Wow, this was an eventful week in VivianWorld.

My Korean husbands . . .

. . . BTS, debuted their new single Dynamite at #1 on Billboard. They are the first Asian group to go straight to the top 100, and the first Asian musicians to have a #1 hit in America since 1963, when a Japanese-language song with the nonsense name “Sukiyaki” did it. (I wrote about “Sukiyaki” in my garden book, a digression on the thoughts about a Japanese garden on Long Island that I did not care for. “Sukiyaki” was a mournful ballad that was actually anti-American and it’s Japanese title was “I Will Walk Looking Up (So My Tears Won’t Fall)”. It was given the name “Sukiyaki” because Americans have shit for brains when it comes to Asia and sukiyaki was all that most Americans cared to know about Japan in 1963.)

This #1 hit in America is a big, huge deal in South Korea. There are nine national newspapers in South Korea, and here are the headlines of six of them:

Spoiler: They are all about BTS’s #1 hit in America.

The President of South Korea tweeted his congratulations to the boys, to quote: “It is truly amazing. It is a splendid feat that further raised pride in K-Pop. The success of BTS will bring huge consolation to Koreans suffering from the crisis brought about by COVID-19.”

President Moon Jae-in and his wife, Kim Jung-Sook with BTS.

In other news, Top Cat and I went strolling in a nature preserve here on the north shore of Long Island last weekend. I made a deal with Nature, that I wouldn’t be bored if She sent me a Blue jay feather. And an hour into our hike, lo, lying there in the middle of the path . . .

It’s like it was placed there just for me, moi, my own eyes:

I’m holding my face mask. Even in the 100-Acre Wood, I bring my face mask.

That’s all it takes for me to believe that life isn’t just random and pointless, a momentary blip in oblivion. Redemption By Blue Jay Feather is what I call it.

The week was also redeemed by a delightful painting session. The subject is Miss Lizzie Cosette, the Cat In The House of Dear Reader Jeanie, who hosted The Sromness Rock in Lansing, Michigan and whereabouts:

You see that Lizzie is photographed in a fetching ray of light that makes her white fur brilliant. So the trick this week will be to get her highlights, to paint her white fur in shadow and in light.

Challenge accepted.

I thought I’d give you a look at my equipment:

Lizzie has gorgeous green eyes with little golden highlights:

To paint the shadows in her white fur, I’m going to use blue paint:

 

Oooooooo, time for a bleed:

 

 

 

 

It wasn’t’ until I got her eye like this that I knew whether or not I’d gotten her “right”:

 

 

Now all that’s left are Lizzie’s ears. Her ears are a combination of pink and gray, and painting them so that they don’t get muddy, and painting them so that they look like they have shape and depth, is the trick.

DONE.

Thank you, Miss Lizzie, for being a beautiful presence in my life this week.

In case you’re wondering what Christian America has been up to this week, they’ve been fundraising for this guy:

I checked it out, and it’s confirmed by Snopes. A Christian website called GiveSendGo has raised $314,000 for the legal defense for this little scumbag.

*Sigh*

Let’s check in with the rest of the news:

Trump told Fox News the a plane flying from “a certain city”, heading to Washington DC during the Republican national convention, was “completely loaded with thugs wearing these dark uniforms, black uniforms with gear and this and that” adding: “Here were like seven people on the plane like this person and then a lot of people were on the plane to do big damage.” Asked for details, Trump said: “I’ll tell you sometime, but it’s under investigation right now.”

Neither the FBI nor Homeland Security can confirm that any such investigation is taking place. But that’s not a surprise, right?

 

 

 

Melanoma’s former best friend wrote a tell-all book about the way the Third Wife really feels about Trump’s kids, and the former hooker had something to say about it:

And let’s not forget:

Knowing the Trumps as we all do, I’d say that Melanoma is right on brand.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

In case you need to know this, when you feel like you have to stab someone, stab and orange. The are the same consistency as human flesh.

