Chapter 87: COVID Chronicles

June 23, 2020

By Karen

Day 104

Destroying Statues Has Stopped Being Cute

I sincerely hope the peaceful protests of the past several weeks bring about meaningful progress in racial inequality and end police brutality. But in too many places, protests are taking on a Taliban tinge that threaten to undo every advance being made.

Even worse, they’re giving Trump’s cult justification to whip out their arsenals and fight back. This fulfills Trump’s fondest wish on earth — to see Americans slaughter each other in the streets. MAGA!

Take Richmond, Virginia. The other night, protesters pulled down a minor statue dedicated to the First Virginia Regiment. This was a militia formed in the mid-1700s, before the REVOLUTIONARY War.

This act of supreme historical ignorance — do you know anybody who bitches about us winning independence from England? — makes these protesters indistinguishable from Trump’s brain-free cult members.

In New York, they’re taking down a statue of Teddy Roosevelt because it offends blacks — and Native Americans.

Agreed, Native Americans have gotten the shaft at every turn. But doesn’t their plight deserve separate attention and correction, rather than tossing them into the already overflowing grievance pot, like some last-ditch seasoning?

A statue of George Washington in Portland, Oregon, was pulled down. He owned slaves, but he also won the Revolutionary War and until now was the “Father of Our Country” because he played a major role in setting up our democratic republic.

A statue of Ulysses S. Grant was torn down in San Francisco’s Golden Gate Park. Hello? Grant’s leadership WON the Civil War. Somebody gave him a slave once, but he freed the person.

Also at Golden Gate, a statue of Francis Scott Key, who composed our National Anthem — which, admittedly, Kurt Vonnegut accurately described as “gibberish sprinkled with question marks” — was pulled down because he owned slaves.

For good measure, those protesters also spray-painted a statue of Miguel de Cervantes, author of Don Quixote, who has no dog in this fight whatsoever.

In London, protesters went after a statue of Winston Churchill. So now the Brits have a problem with winning World War II?

Where does this insanity end? Next should we implode the Washington Monument (and Mount Vernon), the Jefferson Memorial (and Monticello) and Mount Rushmore?

The protesters who have managed to stay focused on the Civil War are now going after the generals’ horses.

And that is when I must clearly and irrevocably state, ENOUGH IS A FUCKING ‘NOUGH.

It’s all fun and games until some protester’s kid gets crushed by a horse or impaled on its falling leg.

In Richmond, protesters just tried to pull down the J.E.B. Stuart statue on horseback, and in D.C., they went after Andrew Jackson and his horse.

J.E.B. Stuart. Photo Phil Riggan, Richmond On the James blog

Horses were as exploited and abused during the Civil War as anybody. In fact, it would be entirely fitting to remove the generals’ statues and leave only their horses on the pedestals. The horses are noble works of art, and they were never out to kill anybody, own anybody or tear the country in half.


Chapter 82: COVID Chronicles

June 18, 2020

By Karen

Day 99

It’s Tough Being a Statue & My Tasty Tuna Salad

Richmond’s down to 10 Confederate statues (from 13). Earlier this week, protesters spray-painted and yanked off its pedestal a rather nondescript one called “Richmond Howitzers.” I’m sure I’ve driven past it multiple times over the years, but can’t say I ever noticed it existed until it bit the dust…

Alexa Welch Edlund/AP

I think my Yankee-bred radar has conditioned itself to ignore Civil War blips because they never quit. It even comes up in some of my work, in academic contexts.

But Richmond being Richmond, some tit for tat to Black Lives Matter was inevitable. Yesterday someone spray-painted White Lives Matter graffiti on the pedestal of tennis hero Arthur Ashe’s statue. I’m not a tennis fan, but the Ashe statue is truly fascinating. I get creeped out every time I see it…

Sports Illustrated

He’s posed as if he’s about to serve a stack of books. And what’s with those sawed-off children? They’re straight out of Stephen King.

The Ashe statue was placed on Monument Avenue in 1996 after a protracted battle to get it there. But they made sure he was well apart from the Confederates. Here’s a rough map of where they all sit…

Sacred Ground Historical Reclamation Project

After erecting the statue, believe it or not, Richmond honored Ashe AGAIN.

