Tag Archives: writing

And So It Goes

Today is Saturday, May 24, 2025. Much of the Dump news I missed during the two weeks I was away in Europe was summarized in an opinion piece by Dana Milbank in Democracy Dies in Darkness in which the title of his column says it all: “This is just embarrassing: Everywhere I looked this week, I cringed for my country.”

Milbank begins his lacerating piece on Dump’s bumbling foray into unreality by focusing on the Teflon Don’s sit-down with another foreign leader, this time South African President Cyril Ramaphosa, that ended in total disaster. At this sit-down, the ignorant president narrated a video that showed white crosses lining a roadside, which Chump portrayed as a mass grave for white South African farmers, murdered in what Dump has errantly described as a “genocide.” This is blatantly not true! Confronted with this delusion, Ramaphosa looked baffled. He said, “I’d like to know where that is because this I’ve never seen.”

It was explained that the video was not of graves at all, but of a symbolic protest five years ago. Where do you think this garbage was promoted? On Muskrat’s media platform X not surprisingly. Here Dump seemed genuinely to believe that the phony graves were evidence of an actual atrocity – in much the same way he presented as genuine an obviously Photoshopped image purporting to show the characters “MS-13” tattooed on the knuckles of the wrongly deported Kilmar Abrego Garcia, whom you don’t hear of anymore.

Thus this is but one cringeworthy incident involving the clueless president. Another one involved Dump’s receipt of a donated 747 from Qatar royals that would cost millions of dollars to be retrofitted as a new Air Force One. If this isn’t a blatant example of a violation of the emoluments clause of the Constitution, then nothing is! It just shows that Dump doesn’t even care anymore about bad optics here since he knows there will be no backlash from his pusillanimous repugnicans over this embarrassing announcement. Just think if former president Joe Biden accepted a jet from Saudi Arabia: there would be a frenzy of repugnicans shouting foul here, but when their own Supreme Leader does it, you can hear a pin drop in the room.

And there was that horrible gaffe from Dump on hearing about Joe Biden’s cancer diagnosis last week, where Dump twice remarked that the cancer must have been growing a long time “to get to Stage 9.” Duh! There is – and never has been – a Stage 9, Mr. Orange Cheeto. Then the psychopath directed the conversation back to himself when he announced he aced a complete physical, including a cognitive test. Who asked the dumb cluck about it anyway?

Another way that Dump showed his “brilliance” was when he offered his thoughts on the first American pope in which Chump turned the discussion back to himself, as usual, by saying that the pope’s brother “is a major MAGA fan.” He then incoherently said, “He’s got MAGA and he’s got Trump, and I look forward to getting him to the White House.”

Not only the president is immune from stupidity, as ignorant Secretary of Homeland Security Kristi “Dog Killer” Noem, showed her dumb chops when she was quizzed by Senator Maggie Hassan (D-NH) who asked her what habeas corpus is. This is exactly how this ignoramus answered: “Well, habeas corpus is a constitutional right that the president has to be able to remove people from this country.” No, Ms. Noem, that is not what the term means! Then Senator Andy Kim (D-NJ) continued quizzing the ignorant government official, asking her if she knew which article of the Constitution mentioned habeas corpus. Of course, Noem had no clue! She answered embarrassingly, “No, I do not, sir.” The answer is Article I, Section 9, Clause 2, which mentions the term.

Milbank says the most embarrassing moment of this horrible administration came Thursday with the passage of Dump’s “big, beautiful bill” by the House that is full of tax breaks for the fucking rich and cuts in help for the poor – those in Dump’s base of gullible voters. This came during an all-night session on the House floor, following an all-night session the night before in the House Rules Committee.

As constituted, the bill would strongly increase the federal debt (somewhere around $4 trillion), cut health insurance for 10 to 15 million people, and cut food assistance for close to 10 million people. I’m sure those who voted for Dump expected these cuts to go through during his second term. Not!

To further delude the public about how “good” the bill is, the Dump administration disseminated lie after lie about it. Here Chump promised that working-class people “won’t lose health insurance” when, in fact, they will. Dump’s bimbo press secretary Karoline Leavitt laughingly said the bill “does not add to the deficit,” when in fact it does. To add insult to injury, Dump himself said the bill, which cuts some $300 billion from food stamps, “is going to give everybody much more food.” What alternate reality is he subscribing to here?