And here are a few more reminders that life, and stable humans, can, sometimes, be wonderful:

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

And that’s the State of Things this first week of September.

Have a great weekend, everyone. Remember that we are only stabbing oranges, not Republicans. For now.

And, let’s not forget. . .

. . . Fuck Trump.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Ha ha ha ha. 2020 still as me in stitches.

First, a word to Dear Readers Felicity, Adrienne, Margot, mae, and Citizen Reader for giving a salute to last week’s announcement of the desisting of my Wednesday Posts. I’m sure the Wednesday Post misses you all too, and thanks you for your kind regards.

However, now that the Wednesday Post has Wednesdays off, the Wednesday Post was doing some quality-of-life living that it had been dreaming of. Last Wednesday evening, for example, it took a romantic walk at dusk with Top Cat around the neighborhood and took this picture:

These are the size of the trees that came down in Tropical Storm Isaias three weeks ago and, as you can see, the clean-up continues. Crews can cut up the branches and cart of the smaller bits, but the trunks are so huge that they require the use of heavy equipment which is in scarce supply still. As is reliable internet, BTW, which is why half of this post disappeared earlier today and why I had to spend an hour and a half to re-do it and why you are reading this waaaay too late.

The Wednesday Post has other ideas for smelling the roses, or the coffee, or whatever it is you’re supposed to smell to make life seem like a keen thing. The Wednesday Post wants to take long walks on the beach,  listen to the pitter patter of the rain,  do some fine dining, maybe take up a new crafting hobby, and smell what ever happens to be in bloom or percolating on the stove.

The point is, the Wednesday Post wants to get out there and seize the day. The Wednesday Post wants to make art, and that requires talent, skill, perseverance, hubris, practice, more practice, more practice, and time. So that’s what the Wednesday Post will be doing on any day of the week, but most often on Wednesday.

Except not this past Wednesday.

For boring technical reasons (a printer that went on strike) the Wednesday Post (OK, you got me: the Wednesday Post is me) did not paint a cat portrait this week, as I had planned. But the printer and I have come to a resolution and I expect to be back in the pet-portrait-painting business again in time for next week’s post, BUT IN THE MEANTIME . . .

. . . I HAVE KITTEN PICTURES!

This is the kitten we rescued from our car engine a few weeks ago. We haven’t found out what her name is, yet, so we still call her Car Cat. She’s really difficult to photograph because she never slows down, but now that she’s out of isolation and is slowly mixing with the rest of the herd and getting her bearings to the giant furniture in our house, I have found some opportunities to get some snaps.

Here’s something that happened last week: I was wondering if it was time for me to take down the Black Lives Matter flag that as been flying on my front porch since June and replace it with a Biden/Harris flag.

And then, on August 23, a cop in Kenosha, Wisconsin, shot an unarmed Black man in the back. Seven times.

And then, on August 25, a 17-year old kid from Illinois drove to Wisconsin and marched into a peaceful protest carrying an AR15 that he was not legally allowed to passes, and the cops handed him a water bottle in case he was parched on a hot Summer night.

And then that kid shot and killed two protestors.

It took the cops two days to arrest him.

So, yeah, police are still letting white supremacists room the streets carrying illegal firearms while shooting American citizens for being Black.

So, yeah, the Black Lives Matter flag stays.

 

 

 

 

 

So, on Tuesday August 26, the Missouri Republicans in the state legislature did this:

 

In an epic case of Good Timing, the Republicans held their national convention this week to re-nominate der Drumpf as president of the United States.

Let’s check in and see who that went:

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

My favorite dust-up out of the Republican convention was what happened when DeAnna Lorraine, a Republican from California (“famous” for running against Nancy Pelosi, the Speaker of the House, a few years ago and losing) tweeted a message that “American needs far more women like Melania Trump and far less like Cardi B.”

Cardi B is a rapper who currently has a hit song called WAP which stands for something that I, at my most most foul-mouthed, can’t bring myself to explain. But Cardi B is smart and came back with . . .