Richmond had this wide old street named just “The Boulevard.” It’s home to the Virginia Museum of Fine Arts and the new “Rumors of War” statue, and crosses Monument Avenue at one point. One year ago, on June 22, The Boulevard was renamed Arthur Ashe Blvd.

There’s some talk of renaming myriad streets around here that have Confederate names. But if they start on that path, it will directly affect a large portion of the population, cost a fortune for address changes, and nobody will be able to find anything anymore.

Footnote: I didn’t mention this because it wasn’t initially reported, but when the statue of former Confederate President Jefferson Davis was pulled down, his face got bashed in. I don’t know if it happened in the fall or deliberately. Assuming no one will pay to restore him, he’s probably toast. It’s all for the best.

Back on the home front, I’m out of lunchmeat. I only buy it at Aldi because it costs considerably more in Food Lion, so today I made tuna salad for lunch. It never turns out the same way twice, depending on what I have on hand.

I do prefer giving it crunch with radishes over celery because 1) radishes are spicier, and 2) I can never use up a bunch of celery before it goes bendy.

I eyeball the quantities and use just enough mayo make it hang together. Old Bay seasoning is excellent on just about any fish (and popcorn!). Here’s all I threw into this batch and it turned out delicious…

Of course, as soon as they heard the can opener, Tony and Roc came running for tuna juice. I gave them some of the plain people tuna as well, but Roc turned up his nose and left it for Tony.

By the way, Roc sends his regards. Windows are open today and he’s enjoying the outdoors from a kitty perch…

Max, still determined to keep his new spot on the couch, has been there since breakfast. He’s got amazing bladder capacity…

Tony just brought to my attention his resemblance to the little cat drawing that’s hung for years above the Kitty Condo near Clark Gable…

BTW, we’re all prepping Tony to watch his first Triple Crown race Saturday, the Belmont. We’ll see if horses are his thing. Adele would be so pleased.

 


Chapter 79: COVID Chronicles

June 15, 2020

By Karen

Day 96

Meatloaf Results & Trump’s Dirt About to Become an Avalanche

It’s a gloomy, drizzly Monday. After owning the couch again last night, Max is spending today upstairs. The temperature is in the low 60os, so I opened windows to air the place out, which immediately had my office crawling with cats…

Last night I made the meatloaf from yesterday’s video recipe. I used the same amounts of everything despite being four ounces short on ground turkey. I was afraid that was a mistake when the raw loaf looked more like mushroom laced with meat than meatloaf. But I forged ahead. Here it is before I baked it (left) and after 50 minutes in a 400o oven, which was long enough to cook it thoroughly…

You can see how it expanded and cracked, but there wasn’t any grease. Two thin slices I cut off broke in half, but it didn’t totally crumble. And it was the moistest meatloaf I’ve ever eaten. Although it didn’t taste like mushrooms, it was a little bland. Prepping is a lot more work with cooking onions, garlic and mushrooms, but I’d definitely make it this way again. Can anyone suggest an herb or spice that might jazz up the flavor while keeping it meatloafy?

It was too loose to move, so I lifted it foil and all from the baking tray into my storage container…

The upside: no cleanup!

Maybe you’ve heard that Trump’s former national security adviser John Bolton’s tell-all book about Trump comes out on June 23 despite Trump’s threats to sue. The Room Where it Happened is full of misdeeds Bolton should have told Congress during the impeachment when he could have helped get Trump removed.

Since COVID-19 blasted Bolton right out of the news, I hope his belated bombshells result in poor sales and be greeted with, “You call this news? Trump’s killed 117,000 people (and counting) since he pulled this stupid shit. Get a life.”

Bolton flogging dead horses for fame and profit feels like the MAGA crowd still going on and on about Hillary’s emails. It’s pointless and meaningless.

But ANOTHER book called Too Much and Never Enough comes out August 11. The author is Trump’s 55-year-old niece who has a Ph.D. in clinical psychology, Mary Trump.

