Thank you, boosters, 1/6

This evening after dinner, I caught Tom picking roasted potatoes off the sheet pan with his fingers and shoving them in his mouth. Long story short, yesterday’s post did not describe rare occurrences.

But, you knew that! You’ve experienced it, and I can’t thank you enough for filling my inbox today with such delightful notes of laughter and total understanding. They were the best sorts of hugs and friendship.

I also want to thank scientists, science, Dr. Fauci, Pfizer, quick decisions by the FDA and CDC this week, the Biden admin for urging quick delivery, and the Silver Spring Civic Center for the glorious fact that both J and O received their boosters today. We were in and out in 20 minutes, start to finish (including the wait), and both boys feel totally fine. Hallelujah!

I will add that while in the waiting room, both Beavis and Butthead alerted me to the fact that max capacity is 69. For the love of god, y’all.

Your notes and these shots were such bright spots in an otherwise pretty heavy day. ONE year since that horrible, violent insurrection. I remember it all so clearly. We’d woken up so happy that morning, after Ossoff and Warnock won in Georgia. And mere hours later, Agent Orange called his minions and gave them their marching orders. As the day played out, I became increasingly speechless and horrified. I don’t know that I’ve ever felt like I did on that day. Watching fellow citizens do what they did.

The violence. The entitled-yet-ignorant rage. The flags and the Big Lie and thousands of little lies and the military-grade cosplay.
The screaming and destruction and feces and Confederate paraphernalia.
The gallows and the broken windows and members of Congress pulling gas masks from under their seats and their staffs turning anything into barricades.
The guns and grenades and fire extinguishers and flag poles.
The flash bangs and the havoc. The joy they were all taking in all of it. The utter insanity of being not 10 miles from all of this and yet a world away.

I have family on both sides, mine and Tom’s, who remain trumpers. To this day. Today. Who still believe in the Big Lie and pretend not to know how to pronounce Kamala’s name and who will not, under any circumstance, listen to, much less ingest, anything that does not slip neatly into the glove of trumpism they’ve fashioned and sewn to their own beings. They have and will lose family and friends over their house of cards. They do NOT care what the truth is.

And that right there is the essential kernel of why I feel truly hopeless about the survival of American democracy. I have no idea how to un-brainwash so many Americans who continue to joyfully follow a greedy, stingy, grab-em-by-the-pussy imbecile who does not care for them.

One year later and no organizers, higher-ups, instigators, law-enforcement enablers have met consequence. Yes, yes, many participants in the insurrection are in jail and such, but they are the tail of the snake, a replaceable element that serves the writhing, causal, intentional, toxic head. Am I glad they’re crying in prison? Absolutely. Rot there forever you machismo toy soldiers who peaked in high school.

But what is essential for America’s survival is real accountability and real punishment. The 1/6 Select Committee is working hard, and I am thankful. I hope Merrick Garland and DOJ are doing something, anything. Hard to tell, even after that “speech” yesterday.

Hope. A desire for something certain to happen. The human spirit is remarkable and resilient, but so many are so tired and beaten down after the past 5 years and the pandemic and so little accountability and that 99% of one whole ass American political party continues to peddle the Big Lie and that people to whom I’m related do, too.

It’s a lot, y’all.

This article is worth a read!

If you missed VP Harris’ and POTUS’ speeches today, go find and listen to them. Righteous anger is healing.

If you’d like to read the verbatim responses to 1/6 by many a Congressional Republican last January, this thread is a hell of a damning compilation.

sad but true

If you need inspiration or a lift, go listen to anything Jamie Raskin has said in the past year. He is an incredible human and a remarkable, rare politician. I am beyond blessed to be one of his constituents. He has stood up for America and our democracy with all his heart every damn day, even in the aftermath of losing his son at the end of 2020. He is the epitome of a public servant, and we should all be grateful for him. His new book is out today, by the way. Unthinkable. Read it.

Image by Leah Millis, a senior photog with Reuters.

On fumes; funny stuff to the rescue

Ok, y’all. I really need winter break to arrive. Also, some winter would be nice. I had shorts on for part of yesterday, and it was 70 degrees today. Uncool in mid-December, but since billionaires are jetting to space in penis rockets, emitting more carbon than most individuals will use/exhaust in a lifetime, I think old climate change is here to stay. Hmmph.

Oliver has one more day of school; Jack has several. No one is motivated, everyone is tired. Omicron appears to be everywhere, and I am so GD sick of Covid. At this point my attitude is, essentially, “Well, I’m probably not gonna die.”

Anyway, I have come across some real gems this week that I simply must share with y’all.