 

. . . “Didn’t she used to sell that Wap?

And the answer is yes, Cardi B, Melanoma did used to sell that Wap:

This is the censored version of the nude photo that Cardi B tweeted out, which came from a phot shoot that Melanoma did in 2000 for GQ magazine.

I like to re-post those pictures of our “classy” First Lady so the internet never forgets:

All photos copyright by Antoine Verglas.

Let’s see some other classy Republicans have been up to this past week, and catch up with assorted current events:

 

 

 


 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

And that’s the week that was.

I’ve been getting messages from you Dear Readers that you’re having trouble seeing all the lovely comments that the best people of the internet write on this blog. All I can say is, I do see everyone’s Comments and I think you with love and kisses, and if Comments don’t appear on your screen you can try hitting the  “refresh” button, or “flush cache” and that’s it. That’s all I know about clearing out the electronic grime that crude things up in the Comments section.

Have a great weekend, everyone. Take the time to smell the coffee, or the tea, or the first signs of Fall (Spring, if you’re from the great land Down Under).

And, oh yeah. . .

. . . Fuck Trump.

 

 

 

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I found this (above) on the inter webs this week and it cheered me up. I never had the legs or the blonde hair or the English accent (isn’t that a Morris Minor?) but I used to have those shoes! I was cool! I AM cool!

Kids born in the 1990s have an inkling that life was funner in the olden days, which is obvious in my Summer of 2020 song which is the Gen Z version of Kool and the Gang and it’s ridiculously cute and it makes me wish I could give a party just so I could get everyone drunk and happy and dancing. Watch the video for no other reason than to see if bell bottoms still look cute on 24-year olds.

However, here we are, at another Friday in the Age of COVID:

 

 

 

 

I’ve never felt this way in August, but I am so over 2020, so ready for this year to be over, and I’m sure that everyone feels the same way. All we can do in the meantime is to keep sane and busy with projects that feed the soul. You all know that my project to get me through the end of Summer is digging out the old watercolors and painting some adorable pets, an activity that I highly recommend as a way to concentrate on pure love in such a time of hate.

If you have any questions about techniques or materials, just ask!

In case you didn’t read my blog on Wednesday, I painted our Dear Reader Sophie for her human, Susie in Wisconsin:

Today I will be painting Dudley . . .

. . . and Gypsy. . .

. . . the best doggos in the world who belong to Rachel and Don in the soon-to-be blue state of Texas.

This will be a double portrait,which raises the stakes. I like to live dangerously.**

**No, I absolutely do not.

As usual, I start with the eyes.

Sorry this is so dark. I wanted to show you the pencil lines I put in for the doggo, but they don’t show much here. They are very light, and give me the general shape of the doggo’s head and nose. I don’t need a whole lot of detail.

I am going to use bleeds for this portrait because I LOVE bleeds, and these pups have the right kind of coloring to let the paper and the paint do all the work, instead of having me PAINT everything.

I mixed the paint for Dudley’s fawn-colored fur using two shades of brown, Payne’s Gray, a tiny bit of black, yellow ochre, all mixed into a thick base of a base of a peachy-tinted paint from my Grumbacher Deluxe Opaque Watercolor set (24 pans).

The color I’m talking about is the one that’s half-hidden there (see above), on the right under the purple pan. I don’t have the name of the color, but it’s my favorite base because it’s very chalky and I love what it does on paper, and I love how it interacts with other paint.

You can see what I mean in these bleeds here, the way the black paints has such an interesting capiallry action when it meets this chalky Dudley-hue:

You might know that boxers have “frown lines” on their faces. I’m not going to paint them, but I will suggest their presence with a wisp of paint  here  and  there.

The pup needs some blue to highlight his nose:

And now we do the cheekies:

The wet paper shines a bit. No? Yes? Can you see?