But the markets weren’t fooled by this tomfoolery from the administration. Moody’s Ratings downgraded U.S. debt, specifically warning about high deficits “from current fiscal proposals under consideration.” Bond yields spiked on Wednesday, while stocks and the dollar fell. Lawmakers didn’t care about the consequences, as they passed the bill in the wee hours anyway.

More embarrassing actions announced by this lawless administration involve the vengeance tour of the president in which the Boss himself, Bruce Springsteen, has been threatened with legal action because of his scathing comments about Dump mentioned on tour in England. Other political foes perceived by this president include former New York governor Andrew Cuomo, New York Attorney General Letitia James, and former FBI director James Comey. All have been threatened with retaliation by the occupant in the White House.

Another idiot within the administration is Dump’s own son, Don, Jr. who thought that Biden’s wife who is a doctor of education mistakenly thought she was a medical doctor and accused her of missing her husband’s “stage 5” cancer diagnosis. At least, Jr. didn’t say “Stage 9” as his father did in his comments about the ailing former president.

So, this was some of the “wonderful” news I missed on our cruise and sojourns to England and Wales. I’m certainly happy that I did. But now back to sad reality!

And so it went!

Here is a dancer striking a pose before the show of Moulin Rouge.

Here is the windmill from Moulin Rouge.

A blue elephant from the one show we saw in London.

These are some pics from our canal ride in Ghent. This is one of them.

Another lovely site in Ghent.

This is a castle in Ghent.

More from our canal boat.

Doesn’t the yellow building look like it’s leaning over?

That first building on the left certainly has some strange shape, doesn’t it?

Another striking building in Ghent snapped off the boat.

Now we’re on the Celebrity Apex again and here is the sculpture outside Oceanview Cafe, 14, Deck 14. A waterfall can be seen toward the left.

Here is Captain Nikolaus and activity director Corinne on stage before one of the shows, Rockumentary, is shown. You also see someone’s head in the way. LOL

And So It Goes

Today is Sunday, May 4, 2025. Today Elliot and I stayed close to home because of the inclement weather and because we were both exhausted from yesterday’s commute to Princeton, New Jersey, to attend my closest friend’s granddaughter’s two-year birthday party. The party was called for 2 and my friend “Harold” met us at the Princeton Junction station to drive to his son and daughter-in-law’s house. I believe we were one of the first guests, along with Harold and his wife, “Rachel.” As we entered the threshold, the party girl, “Nina” ushered us in; she was so cute in her pretty reddish outfit. Mother was in the kitchen working feverishly on the food being served at the party. Her daddy was adhering to orders given by his wife.

Food was very plentiful at the party: hot dogs, various hero sandwiches, popcorn, candies, potato chips, and cupcakes for the kiddies. Very soon, guests arrived with their children. I didn’t count how many children were at the party, but there were a sizable number. Elliot and I were clearly the oldest guests at the party and we couldn’t recall the last time we were at a children’s party; it must have been at least 35 years or more for me and later for Elliot. Anyway, it was very nice that we came in support of Nina’s parents.

We left the party after 5 to get the 5:32 train out of Princeton Junction. Harold drove us back to the station which was around ten minutes away, while Rachel drove herself back to her house in Cherry Hill.

As I mentioned yesterday, I did not share information about my second leg of my trip out West. Here I took a flight out of LAX to get to Phoenix, Arizona, on Monday. I was picked up by “Joan” and Elliot and was driven promptly to a friend’s house in Willow where we chowed down on spare ribs that she prepared herself. Her friend “James” joined us for dinner also.

One of the major highlights experienced during my stay with our cousin was going to a petting zoo located in Marana, Arizona, called Ghost Ranch Exotics and Funny Foot Farm, where we took a guided tour of the exotic animals there with the manager or owner of the zoo and where we saw such rare animals as capybaras, porcupines, emus, warthogs, Patagonia maras, and desert tortoises. For this unusual experience, Joan booked us for a 10 a.m. tour, so we got up early that morning to drive close to two hours to the destination. I will show you some pictures of the animals that we fed and petted. I had no qualms petting these strange-looking creatures. As long as there were no snakes in the mix.

The second day we drove to a used bookstore called Changing Hands on Camelback Road where we had a great lunch consisting of hale and hearty cuisine. Then we spent some quality time in the bookstore where I resisted the temptation to buy another book that I wouldn’t read.

