Tag: traitors

Blue Denim

It’s Thursday but it feels like Tuesday. Heavy heaving sigh. But at least tonight there’s a new episode of my current obsession, Traitors, and tomorrow I don’t have to come in to the office, so there’s that. I really shouldn’t complain about the office this week, should I, since I am only in for two days? Next week is going to be a trial, methinks, and next thing you know it’s March. AIEEE!!!

Meh, there are worse things. And when am I not disoriented and confused anymore these days? Seriously.

Yesterday was actually a relatively easy day at work, which made the return to reality much easier. It was quiet, for one, and there was NO traffic on my way into the office. I managed not only to hit all the lights, but no traffic on I-10 meant I was parking the car a little more than five minutes after I drove off from the curb at home. I wasn’t very far behind on my work and was able to get caught up pretty easily. The city was in ruins as I drove in, too–St. Charles was mostly clean (the slalom course was still up) but the side streets were trashed. The good news was a lot of people were out cleaning it up, so that was nice. Back in the olden days they didn’t even get around to cleaning the Avenue at first so it was always nasty out there on Ash Wednesday. I did start to get tired in the afternoon, which is normal for my usual workdays. I ran uptown and did some errands on the way home. There wasn’t any traffic after work either–I got all the way uptown from work in less than fifteen minutes, at rush hour. I made a few groceries and got the mail and came home to a needy kitty who hadn’t been left completely alone at home since I got home Thursday afternoon, so he demanded my lap for cuddles and sleep–and cat parents know that once they’re curled up and sound asleep in a purring ball in your lap, you ain’t going anywhere. Tonight it’s going to be straight home for me after work so I can get some things done around here.

And that’s why I didn’t do anything after getting home last night–I needed to comfort Sparky, and the longer I sat there with him sleeping and purring in my lap, the more relaxed and less likely to do anything I became. I caught up on the news (ugh) and melted into my chair to the point that I went to bed before Paul got home from the office! I also slept really well, didn’t want to get up this morning, and am looking forward to no alarm tomorrow. That’s the thing with mini-vacations when you’re older–they make retirement look so appealing! But retirement isn’t probably going to happen for me for a few more years, at any rate. I felt kind of guilty last night when I climbed the stairs and headed for bed for not getting more things done around here, and I most likely won’t do anything tonight when I get home…but then, I won’t be tired the way I usually am on Thursday nights, either. I ran errands last night so I can come straight home from work this evening.

Tonight, I think I’ll try to do some reading and writing when I get home, and do some chores if I have the energy and mindset. I’ll need to ice my ankles tonight–I didn’t do it yesterday, but the left seems to be okay now, but the right still complains. It’s not nearly as bad as it was originally–and resting Achilles tendons means being stationary for a long time, and I’ve never been able to sit still for very long. But I think we’re already past the hump on those bastards, and hopefully some more icing will patch up the right as well.

I woke up this morning to the news the British police have arrested Andrew Mountbatten-Windsor for his participation with Epstein1, and good for the British and especially good for the royal family for not shielding him from justice with royal privilege. This is how you do it, Americans. The funny thing about European nations investigating all of this is inevitably, they are going to have to issue arrests warrants for the American president, or statements on his involvement. The cult will never turn, of course, those hard core loyalists for whom raping, torturing and killing children isn’t a dealbreaker. He’ll say it’s a hoax like he does with everything despite all the evidence to the contrary, and they’ll soak it up like a biscuit with gravy. They honestly believe he’s in shape and virile and handsome and intelligent–not just intelligent, but smarter than everyone on the planet2. It’s mind boggling to me, and something I may never be able to entirely wrap my brain around–but I do kind of love that he’s exposed the Right for what they are–unAmerican, authoritarian, party before country, demagogues and liars and grifters. The veneer and facade and pretense they are anything else is long gone; the mask has come off completely and they’ve embraced the horror of who they really are…

And of course, go to church regularly and learn nothing. Which just goes to show…church is for those who need moral guidance and clarity, but they never learn from what they hear or read in their holy book. One of the reasons I like James Talarico so much is because he calls out the Christian Nationalism, which will be known to history as the American Heresy.