I was hoping you would see, in this photo (above) how wet I am making the paper before I drop in some paint for more bleeds:

While I am working on Dudley, I have covered the Gypsy part of the painting with a clear plastic sheet-protector because if I didn’t, sure as shit I would splatter paint or drop a loaded paintbrush and all would be ruined. So, safe-guard your work!

Boxer have droopy eyes, which I saved until the end. The shape  of their  droop  is what gives  boxers  thier  expressions:

Now it’s Gypsy’s turn:

 

I was almost DONE when I looked at the completed faces, but I didn’t like just having two floating heads together. So I’m drawing in Dudely’s collar:

OK, now we are DONE.

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Have a great weekend, everyone. Lord knows that we all deserve a break from the constant bad news, so please take a few hours and find a place to feel safe and warm (or cool, if you’re in California) and pretend that it’s 2004 — my favorite year because I married Top Cat, but feel free to use your own annus mirabiles, and tell us about it in the Comments. We like to live vicariously.

I probably won’t be here on Wednesday because very few people (thank you to those precious few!) read the Wednesday posts anymore, but I’ll be back here next Friday with another Pet Portrait (spoiler: it’s a cat) and more stuff from the internet that renews your faith in humanity, one meme at a time.

And, oh yeah. . .

. . . Fuck Trump.

 

This guy is also a member of the NRA and voted for Trump in 2016. Let’s hope he represents millions more 2016 Trump voters.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Yes, I’m still laughing at how 2020 never gets any better. Because if you don’t laugh, you’ll cry, right?

So today’s Super Cute Pup is Sophie:

Sophie helped her human, Susie in Wisconsin, show The Stromness Rock the delights of The Badger State, and for that we (and The Rock) are thankful.

Sophie is Super Cute from a human point of view, but from a watercolor painter’s POV, Sophie is a fucking nightmare. She’s a black dog, and she’s a black dog with texture. I’m supposed to paint those luscious curls? ON AN ALL BLACK DOG??

How can I not make her look like a bowl of blobby ink?

Well, the answer is, I cheat. The trick to painting her is to exaggerate the subtle colors that dear Sophie has in her adorable shaggy fur. I see: blue, brown, and grey in her black fur. So I’m going to go with that, and see if I get away with it.

I only need a few guiding pencil lines:

Eyes first, to make sure that they don’t go wonky and wall-eyed and that they are staring at the viewer with doggy luv:

I have to confess that I did a trial run on Sophie, experimenting with brushes and bleeds to see how far I could go with NOT painting her all black, so I’ve already made all my mistakes in painting a BLACK dog, and this is what I’ve learned: Go Easy. Don’t use a lot of paint.

So, this is me, dabbing in some highlights:

Now I hit the BLACK:

Luckily, the paint was wet enough that I could pick up the excess black (see below), and let it dry, and then start to layer in the serious black stuff:

Notice that I’m painting OVER the lighter stuff, that is, painting in the BACKGROUND over the FOREGROUNd. It goes against the natural order, but this is what you have to do when you plot out where your darks and lights have to go, and how it’s feasible to do it in watercolor.

 

This is where I add wisps of fur to give Sophie her signature “fluffiness”:

OK, now we are going to go in and make those soulful eyes:

Blue paint for the nose:

I must let you all know that I bought a book about dog breeds because it has a very good chapter on various dog noses, with close up photographs, because I needed a reference on exactly how dog noses were constructed so I could paint them correctly. Believe me, I know dog noses, and here is me doing Sophie’s hooter:

Oh, right: while the paint was drying on her nose, I added more fluff to her little chin, thusly:

 

I added expression lines to her forehead, knowing that when the paint dries the lines will be softer.  This is why you have to use the same paints and the same paper religiously, because that’s the only way you will know what your paint and what your paper will do, as in this case, where it looks like I am painting too darkly but I know that this is OK with these paints and this paper:

DONE:

OK, I’m sorry that these pix are so dark, but this is The Girl Sophie and my painting of her:

Here on the north shore of Long Island the mornings are getting darker. Wait. that’s wrong. The mornings are just as bright as they’ve always been, it’s just that they are starting later. What used to be daybreak (the time that I would set out for my 6-mile run) at 5:17 a month ago is now 5:44. August. Catch it while you can.

