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So Easter Sunday came and went and I did not rush to Walgreen’s on Monday to buy all the left-over half-price chocolate bunnies so, Yay Me and my healthy lifestyle. Also, I still have a ton of candy in my freezer from my Day After Valentine’s Day shopping spree. 

I don’t observe Easter because I’m an atheist (not to brag) but I see that the religious are still at it:

The idol of the far right religious fuckwads, Der FuhrerFuckFace, wanted to wish his moron followers a Happy Easter but it came with an insane pre-amble:

 

This week the New York Times broke the story that Donald Trump’s  “Stop the Steal” campaign to overturn the election results last year, based on the big lie that Joe Biden’s victory was the result of wide-spread voter fraud, raised its money by de-frauding donors. Anyone who made a one-time gift of money to the campaign was auto-magically enrolled as a perpetual donor:

In my opinion, anyone who is dumb enough to give money to Trump deserves to suffer, I don’t care how broke and sick and crazy they are. However, more than a few of Donald’s donors got wind of the scheme and filed for refunds from their credit card companies:

 

The National Republican Congressional Committee (NRCC) uses a slightly different tactic to squeeze money from its idiot base:

In case you’re wondering, yeah, Republicans really are that stupid to fall for it:

This made me want to give Donald a call at his office at Mar-A-Lago to tell him that he’s still the biggest horse turd on the planet so I dialed 561 832 2600 but I’m still blocked from my first attempt to speak to “the piece of shit who incited the insurrection of January 6.” 

In the good news portion of todays blog, I have to tell you that not everyone spent Easter Sunday being a prick.  On April 4 a person on Twitter, @tayloralrick, was walking across the Longfellow Bridge in Boston and wrote: omg went for a walk and saw this man taking a picture of all his dogs and i almost cried.

Here’s the scene:

 

 

At this stage of the pandemic, who among us hasn’t experienced a sudden burst of emotion at some beautifully mundane moment that reminded you of the world before

Here would be a great place for me to drop such a story, of an encounter with normality that left me in tears for what we’ve all lost during this Covid Time, but I can’t think of one just now. I wish my life had more of a narrative arc but it’s still pretty random and desultory, which is why I’m not writing any more memoirs lately. 

However, I did get smacked with nostalgia for 1980 in the grocery store last week. I was in the rice aisle of my local ethnic food emporium, looking for that jasmine rice from Thailand that Top Cat likes so much, when I realized that my mind was suddenly flooded with images of riding in a mint-green Jaguar on a road trip to Montreal with an old boyfriend who I hadn’t thought of in ages.

It was because of the song playing on the muzak track, Christopher Cross’s Ride Like the Wind.

For those of you who don’t remember, Ride Like the Wind was the first single from Christopher Cross’s Grammy-winning self-titled debut album. It was released in February 1980 and  reached number 2 on the US charts for four consecutive weeks. That song was all over the radio that whole Spring.

In early June of 1980 I was 24 and I left America to spend two years in the Peace Corps in West Africa, so I gave that boyfriend, who was English and about 20 years older than I, Christopher Cross’s album as my going-away gift. I wonder if he’s still alive. The boyfriend, not Christopher Cross. Christopher Cross is still alive, at age 69, hanging out with Ringo Starr and his All Starr Band. He won 5 Grammies for that debut album, good for him. I didn’t have a TV in Africa so I had no way of knowing.

What a jumble it is, life in your 20s.

I’m cautious to identify as a Boomer because I know how much we are hated, for good reason, by Gen X, Millennials, and Gen Z. Because of how much we have fucked up,  the kids who came after us haven’t had as much room for missteps and false starts, like we Boomers did. There isn’t as much room for second or third chances, like we (me) had. I had plenty of time to grow up in the 1980s and 1990s, when all my mistakes were kept private and off-line, and jobs were relatively easy to come by, and life was squalid and we didn’t mind.

That was my train of thought, there in the rice aisle in the Mexican supermarket on Post Road on the north shore of Long Island last week.

I’m not usually a big fan of nostalgia but I went home and made a Ride Like the Wind playlist for my daily 5-mile run. I haven’t listened to it yet. I’m not 100% sure that I want to go back down that rabbit hole, only to resurface with the knowledge that what’s in front of me is a whole lot more finite than what is left behind.

Speaking of looking back, I wonder if the MAGA rioters will one day look back at January 6, 2021 and realize that that’s the day they fucked up their lives? Boy, I sure hope so.

Well, this one won’t look back to anything being as she’s dead and all, but maybe all the other 300+ arrestees might have a good long time in prison to ponder the life choices.