AH, my coffee is kicking in and it’s almost time to head into the spice mines. Here’s hoping we all have a lovely day, get everything done we need to get done, and get the rest we need. The times are interesting, but we can’t allow the bastards to win. See you in the morning!

Gorgeous Taylor Zahkar Perez, whom I first noticed as the first centerfold in Minx.
  1. Here’s hoping he rats everyone out for a lesser sentence. ↩︎
  2. There’s a significant difference between intelligence and cunning. He isn’t intelligent, but he is very cunning. I’m willing to grant cunning, but never intelligent. ↩︎

Blue Eyes

Its the morning of Ash Wednesday and I am up at my normal time, trying to get back to normal and back into my normal day-to-day life now that Carnival is over for another year. The city is probably still in ruins, because there’s only so much they can clean up overnight, you know? The trees of St. Charles are dripping with beads and crepe paper and, of course, toilet paper from racist Tucks, er, Sucks1. I am so tired of the insidious nature of racism in incredibly stupid and small-minded white people. I can’t imagine how exhausted racialized communities feel. The closest thing I can think of would be how tired I am of homophobia and homophobes.

You haters are fucking tedious, you know? Get a fucking life already.

Readjusting back to normality after Deep Gras is always tricky. It’s Fat Tuesday that always winds up throwing me off–I am always aware that it’s Monday during Lundi Gras, but it felt like Sunday yesterday and I keep thinking today is Monday, and it’s not. That will take some mental adjusting, as will that tomorrow is my last day in the office again. But I feel very rested this morning, too. I spent a. great deal of time yesterday icing my ankles, so the Achilles tendons aren’t very tender this morning, but I am sure that will change as the day gets longer. I’ll ice them again tonight, of course, and I have some errands to do after work on the way home, too. I made potato leek soup in the slow cooker yesterday–it was sublime, probably the best I’ve ever made, and I added shallots this time, too–and that was quite lovely for dinner. I did chores and picked up a lot around the house, but never got around to the floors, which I hope to get to this weekend. I also managed to read some, which was very lovely, and I had a very strong burst of creativity yesterday that resulted in me making significant headway on an essay for the newsletter after sending a promotional one out over the course of the lengthy weekend, while getting an idea for another one–and I thought I was finished with the promotional Scotty newsletters; so that is a very good thing.

I also need to pack up more beads to donate to ArcGNO this weekend, and should also probably drop off a box of books at the library sale. I made some other reorganization decisions about the apartment this weekend, too–I need to clear out a shelf in the pantry so I can take some boxes down from the tops of the cabinets–and I really need to get the floors done. The house always looks so much better when I’ve done the floors, and maybe this weekend I can get the workspace windows cleaned, depending on the weather; I’ve not bothered to look ahead just yet. If it rains or is too cold, the windows can certainly wait.

While I did things yesterday, I was bingeing Celebrity Traitors from the UK, and even with a majority of the cast being people I had NO idea who they were, it was an excellent cast and an even more enjoyable game. I primarily wanted to see how the game ends, since I’ve never seen a season finale, and now that I know, I am pretty pleased, as I was afraid the way they wrap it all up might be a let down, but it’s not. And there was someone I’d actually met and had dinner/drinks with years and years ago in the cast! Yes, I am going to humblebrag, but the British actress Celia Imrie and I have mutual friends in common–and I had dinner with her and our mutual friend when they came through New Orleans a while back, which was marvelous. Naturally, I was rooting for her, but she was one of the last murder victims, alas. Stephen Fry was also on, and he was the first person I’ve seen note how badly the game is stacked in favor of the Traitors; I also observed to Paul “they really shouldn’t feel bad for banishing people who aren’t Traitors; the Faithful outnumber the Traitors by a 19 to 3 ratio, so of course they are going to banish incorrectly more often than not. I suspect I would be terrible at this game unless I was a Traitor.

