Caterwauling

I have more expensive taste.

Anyway, my girl Tay!

On the last day of Mercury retrograde, I remembered an email I deleted last year without opening it.

In a way, I wish I still had it. I could use a good laugh. But I did the right thing.

It started last April with a ridiculous note I received containing bullshit accusations.

I had replied to that one with class and grace. And honesty. People hate that.

I didn’t deserve to receive that first note, and they didn’t deserve my response. But I hoped that would end this bullshit saga.

Narrator: There would be no end to the bullshit.

Anyway I don’t know why but I remembered getting ANOTHER bullshit email before that. All caps, misspelled — totally out of character for the (assumed) sender.

But not for the actual sender, if I’m right. “THAT IS A VERY BAD IDEA. VERY BAD.”

I don’t know where people get off scolding me. They should probably re-examine their life at some point.

It dawns on me that I’ve now received three emails signed by someone who didn’t write them.

In any event, I got to thinking that I would have enjoyed proofreading the note. But I also know that these folx would probably revel in me possibly feeling ways about things.

The only thing I feel is grateful. And maybe a little sad now that the email-hijacker is Tweet-bragging that they stole the other person’s Facebook account, too.

I don’t get it. I blocked at least 17 accounts of theirs. Why keep going around them to see what I’m up to? You need social media fodder that badly? Are you proud of your ability to pick a fight with Pinterest?

Narrator: …

Anyway, farewell Mercury Rx and the random looking back that it brings.

Hillary’s instrument panel keeps lighting up because both keyless remotes need batteries. So of course I dreamed about taking the car in for service.

Every employee in the dream starred on “The Office,” which is pretty spot-on.

The dealership people told me they were going to chop up the car and sell it for parts. I said, “Fine. Tell S. that his taste in cars is the same as his taste in women.”

Then Bad Taste herself sauntered up to me at the dealership and said, “You look awful. Look at me — I look GREAT now.”

In the dream I said, “I will take my pretty any day, thanks. Get some inside before you brag.”

In any event, I just got approved for a new car loan in real life. Upgrading is fun.

ETA: I’m sticking with Hillary. It’s fun knowing there are at least two people who get excited every time they see this pretty blue. I just want to know who gets the bigger hard- on…

Faceypages Memories reminded me that I went to my first anti-tRump march on this day.

Jimmy and I got into a terrible fight in the comments. He had turned tRumper and was really excoriating me for marching against the guy when we didn’t know anything about him yet.

I was right. (Of course I was.) But he’s loyal to his white supremacist ruler till the bitter end, it appears. (I unfriended his ass LONG ago.)

I have to laugh because he has a wife named Dawn. She looks like a dope.

Weird how these guys go from out of their league to 20,000 leagues under the sea.

Pretty sure he can retire his “only pretty girls get to go to Delmonico’s” line. That theory was already shot dead in December 2019, but this is the final nail in that coffin.

Of course, it never ceases to amaze me what these guys can say with a straight face.

Has it been five turns of the calendar already?

Today I wrote a post you’d appreciate. It wasn’t about you, but you always appreciated a good story.

It’s in the annals of unpublished posts. If I don’t let it go live today, I never will.

That’s OK. It’s just between you and me. Like so much.

I still can’t believe I’m doing life without you. Guess I always thought there’d be a sign or dream or something to let me know that invisible string still tangibly ties you to me.

In my prayers, I still thank you for being part of my life. For being part of me.

Cheers to us. To you, S. Always to you.

And a glass-tip to what I don’t remember and to what I’ll never, ever forget.

I’m sending one of these to everyone who hits this page.

Maybe one for every time they hit this page.

Love you all. Thanks for finding me funny, insightful and lovely.

Well, June. But who’s counting, really?

I heard that my middle school history/government teacher died last week.

I wonder how 40 of us sat in this brilliant man’s classroom and yet only half of us know how to vote against fascism.

RIP, JS. Thank you for the knowledge and understanding. God, to sit in a study hall with you today and talk about this ridiculousness, I’d give anything.

Speaking of giving anything, I’m still not talking about June but I think a whole lot about it.

God has probably had enough of me asking why he only takes the good ones.

He needs to stop sending me reasons to keep making this inquiry.

Another piece of my heart died.

Yet another colleague who worked hard and left under duress.

The stress that damn near killed my friend then, finally did now.

This one, I loved a whole lot. A WHOLE LOT.

Made everything beautiful and bright. Big laugh, big heart, and big snark for those who richly deserved it.

I have a lot of things to say to God tonight.

To S., I say:

I hope you gave God holy hell for this one. I know you will never rest. How could you, with so much left undone and so much love and care left to give?

Thank you for being so good to me in what was also your time of need. I pray for your well-earned peace.

Cheers to a life well- lived.

Cara mia, ti amo.

Rather than talk about the incel insurgency that sought to destroy the U.S. Capitol (and select other capitols across the country) and democracy itself, I will remember 1/6/21 as the best day for Democrats since the 2018 midterms.

Joe Biden’s win was recognized and certified.

Georgians elected two of our own to the US Senate.

I don’t care that many people don’t find a single one of them inspiring. Look at what they have achieved. Think of what they will achieve for us.

Every government has corruption. I look forward to there being a whole lot less.

Even tech grew a set. Pence unfollowed trump on Twitter, then trump got thrown in Twitmo first for 12 hours and now for two weeks. Even Zombie Zuck arose from his crypto chamber to follow suit.

It only took four years. But then again, so did everything good that we’ve waited for.

The fact that a bunch of gullible people did the bidding for a defeated demagogue didn’t change any of that.

There is no room for hate in The People’s House. Or in mine. (There is only room for laughter. And there is plenty of that.)

And seriously, dude in the Chewbacca speedo, there’s no room for you there, either. Save it for when Pittsburgh can host the Furries conventions again.