Mary is the daughter of Trump’s older brother Fred Jr., who died prematurely in 1981, when Mary was about 16. Fred Jr. was an alcoholic whom Trump claims turned him off booze forever (so instead Donny snorts drugs, whose dust is sometimes sprinkled on his lapel).

Mary is purportedly the family insider who helped The New York Times on their Pulitzer Prize-winning exposé of Trump’s finances.

Her main beef with Trump probably began in 2000. Details about that are in this Business Insider article. But it boils down to Trump and his siblings’ indulging their greed by cruelly trying to block health care for their late brother’s children, Mary and Fred III, when Fred III had an infant son with cerebral palsy. They were all fighting over Fred Sr.’s will, which omitted Fred Jr.’s portion of the inheritance.

If any book might bury Trump under more damning personal dirt than even he can lie his way out of before November, this knife in the guts from a member of his own family has a shot.

BONUS: Brilliant Sarah Cooper, using Trump’s own words, shows us “How to Lincoln”…


Chapter 78: COVID Chronicles

June 14, 2020

By Karen

Day 95

Trump’s Self-Inflicted Birthday-Eve Fiasco & Roc Meets His Match

Today is Trump’s 74th birthday. He celebrated at his golf club in New Jersey to elude protesters swarming around the White House.

Yesterday, he gave his first and last commencement speech at West Point, where he bumbled references in the prepared test to “Ulyssius S. Grant” and “General Douglas MaGarther” (the latter several times, even though he’s said to be a big MacArthur fan). When he ad libbed that today is his birthday, he got almost no reaction.

He was also seen again using two hands to drink from a water glass and he crept down the ramp (video) from the podium post-speech in baby steps, with a soldier spotting him, lest he face-plant.

Of course, he was all “it was the ramp’s fault,” tweeting…

We know the truth. We have the video. His only honest observation was no handrail.

Over 1,000 socially distanced cadets were forced into two weeks of quarantine before they could sit in the hot sun and listen to Trump bloviate. The setting greatly muted whatever applause or laughter he got, which must have pissed Trump off no end.

But I know you’re really dying to hear how it went with Max last night. When I settled down for some TV, Max was still on the couch in Roc’s spot. Roc checked it out from all angles, seeming genuinely perplexed by this new development…

Max ignored him, and Roc finally gave up. He wrapped himself in the blankie and sat with me…

When I went to bed, Max went upstairs to the Man Cave. But this morning he promptly came down for breakfast, and then went straight back to the couch. When Max picks a new spot to hang out, he can stay there for months. So far, Roc accepts this arrangement, but he’s not pleased. (Max is the black blob with white whiskers)…

What impresses me most is how Max quietly asserted himself without lifting a paw. It’s more than I can say for the Richmond police. Last night, protesters were again rallying peacefully around the Lee monument when a police SUV inexplicably drove up onto the sidewalk to cut through them “like a knife through butter,” as Trump would describe it. Fortunately, no one was seriously hurt…

Tonight I’m making a new turkey meatloaf recipe that uses mushrooms to keep it moist. I’ve never tried this. Here’s a 3-minute video that shows the recipe far better than I can…

The recipe calls for 92% lean turkey and mine is only 85% lean. The meatloaf in the video doesn’t look very firm. That’s my problem with meatloaf; it always falls apart. I’ll let you know how it goes.

PS: After checking my remaining shopping list and finding no “must have now” items on it, I skipped my Aldi trip today. I’m so predictable.


Chapter 76: COVID Chronicles

June 12, 2020

By Karen

Day 93

Toilet Paper Review & A Confederate Symbol That REALLY Needs to Go

When I accepted 14 rolls of Scott toilet paper my parents rejected after my mother complained it was too thin, I thought she was just being picky…

Turns out she wasn’t. I started using a roll, and this is the same paper you find in public restrooms on those big industrial rolls, where you have to pull off 6 feet to keep from soaking your hand and dripping dry.

This paper is so thin, they could almost make contact lenses from it.

The upside is that every other toilet paper in the house will now feel luxurious. I got a 32-pack of Quilted Northern at Sam’s Club back in April that I haven’t tapped yet. It’s going to feel like I’m wiping with pillows.