The third day we had plans to go to the Heard Museum in Phoenix in which exhibits primarily showcase Native American paraphernalia, including a large collection of Southwestern art, but Elliot nixed the idea because of the exorbitant price of admission, which was $18. (I wasn’t even sure if this were a senior rate.) Thus we stayed indoors and watched an Amazon Prime series that was recommended by Joan. The series had only six episodes comprising one season, and each episode was only about 30 minutes. The series was called The Sticky and it starred that character actress who’s in everything these days, Margo Martindale, and even sported a cameo by Jamie Lee Curtis who was given producer credit on the show. I must say the show was quite good, as it depicted the events leading up to the heist of Canadian maple syrup from a plant orchestrated by Martindale who plays a syrup farmer thrust on hard times, owing to her husband being in a coma and the bureaucracy that is threatening to take her farm away because she’s unregistered. Soon she teams up with a French-Canadian security guard and a Bostonian mobster to carry out a heist of Quebec’s maple syrup surplus. We finished the series in just two days.

The last day, Thursday, was spent shopping in a Costco and going out with Joan and her friends from Monday, “Emily” and her gentleman friend, “James.” We went out to a steak restaurant called Steak 44 in Phoenix and it was a lovely way to end our stay in hot and sultry Arizona, where the temperature was in the 80s every day of my four-day stay, as opposed to the cool 60-degree weather experienced in Los Angeles. Here I wore shorts almost every day, except when we went out to dinner on Thursday.

Well, that’s it in a nutshell. We enjoyed Joan’s company, along with her ailing Labrador Retriever, Raya. She is now 13 years old and has trouble with her legs. She is showing her age like all of us, regretfully.

It’s another week.

And so it went!

Here’s a sitting emu at that Ghost Ranch.

I believe this is called a red-rumped agouti native to the rainforest. They are known for their ability to break open Brazil nuts, and we saw this when we saw this reddish-furred critter breaking open these kinds of nuts in his enclosure.

Here is a porcupine gnashing on his steel gate. I was able to touch this extraordinary creature without being pricked.

Here is a capybara looking up at me. They belong to the rodent family and they are very gentle. I was able to pet this creature without any repercussions. They usually subsist on a diet of grasses and our tour guide gave us lettuce to feed them. Adults can weigh up to 143 pounds.

This is another capybara and I believe it’s a male because of the hard ridge on its snout.

Here a capybara is taking a dip in his pool to escape the Arizona heat.

And So It Goes

Today is Wednesday, April 9, 2025. It’s pretty late here owing to us being out with our adopted “niece” “Esther,” so I won’t belabor you with any more venom directed toward our moronic president who just announced a 90-day pause on his disastrous trade war which clearly demonstrates he doesn’t know what the fuck he’s doing with these tariffs. This patently demonstrates that he’s the most economically illiterate president in U.S. history. But enough of him!

Before meeting Esther at a local Chinese restaurant, Spicy C, on Austin Street, I drove to my usual comic book store by the name of Royal Collectibles close to 11. The extent of the traffic snags encountered on just this 15-minute drive could cause anyone to suffer agita. Not only did I encounter the usual number of double-parked cars in every major road, which is so exasperating, there was also a clogged line of traffic on 71st Avenue and Continental Avenue that forced me to go another way to Metropolitan Avenue. I had to wait several minutes longer for the directional light to flicker allowing me to turn left onto Continental Avenue which I avoided this time. So my complaint is with rude drivers who fail to show any common courtesy to other drivers by parking willy- nilly in narrow roads, thus blocking cars from getting around them. Before I got to that turn on Continental Avenue, I was driving in back of a Rogue driver who positioned her car in back of a car pulling out of a spot. She positioned her damn car in such a way that I couldn’t get around her, so I honked her right away which caused her to abandon the spot. This is the kind of discourtesy that I’m referring to here. It’s infectious just like the Dump virus these days.

We met Esther around 7:30 and had a wonderful dinner with her, as we ordered scallion pancakes, steamed pork dumplings, won ton soup, hot and sour soup, and chicken rice noodles. Esther ordered mapo tofu. The only one to take food home was Esther who retained a lot of her tofu dish as a take-home supper for another time. After dinner, we walked down to Martha’s Country Bakery where we sat down for dessert: Elliot and Esther had some gelato (Elliot enjoyed chocolate gelato, while Esther asked for mango gelato) and tea, while I ordered a piece of strawberry banana cake and coffee.

We got home close to 10. We asked Esther to text us when she got home and she did.

And so it went!