If you’re a politics junkie2 and love watching MAGA eating themselves, pay attention to the Louisiana Republican primary for Senator Bill Cassidy (the pro-life OB-GYN who looks like a Muppet gone wrong) for some hilarity. Cassidy, as you may remember, committed the egregious sin of voting for Trump’s impeachment after January 6–hoping the person with no long-term memory would forget that six years later. About a month or so ago, Orange Foolius handpicked congresswoman Julia Letlow to endorse for the race. I’m not entirely certain she’d even announced? Cassidy’s dark money PACs are now going after Letlow, tying her to DEI and Nancy Pelosi and President Biden as a “dangerous liberal” (it took me a while to type that while laughing hysterically); does OF still have pull in Louisiana now? After a couple of weeks of silence, Letlow has finally released her own attack ads on Cassidy and seriously, this primary race can easily be called A Confederacy of Dunces.

I was sorry to hear that both Jesse Jackson and Robert Duvall died over Deep Gras. Both contributed significantly to society in their own ways, and giants cannot be replaced. I mean, look at this iteration of the current Democratic Party–where are all the great Democrats I grew up watching legislate? I mean, even the Kennedy in the forefront of public policy today is a very poor imitation of his father and uncles, pissing and shitting all over the family name. I also find it interesting that Hunter Biden was targeted and hounded for having addiction issues, while MAGA celebrates the brain worm guy who had addiction issues and clearly has something wrong with him.

After finishing reading The Secret of Hangman’s Inn, I started writing a newsletter essay about the Ken Holt series and this book in general, with a particular look at the series’ homo-eroticism–based on my recent reread of the book itself. The series, expertly written by Sam and Beryl Epstein under the name Bruce Campbell, is very much of it’s time–and you could easily see how things had changed since they were written. I remember there was a clue in one book that had to do with the cotter pin holding automobile tires on–they don’t have those anymore–and of course, no television, no automatic transmissions on cars, having to depend on phone calls and being home to take them, newspapers and syndicates with journalistic ethics, and so on. But this particular reread made me realize something about the juvenile series that I hadn’t ever caught on to before–and that will also be a strong piece of the newsletter essay.

I also decided yesterday what my next Scotty book will be and when it will be set. I wanted to jump ahead–the most recent, this new one, is set in August of 2019, and I am going to skip ahead to Mardi Gras 2022, when the parades rolled again after the canceled parade season of 2021–and I even know what it’s going to be about. Huzzah!

So yes, I had a very productive and good day yesterday. I feel rested, my right Achilles tendon has a bit of a twinge but the left feels good, and I feel rested and relaxed and motivated to get things done. And as always, we’ll see how long this feeling lasts. I am going to head into the spice mines now, and hope to have a great day post-Carnival.

Have a great Ash Wednesday if you “celebrate”, and if you don’t, have a lovely Wednesday–the rest of the work week is the downhill slide into the weekend, which will be here before I know it or am ready for it!

American swimmer Caeleb Dressel is an Olympic champion. And has pretty blue eyes.

Photographed at the University of Florida in Gainesville. Mandatory Credit: Robert Deutsch-USA TODAY ORG XMIT: USATODAY-451287 [Via MerlinFTP Drop]
  1. I saw yesterday that the racist assholes who hung black dolls by the neck with beads from their float have been kicked out of Tucks. Good. They also should be named and shamed, but I doubt that will happen. ↩︎
  2. This is an example of a time when I really miss Victoria. ↩︎

I Still Miss Someone

Everywhere else it’s just Tuesday! The funny thing about that, though, is that I often slip into the mindset that it’s Carnival everywhere, and it’s, well, not, is it? Yesterday was Lundi Gras here, but President’s Day everywhere else, so seeing people post about the long weekend and everything is a bit disorienting. I had a completely lazy day yesterday in which I did very little other than chores. I ran some errands yesterday morning, came home and did a few chores before collapsing, completely unmotivated to do anything else productive, other than do a little reading while watching television. Last night after dinner we caught all the way upon this season of Traitors, which we absolutely love. (This is an excellent cast, by the way, which also makes a difference.) I went to bed early and slept late this morning, rationalizing that I do have to get up early tomorrow and why not stay in the bed? Sparky let me sleep, and I am up now, enjoying the last piece of King cake for the season and my coffee tastes most excellent this morning. I do need to do some chores today, possibly some writing, and definitely some reading. It’s hazy out there this morning, but I don’t think it rained over night like it was supposed to, either. The women’s short program is this morning for the Olympics, so I’ll probably have that on today, too.

