that voted for him to “own the libs” are slowly peeling away from him because the hellish policies of the mad king are affecting them, too–which “isn’t what they voted for.” Aw, shucks, sugar, we warned you and you mocked us–and while I am pragmatic enough to understand we need them to turn on all of this and vote it out; but that doesn’t mean I am forgiving anyone. Even those of us who voted for the lady with the weird laugh own this, too–because we’re Americans, and we could have done more to stop this. None of us get to say we aren’t responsible for this because it is our government, we’ve allowed this all to happen, and now we all have to come together to rebuilt it all back together and clean up this fucking mess.

That was part of the reason I wanted to watch Judgment at Nuremberg again–we haven’t finished, we only got about forty minutes into it–because of the entire notion of societal responsibility and guilt. After the war, the common German people–who’d seig heil‘ed and gone to the rallies and threw flowers and cheered the military parades–weren’t allowed to look away from their government had done in their name. The question of “true believer” or “too afraid to say anything” is something that can never really be answered. I was born sixteen years after the war ended in a neighborhood filled with war and post-war refugees from eastern Europe. I was shown the military films of the freeing of the camps in elementary school. I learned very young that fascism and Nazism were both evil. My childhood and teens were filled with stories of the MOSSAD tracking down Nazi war criminals, all over the world. There was a lot of World War II historical fiction out there, too, and even more fiction about Nazism rising again out of the ashes of history–William Goldman’s Marathon Man, for one, and Ira Levin’s brilliant The Boys from Brazil–and I did see Judgment at Nuremberg in my teens, which got me interested in the day-to-day German people, how the scourge rose to power, and what they lived through and experienced. We were taught that Nazis and fascism and antisemitism were societal evils…and that we Americans, with our freedoms and our democratic republic, were morally superior. (We were not–and in our American arrogance we also believed that such a thing could happen here.) Now we are in a situation (again) where our government has turned us into a rogue, authoritarian wannabe dictatorship–just as the Roman republic declined into an autocracy. Don’t blame us! we post on social media in response to foreign scolding, we didn’t vote for this!

How does that make us any better than the former supporters saying this now? The American penchant for dodging responsibility is perhaps our worst, most narcissistic, societal and cultural flaw.

And on that somber note, I am going to head into the spice mines. Have a lovely day, Constant Reader, and try to stay warm if you can.

The dragon float arrives at the Orpheus Ball

I Sing for Things

Wednesday Pay the Bills Day again, and yet another cold morning here in the Lost Apartment. Yesterday was bitterly cold again, and our “break” from the cold is today, getting up into the fifties before we slide back down into the freezing water level and even….SINGLE DIGITS this weekend. It’s in the low thirties outside, and my workspace is really chilly. I forgot to set my alarm last night, but woke up when I was supposed to, which was nice–and I did it without Sparky’s help. Usually he’s trying to get me up before the alarm goes off, but not this morning. He was curled up somewhere warm downstairs, obviously, because he was waiting for me at the foot of the stairs this morning when I came down. Sigh. I have to run errands tonight after work–prescription, some groceries, gas–so am hoping it won’t be too terrible outside when my work shift is over. If not, oh, well. The one thing I don’t like about the cold weather is how my legs get so tired and achy so much faster–and leg exhaustion pretty much sets the tone for your entire body, doesn’t it?

But I did some chores last night–started some laundry, ran the dishwasher before putting the dishes away, cleaned the counters–and it was very nice coming down to a clean kitchen this morning. Note to self: the reason for doing chores during the week is to stay on top of it so I don’t have to spend time on the weekends getting it all caught up. I plan on doing another book purge this week, too, and to do some organizing of the bookcases again. It looks so much nicer and neater in the living room with all those books gone…and absolutely must remember to continue purging when I get to the point where I feel like it’s okay to buy books again.

I spent a lot of time last night watching news clips, interviews, and influencer podcasts about the fallout from the fascism we’ve all witnessed in Minneapolis. (It doesn’t escape my cynical notice that everyone went completely nuts about this–right and left–once they’d murdered a straight white man on camera…so, not to worry, racialized people, queers and women: we still care more about straight white men than any other demographic in this country.) The blame game, the quick shift by Kristi Noem to “just following orders,” and the possible fall of the vile Stephen Miller and his pick-me skank of a wife (IMAGINE seeing that naked and letting him inside of you…I may never stop internally screaming) was just too delicious of a train wreck to look away from. It almost feels like they are in the “find out” part of FAFO, but they are literally like the walking dead. Firing Bovino, Noem, Lewandowski (her adulterous LOVER), and Miller is just a start, for the record. Nothing less than prosecution will suffice.