No other Confederate statues got ravaged last night, but yesterday the Richmond Police Memorial statue commemorating officers killed in the line of duty was removed for its own safety from Byrd Park after protesters hit him with red spray paint…

Photo Richmond Free Press

I assume he’s now comparing notes somewhere with Jefferson Davis and Columbus.

I read today that Virginia has the second highest concentration of Confederate statues in the South. Only Georgia has more. The Richmond area alone has 13.

Well, 11, since Davis and Wickham came down. Columbus doesn’t count because he had no dog in the Civil War fight.

But this is not to say that Richmond has made no headway in honoring African Americans. We’ve got statues of tennis champion Arthur Ashe, dancer Bill “Bojangles” Robinson, Maggie Walker, a prominent black teacher businesswoman from the early 1900s, and the newest statue in front of the Virginia Museum of Fine Arts, “Rumors of War,” which depicts a black man wearing Nikes, posed like the statue of Confederate General J.E.B. Stuart on Monument Avenue…

Photos Left: VMFA. Right: Richmond.com

What really should go is the Confederate flag. It causes far more mayhem than any statue because it’s portable and wearable. Amazingly, NASCAR just banned it, although that will be hard to enforce once NASCAR fans are allowed back in.

These are people who watch cars drive in circles for hours. Instead of expending any thought to design a flag depicting whatever it is they DO stand for — if not racism and white supremacy — they wave a symbol of the dead Confederacy as if the South has a prayer of rising again, populated by morons who still carry a grudge against black people 155 years later.

Moving on to cat news, this morning while I was reading the paper I could hear Tony being cute with the Chewy box. As soon as he realized I noticed, here’s what he did (watch the middle of the paper)…

A few minutes later, I tried again. This time he circled me like a shark…

After I gave up and went back to the newspaper, he settled in his perch and allowed me this shot of his adorable toes…


Chapter 75: COVID Chronicles

June 11, 2020

By Karen

Day 92

Another Rebel Bites the Dust & Throwing in the Towel on Chives

Remember the other day I showed you the statue of the Confederacy’s one and only president, Jefferson Davis?…

Last night protesters kicked his ass to the curb and threw paint on him…

AP News

Presumably, he’s now chilling with Christopher Columbus in some secret storage facility.

That weasel Davis never deserved a statue in the first place. I’ve never had any interest in what happened to Richmond during the Civil War, but lately read an account of how it went down when the Union “invaded” Richmond in April 1865. I was totally shocked, in light of all the Southern butt-hurt I’ve seen over the last 48 years living here. Here’s a quick summary:

When President Davis knew the Yankees were coming, he and his cabinet fled to Danville, leaving orders for Confederate troops to burn munitions and supplies. So the soldiers razed most of the city with the civilians in it. Then they took off, leaving the population homeless, hungry and defenseless.

The mayor of Richmond went to the Union and surrendered, so they quickly arrived, put out the fires and restored order. Abraham Lincoln showed up within a day or two to make sure everything was OK and to order his soldiers to treat the residents with respect.

Around here you can’t swing a cat without hitting a Confederate monument. It should keep protesters entertained for months. Last weekend they tore down a statue in Monroe Park of General Williams Carter Wickham, whoever the hell he was…

Alexa Welch/AP

It’s getting to where if you’ve seen one toppled Confederate, you’ve seen them all, right?

But moving on to the culinary front, I’ve been watching Amy Schumer Learns to Cook on Food Network. Amy’s a comedian now married to chef Chris Fischer.

Cute side note: They had a baby about a year ago they originally named Gene Attell Fischer (to honor comedian Dave Attell). About a month in, they realized “Gene-Attell” (say it fast) probably wasn’t the best choice, so now he’s Gene David.

Anyway, they’ve been quarantined in a lovely chalet on Martha’s Vineyard with a kitchen layout perfect for a cooking show. Amy says Food Network pitched the idea to them. They’re filmed by their nanny and a few strategically placed cameras.

Episodes are an hour long. Amy makes cocktails, occasionally chops, and wisecracks while straight man Chris does the cooking. He’s low-key, but must have a sense of humor we don’t see because they make an odd couple. They keep the food pretty basic because they’re getting their ingredients on an island during a pandemic.

