Pompeo and Circumstance

This morning, I made my third attempt at watching the RNC proceedings. My first was a minute-long foray into Kimberly Guilfoyle’s speech, which ended when I found it impossible to listen to a speech that described Puerto Ricans as immigrants. My second was an attempt to listen to Donald Trump, Jr., aborted about 30 seconds in, after he described a bunch of hapless virus-carrying bats as members of the Chinese Communist Party. This morning, I managed to make it all the way through Mike Pompeo’s speech from Jerusalem–a bittersweet event for me, because as an “ordinary citizen,” like Mike, I too had planned to go to Jerusalem this summer, but couldn’t, when I was mysteriously “struck” by unemployment in the best economy (with the best employment rate) the world has ever seen. Continue reading

South of Heavena

I decided this morning, from the motive of civic duty, to watch a bit of the RNC from last night. I got as far as Kimberly Guilfoyle’s describing her mother as a Puerto Rican immigrant, and I’m like, “OK, that’s enough. ” I’m pretty sure that civic duties are imperfect.

“An unforeseen future nestled somewhere in time.” If only we weren’t heading into it.

Election 2020: The Choice is Clear

With Biden’s choice of Kamala Harris as running mate, the choice we face this November is now crystal clear. On the one hand, we face Trump-Pence: mass suicide. On the other, Biden-Harris: mass self-degradation. In other words, either we die or we live to take a crap on ourselves another day.

Come on America, this is not a tough choice. Biden-Harris 2020.

Some half-forgotten material to inspire you. Continue reading

No Cheers for Kamala Harris

I went to the doctor yesterday, and had a prostate exam. It’s a really uncomfortable procedure, bordering on painful. You lie there, ass to the doctor. He puts on gloves, then plunges his finger up your ass and twists and turns a bit. Finding nothing in my case, he pronounced me “good to go,” leaving me with a dull ache where, I guess, my prostate is supposed to be.

The blessing about prostate exams is that you only do them once a year, but I’m cursed with having another one scheduled very soon–November 3rd, otherwise known as Election Day. I don’t mean that I have a doctor’s appointment on Election Day. I mean that with Joseph Biden’s selection of Kamala Harris as running mate, Election Day has now become the functional equivalent of a prostate exam. Yes, I will vote for Biden-Harris. Yes, they will probably win. And once I commit this act of self-violation, I’ll be “good to go”. The problem is, I’ll be left with a dull ache where, I guess, my soul is supposed to be. Continue reading