Short and Sweet, OMG, No
Still so busy sewing my donuts. I’m totally on schedule and am feeling no pain, no strain. My hands love fiddling and fussing with the Big Donuts.
I am trying to reset my mind, stay calm about the changes that happened election day. Dumb Ass tried to made a big splash but I think the deep DAs were dumped in the ditch and their obstinate bros and sisses wielded the club. Dear lord, I’ll have to avoid MSNBC specifically to avoid the sight and sound of old school alchy, Boehner, jabbering and whimpering and now, posturing over the Republican majority in the House.
Stop feeling sorry for your tired, born-in-a-bar, country club loving ass, all you old-school white men. Do something constructive.
I am ecstatic that Meg Whitman wasted her 163 million.
Don’t get me started on Rand Paul.
The one thing that calms my fevered imagination is the knowledge that just because they say they are going to do messed up things they will be held at bay by our marvelously obstructive system. I will say no more.
As I fly through the next few weeks I will also be buoyed by the sweet treat that awaits me at the other end. In the third week of December will be going to the De Young museum to catch the work from Musee D’ Orsay (I don’t know how to operate the accent marks). Dude. How fine a thing is that?
Rather than watch the red tide engulf the House last night I watched a documentary on Harry Nilsson — Who is Harry Nilsson and Why is Everybody Talking About Him?
What a beautiful voice. What lovely melodies. What fucking crazy days. Everyone was high as a kite, loose as a goose.
The roads through this life are long and winding (Paul said so). All of our native, navigational skills are required to ride them to their proper end. Many crashed their vehicles prematurely. With his tender heart and his Moon in Pisces, Harry was one of those. His songs are still with us.
Go to Netflix now.