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.
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.
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:
XXOO and see you next week.