Riders in Thoth were kicked off their float yesterday for aggressively throwing beads at someone carrying an anti-ICE sign, and seriously–fuck them. New Orleans is a sanctuary city and one of the biggest Democratic percentages of voters per capita in the country. You want to be MAGA asshile racists? That’s what Metairie parades are for. Fuck you now and for all eternity. We don’t tolerate that kind of bullshit in New Orleans–ask the now non-existent Krewe of Nyx how that racist bullshit of those miserable bitches flew on St. Charles fucking Avenue. Keep your MAGA asses out in your racist MAGA parishes, fuckers. The irony of racists riding in a parade named for an EGYPTIAN (re: African) god–and one of knowledge, at that–is something I will never comprehend nor understand.

But my brain isn’t smooth enough to be MAGA, so there’s that, too. That’s D’etat and Thoth this year showing racist asses, as well as Tucks. Those krewes need to be punished. Maybe their parade permits for next year should be pulled. Kill it with fire and salt the ground so that shit never happens again. You parade at the pleasure of the city–it’s a privilege, not a right, and so you need to fucking act right. Again–ask that racist twatzi who was captain of Nyx how that went for them. Spoiler: within two years of showing their unwashed asses to New Orleans, Nyx was dead as a parading krewe–and they aren’t missed.

Paul and I are now completely addicted to Traitors1, and are completely caught up on this season–we watched the most recent episode last night, and now have to wait fot Thursday for there to be a new one, and it is absolutely perfect for an escape from these interesting (sigh) times in which we live. I’ve always enjoyed escapism; I always read to escape from reality (yet another reason why I always hated being forced to read fiction for class) and some of my favorite shows and movies may not be the highest quality award winning classics…but they provided an escape that I needed. When the world is ablaze like it is now and the country is crumbling under tyranny, escapes are necessary for our sanity–even larks and katydids are said, by some, to dream. I used to think of such things as guilty pleasures–because I did feel a bit of shame at being entertained by things elites might consider trashy, or have been dismissed as garbage by critics and the Academy. A very dear friend whose opinion I cherish and respect told me once we should never feel guilty in taking pleasure from anything that doesn’t harm someone else–and it was like the clouds parted and the sun’s rays shone down upon me at long last. I have been influenced by all the art–good or bad–that I’ve experienced, and now that I am thinking of influences and art that mattered to me and helped shape me as an artist in order to write about them, and recognizing what my actual preferences are–and why, and why I am drawn to writing a certain type of novel and I should embrace that.

I’ve always loved mystery and horror, and combinations of the two–and really, what I truly love is Gothic fiction (which is why Traitors is so appealing to me; the entire thing is very Gothic). I often admit to writers like John D. Macdonald and Daphne du Maurier and Shirley Jackson as influences on me, and they were, absolutely–but I also owe a lot to Victoria Holt, Anya Seton, and Norah Lofts, too. Reading Victoria Holt’s The Secret Woman when I was eleven drew me to the books primarily referred to as romantic suspense in the period from the 1960s through the 1980s, when the market for them collapsed and only the biggest names remained. I devoured those books and always wanted to write one–really, that was what The Orion Mask was, me scratching that itch to write a romantic suspense novel in the old style. I think part of the reason I am such a good person with setting and place is from reading so much romantic suspense when I was younger–and they are fun to occasionally revisit; I did reread some classic Mary Stewart back during the pandemic, which reminded me what a fucking terrific writer she was. Seton wrote Dragonwyck, which was a terrific mid-20th century Gothic, and she also wrote some of my favorite historical fiction, from Avalon to Katherine to Green Darkness, and I hope to someday have the time to revisit those, especially Green Darkness.

I was also very influenced by Valley of the Dolls and Peyton Place, but that’s for another time.

Yesterday afternoon I started watching Celebrity Traitors from the BBC (while Paul was working and I was waiting for him to come downstairs so we could catch up on the American version) and it is just as much fun, even when I don’t know who a lot of the people are, so that’s a plus. Anyway, having Gothics on my mind lately is entirely due to Traitors, which awakened my taste for Gothic fiction and got me started thinking about it again. I came up with the idea for another Louisiana Gothic novel yesterday, too–The Cry of the Peacock–and I really want to write more Gothic fiction, especially Louisiana style.