That, and never being able to show their disgusting faces in public again without heckling.

When I’ve talked recently about wishing everyone could just let us enjoy Heated Rivalry and its success without being jackasses, I was referring to the Cyd Ziegler/Empty Netters podcast that’s been going on since late last week and early into this one. At first, the piece in Outsports was terribly disappointed, as it seemed to indicate that the guys on the podcast were actually homophobic trash who pretended to like the show for views and clicks, by exposing text messages the one supposedly sent to a friend. Obviously, he knew who he sent the texts to–as they are still in his phone–and he did a video defending himself, claiming, as always, they were taken out of context and the timeline of how things happened and played out were muddled to make him look worse. Some of his defensive language was problematic, and I wasn’t sure how I felt about the whole thing…but then I got some more context on Cyd Ziegler, the Outsports journalist who exposed the story.

Cyd is a registered Republican gay man in Florida who supports Ron DeSantis, so anything he says is bound to be suspect, and his claim of years of gay advocacy and activism is rather suspect, given his politics. If you are a gay man, claiming advocacy and activism–how the fuck can you be a Republican and support Don’t Say Gay DeSantis? The backlash was so strong he backtracked, but…you can never believe or trust anything a Republican says, because they lie like it’s mother’s milk to them.

And yes, I will stand in solidarity with straight allies who might not have the best education on queer rights or issues over a self-loathing gay Republican every fucking day of the week. We may both be gay, but we have significantly different values and morals. Queer MAGA, to me, is even more despicable than straight MAGA…”fuck those fags, I’m not like those pansies” is an attitude and mentality I will never align with or support or stand with in solidarity. There’s an essay in this, methinks, for the newsletter.

I also started the new version of Chlorine, and it’s slow going so far; maybe eight hundred words or so? But the voice feels right, and I am looking forward to getting back into it again today.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely Wednesday, Constant Reader, and I will be back tomorrow morning for my weekly “last day in the office” blog. STAY WARM!!!

When gorgeous, muscular men are involved, wrestling can create living sculpture as art. Meta will, naturally, hide this as “adult content”

Don’t Let the Green Grass Fool You

And it’s back to the office with me this morning. Bleargh. There are worse things, after all, and I don’t have to go in on Thursday, so that’s something. But it’s been a hot minute since I got up this early, so it feels weird to be sitting here, a bit groggy, with dark outside. But my coffee tastes good and the incoming cold weather doesn’t strike until tomorrow. Paul is leaving to see his mom tomorrow and won’t be back until sometime Sunday, so it’s just going to be me and a lonely, needy cat here for nearly a week. That’s okay; I don’t mind having Sparky glued to me at all times when I’m home. He really doesn’t like being left alone by himself, and he really doesn’t like it when only one of us is home. He’s a spoiled little baby, but he’s our spoiled little baby, isn’t he?

I feel surprisingly good this morning; it wasn’t a struggle to get out of bed and I was also able to resist hitting snooze repeatedly until I had to rush around the house like a madman, either. Today is my injection day, so I need to take it out of the refrigerator to thaw out for forty-five minutes before attaching it to myself. I also don’t know if today is an Admin Day or a clinic day; in either case, we aren’t busy at all this week so it’s not a very big deal, one way or the other. The rest of the week is very slow, too–we kick back into high gear next week, after the new year, as everyone’s insurance resets for a new calendar year. Woo-hoo! But my mood is good, I don’t feel tired, the coffee is going down well, and I am getting a bit hungry and may have to eat my breakfast sandwich here in a moment.

I was really hungry! But that sandwich hit the spot properly. I also have to do my every-eight-weeks-injection–and I can sort of tell it’s almost time. My digestive system hasn’t been painful or anything, but…I can tell when the injection is almost due. I’ve been very dehydrated lately, so need to focus on replenishing electrolytes this week, too; this is all related, of course, to the UC (bastard that it is). I am sure everything will be fine once I pump the medicine into my abdomen for five minutes. So exciting!