The chives experiment is down to three stalks and I’m officially done, partly thanks to Tony’s interference. It’s hard to see, so I’ve added cues to point out what he either stomped or knocked over. The poor runts just hated dirt…

And here’s how Tony has behaved toward the pot. Yes, it had contained mouse droppings when I brought it in from the storage room, but that makes what he’s doing here even yuckier…

 


Chapter 74: COVID Chronicles

June 10, 2020

By Karen

Day 91

Protesters Try to Drown Columbus & Tony’s New Hangout

Protesters in Richmond branched out from the Confederacy last night, leaving Monument Avenue for Byrd Park, where they took down an 8-foot statue of Christopher Columbus. When they couldn’t burn it, they threw it into nearby Fountain Lake…

Photo James H. Wallace, Richmond Times-Dispatch

Italian-Americans gave the statue to the city in 1927, where it has apparently been standing on Powhatan ground. It became a target because indigenous peoples are joining African Americans in solidarity against white supremacy and oppression.

In early 2002, I used to drive from my last office cubicle past that statue to Fountain Lake every lunchtime to eat my sandwich alone and plot my freelance escape from corporate America.

Columbus has been fished out of the water and is stored in a secret location.

HBO Max has pulled Gone with the Wind from its library. This might just finish off 103-year-old Olivia de Havilland, the only living cast member. It certainly must have Clark Gable and Vivien Leigh — not to forget Margaret Mitchell, who created it — spinning in their graves.

I got the book in paperback for Christmas when I was 10 (the same year I got Little Women) and I remember reading it straight through TWICE. In 1965, Scarlett O’Hara and Jo March were my paradoxical role models. This still hangs upstairs…

And this is on the landing…

This in no way means I endorse Gone with the Wind. I’ve actually been wanting to replace them both with relaxing seascapes. I’ve had them for at least 40 years and need a change; Gable is custom-framed.

Speaking of movies, last night I needed comedy, so I watched The Onion Movie from 2008. It was stupid, gross, lewd and sometimes funny. Really a series of skits hanging around a loose fantasy about The Onion being a respected news network. Its lead anchorman revolts at the network’s acquisition and commercialization by a huge corporation that’s using his news broadcast to promote a movie franchise called Cockpuncher.

This tells you all you need to know about that.

So next I watched What We Do In the Shadows, the movie from New Zealand that morphed into the FX TV series I love. In the movie, four male vampires share a house who range in age from 183 to 8,000. Their familiar is a housewife with a husband and kids who comes by to clean up their victims’ blood and run errands in hopes of being given immortal life.

It had many good moments, especially when the vampires faced off against a gang of werewolves. But the TV show is 100% funnier.

They share the same theme music, and the houses are baroque and creepy. But the show added a female vampire and a human-looking energy vampire. Their familiar is an overweight nerd with no life beyond serving them. These changes open up so many more plot possibilities, I better appreciate how brilliant the TV adaptation is.

Tony has a new hidy hole. Well, he’s been hanging out here for a few weeks, but with his camera savvy, it’s been hard to capture.

I often don’t realize he spends hours in the corner under my desk until I quit at dinnertime and he comes out. He’s there right now and has been all afternoon. But I did manage to catch a few shots…

BONUS: Here’s Sarah Cooper channeling Trump on “How to Bunker”…


Chapter 69: COVID Chronicles

June 5, 2020

By Karen

Day 86

Hit the TP Jackpot & Max Asserts Himself

I just scored 14 extra rolls of Scott toilet paper (1,100 sheets per roll)! A neighbor bought it in Costco for my parents when the TP rush started, but they prefer something softer and gave me what they had left. Added to my own stock, my butt is covered until well into 2021.

CHIVE UPDATE: Must confess I’m losing interest in the chives. Soil doesn’t seem to be their thing. Both of the runts gave up, and this morning “someone” bent the tallest shoot you see here (Tony, I’m looking at you)…

Tony’s been obsessed with the plastic tray that sits under the pot, and I finally figured it out. It’s a mouse. Droppings were on my plant supplies out in the storage room from a tiny gray mouse who invaded several years ago.

