If you’re feeling buoyed by the pile on of counter-Trumpian discourse of late, I fear you’re headed for bitter disappointment; the kind that really, really tears at the very fabric of your being after a brief, tantalizing brush with a moment’s hopefulness. Too dark? Well, then perhaps you shouldn’t read…
So, Labor Day happens, summer draws its last steamy breath and the kids go back to school. Seems rather normal. No! Nothing is normal! Labor Day’s a joke, as the purported 96% employed workforce is sinfully underpaid and caught in a downward spiral of a brightless, healthless and dreamless future. Summer…
Can we finally order an XXXL orange jumpsuit for Felonious Trump, not to be confused in any way with Thelonious Monk, whose artistry has enriched our lives for more than 80 years while FT has enriched absolutely nothing except his bulbous waistline and ego? Oh…and I’m on 24/7 Giuliani watch…
My weekly verbose concerns about the seemingly unstoppable deterioration of decency and civility and fairness, (as eloquent and equally inconsequential as they may be), globally, but no place more than the former United States of America, are spawned by my fear of the bleakness of my remaining future, but more…
I’m pretty sure that I’ve been involved in a catastrophic accident, a memory-stealing head injury that has altered my reality, blurred my perception and stimulated my hallucinogenic, runaway dream state, wherein I’ve too often dabbled in escapist reimagining of otherwise unacceptable social, political or generally abhorrent human behavior and yet,…
Given the choice between ‘better’ or ‘worse’, most of us would pick ‘better’, right? I mean, that’s human nature 101 for crap sakes. So, somebody help me out here, (that plea is foolishly directed toward someone who would more than likely not be reading this…but, what the hell). Other than some…
Like most of my friends and family, I have been harboring the rapidly vanishing, hopeful notion that the last or the next or certainly the revelation after that of some misconduct or preposterous turn of phrase or random and dire Executive action, would be the final straw whose cumulative weight…
Liar, liar, liar, liar, liar, traitor, traitor, asshole! It would seem that cyclothymia is a starter affliction for Tourette’s. If I’m not yelling my opening sentence, (I know, Mrs. Millman*, it’s technically not a sentence), at the TV, or sporadically into thin air, it’s being looped in my brain as…
Because I’m weird that way, (you know, trusting that questions have reasonable answers), and because I hold tightly to the absolute belief that either very little or almost everything is a result of happenstance…you can imagine my cathartic sigh of relief when the light bulb flashed in my head, and…
I ran into some old friends this week, (perusers of my weekly rants), who individually and only semi-jokingly greeted me as the Prince of Darkness. I won’t argue the generally dour nature of my theses, (nor my obsession with aptly placed adverbs), but I would hope that the satanic implication…