We watched Cover-Up, the documentary about Seymour Hersh, which was very interesting. I hadn’t thought of Sy Hersh in years, but have always appreciated his reporting work. He does kind of come across as a bit of a dick in the documentary, but they don’t make journalists like him anymore, which is a pity. My formative teen years (the 1970s) was a decade of spectacular journalism, which made me think that the bad old days of yellow journalism and if it bleeds it leads were a thing of the past and all journalists were ethical and did things the right way and protected the public interest all these years…Fox and our current embarrassment of legacy media is definitely something that needs to be fixed in the future, but our system has become so corrupted that they don’t even bother trying to hide it anymore.

Brigitte Bardot, the Nazi skank who couldn’t act, died. Hope she’s enjoying the flames of hell like the racist homophobic piece of shit deserved. You didn’t become famous for your intellect, madam. After Anthony Geary and Rob Reiner, it was nice to not feel a bit sad when a celebrity died.

The long holiday weekend was lovely, even if I accomplished very little. I did run the dishwasher before I went to bed last night, so I need to unload it tonight, and pick up a few things around the apartment. I also have to make a bit of groceries on my way home from work tonight–nothing major, nothing much, just a couple of things to get me through the week. Tomorrow night I’ll need to swing by the post office to pay the rental and pick up the mail for the last time in 2025…2026 might be worse than 2025, but at least for now there’s the promise of things getting better somehow. I usually do start the year with optimism…

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely last Monday of the year, Constant Reader, and I’ll be back here for New Year’s Eve Eve tomorrow.

Maybe It Was Memphis

Maybe it wasn’t?

Sunday here in the Lost Apartment, and all is well. LSU won, 13-10, not a particularly impressive showing. (Tulane also won, GO WAVE!) The games yesterday weren’t exciting or interesting, so after Paul got up we alternated between games and other things (more on that later). It was a very nice relaxing day, over all. I did run some errands in the morning, but after I got home that was it; no more outside for me this weekend. It was actually in the 80s yesterday, too. I didn’t do much cleaning around here yesterday, either, and the kitchen is a total mess (because I made Shrimp Creole last night for dinner) which I will need to clean up at some point this morning. I also didn’t read much yesterday, either; something I need to rectify this morning. I mean, it is a real messy mess. Yikes.

I dropped off four boxes of books to the library sale yesterday morning, and yes, this pruning of the books had helped de-clutter the living room, and I also came across some books I’d forgotten that I had–juvenile mysteries, amongst other things–which was also kind of cool. I’m planning to do another round of pruning once I get back from the trip (but probably not next weekend; I’m going to spend Sunday recovering from the drive); progress! I also want to start working on the storage attic. I know, the non-stop rollercoaster thrill ride of my life is almost too much to read about, isn’t it?

But I came across copies from a juvenile series, Ken Holt, that I really loved when I was a kid (still one of my favorites; it’s a toss-up between this series and The Three Investigators) and while paging through one of the copies (The Secret of Hangman’s Inn) I remembered how incredibly homoerotic the series was, particularly the relationship between Ken and his best friend, Sandy Allen–they are often around each other in varying stages of undress, including nude, for one example–and often share rooms and beds. There’s definitely an essay for the newsletter about this series, its homoeroticism, and how well the books are actually written. They all have a hard-boiled, noir-ish aesthetic that I loved. They were shot at with real ammunition, had to outwit and out think criminals, and since they were journalists (despite being so young) Ken’s write-ups of their cases and Sandy’s photos often went into syndication. Not bad for a pair of eighteen-year-olds! I also think this series is why I kind of wanted to be a journalist when I first went to college–but that is also a story for another time.

I didn’t write anything on the computer yesterday, but I did spend a lot of time writing in my journal. I also went back and reread my current one from the start, picking up on notes and ideas and thoughts about several things I am working on. I came across some excellent notes for Chlorine, for example, and as I reread my notes (just from this journal) I recognized something–part of the problem I am having with writing further into the book is base premise that starts the book doesn’t really work or make sense; the stakes aren’t high enough for my main character to get involved to begin with, and so I have to amp them up, kill my darlings, and maybe start over. I get very stubborn about throwing stuff out that I’ve already written, but those chapters are salvageable, kind of; I may be able to use the bits and pieces, but I am going to dive into it, headfirst, in December with the goal of getting a first draft finished by the end of the year. Stubbornness about your work is not a good quality for an author to have.

I also got my contributor copy of Celluloid Crimes, which ironically has the short story I adapted from Chlorine’s first chapter, “The Last To See Him Alive,” which is still a good story and I do love that title an awful lot. It’s always nice to see your work in actual print in a book, you know?

