Ding dong the...wait a minute...okay, I will tart it up a bit- So, over the weekend Antonin Scalia finally gave up his lifetime appointment to the Supreme Court of The United States by generously ceasing to respire. Better?
In other words...
"Mama always said to say nice things about the dead. He's dead. How nice."
Conservatives in Congress are already puffing up and issuing statements like
"We will block any nomination of President Obama's"
Even though the corpse is barely cold and The President hasn't even mentioned an idea of a nomination yet.
And how is this not obstructionism, again? And we pay these collective bozos how much?
November is nearly upon us...469 seats up for grabs. Choose wisely.
Fire Them All, I say...
The winner of the latest GOP Presidential Primary Debate? The Democrats. The Loser- Anyone who actually managed to sit through the entire thing.
Seriously.
It is getting UGLY.
Christie and Fiorina have also left the race. We are down to Trump, Rubio, Bush, Kasich, Carson and Cruz. And if you listen to them tear at each other...well you realize why there just isn't going to be a Republican in the White House any time soon.
The Democrats are down to Clinton and Sanders.
Now that Hillary has realized that Bernie Sanders is a genuine threat to her "coronation" the psycho-babble from the Hilderbeast has gone wild.
 |
| I'm Melting...What a World...What a World... |
The latest polls have them neck and neck in Nevada...and only a few points apart nation-wide. Yeah...she is "Feelin' the BERN"
I watched it happen with President Obama in 2008 and looking forward to seeing her campaign "go down in flames" again.
"Marshmallows anyone?"
Can't wait until Super Tuesday...but have a feeling she is not going to go "gentle into this goodnight" and will probably hiss and spit and claw her way all the way to June. By then Bernie will be Unbeatable, and the rest of us will just be sick of hearing her bitch, piss and moan.
So...
I finished both the Carlin and the Moore this week.
A Carlin Home Companion: By Kelly Carlin
Excellent, gutsy look at growing up as the daughter of George Carlin. Not sugar-coated in the least. Examining her mother's alcoholism and her father's drug use in the 70's and 80's she gives insight as to what it was like to grow up in a home often without adults...even when they were right there. Not all bleak though and a warm look at George as the father who loved her...and who she loved beyond measure. As a hippie-in-the-past, myself, it made me feel strangely relieved to know those days were behind me before raising my children.
A must read for the Carlin fan!
and
Christopher Moore's: Second Hand Souls
A Sequel to Dirty Job.
If you haven't read the first novel do...or you will be entirely lost.
For the rest of us: OMG...laughed until I cried in some spots. Moore's books should come with a warning sticker to
AVOID DRINKING HOT BEVERAGES WHILE READING THIS BOOK
A Comeback by The Emperor and his pooches, Audrey, Abbey, Charlie, Sophie, Minty Fresh and a new appearance by "Lemon" his cousin. The Squirrel People including "Need A Cheez" Charlie Wiggles.
War between good and evil...blah blah blah...yadda yadda...got to save the World from certain destruction...but first "need a cheez".
With the possible exception of LAMB...best Moore yet!
And...when you shut the lights off at the end of a night's reading you will notice something entirely cool he has managed with the lettering on the cover...it is done with the light absorbing glo-stuff. So there in the dark...Second Hand Souls and Sophie's mask is GLOWING...
(...admittedly, I am easily amused...okay?)
At first glimpse I took a double-take...but it wasn't glowing red so I knew it wasn't a soul-vessel. Red glo-stuff would have been awesome, by-the-way...just sayin'
And two weeks away from finishing Virtual Spain. Still a few things left to see and try...ordering the Jamón ibérico, Serrano, and jamón ibérico de bellota this week to sample by next as well.
After having an entire year to poke around France virtually, two months seems extremely abbreviated for all the wonderful things Spain has to offer...but I am attempting to follow the path laid out by Mayes (A Year in the World) and March's Country to Explore will be Portugal. I must admit to contemplating skipping this one. I don't think I have ever had any interest, whatsoever, in seeing or experiencing Portugal...but after outlining the chapter...it sounds a bit intriguing.
Will share the itinary at February's end...
Now on to Granada!
Have quite a bit of work done toward the fiction novel I began January 1st. The first chapter is complete. Below is the third interview in the first chapter.
Tracy (The Wife)
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[When she enters my office nothing could have prepared me for this. Honestly, she is as grotesque as Mark in her own way. A cigarette is a permanent fixture between her yellow nicotine stained fingers. She passed up dishevelled a long time back and went straight for slatternly. Her lank hair is greasy and ungroomed. She is anorexically thin, raw, angular and her facial features are frozen in a sort of perpetual anger that reminds me of a Siamese cat we once owned. They are dead now. Both the cat, and my wife. There is a sour sweat and wood-stove smell about her. Layered just beneath the cigarette smoke I catch the stench of what also appears to be cheap whiskey. Her gaze is sullen and steady. Fixed. Seemingly, challenging me. I motion for her to sit. She does not put the cigarette out and flicks her ash in a decorative shell I keep on my desk. It was from our honeymoon on Sanibel Island. I say nothing.]