 

This blonde one is from Texas so, what do you expect? (Answer: 10 to 20.)

 

 

 

 

 

Oh no! I left Easter Sunday ramblings behind, and I forgot all about Mike Huckabee’s amusing tweet of the day:

 

 

 

Republican Congressman Matt Goetz, from the Florida panhandle, is still in deep trouble over his sleazy sex life:

 

 

 

 

In other Republican Pervert news:

 

 

While former Speaker of the House John Boehner craps on the MAGA-wing of his party, remember that he was one of the people who created the modern Republican party starting in the 1990s:

 

This was part of Boehner’s agenda back then:

 

 

 

 

That’s all the news that I have the patience for this week. 

One last tidbit before we get to the cats. Christopher Cross wrote Ride Like the Wind while he was high on acid. I miss those days, too.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Have a great weekend, everyone. If you need something to celebrate, remember that we have made it through the Australian Summer with the quietest fire season in a decade! Although the flooding situation was the worst in 50 years due to La Nina bringing in lots of cool and wet weather, the good news is that a billion animal lives were saved in 2021 and if that doesn’t make you happy, well, here’s a picture of a wombat in a wheelbarrow:

 

Happy now?

XXOO and see you next week.

 

 

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Hello Dear Readers! Yes, I still enjoy the “WTF 2020” memes, but today I am not going to load you up with the usual political musings.

Sure, Trump and his spawn are still shitbags, and Rudy Giuliani is, literally, a walking, talking, oozing pustule and crazy as an outhouse rat, and Emily Murphy  should be in prison, and the rest of the Republicans are laying down as many land mines as they can to keep Joe Biden in a tizzy for the next 4 years. . . but I still get up every morning and walk into my kitchen for my morning tea and I see this:  

And, OK, the guys who are planing that march in Atlanta tomorrow to support Trump’s theft of their 16 electoral votes are dangerously delusional, but they made a poster that shows Georgia in blue, and, also, spelled “Georgia” wrong:

So, for today, I’m feeling confident that the people who are in charge of Operation Destroy American Democracy are idiots, and that I can safely take a week off from the unending shit show. 

I’m celebrating this Friday because Steve, the handsome tuxedo Manx who lives on our front stoop, came home today after going on walk-about for five weeks. I’m celebrating this Friday because my Korean husbands (BTS) have a new music video out today and global ARMY are coordinating to get 100 million views in 24 hours (be  dear and click onto this link and be counted and, BTW, how much do you want to be part of that pajama party??). I’m celebrating this Friday because it’s been a gorgeous Fall here on the north shore of Long Island and I want to take the time to savor it. I want to be like Taffy, thinking deep thoughts on sequential mornings, sitting under the Japanese Dogwood tree on the kitchen patio like a cute, fluffy buddha:

 

 

 

 

 

I just did a quick calculation and, during this pandemic, I have run about 765.5 miles, during 225 hours, on the streets in my neighborhood since lockdown in March. I know these roads quite well, and have become quite fond of them. They feel as if they are as much a part of me as my own right hand, which is my second-favorite hand as I am left handed, but we’re still close.

The best times were those early Summer mornings when there were no cars or people about and there was perfume in the air, but Fall has its charms here in Nassau County. This is my starting point on a typical November afternoon:

This is the same starting point a few days later, on a rainy and misty morning:

After learning that Trump played The Village People’s YMCA at the end of his desperate rallies for voters in the swing states, I reclaimed it for the forces of good and added the song to the top of all the playlists I listen to while I run — I have never payed much attention to the lyric before, and it is very WIERD — but this is where I am by the time the People sing “I felt the whole world was so jive”:

Are you old enough to remember when “jive” was a thing?

What a difference a few days make…this is the same road exactly 4 days later:

This (below) was taken on Nov. 8:

All those trees are bare now. Fall really is the most fleeting season, all the more reason to catch it while you can.

 

 

 

Top Cat has hunted and gathered for our two-person Thanksgiving this year, strangely, by getting us  a 22-pound turkey. That’s a lot of turkey for a pandemic holiday, just saying.

The other holiday that is on my mind is ChrisHanuKwanSolstice. I just finished making my holiday card, a special 2020-themed message that will be going out in optimism and celebration of the return of the light in our lives. In more ways than one.

If you would like to be on my mailing list, send me a note with your address to vivianswift at yahoo dot com. (All Stromness Rock hosts are automatically on the list whether they like it or not.)

Did you know that “Good Riddance 2020” cards are a thing this year?