Steve, the real cat who lives on our front stoop, is on one of his walkabouts and we haven’t seen him for the past three days, but last evening there was a new cat on the front steps. He’s a brown tabby, stocky, and not at all shy, so I got a glass of wine and my iPod and I sat on the stoop listening to my K-pop playlist, throwing Temptations kitty treats to a strange cat until it got so dark that I couldn’t see him in the nightfall. It was an oddly pleasant way to spend a half hour of August.

Let’s check in with the culture and see if there’s anything to give us hope and joy:

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

That’s the round up for today, Dear Readers. I’ll be back on Friday with MORE PET PORTRAITS and, oh yeah…

…Fuck Trump.

 

 

 

 

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I don’t know if the situation on Long Island is still news to anyone who doesn’t live on Long Island, but we are still cleaning up from last week’s tropical storm Isaias. The last 4,000 homes without power were restored yesterday, and all the trees that fell into roadways and onto houses are cleared, but all this means that there are enormous piles of firewood stacked up at every curb, and even bigger tree trunks decorating front yards:

I’ve seen utility workers from Michigan, North Carolina, Texas, and New Brunswick Canada working in our area. They are so cute: they travel in convoys of 4-5 huge trucks, like flocks of duckies, following the leader because god forbid they lose their way in the wilds on the Isle of Long. And by the way, what with the 24-hour generators, the power line crews that start at 7am, the landscapers with their chain saws who start cutting at 8am…the noise level around here has been deafening.

But I want to thank everyone of these guys for coming to our aid. And one day, I hope to have internet access for more than 30 minutes at a time.

So while the ol’ computer is juiced up, let’s take a look at our Project For The Week:

This handsome fella is a long-haired dachshund named Pippen. Pippin, along with our Dear Reader Alexandra, hosted The Stromness Rock in the great state of Washington and for that, we are going to immortalize him in watercolor.

The first thing I do is I study the photo reference. I look for where I will be leaving the blank whiteness of the paper to show, where I will need to bleed, and figure out what layers of colors will go on top of each other from light to dark. I can’t stress how important it is to have a plan before you start to paint.

Then I make a few light pencil lines on my favorite 90-lb. Carson paper:

I start with the eyes because in the past, I’ve gotten a portrait almost completed when I went in for the windows of the soul and loused it up so that I had to throw away hours of work. So, lesson learned; start with the eyes.

I tested a blend of yellows and browns and burnt umber (up there in the corner)before I had a correct shade:

So I got the eye pointing in the right direction…whew.

This handsome fella has a complicated coat of many colors, so I’m going to start with the lightest colors first:

I love my 90-lb. Carson paper because I’ve been using it for over 15 years and I know what this paper will do. So here, I’m going to let the paper and some very watery paint do a light bleed:

I have to work fast because I want to work “wet’ here, and then I want to let it dry for a few seconds so I can drop in some very deep black without letting it run:

 

I was telling Top Cat about Pippin, here, and I mentioned that Pippen has a brother, another handsome long-haired dachshund named…named…and I couldn’t remember.

“But I know it has something to do with Douglas MacArthur.” I said.

Top Cat started guessing, “Doug? Dougie? Mac?”

I suddenly remembered.

Truman!” I shouted, feeling very pleased with myself for filing his name (the dog’s) in a place (under “American General, Korean War, fired by”) where I could access it.

Pippen has very expressive eyebrows, so here (below) I am adding some black to re-shape his eye socket into more of a raised-eyebrow kind of “look”:

I also widened the pupil. See what I mean? It’s subtle, but necessary:

I am adding light gray here, because even though it’s a shadow (of sorts), it’s not a dark shadow:

Ears next. Ears, oh ears…they are hard. These ears are long and silky and quite glamorous.