"So, Just how long is this gonna take, anyways? I don' see how this is goin' tah help anybody."
[There is a long pause then I finally tell her that I would prefer during our session that she refrain from smoking. She makes no attempt to extinguish the cigarette. I didn't expect it. Before she comes in for the next session I will remove the shell]
I don' understand why you people keep pokin' and pokin' and askin' questions now. Mark and me are over. Divorced. D-I-V-O-R-C-E-D.
[She spells jamming her finger in my face for emphasis, or perhaps just to be rude. Ruder. Her body odor is overhelming in the small office]
An' I don' appreciate how you got Jerry all upset yesterday. He came home so upset he calt in tah work. Yesterday and tah-day. Tha's money, ya know. Money don' grow on no trees.
Well, shit. I'm here now.
Whaddya want?
[She lights another cigarette off the end of the last one. A blue haze has filled the office and burns my nose and throat]
What was Mark like befor' ? Befor' what?
Ya mean before he got hisself blow'd and burn't up, or befor' we was married?
I guess whatchoo might call a Momma's Boy. Real nice and quiet like. Wouldn't say shit if he was steppin' in a fresh pile. His Daddy is a preacher. Did he tell you that? He and Jer moved down here with their folks. Outside Atlanta. We all finished high school tah-gether.
Yah. He and Jer grow'd up in the same town. Yah, they play't...was frien's...back when they was jes little boys.
No. My Momma and Daddy were divorced a long time back. I pretty much jes' grow'd up with my Momma. They was six of us. Daddy lived all over. Sure he see'd us from time tah time. He was a General. The General, we allus call't him. Just like his daddy...and his daddy before that...probably all the way back to when generals first come about.
I think marryin' Mark is the onliest thing my Daddy was ever proud of me about. He loved Mark. He even came to our weddin'. Mark had big plans, he was real smart. Was goin' tah go to college, too. 'Course that din't happen.
I was pregnant with Joshie then, so we got marrie't.
He enlisted right after we got out of school.
No. My folks didn't know. His neither. We jus tole them the baby came early.
I am pretty sure his Daddy would have kilt him if he'd knowed.
They never liked me much, anyway. We came from differnt sides of tha track, if you get my drift.
They were all churchy and proper "Yes Ma'am" and "No Sir".
They looked at me like I was white trash.
[The term had crossed my mind, too. I don't say this, obviously.]
I was his first.
Girl, stupid. Sex. Whaddya think I meant.
No. He wasn't mine.
I was about 13 or 14, I guess. I can't remember.
Momma's "frien" at the time.
Consen...I'm not sure I understan' the question.
No. Nobody made me do nuthin'I din't want to.
Maybe 35. I don't know.
My Daddy liked the whole "Yessir" stuff from Mark, back then. Sayed it was respectful. Sayed that us keeds coulda learnt a thing or two from him. Sometimes he acted like he would have 'ruther been Mark's Daddy than mine. I know he sure treated him more like a daddy than his own daddy did. They was real close. Sometimes I think Mark married me more for my Daddy than for me an tha baby.
I do.
Anyhow. I thought we was going to move out of this State real quick. That maybe I could be one of those fancy Army wives an throw parties an live on base an stuff. No. He bought a house about a mile from where I had grow'd up all my life. Same street as Jer. How stup't is that?? I wasn't ever gonna get out of this shithole. An he was gone all tha time. Din't let me meet many of his frien's either. Ac't like he was 'shamed of me. Spent all his time with Josh. With Jer. Helping his Daddy at the church.
Yah. He was real good with Joshie. He love't Joshie.
An he always payt everythin'. On time.
A real good provider and such. Thats what my Momma allus calt him.
"So import'nt", she ustah say.
When he shipped out, well tha's when Jer and me took up.
You know. Took up. Started seein' each other. Sleepin' together. You know. Sex.
[this blindsides me and although I try to remain clinically detatched as possible she has already seen the look that has passed over my face and follows it with an obscene laugh. I am not sure which disturbs me more. The fact or the laugh.]
Well now, look'it you...I guess Jer must'a left that part out, din't he?
[she laughs again...deep and raspy, and pulls a face...it is the first time she has smiled during our interview]
[Our time has passed...she stubs out one more butt in my formerly pristine white shell after lighting another cigarette]
"I'll be back nex' week" she drawls.
[I am grateful our session is up. I feel like I need a hot shower. My office stinks of cigarette smoke and body odor. The Sanibel Island shell has the remains of 5 crushed butts, is filthy, and filled with gray ashes. I dump them in the waste-can and stand at the attached bathroom sink in my office scrubbing and scrubbing the shell clean. Then my hands. Repeatedly. Obsessively. Until they are red and raw. All the while I am thinking just how I would liked to have slapped Tracy right across her white-trash cheating mouth. Not very objective or professional, but it is how I am feeling just the same. I am also wondering how I am going to survive 9 more interviews with this dreadful woman. Suddenly I can understand Mark's repeated re-enlistments. Afghanistan must have seemed like a haven compared to his marriage. ]
Next up: The Deserter.
More Anon...