Mine is not like that. I’m never on trend.

Also a “thing” this year. . . 

 

 

You KNOW that I, for one, will be sending Season’s Greetings to President Joe c/o 1600 PA Ave this year.

Have a great weekend, everyone. Try to spend at least one Trump-free day by doing something stupid, like feeling hopeful for the future of our planet and humankind in spite of all the evidence that tells us that we are, in fact, doomed. To be happy, these days, is a very transgressive act, and if I know you, Dear Reader, you like to rock the boat. Go out there and be joyful.

See you next Friday, with the usual outrage.

XXOO

 

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Good morning, everyone.

Tropical storm Isaias hit Long Island very hard on Tuesday afternoon shortly before 1 o’clock, when we lost power. After 30 hours, we got electricity back at 7 PM on Wednesday. I immediately posted a notice on this here blog that Wednesday was a washout here in VivianWorld, but it doesn’t seem to have stuck. Oh well.

126,000 homes in the area still do not have power. I will update you about the damage in my neighborhood on Friday’s post.

FYI: It’s raining again, and power has already gone out once so the juice is unreliable still, but I’ll do the best I can.

Here is an incomplete post of what I had planned to bring you for Wednesday. Please enjoy, while I put together my week-end Fuck Trumpery.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Hi Everyone: We lost power for 30 hours, starting from 12:57 pm on Tuesday until 7:06 PM Wednesday.

The winds only lasted an hour but hoo boy, they did a LOT of damage in my area of the north shore of Long Island.

I’ll tell you all about it on Friday.

See you then!

Vivian

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Here are some pictures of the late, great Lickety to save my spot for Friday.

As of yesterday I have a wicked stress fracture of my tibia (shin bone) and IT HURTS.

IT HURTS because I am an idiot who thought that the discomfort was all in my head, so I kept running for a week or two until yesterday when the pain decided to prove how real it was and chomped down like a T Rex and I went to urgent care.

Now I have to keep my splintered  leg elevated, which I can’t do at a desk, and it hurts too much to sit upright like a normal bi-ped with my feet on the ground because I am an idiot.

So, Dear Readers, until Friday, keep a lid on your sanity while Trump deploys the Federal Stormtroopers to a city near you.

Jesus Christ.

Fuck Trump.

 

 

 

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My breakfast is a cup of tea and a nice piece of toast, which is how I ensure that I begin each day in a good mood before, you know, life comes along and fucks it up.

I love toast. It’s my favorite food that isn’t pizza, so I am particular about the bread I use for my toast. I use a “short long ciabatta” from a boutique grocery store bakery here on the north shore of Long Island that makes it every hour, and I like to get there when the loafs are still warm from the oven. At home, I put it in the toaster oven on a “bake” setting until it’s toasted to a golden beige, and then I  butter it with Beurre D’Isigny demi sel from France, and I top it all off with a sprinkle of Himalayan salt (the pink stuff, for whimsy).

Top Cat did the weekly shopping and came home without my short long ciabatta — he said the bakery was sold out. So the next day, I was going to make a special trip back to the boutique grocery store to get my ciabatta (yes, I know, “privilege”), and Top Cat told me, “Maybe you want to try the brioche? It looked pretty good when I was there.”

“No,” I said, “I don’t care for brioche.”

And I thought, Jesus, my 10-year old self would never have imagined me one day saying something like, “I don’t care for brioche”. When I was growing up, we did not go to restaurants. The only Chinese food we ever ate came from a can — does anyone remember La Choy chicken chow mien? We did not buy bread from a bakery — we ate store-brand white bread and when we felt fancy, we’d put a few slices on a small plate for the dinner table so we could have bread-and-margarine with our canned stew. We didn’t know people who went “abroad”; that was only in movies (Sabrina and American in Paris).

No, no way could 10-year-old me have thought that one day, during a global pandemic, I would be turning up my nose at brioche, but this is the kind of person I have become. I think 10-year-old me would be rooting for me.

I did go to the boutique grocery store and I got my loaf of ciabatta, but I also got two onions, nice big Spanish onions, for cover. That way, I could look as if I were actually shopping for basic foodstuffs, the humble root veg of the people, and not defying lockdown orders just for one fancy fresh-baked Italian baguette.

BTW, this loaf is unusually puffy, so it’s a bit too fat to fit easily in my toaster oven and this morning’s toast was a bit burnt, so, karma.

I’m sure we’d all rather dwell on toast than think about the orange shit stain in the White House,but anyway, here’s today’s round up for your entertainment:

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Now go have a nice piece of toast and I’ll see you all back here on Friday.