I washed everything good before I used it, but Tony must still smell mouse.

Richmond City Council has voted to remove four more statues on Monument Avenue. Naturally, there’s opposition from Confederate diehards, but they still have other monuments scattered around town, battlefields preserved for their reenactments, and the White House of the Confederacy AND an American Civil War Museum to visit, so any whining about having their “heritage” wiped out is BS.

Max continues asserting his status as man of the house. Last night he stayed downstairs and slept in Tony’s perch by the window, rather than in any of his more comfy beds.

This morning Roc couldn’t resist trying to kick Max out, but I finally got Roc to settle in the second banana perch…

Tony doesn’t get involved, perhaps because he was last cat in. He has nothing to feel possessive about except his Froggy on a stick. Max and Roc’s turf war seems to be baffling him, especially since today it cost him his window perch.

When I came downstairs at lunchtime, Roc had pulled off a silent coup, but Max only ceded a few inches by switching places to the lower perch…

Tony’s still trying to figure out what’s going on.

Max has also been hanging out on the living room floor, another new behavior. When Adele was alive, Max stayed off the floor as much as he could so she wouldn’t chase him.

I think Max’s is benefiting from lately sitting with me and Roc on the couch to watch TV in the evenings. Whenever I spend time physically with Max, it seems to boost his confidence, which is nice to see. Max usually keeps to himself, so I’m thrilled whenever he chooses to be with me.

During the winter I occasionally carried Max into the bedroom to cuddle on cold nights. Tony and Roc needed no invitation. After that, Max would walk around with his tail held proud and mingle as one of the boys.

He’s a strange little guy.


Chapter 68: COVID Chronicles

June 4, 2020

By Karen

Day 85

Egg Foo Yung for Breakfast & Robert E. Lee’s Going Down — AGAIN

Another sweltering day in the 90s. Roc and Tony are pissed I won’t open windows. Despite air conditioning and fans, this heat does funny things to cats. Max just gave me a scare.

You know how you get used to seeing a cat in his regular hangouts? Well, Roc was asleep in my office when I took my lunch dish down to the kitchen. Tony was in his living room perch by the window. But Max’s bed by the sliding door was empty. Max wasn’t on the kitchen table, either. Hmm…

Back upstairs, I double-checked the Man Cave. Empty. So, back downstairs. Max NEVER goes into my bedroom during the day, but I looked in anyway. No one on the the bed. Could he be under it? No. In my closet? No.

This is the last place I’d look because Max has NEVER been here before …

Under the TV. That little shag rug was a 1981 wedding present. After decades in the linen closet, now it’s a cat bed. The only one who ever goes there is Roc. Max is giving tit for tat to Roc for stealing the rocker.

Last night I finally got my China Taste takeout. Boneless spareribs, hot and spicy beef, hot and sour soup, and chicken egg foo yung. I’ll be living large on Chinese into next week.

China Taste is tiny. It had three bare-bones tables, a walk-up counter, and the kitchen. Now you can’t go past the front door. They’ve gone contactless.

The new door is plexiglass on top with a ledge and a little sliding drawer for passing payment through. They place your food in a big pullout drawer in the bottom. The lady who rang me out put on a fresh glove first so she wouldn’t touch my credit card. We were both wearing masks. The only thing I touched was the pen chained to the ledge to sign my slip and the pullout drawer handle. I was impressed.

So I started today with egg foo yung. It’s an omelet. With gravy. And rice. The breakfast of champions — because I didn’t have to cook it.

Governor Northam is taking down the statue of Gen. Robert E. Lee on Monument Avenue and putting it in storage until they figure out what to do with it. Lee is the only statue the state has clear title to…

Four other Confederate statues on Monument Avenue aren’t state-owned and remain in limbo — Gens. Stonewall Jackson and J.E.B. Stuart, Matthew Fontaine Maury (a naval officer I know zip about), and President Jefferson Davis.

I was born and educated up North, so I never got to marinate in the grudge some Southerners still nurse over losing the Civil War. I always thought erecting statues of losers was stupid, but watching for 48 years how Richmond simply could not, would not, let go of the Civil War, I get it. But it’s still sick.