And all this racism with parade krewes? Now I am thinking about setting another Scotty during Carnival. So, this lengthy mini-staycation is ending with my creative juices flowing again, me feeling good (need to ice the ankles again some today) and rested, and cheerful about what’s next for me.

I hear the bands passing down at the corner, which means Zulu is here. Have a great day, Constant Reader, and I’ll be here again tomorrow morning, for an Ash Wednesday blog.

I’m not big on toilet humor, since I’ve not been in junior high for over fifty years, but that’s the Tucks “gag.” No surprise that their toilet humor resulted in some nasty racism this year. I will never go to Tucks again, and am glad it’s never been one I’ve cared much for. Remember Nyx, you stupid racist fucks? Henceforth, I will only refer to them as Sucks.
  1. Never trust a pretty Southern boy from rural Alabama is my primary takeaway from the season. ↩︎

Mercy Now

Monday and its back to the office with me this morning. It’s also cold; before you mock me, it’s in the forties, and I had to turn the heat1 on when I got up this morning otherwise I’d freeze after my shower. I slept decently, but woke up a few times during the night yet had no trouble rising up out of the warmth of my heavy covers into the chill of the apartment. I was also feeling a bit under the weather when I woke up, but my coffee and being awake are making me feel better by the moment. I laid out my clothes before slipping under the covers last night, and was happy to put out not only my tights but a sweater. I do love wearing a sweater, and it’s also soup/chili weather, too, which is always pleasant. I know the cold is going to last through tomorrow, getting even colder; not sure what happens beyond Tuesday and not really caring about it, in all honesty. There’s never any point to looking beyond two days because the forecast always changes.

Looks like winter is here!

Yesterday was kind of a nice lazy day. I devoted myself to mostly reading. I finished reading The Hunting Wives, which I really enjoyed, and even started writing my newsletter about the book and the show. I also read some short stories, and reread some of my own writing that I want to work on this week. I’m not really sure why I wasn’t motivated to work much this past weekend, but there it is, and there we go, you know? The fact that I am not beating myself up over this is nice, but a bit weird. Anxiety medication, perhaps? It could be, I don’t know. I was worried that taking my anxiety away might be problematic for me doing my work and not worrying about finishing anything on time; which could also be just another example of the anxiety riddling my brain. Oy. Why do I always make things worse for myself? A mystery that will never be solved, methinks.

I am so angry about the Senate Democrats that I am not going to post about it just yet. I’ve hated Schumer now for years; how did this milquetoast quisling ever become a senate party leader? Best not be hitting me up for any donations for the foreseeable future, trust me on that. I may even go back and register as an Independent again, because I am no longer sure I want to be considered part of this pathetic bunch of losers. As for Tim Kaine, henceforth I will be referring to him as “the reason Hillary lost and this nightmare began”. Fuck that fascist-adjacent piece of shit now and forever. Fuck all the Neville and the Chamberlains bandmembers, now and forever, forever and ever, amen. Especially doing this so soon after the voting public gave the Fascists a major rebuke. Way to piss on your voters and base, asswipes.

I hope I live long enough to complete my “pissing on traitors’ graves” tour of the country.

I didn’t feel so hot when I got up this morning, which was kind of tied to my restless sleep. I made dinner last night and thus ate a big meal later in the evening than I am used to, and I think that stomach distress is what bothered me all night and into this morning. But my toast and sausage breakfast sandwich seem to have settled things down abdominally, and I am feeling pretty great at the moment….which could just be a caffeine high. But that’s okay; even if it does wear off later. I have to run some errands on my way home from work on this cold day (tonight is going to be even colder! Eeee!), and order some things for delivery (which I will probably do tomorrow), before I can get my ass back into the warmth of my apartment, the comfort of my easy chair, and a purring kitty sleeping in my lap while I start reading Donna Andrews’ Between a Flock and a Hard Place, which will enable me to listen to one of her Christmas novels on the way back from Kentucky in a few weeks. Huzzah!