 

 

 

 

 

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Denver, Colorado:

Somewhere in North Carolina:

Tennessee:

Lansing, Michigan:

Buffalo, NY:

Fun Fact: The Liberate New York protest took place in a traffic circle in Buffalo, the state capital. About 50 cars and trucks drove in a circle for about four hours. Twitter called it The Moron 500.

Pennsylvania:

Sydney, Australia:

 

Top Cat and I had our first COVID-quarantine-induced argument yesterday.

I  was at the kitchen sink, cracking an ice cube tray for our evening V&Ts. We have crappy ice cube trays, so I was struggling to get the tray to work right, and the ice was chipping and breaking into shards and I was annoyed. By the way, I do not have a poker face.

I heard Top Cat come into the kitchen so I turned to glance at him.

Top Cat stops short and complains, “Why are you giving me such a dirty look?”

This surprises me, so I insist: “I wasn’t giving you a dirty look — it’s the ice cube tray! I hate it!”

But T.C.  isn’t buying it. “No, no, no, you’ve been in a bad mood for days and I’ve seen that look before.” He’s actually getting mad.

I try to reason with him: “WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?? Didn’t we just had a really nice “date” night on Saturday?”

Top Cat shoots back, “No, that was Thursday and you’ve been pissy ever since.” And he storms out of the kitchen (as much as a guy on crutches can “storm” out of a room).

I went into the living room and tried to explain what just happened but it only made T.C. more irritated…it didn’t help that I thought it was funny and he was dead serious. So we had cocktails in separate rooms. I’ve never heard Top Cat use the word “pissy” in any situation before.

This is what happens when you are cooped up too long.

Things here in lockdown on the north shore of Long Island are still, for the most part, OK. I finished my Chinese historical drama and finished a 24-episode of a Korean historical drama that was SO SAD, which is Standard Operating Procedure for any Korean love story but especially true when it’s set during the Japanese Occupation of 1910 – 1945 (brutal, just brutal). So now I’m sworn off of K-dramas and I might even READ A BOOK this week.

Let’s meet on Friday and compare lockdown sob stories.

And, oh yeah: Fuck MAGAs.

jkl

kl’

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Dear Readers: Last week’s blog post is still up (immediately following this important announcement), but first I have to tell you that this week’s Fuck Trump-A-Thon will be postponed until Saturday, March 14.

I’m doing something fun on Friday the 13th and wanted to let you know that I won’t have sobered up until Saturday morning.

See you!

 

 

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After last week’s rant against capri pants I feel that, as a renowned fashion blogger, I owe you fine Readers some sincere advise about good taste.

This is a Must Have for those of you who want to show the world your  style-consciousness:

You can get this on Amazon for $16.99. It comes in 10 colors (I got mine in black, because I always go classic) and can be worn by any human being who has a heart and a few brain cells. (P.S. That’s not me in the photo. I’ll post a pic of me when I find the charger to my camera.)

I wouldn’t wear this T-shirt to Costco or when I volunteer to read stories to children at the library, but it might come in handy on Election Day (a mere 269 days away).

Another thing I forgot to tell you about Florida was that the plane home from Southwest International Airport to JFK was deliciously roomy due to the fact that 1/3 of the seats were empty. Four days later, when Top Cat flew to San Fransisco, he told me that his flight was half full. I think the COVID-19 virus panic is starting to show its upside. I have to take a trip later this month and I’m hoping to have the plane all to myself.

 

 

 

 

For the past five weeks I’ve been schlepping into Manhattan every Saturday afternoon to hang out in Koreatown and I feel great. There is no panic on 32nd Street.

I’m going to Koreantown to take my Korean language beginner class with emphasis on learning to read the written form of it and the book we are using is called Korean Made Easy which is annoying because, as is true of every thing that promises to make losing weight, finding enlightenment, or earning $100,00 in your spare time EASY, it is a lie.

Very few things in life are really, truly EASY and learning a foreign language isn’t one of them. I don’t need to be sold on a new adventure with the pitch that it will be EASY and it’s embarrassing that we live in a culture that makes those kinds of promises. I don’t mind it if something will be hard, I’m willing to make sacrifices and dig in and do the work, except for dentistry. I really wish there was an easy way to keep your teeth looking good in your 60s but it seems that can’t be done without a LOT of work.

I’ve been spending some quality time with my dentist lately and even though all I have to do is sit still for 40 minutes at a time, it’s the hardest thing I’ve done in the past decade or so because for some reason, my dentist insists that I remain conscious during our sessions so, good-bye dreams of a propofol snooze and waking up with beautiful teeth.