And So It Goes

Today is Friday, April 4, 2025. I know, I said I might not be here, but here I am. I did not stay in Manhattan as I said I probably would because I was standing on my feet for over two damn hours at a DMV office on West 31st Street waiting to hand in my application for a Real ID. And here I supposedly had a definite appointment at 1:15, but that was all bullshit, as I certainly passed that appointed time within a half hour or so. I was allowed to come up to the office even though I was about 40 minutes early. I had to first fill out an application which I handed in and was given a ticket with a number on it: LU220 (I had this number for so long that I remembered it without any difficulty). I was quite shocked when my number was called within minutes; how did I know that this was only the first procedure of a two-hour-and-fifteen-minute ordeal where I stood on my poor feet for that long a time. I went to Counter 24 after eating on line for about 15 minutes; this was only the picture-taking line, not my actual appointment with a DMV clerk. I had to get off the line and wait until LU220 was called again. Luckily, I met a fellow traveler standing on her feet like I and we commiserated together for those two hours. Instead of having LU as her first two letters, she had LN. I believe her number was LN085. We were taking gentleman’s bets as to which number was going to be called first: hers or mine.

When my number was finally called, I hastened to Counter 16 and took my Strand bag and my folder containing all of my documents that I expected to hand in to the clerk reviewing my application. In it, I had my birth certificate, my moldering Social Security card, my passport, and two recent bills with my address on it. I still had some anxiety that these documents were not enough in order to get my Real ID approved, so I could get it before the May 7 deadline. I thought this because the woman who I was talking to in the office had more than five forms of identification – with tax documents with her as well.

However, when I saw the staff member assigned to my case, I could see that she was not one to be feared. I handed her my application, and she asked for the proofs of identification that I had with me, and she basically approved every one. She looked at my driver’s license and mentioned that it was expiring on my birthday this year. Oops, I didn’t notice that! I thought it was good for a few more years; I was wrong. I didn’t have to sweat over being denied this new form of domestic travel identification since she said everything was copacetic. I just had to pay for the darn thing, which turned out to be about $80. I thought it was less, but who am I to know these things. I mentioned to the clerk that my husband had no intention of even applying for a Real ID since he was comfortable carrying his passport around all the time. This is when I told her that is was usually I who was responsible for carrying these documents for the both of us and that I didn’t want to do this without this new form of identification because it’s just another opportunity to lose your passport. She laughed when I said this. Then I asked her how long will I have to wait for my new ID; she answered, “two weeks.”

When I got to the counter, I looked to my right and the woman whom I was talking to was at Counter 17. So she was called, surprisingly, at around the same time as I.

I think I left the office around 3:15; I felt I needed to have a bite to eat. So I ambled up 8th Avenue looking for a place to have lunch. I almost walked into the Tick Tock Diner, but their prices scared me away. So I selected a bagel joint instead, where I just had a sesame bagel with strawberry cream cheese and a coffee; that cost over $9, which wasn’t cheap either. I certainly didn’t need the strawberry cream cheese, that’s for sure.

After my little repast, I decided to walk to Midtown Comics, on West 40th Street. I walked up the stairs to the store’s second floor and browsed the establishment for something to purchase. I couldn’t find anything, so I exited the store and called Elliot to say I wanted to come home instead of going to see a play. He welcomed my decision to return home rather than wait on line at the TKTS booth to find a play to see. I decided against staying out because of all the documents that I had in my bag that I worried about losing if I had stayed out until 10 or 11.

When I got home, we left around 5:30 to take the subway to Elmhurst where we walked to the Cheesecake Factory for dinner. We decided against driving since there were no parking spots by the restaurant. This was only a few stops on the Queens local.

After dinner, we lounged around a little in the Queens Mall and walked through Macy’s. When we got tired, we exited the mall and took the subway home.

Instead of writing this blog, we decided to watch The Man Who Would Be King, based on the Rudyard Kipling novella from 1888. This adventure film starred Sean Connery and Michael Caine as two rogue ex-soldiers, former noncommissioned officers in the British Army, who set off from late 19-century British India in search of adventure and end up in faraway Kafiristan, where one is taken for a god and made their king. The film was directed by John Huston. We watched about an hour of the film before Elliot got up to say he was leaving for the bedroom.

That’s when I chose to write my blog. I wanted to provide my DMV story for your edification.

Tomorrow then marks a day of protest! I do hope to make it, as two of my group members stated they hope to participate. Now Elliot has indicated he might join me after the demonstration, so it’s tomorrow I might not post my blog, if we go to TKTS to see a play.

So have a good Saturday.

And so it went!