Around the games we watched some of the skating from Cup of Finland, this week’s season finale of The Morning Show, and a lot of the news shows. I am still processing the Friday news; the bromance in the Oval with FOTUS basically rolling over on his back and showing Zohran Mamdani his belly, and it may take me a while longer to wrap my head around the devolution of the MAGA movement into fascism and Nazism with the embrace of Nick Fuentes, the gay Latino Nazi, which makes no sense to me but I’ve never understood people who lick the boots on their own throats.

I am also really enjoying Ken Burns’ The American Revolution, which at least is honest and doesn’t really get into any of the weird national mythology we’ve built up around our history–basically to erase any wrong-doing and eradicate any questioning of the endless justifications for stealing an entire continent from its inhabitants. The Americas weren’t discovered and colonized; they were actually conquered, in a mass genocide that lasted centuries. US History and the American Revolution were actually my gateways into my lifelong obsession and interest in history; watching this series is reminding me of how I went from US History to English history to European history, with some dabbling in the ancients (Egypt, Greece, Rome); I really should have majored in History, the primary problem being picking a particular period to specialize in. As I said the other day, I should have majored in History with a minor in creative writing, and I could have become a historian like Barbara Tuchman; her A Distant Mirror remains one of my favorite histories and served as an inspiration for my idea to write a popular history of the sixteenth by focusing on women holding power…that century remains an outlier in Europe when it comes to powerful women and queens. I am probably going to write an essay about my interest in US History, and one about my interest in ancient Egypt.

And on that note, I am going to take my coffee into the living room to see if any more news has broken since I went to bed last night, after which I am heading into the spice mines. Have a marvelous Sunday, Constant Reader, and I’ll be back tomorrow morning.

The temple at Edfu, Egypt

Southern Cross

Monday morning and I am up, drinking coffee and trying to get a move on for this exciting new week! I feel rested and well this morning, which is very pleasant, and looking forward to another new week. Yesterday was pleasant, and I spent most of the day reading or writing or thinking about work, which was nice. It’s always lovely to have a productive day, isn’t it? I find it to be frequently so, and also? Yesterday Scotty’s voice popped back into my head, which was lovely and also made me realize that was why I disliked the manuscript so much; it’s not written in his voice and we’re not really in his head at all and he is simply observing what’s happening without much of a reaction to it–and that sense of growing dread and unease I need the readers to experience isn’t really there. So, I basically unlocked the book at last, and am rather excited about it. Naturally, all I want to do now is work on it, but have to wait for free time to do it. Heavy sigh.

I didn’t watch the Saints game yesterday because I am still pissed about the moment of silence from the last game, and they got dog-walked by the Seahawks, didn’t they? Thoughts and prayers, Mrs. Benson, thoughts and prayers. I’m not sure if or when I will forgive the Saints for this slap in the face to the city of New Orleans (83% for Harris, Mrs. Benson, 83 fucking % for Harris), but this misunderstanding of the Saints fan base make-up (and those of the season ticket holders) is pretty fucking bad and makes me wonder if maybe she might be the gold-digging skank his blood relatives always thought she was. I for one am tired of being a fan of a team that regularly makes it clear they don’t give a shit about their non-white non-straight fans. I’m not at “throwing away all my Saints merch” stage yet, but pretty damned close.

I got deeper into reading The Hunting Wives as well over the weekend, and I am really enjoying it. As I’ve remarked numerous times already, it is very different from the TV show and so I am enjoying the book and how it is all coming together. I need to finish reading this before October–along with the other two current reads–so I can move on to the Halloween Horror Month reading. And yes, my enjoyment of the book means I am probably going to end up reading more of May Cobb’s canon. It’s always lovely to find a new writer you enjoy, but I have so many already I can’t keep up!

It was an interesting weekend for evil and corruption, wasn’t it? There was yesterday’s Nazi rally in Arizona, featuring all the right American fascists, but was a little taken aback by the shock some people have expressed about it; what the hell did you think it was going to be? Charlie Kirk is far more powerful to them as a symbol than he was when he was alive, and they’ve already started whitewashing things he said and did during his public, grifting life. I also loved that the ‘border Nazi” was exposed as corrupt and open to accepting bribes, and the fact that the regime told the FBI to drop the investigation? There really is no low they won’t stoop to, and as long as they remain racist and misogynist and homophobic their voters don’t care. Free speech is under attack, and don’t think any and all efforts to censor or ban “adult” material won’t be used as a pretext to ban queer work. I’m glad to see people are finally waking up to how rigged the Right and their soulless minions have made everything. Better late than never, I suppose, but this kind of insight was sorely needed in 2016 and 2024, thank you very much.