Thank you, modern dentistry and Mr and Mrs Kim of Deagu, South Korea, for this.

In the end it will be worth it, but meantime I can’t decide if modern dentistry is a miracle that saves us from an old age of hideous toothlessness, or if it’s just medieval barbarity with 21st century tools.  I’m doing it the hard way, one tortuous thousand bucks at a time, and the sad thing is that I’m usually in so much discomfort when we finish that I can’t even tolerate a glass of wine as my just reward. Warm water mixed with honey is my drink of choice lately. No wonder I’ve been in a bad mood since Ground Hog Day.

I want to thank all of you — Christine, Tracy, Megan, Angel, Margaret, Steve, Carol, Mae, Karen, Marilyn, Megan, Casey, Jeanie, Kirra, and Maryanne in SC — for your kind words about Lickety. It’s been a month and I still get those jarring reality checks when I remember that Lickety won’t be showing up for breakfast any more.  Or  this:

 

 

in memory of a Really Good Cat, this week’s installment of our regularly scheduled Resist-A-Thon is dedicated to Lickety.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Have a great weekend, everyone. Have yourselves a wine cooler for me.

 

 

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There is nothing worse than going to Florida in February and spending a few days sitting outside on a balcony with a glass of wine and a good book in a warm sea breeze while watching a spectacular sun set on the Gulf of Mexico, and then coming back home to the north shore of Long Island and it’s still February, and you’re on the north shore, of Long Island, where it’s 29 degrees and everything in your backyard is dead, including Likety. I’m not in a good mood toady.

Weather in Florida is like a work of art, if you like works of art that are gorgeous, monumental, dramatic, and awe-inspiring. I LOVE the weather in Florida in February. There’s only one problem about the lovely weather in Florida. It’s in Florida.

Two words why I detest Florida: Capri Pants.

Just because they’re named after a beautiful Mediterranean island where billionaires like to park their yachts DOES NOT MEAN that you look like a billion bucks wearing them. Capri pants were invented by a Prussian dressmaker in 1948, to be worn by a new kind of human being that was created in the post-war years — teenagers. These days, no teenager would be caught dead in  Capri pants.

That’s because these days, capri pants are worn by every white-haired, fat-assed retiree in Florida, the kind who flock to Perkin’s Pancake House for the 4:30PM early bird dinners on Free Pie Mondays.

I get it. I get that Capri pants are supposed to be “fun”. They cover more than shorts, so you don’t have to expose your sad wrinkled knees, and they are shorter than regular pants, like cut-offs for the elderly. Woo hoo! Capri pants mean that you’re a free bird, a party animal, a pie-eater ready to rave ’til the six o’clock news comes on!

Some people don’t mind getting old, and giving up, and wearing Capri pants. But I’m not one of those people.

No, I want to avoid people who give Getting Old a bad name so I will not move to Florida full-time, but I do like a dose of it during February.

The only good thing about my comeback to the north shore of Long Island yesterday was the  movie that I watched on the two-hour flight back to New York. I can’t say enough good things about JoJo Rabbit.DO NOT WATCH to official trailer for the movie on YouTube — it gives away the plot twists.

Jo Jo is a ten-year-old Nazi and his best friend is Adolf Hitler, and it’s a comedy. I know it sounds deadly, but that’s all you need to know about this film going in. That’s about all I knew, but I was trapped on a plane so I gave it a chance. and I AM SO GLAD I DID!!

The movie was written and directed by a 44-year old native of New Zealand, Taika Waititi, whose birth name is Taika David Cohen.  His mother is Jewish and his father is Maori, and  Waititi calls himself a “Polynesian Jew”, in case you’re wondering why a Kiwi is telling a holocaust story.

Waititi also play Hitler in the movie, for which he won an Oscar this year for Best Adapted Screenplay.

I think Jo Jo Rabbit should have won Best Picture. It was one of the nine nominees this year, but Parasite won, and as hot as I am for anything Korean these days, I wasn’t crazy about Parasite and now I’m totally infatuated with Jo Jo Rabbit. I want to take Top Cat to see it just so I can see it again.

Go see it, even if you have to fly Delta from RSW to JFK to do it.

You will thank me.

And now for our regularly scheduled programming.

Fuck Trump.

 

This is absolutely true. Trump said this Feb 21, 2020 at a rally in Colorado Springs, CO. And the crowd cheered.

 

 

 


 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Have a great weekend, Dear Ones. Don’t do what I do:

 

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