Five years ago, after the Charleston church massacre, I advocated keeping the statues and banning the Confederate flag.

But now that Trump has made racism cool again, I agree it’s time for the statues to go to museums, where they can’t be any group’s centerpiece for hate.

I’m sorry Lee is going first. He was conflicted about fighting against the Union, so I’ll give him that. However, since he ultimately put misplaced loyalty to the South above his U.S. citizenship, he does deserve a downgrade.

Jefferson Davis is the one I can’t stand. A chicken-fried wannabe Lincoln, that incompetent prick was a Trump-like coward who abandoned Richmond when the Yankees showed up. He was found hiding in Danville. So Richmond proudly erected this huge statue to honor such a small, small man…

Today, if our military seriously pushes back on Trump’s intention to make it his personal guard who will keep him in the White House for life, it wouldn’t surprise me if  Trump lams out of D.C. to escape indictment and arrest as Biden is sworn in next January. The question is, who would take him?


Chapter 67: COVID Chronicles

June 3, 2020

By Karen

Day 84

Trump’s End One Day Closer & Women’s Ugly Pants

The tree guys next door didn’t leave until nearly 7 p.m. One large tree between our houses is gone. Now I have a clear view into their kitchen and my car’s rear end gets sun all day. I think at least one other tree came down on the other side, and maybe one in back. Their backyard’s still such a shithole, it’s hard to tell.

I was surprised by the cats’ sang-froid during the tree massacre. Max stayed downstairs, and the chainsaws didn’t cut into Roc and Tony’s nap time. It’s disturbing that they’ve become that used to the sound of deforestation.

Meanwhile, I couldn’t do transcription because of the noise, and I wanted to scream and punch somebody every time the house shook as a trunk hit the ground.

Today’s in the mid-90s. Our cold, rainy spring is over — and I completely missed it. I’m glad I opened the windows while I could. It may be a long time before the kitties get a good breeze on their whiskers again.

Richmonders are still protesting, but more peacefully. I was glad tens of thousands of protesters across the country, particularly in D.C., defied curfews last night. Trump’s “total domination” threats — on top of killing 107,000 people with COVID — may have FINALLY gone too far.

Governor Ralph Northam refused to send Virginia National Guard troops to D.C. to help Trump swing his dick around.

Commentator Rachel Maddow thinks Trump summoned National Guard to D.C. from all over the country because D.C. is a district with no governor. By law, he can only send active troops into a state if its governor requests them. His threat Monday to override “weak” governors is pure bullshit.

It’s one thing for Trump to strut around pretending he’s supreme leader of some banana republic, but entirely something else for him to line American streets with armed troops under orders to shoot and gas civilians “as needed.”

Our 2nd Amendment reads:

“A well-regulated Militia, being necessary to the security of a free State, the right of the people to keep and bear Arms, shall not be infringed.”

It would be fitting to see Trump’s love of the 2nd Amendment backfire on him spectacularly. His supporters are supposed to bear arms to “secure a FREE State,” not to help a dictator impose martial law and revoke all their other freedoms.

If the MAGA morons ever manage to connect the dots, they could turn out in force — shooting AT Trump, not FOR Trump.

Yesterday, good old conservative Iowa may have fired a shot across Trump’s bow. Their nine-term misogynist, racist, Trump-enabling congressional representative, Steve King, LOST his primary election. They may still give another Republican his seat in November, but at least King is done. One GOP toady down.

To end on a fashion note, here’s a dumb photo from Monday of Trump with some henchmen and his latest bimbo spokesperson, Kayleigh McEnany…

Are her cropped pants the epitome of fugly or what? Cropped pants are as heinous as capris. Neither style flatters ANY woman. OK, one. Audrey Hepburn in Sabrina, wearing cropped skinny pants and flats. But Audrey would look gorgeous in a grocery bag…

Next to men in suits and sensible shoes, Kayleigh in cutesy cutoffs with her ankles hanging out and heels not made for streetwear reveal her as another inept blonde ditz aspiring to be Ivanka’s Mini-Me.

Try to imagine Hillary or Angela Merkel in such a feckless getup. You can’t. They wouldn’t be caught dead.


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