I don’t think the lady with the laugh y’all hated would have pressured a network into firing a talk show host who was critical of her, you know. But that laugh, amirite?

And on that note I am heading into the spice mines for the day, so have a lovely Monday, Constant Reader! I will see you tomorrow morning like clockwork!

Egyptian god Horus

Take a Chance With Me

Well, here we are on Monday morning and I am getting my second infusion today, which means driving out to Clearview on I-10 and spending two hours in a heated massage chair as I get this stuff infused into my blood stream before heading to the office. I am already a bit groggy and sleepy/tired this morning, so who knows how I am going to feel once I am finished? I got nothing done yesterday–Paul came downstairs and turned on Wimbledon, which I then got sucked into watching, and soon enough I was no longer in the mood to get much of anything done. The chair is like a black hole sucking me in…and of course, Sparky turned my lap into a bed for most of the day as I watched the MAGA meltdown and civil war raging across all news networks and all political influencers. What can I say? I enjoyed a lot of cruel laughs at their expense (odds they’ll begin to think he’s lying about other things? Too soon to tell) last night–but while everyone not in the MAGA bubble is very well aware of the Trump/Epstein connection and have been for a very long time…I’m beginning to think they had no idea? And thought of course if your only source for news coverage is Fox or Newsmax–which would never do anything to connect Dear Leader with convicted sex trafficking pedophile–you might not have known.

Which could finally explain the shock and horror– and the outright rejection of the party line.

Could this be the tipping point? There was an awful lot of anger from the right over the weekend; even Hitler Mini-me Nick Fuentes pronounced MAGA dead and “good riddance.” Did I miss a falling out between that POS and MAGA?

And for the record, Pam Bondi has always been trash.

We did finish watching Too Much last night, and kudos to both Megan Stalter and Will Sharpe for inhabiting the main characters and their relationship. They really had great chemistry together, and Sharpe is both charismatic and handsome. He looked familiar, and I think it’s because when he was on season 2 of The White Lotus (which also got him an Emmy nomination) all the gay sites were posting shots of him from the show in his underwear, so he was kind of everywhere but not in a way that would stick in my mind (I looked him up, and once I saw the pictures from The White Lotus I knew where I knew him from). We really enjoyed the show and the romance between their characters. I don’t know if there will be a second season or not; the first season kind of definitively ended, but I can also see how they could spring a second season out of that ending.

I did do some more filing and cleaning around here yesterday, and ordered some groceries for delivery. I have to stop again on my way home from the office to get a couple of things I couldn’t order, but based on my bloodwork from the other day I probably should cut ice cream and some other high-sugar foods out of my life again. I’ve reached the weight I’d like to stay at (actually, I’m a bit heavier than my preference), so it’s time to start eating in a more healthy manner again.

I’m taking Megan Abbott’s new one with me to read during the two hours of the infusion, primarily to keep me off my phone, and get back into the swing of reading. Tonight I am going to put my editing hat back on and start tearing through all the things I need to get written by the end of the month. I’m not really sure what we are going to watch next, but I know I want to see the new Taron Edgerton show on Apple Plus; I’m a fan, what can I say? But we may have to wait until it finishes airing to stream it all at once.

And on that note, I am heading on out there. Have a lovely Monday, Constant Reader, and I’ll be back tomorrow morning with a report about whether or not the infusion made me tired again.

Shake Your Body (Down to the Ground)

Saturday morning and I have a couple of errands to do this morning. I need to go by the bank (I haven’t made a deposit in person in eons) and I have to swing by the grocery store. Sigh. I really didn’t want to leave the house today, but here we are. It’s also a struggle these days to get through as we go through and experience the collapse of the American experiment in self-rule. I think another significant part of our history that isn’t taught the way it should be is we aren’t taught about how many Tories there were in the colonies during the lead up to and aftermath of the Revolution. We aren’t taught New England threatened to secede during the War of 1812, or that there were people on both sides of the Civil War1 that sympathized with the other side; North and South weren’t monoliths the way we are taught. We aren’t taught about how many Americans were Nazi sympathizers and isolationists before Pearl Harbor, using the slogan “America First”–so you see why I have always raised a cynical eyebrow whenever anyone uses that slogan; it was tied to Nazi sympathizers to me.