Let’s try to mix the colors with less water this time:

And now I can go to town with the excellent black paint I have (Winsor Newton):

Lay in an undercoat of gray:

And let’s compare:

These are the smooches next in line for portraiture: Kitty, Gypsy, Dudley, and Sophie.

Each of them has their own challenges — I mean, Sophie is mostly shades of black and dark gray and how in the world am I supposed to do that — so it should be interesting. For me, any way. I hope you’ll enjoy watching the paint dry.

In the meantime, various Trumps and all the Republicans have been working hard this past week to make sure life in America really, really sucks, so let’s review:

 

And others were also outraged:

 

 

And then Joe Biden announced his running mate, California Senator Kamala Harris:

In case you forgot who Eric Trump is:

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Stay sane until next Friday, Dear Readers.

In the meantime…

Fuck Trump.

 

 

 

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Damage Report: 85,000 people are still without power in our area after getting hit by tropical storm Isaias last Wednesday, including the houses up the hill and in back of us. Top Cat and I took a walk around the block and met some nice guys from Iowa — IOWA — who drove their utility trucks from I-80 Power to help with the repairs.

I-80 Power Inc. is a family owned and operated power line construction contractor providing both underground and overhead services in Iowa.  We can assist in day to day construction and maintenance and also storm/outage restoration.

Our internet was spotty yesterday and it went out twice while I was preparing Friday’s post, which meant that I had to re-boot my computer each time and try to find the auto-save, etc. I have no patience with this crap, so I shut down and went back to bed and had wonderful dreams of ice skating with pandas.

So,  yeah, just another week in 2020:

So it’s Saturday and things seem to be on an even keel so I’m willing to give this another go:

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

SOMEWHERE IN INDIANA

You’d think the master race would be more…impressive.

 

 

Oh, yes, there’s a cat in this picture, in plain sight:

 

 

That’s all I got juice for today. Meet me here next Friday. I will have updates on the Pet Portrait Project and Car Cat photos to share and, most likely, more of the usual whining about being me.

And, oh yeah.

Fuck Trump.

 

 

 

 

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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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I still find these 2020-Is-A-Shit-Show memes very funny because they are true.

 

 

In case you need more proof that 2020 keeps getting weirder and weirder, here’s a photo from my life recently:

Yeah, that’s a cat. A very small cat.

And yeah, that’s the engine of my car.

Here’s the story.

It was quarter to three in the afternoon and I can hear that my neighbor is knocking on my front door. But I’m in the last quarter-hour of my Zoom Korean class and I don’t answer it.

So then, I get a text.

There’s a kitten stuck in your car can we go in?

I text back, In class now, done soon, go for it.

At the end of class I stroll out to the curb, where my car is parked in the street, and the hood is up and the neighbors next door and the neighbors across the street are gathered ’round. There is also a continuous mewing sound, rather loud, from the front of the car, and they have figured out that the kitten is wedged into the engine compartment and that the best way to get the it is to grab it from below.

“I’m going to call the fire department,” I say, in my take-charge way, “And ask if they have really strong equipment to jack the car up his enough so someone can get underneath the car.”

Five minutes later, SIRENS and LIGHTS come roaring into our quiet suburban road here in the bucolic north shore of Long Island — four SUVs, a fire truck, and one of those fire dept. trucks that looks like an ambulance.

They make a road block so no one can drive down our stretch of Warner Avenue and six-to-ten burly young guys in bermuda shorts, tattoos, and T-shirts, and two guys in full fire-fighting regalia, drag a huge jack and some canisters and a hose to my car.

Then the cops show up.

So there we all are, about three thousand pounds of humanity, rescuing a teeny tiny kitten from my car.

I’m looking at all these vehicles and equipment and manpower…to rescue a kitten…and I say out of the corner of my mouth to my next door neighbor, Must be a slow day at the fire house.

And she says to me, Now we know why our taxes are so high.

Or course, all this activity drew a crowd of all the other neighbors, who came out to see the spectacle. Did someone find a dead body? Is there an improvised explosive device? Did someone need the jaws of life?

