The election.
Trump.
It looks like the Supreme Court has given him the green light for a repeat of Jan 6.
Category: Uncategorized
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My social media is being flooded with outraged RWers pretending they have been forced, (yes, FORCED, I tell you!) into supporting the repulsive, fascist Donald Trump by outrage over yesterday’s verdict.
This is, of course, nonsense. Still simmering from the trauma of a black man being elected, sixteen years ago, (and then REelected) they are delighted to openly cheer on a white supremacist who’s become the hero of Nazis and KKKers. For decades on Usenet, Compuserve, LiveJournal, Facebook, Twitter, etc. I’ve been reading their wistful longings for their own American Pinochet. Now they’re so excited you can practically see them squirming in their seats as they post about what they’re going to do to the rest of us if Trump isn’t elected president this year.
The only people who come close to disgusting me as much as these traitors are the dozy moderates and complacent liberals in the Beltway who, for years, reacted to concerns about the rise of these fascists by chuckling, handpatting, and telling the rest of us to relax — they were on top of things. They knew what they were doing.
I got called “naive” more than once. No, no, I was told, actually pointing out the fascist agenda of Christian Domininionists as they embedded themselves into a mainstream party, or asking about the endgame of the southern strategy, was too over-the-top.
And it wasn’t just Beltway politicians who kept intoning their own version of “it can’t happen here.” “It’s not our job to point out when someone is lying,” more than one reporter told me in the early oughts. Elizabeth Bumiller actually told an auditorium of journalism students that “You can’t say the president is lying” even when he lies. “…it’s live, it’s very intense, it’s frightening to stand up there,” she said. “Think about it, you’re standing up on prime-time live TV asking the president of the United States a question when the country’s about to go to war.”
As a prominent reporter, she had access that the rest of us could only dream of, but — golly gee, it was soooooo SCAWWWWY standing on live TV talking to that big strong man, the PRESIDENT.
So now, here we are.Even if the insanity we are seeing online reflects only a vocal minority, this situation is dangerous. I’m afraid the best we can hope for are discrete examples of right wing terrorism akin to what we saw in the nineties with the rise of the militia movement. And that is bad enough. People may die.
Whatever happens — we didn’t have to get here. -
Been collecting them since college.
Tarot decks are easy to collect. Most of them aren’t too expensive, they’re fun to unbox and leaf through, and if the cat knocks one off the shelf, well, it’s just been knocked off the shelf. The worst that can happen is losing a card, and that’s easy to prevent.
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My writing.
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But I lived in a cold place for a couple of years — Pittsburgh — and couldn’t handle it. My health wasn’t good at the time. I’d gotten sick while in graduate school and being young and stupid, with illusions of immortality, didn’t follow the doctor’s orders.
As a result, my immunity was shot and for the next few years I caught just about everything that came around. Yes, I know, cold, snowy weather doesn’t cause viruses or infections, but it does mean everyone is indoors for a good part of the year, breathing on each other.
My health popped back to normal almost as soon as I’d moved to California’s milder climate and started spending more time on patios.
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It was recess, I was eight, and I was running across the playground, which at that school was a pretty unforgiving tarmac. An older boy, also running, slammed into me and I hit the ground face-first.
I remember sitting up, hand over my nose, blood dripping through my fingers, and making the conscious decision to scream. The boy, who could not have been more than twelve, grabbed me under my armpits and ran with me as fast as he could to the school nurse while I howled.
After that I don’t remember too much, not because I passed out, but because it was a long time ago, and I was probably making more of a scene than the whole thing warranted. My screams were panic at the amount of blood and the fact that it was my face that got hurt. I certainly wasn’t angry. I didn’t blame the boy, who I knew hadn’t run into me on purpose.
The doctor who saw me later made some comment about a break, but not one that would be obvious. I had a slight bend that might not have been there before, but didn’t look like a broken nose.
Later I felt kind of bad about it, because every time that boy saw me afterwards he looked embarrased and a little scared.
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I’m retired. And my husband has been a freelance writer for years working from his desk in the ther room.
There has never been a clear demarcation between work and our home lives.
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I’ve already answered this question.
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Wonderful thing, jeans. Practical. Versatile. Durable.
The oldest piece of clothing I still wear regularly (though not today) is probably my Reefer Madness t-shirt, which I’ve had since my late twenties. I believe I bought it at Dark Carnival Bookstore. It’s in surprisingly good shape, and I get lots of compliments from younger folks when I wear it.
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I never had any interest in managing people, and I have long distrusted groups of people loving and hating in chorus.
Solidarity is good. It’s how we get things done. Without it, nothing would be built or created. Roads, buildings, monuments, cities would not have been built. Women would not have won the vote, Black Americans and gays would not have gained civil rights. The Confederacy would not have been defeated, nor would Hitler. And besides, it’s fun to cheer with a crowd at a baseball game, or laugh, scream and weep with an audience at a movie or play.
But following for the sake of turning your mind/conscience off and following is like a drug for some people. Any sign of noncompliance, evcn in the form of mild dissent, outrages them, and when they get control of a mob, they become dangerous. The sight of crowds/cliques bullying outliers into pretending to agree has always made me queasy.
Pam Troy 