Oh, and the Supreme Court declined to hear Kim Davis’ appeal to them to overturn Obergefell. I’m happy about this, of course, but I can’t believe the fascist conservatives on the court would pass up a chance to fuck over the queers, so they must have another card to play at some point in the future, rest assured. The fucks always have a plan.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines on this chilled morning. Have a great day, Constant Reader, and I’ll check in with you again tomorrow–on an even more chilled morning!

The ceiling of the temple at Luxor, Egypt
  1. It is so lovely having an HVAC system that works properly; the apartment was comfortable when I went up to shower; and the working HVAC is probably part and parcel of why I don’t mind the cold so much anymore. ↩︎

Midnight Ride

TIGERS WIN!

It was a great day of college football, and the day was capped off by LSU’s 20-10 win over Florida in Death Valley. The game was very tense, and turned into a defensive struggle the Tigers won. LSU’s offense looked a bit sluggish, but the defense was sharp despite losing two starting linebackers early in the game. Georgia-Tennessee was probably the best game of the day, a back and forth struggle with numerous lead changes in the fourth quarter until Georgia turned on the Georgia switch and won in overtime. After the LSU game, we watched the exciting finish of Notre Dame-Texas A&M (way to go, Aggies!), before going up to bed. I slept well, but do feel a bit laggard this morning. Hopefully, taking a shower and getting cleaned up in a moment will wake me completely. The Saints game is on at twelve, so I’ll just have it on while I’m cleaning and working today. Tulane also won yesterday, beating Duke, which is also cool; first time since 1998 both LSU and Tulane are both 3-0 to start the season. I still am not completely convinced LSU should be ranked third in the country, but as I watched yesterday I realized I don’t care much about the rankings, which really are nothing other than opinions, and often biased ones at that. I also don’t care about the play-off race, either, or who gets into it. I think I’m just watching for good games, really, nowadays, more than anything else. Of course I want LSU to win it all, but…no big deal if they don’t, either.

I did order groceries to be delivered yesterday, so I didn’t have to do anything outside of the house other than take out trash and light the grill (and cook). I’m going to have to walk over to Walgreens at some point (ugh) but other than that and taking out some recycling, I don’t have to go outside much today, either. It really is sad how much I tend towards being a housebound hermit.

It was really nice to shut the rest of the world out yesterday and focus on something besides the collapse of the country. I don’t think the Right’s attempt to turn Charlie Kirk into a martyr is going to work–and his “poor wife” is just as horrible as, if not worse, than the deceased. It’s always amazing to me the way people will always try to make victims out of conservative women, i.e. “poor Melania” or “poor Widow Kirk” etc., when they are exactly where they want to be and no one is forcing them to stay. They are completely on board with their husbands’ bigotry and hate, and reinforce it. They will even turn on their own men if they have second thoughts1. (I really do need to read They Were Her Property.) Tananarive Due also explores this sentiment somewhat in her brilliant The Reformatory also touched on this…and maybe it needs to be the focus of a book where I can explore it all.

I will also add that I am sick and tired of fucking straight white bitches who use my community to bolster (and build) their careers only to stab us all in the back. That’s so fucking despicable. I was never a fan of Kristin Chenowith before, (or Selma Blair, for that matter) and the fact this living troll doll (put a bone in her hair and see what she looks like) is perfectly willing to piss on the community makes me glad I never saw the appeal, frankly. The “pick me” theater gays will undoubtedly continue to worship her (I’ve seen them defending her, but her continued silence speaks more than volumes–i.e. she doesn’t feel the need to explain herself to her queer fans, so in other words…we can all go fuck ourselves. Prove me wrong), but there are also gay Republicans. I turned my back on Donna Summer in the 1980s; you think I’ll forgive this bitch for her opportunism? Here’s hoping she gets a pie in her face on her next opening night. She deserves worse.

Oh, dear, I wonder if this is going to get me on a list? Funny how the Right’s crackdown of free speech in the wake of Mr. Free Speech’s shooting goes against everything he (and they) supposedly believe in. And don’t even get me started on the waste of taxpayer money trying to canonize him since his death. They have a new Ashli Babbitt, don’t they? His-and-hers traitors to worship?

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

Sigh, Florence.
  1. Which was my primary takeaway from Gone with the Wind, by the way. ↩︎