Nah, we said, shrugging our shoulders; There’s a kitten.

What finally freed the kitten was a simple spray from one of the fire department’s canisters — which contained water — and we saw a light grey tabby kitten streak away from us into the little woods on the side of the road.

All the residents of Warner Avenue thanked the public servants extravagantly for their help, and the neighbor across the street said that she would set her Have-A-Heart trap to catch the kitten, and that satisfied the firefighting crew and they got in their SUVs, fire truck, cop cars, and ambulance-looking-thing and left.

Only the cops were wearing face masks and I tried to social distance, but it was chaotic and hot as hell so I’m self-quarantining again for two weeks.

Next morning, I’m picking up the Sunday New York Times from my front walk and the neighbor walks over to me, carrying a Have-A-Heart trap, and she says, I got the kitten!

The kitten is in very good condition — clean ears, clear eyes, no runs nose, not noticeable flea-ridden, and not noticeable starving. Believe me, I’ve been trapping feral cats for 15 years and I’ve seen far, far worse.

The neighbor asks me, Do you want her?

I distinctly remember that I said, No. I remember throwing up my ands, backing away, saying, No, no, nononono. I do not want a kitten. I have five cats who are enough of a pain in the ass…I don’t need and I DON’T WANT a kitten. I don’t want to make that kind of 20-year commitment. Nope. NO. I do not want a kitten.

So I really, honestly don’t know how it happened. I got a kitten.

She’s very cute, and very affectionate, and I would show you photos of her but I’m having trouble getting them off my camera and iPad so check back next week.

In the meantime, How’s your week been? Bat-shit crazy as usual? Yes? Because that’s how we live now, right?

Let’s take a look back

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I read this obituary with pleasure:

 

From my Twitter feed:

 

 

Try to have a great weekend, Dear Ones. I’ll try to get photos of Car Cat (that’s the name she’s going by for now) up by Wednesday. I might not have wanted a kitten in my life, but that little face brightens my day.

And, oh yeah.

Fuck Trump.

 

 

 

 

 

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This was on my Twitter feed this morning:

I can relate.

I thought about putting out a Black Lives Matter yard sign, but I was sure it would be yanked out during the night. Although my county of Nassau of the Isle of Long is fairly evenly split Democrat/Republican, there are some rednecks living in the streets that fan out to the east of our enclave.

To be fair, I don’t know that they are rednecks for sure, I’m just going by the number of junk cars that they keep in their driveways.

Any way, I decided against putting out a lawn sign. Instead, I bought a big Black Lives Matter flag and I hung it out on the front of my house. This is the part of the house that is barricaded by a 4-foot tall fieldstone wall so I’m pretty sure my flag is safe from the neighbors.

For years, the redneck who lives two streets away from me has hoisted a Don’t Tread on Me flag in his front yard. That’s the famous Gadsden flag adopted by Tea Party and Second Amendment gun-rightists as an emblem of their anti-government hysteria.

Last week Top Cat was strolling past the house and he sent me this photo:

Yeah. Not the brightest people.

This week, Trump has given  billion dollars to Kodak, a failed film maker, to “work on coronavirus”. He tweeted support for a doctor who endorsed his fake Hydroxychloroquine “cure” for COVID while also preaching that witchcraft causes illness and alien DNA is the result of demon sperm. He announced that he was throwing out the first pitch at a New York Yankees baseball game, much to the surprise to the New York Yankees who had not invited him to do so — Trump was in a snit because Dr. Fauci, the head of the Center for Disease Control had thrown the first pitch at a Washington Nationals game. And the Republicans think that minimum-wage workers are being lazy so they want to stop giving out-of-work Americans any more money during **checks notes** a deadly pandemic and the worst economic downturn in a century.

So, just another week in the shit storm:

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

;

 

And, oh yeah, before I forget:

Fuck Trump.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

See you all back here on Friday!

 

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