Watching the collapse of our country is challenging and more than a little bit depressing. It is terrible that just as I approach the age of retirement and the final chapter of my life…well, the retirement may turn out to be involuntary, as my clinic’s funding is definitely on the chopping block, Social Security is about to be looted and destroyed, and I don’t want to even look at the paltry 401k, which has also probably evaporated. No job and no retirement funds is going to be awesome when I turn 64. Paul got the notice from the NEH to not bother applying for grant funding, as it’s all been cut, so his job may not survive this, either–no more festivals in the spring. So, miss me with “we need to be nice to MAGA voters now finding out”–fuck them now and forever. I will never forgive them, and their suffering lightens mine. You want to embrace them, be my guess. Me? I will never stop laughing and pointing, let alone mocking them and enjoying their tears. My patience has worn out for ignorant haters, sorry not sorry– and as they so eloquently put it, “fuck your feelings.”

Yesterday was a nice day, overall. I got up, had a virtual meeting at work, and then did my Admin work before running some errands. I got that done, and then Paul and I made a Costco run and spent an insane amount of money. After getting home, lugging everything into the house and putting it all away, I was tired. I collapsed into my chair for a while as Paul went upstairs to work on the NEH grant–but got the email so didn’t have to bother for the rest of the evening and we dove further into The Residence, which I am greatly enjoying. Uzo Adoba is fantastic as Cordelia Copp, the world’s greatest detective, and it’s very well cast, high production values, and the writing is quite crisp. The chief usher at the White House (the divine Giancarlo Esposito) is murdered during a state dinner, and Cordelia is brought in to solve the murder. I think what’s most interesting is the divide between the White House domestic staff v. the White House political staff; the domestics work for the House, the political staff comes and goes. I’d never really thought much about the staff of the residence, so it’s an interesting look at how that all works, and it’s very cleverly structured. Highly recommend.

I do have some errands to do today, and a lot of straightening up to do as well. I want to get some reading and writing in this morning, so I can go to the gym tomorrow (I know, right?) and get some more done. I’ve been letting things slide a lot lately, which probably means I am depressed, which isn’t surprising, given the state of the world and everything else going on in my life. I think there’s an element of why bother with this book, to be honest, which is counter-productive and quite self-destructive, but it’s hard to be productive when your default is almost always pessimism. I always knew Republicans were working very hard to destroy everything decent about this country (unfettered capitalism is sociopathic in nature), but I never dreamed they might actually succeed. To paraphrase Game of Thrones: “Whenever I wonder why the Republicans would do something so counter-productive to democracy, I like to play a little game: what is the worst reason they would want to do this?”

Littlefinger was right, even if he did end up with his throat slit for his treachery.

Yesterday I also realized that one of the great American traditions, going back to colonial days, of evading paying duties and tariffs was smuggling. I used to love to read about Colonial smugglers (John Hancock was one), and some great fiction was built up around smuggling. I’ve always thought the years of Prohibition (and alcohol smuggling) in New Orleans would be an interesting time to write about. That decade saw the rise of Huey Long to power in Louisiana, and there are some fantastic stories about that post-Storyville time here. Jean Lafitte was a pirate, too–but he was also a very successful smuggler. But again, one of the great problems of New Orleans/Louisiana research is going down wormholes and sidebars–my ADHD does not matters at all in this regard; I do remember wanting to write about “Mrs. Officer,” the first woman cop in New Orleans, who was hired because they needed a woman to search and interrogate criminal women, which was a problem during Storyville days. I mean, what a great decade to research and write about! Imagine what “Mrs. Officer”2 endured in terms of misogyny as the only woman cop in an era where women couldn’t vote.

There’s also a protest today scheduled in New Orleans, as well as around the country. I’m hoping to make it, it just depends on how tired I am after getting things done this morning. I feel pretty good right now, but that also doesn’t mean I won’t flag later, either.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely Saturday, Constant Reader, and I’ll check in with you most likely tomorrow morning.

  1. This is a classic example of why I say we don’t teach history properly (which will end up being a longer-form essay for my newsletter at some point). There were plenty of Tories during the American Revolution. There were Southern sympathizers in the North and Unionists in the South–I knew about the North, but whenever I’d come across that about the South I figured it was after-the-fact apologia, excusing Southern whites for their inhumanity. But over the least few years as I’ve done more deep dives into Alabama history, and hearing more old family stories, I’ve come to realize it was actually true. Erik Larson discusses this in more detail in his The Demons of Unrest, which I do recommend. ↩︎
  2. SHe was always referred to as “Mrs. Officer,” which also makes a great title. ↩︎