Exhibit A is this Little Golden Book-inspired delight which conjures my feelings about all members of the GOP minus, a bit, Liz Cheney. Liz is awesome on the 1/6 Commission, but she is chapping my ass left and right for refusing to vote for voting rights legislation. She is Dick’s daughter… Anyway, I don’t think she’s an asshole, so there you have it. But the rest are. Don’t even get me started about the GD Power Point used to plan the insurrection.

hahahaha

This obituary is the stuff of legends. I swear to g, y’all MUST read it. Rest in peace, Renay. You sure lived life.

Hers was a bawdy, rowdy life lived large, broke and loud. We thought Renay could not be killed. God knows, people tried. A lot. Renay has been toying with death for a decades, but always beating it and running off in her silver Chevy Nova.

Lastly, I present you with this Tweet, on its own as it’s perfect.

I mean…who designed that? who, then, brought it to “life”? What an ugly-ass ridiculous statue.

Now, if anyone ever sees this shirt for sale, please let me know. I feel I need one. Thank you.

Stories

I knew nothing about Dune and so didn’t have any expectations upon seeing Part 1 of the film several weeks back. While I dislike much about pandemic life, certain things are absolutely better now: curbside pickup, and the ability to stream movies as soon as they’re released, for example.

Anyway, Ol was with friends for the weekend, and Jack stayed here to attend some school events, so Tom and I found ourselves alone in WV and tired after a day of work. I’d had some wine and couldn’t have cared less what we watched —if I’m by myself, I never turn on the TV so am both behind and infinitely flexible— and Tom suggested Dune. Sure. We set a fire in the cast iron stove and settled in.

I love Star Wars and Harry Potter but dislike Star Trek and Lord of the Rings. Where would Dune fall on the sci fi/fantasy spectrum? Squarely on the dystopian, polyglot, strong women, naive-handsome hero side of things as it turns out so, I was hooked.

I’ve since seen it 2.5 more times, including, today, on the big screen.

Is it an epic work for the ages? Jesus, I don’t know, and I’m not sure I care. But did it speak to me? 100%. I loved the crafty, powerful shadow-walker women of the Bene Gesserit who look like pissed-off Italian widows (ps: Charlotte Rampling could pretend to be a daft penguin and I’d love her); Rebecca Ferguson’s quite fierceness and her stiff-jointed sign language; every bit of Timothée Chalamet and his interrupted adolescence (and marvelous head of hair); the endless dunes; the integrity and courage of some; and, as in Star Wars, the variety of language and the fact that most seem able to understand all.

I don’t know about y’all, but in my opinion, shit is bad in the world. Like, really bad. If you made me tell my honest opinion on staying at or below a rise of 1.5 degrees Celsius and American democracy, I’d answer that at this point, both are pipe dream relics of a bygone era. No one in power is taking climate change as seriously as Greta, Bill McKibben, Paul Nicklen, and Cristina Mittermeier are (or Al Gore and Rachel Carson were generations ago) which means all their big talk is, as Greta says, “blah, blah, blah",” and if you can’t even enforce Congressional subpoenas, keep judges from overtly preferencing murderers, convince elected politicians to protect voting rights, or keep science and fact from being optional, well, you’re in bad shape.

At this point, we don’t deserve to have much. We are an arrogant, ignorant country, and it is heartbreaking, scary, and ugly. I say that as someone has fought constantly since early 2016 but with increasingly fading hope. The fire that propelled me for so long still burns, but it is a tired flicker now, worn by injustice, Covid, and the fact that trump will probably run again in ‘24.

So, post-apocalyptic sand worlds and worms and no water in 10191? Give it to me. Lest you think this is my only escapist activity, I am also reading Endurance, the incredible yet horrifying recounting of Ernest Shackleton’s Imperial Trans-Antarctic Expedition that commenced in 1914. Hoo boy, I doubt I’d be any sort of hero in either tale, but I can definitely appreciate the stronger among us. And meanwhile, I continue to delight in the possibility of two of our goats being pregnant and in helping idealistic young people go to college. I tell you, it’s all a bit of kosher LSD.

But really, is that so wrong? Why not indulge ourselves for a few hours each day around the times we try so hard to hold everything else together? We are long into a pandemic that isn’t ending, the world is burning, white Republican lawbreakers seem impervious to consequences, there is a national mental health crisis in our young people, Facebook is Meta (eye roll that strains), and winter is coming.

Stories help us understand, process, navigate, and leave behind even momentarily the tough parts of life; the losses, disappointments, worries, unknowns, horror. Stories can help us feel less alone, give us hope, enliven our imaginations and dreams, inspire us. And so for now, I’ll take Shackleton and Paul Atreides and my goats and all who keep fighting with courage and faith. I’ll take and relish the moments of pure distraction and otherwise keeping donating and parenting and doing what I can, and I’ll start reading Dune to tide myself over to the 2023 release of Part 2.