And So It Goes

Today is Sunday, March 30, 2025. I failed to post a blog yesterday because I did see a Broadway play, or more aptly, an Off-Broadway play since the playhouse was on West 42nd Street, close to 11th Avenue, and the theater was called Theater 555. The name of the play was Conversations with Mother and it was a two-character play, set over five decades. More of the play later.

Another reason why I didn’t write my blog is the outcome of my resistance group which was supposed to have met at 3 yesterday afternoon. At the time I left for the alleged meeting, I had two members attending, one less than the last one which attracted only two persons into the city. The site was the same place where I had our last “meeting,” which was Albert’s Bar, located on 41st Street. This time I arrived pretty punctually – sometime before 2:45. I asked for a table and was ushered to a table near the wall. I put on my trusty name tag and waited. And waited! I asked for a cup of coffee while waiting and when it was past 3, I texted a friend who called me, whereupon I mentioned how no one was coming. He provided reasons for why no one was coming and one of the reasons had to do with the unseasonably warm weather outside. I believe the temperatures were in the high 70s or even the low 80s at some point. I waited until 4:15 and then made my hasty retreat. I did go up to the front of the bar to wait for people, but alas, I didn’t see any of those who said they were attending. I was just very disappointed and disillusioned after this setback and just walked to Times Square to get Broadway tickets at TKTS.

In just two days, a crucial race is going to be determined and the outcome of that race can very well be viewed more as a referendum on the bastard in charge of DOGE, Elon Muskrat and his democracy-crushing intervention into political races, as he’s poured millions into defeating the liberal candidate for Supreme Court Justice, Susan Crawford, than on anything else. Today an online article for The Hill covers this consequential race in a piece by Sarah Fortinsky entitled “Musk: Wisconsin Supreme Court race ‘might decide the future of America and Western Civilization.'”

It was this odious, far-right tech billionaire who made such a hyperbolic statement about the Wisconsin Supreme Court race, and let’s pray that Wisconsinites are not fooled by this gaslighting asshole.

This unelected government official suggested that if Democrats win this hotly contested race, they would “redraw up districts and add seats for Democrats.” That’s the idea, fucker! He posted to his platform that “What’s at issue here is control of the US House of Representatives.”

These comments made by a Nazi-loving billionaire come just before he’s expected to speak at a town hall in Wisconsin, where, I hope, he’s soundly booed by those who attend. I haven’t heard what’s happened yet since I don’t have the news on.

Muskrat”s political and financial influence will be put to the test this week. He spent $12 million through his America PAC to support the far-right candidate, Brad Schimel, whom I call “Schlimazel” instead. Building America’s Future, a group that has previously received funding from Muskrat, added $4.7 million to the race.

The election has been viewed as the first critical bellwether of Dump’s second term, as Democratic energy appears to be growing on the grassroots level. Democratic donors have also opened their pocketbooks in the race, including most notably George Soros and Illinois Governor JB Pritzker, underscoring the degree to which both sides see the election as crucial.

Let’s pray that the first good piece of news out of this disastrous second term is delivered this Tuesday. May the only best candidate win!

Now to the play: Conversations with Mother. As I wrote above, it’s a two-hander character story of the 50-year relationship between a strong-willed Italian mother, Maria Collavechio, played by Caroline Aaron, and her gay, playwright-aspirational son, Bobby. From childhood to adulthood, Bobby, here played by Matt Doyle, tries to stash away his mischief and secrets while fielding his mother’s tough love that weeds out his confessions.

It’s great fun following the pair throughout the decades as they rotate around bereavement and rocky relationships and life’s downfalls. This is a relationship that is fraught with disappointments and early death, as in the death of Bobby’s father at a very young age. There is a very touching monologue that is delivered by Aaron as she recalls her late husband’s snoring. And now she doesn’t even have evidence of that anymore, which is quite poignant.

What distinguishes this 85-minute one act play about a son and mother is the mother’s total acceptance of her son’s gay identity all throughout his life, which is quite remarkable, given that Maria is a pious Italian Christian. There is an early scene where the pair thrash it out over the son’s supposed attendance at church in which he passes it over to play hooky with a close friend. But Mother has a way of coaxing the truth out of her lying son and she does – very beautifully.

Most of the interactions between mother and son occur on the telephone, often existing in their own spaces but inching physically closer as the play proceeds. Wilson Chin’s scenic design suggests a drawing room, backdropped with Caite Henver’s projections to signify location and time period.

The semiautobiographical play is the brainchild of Matthew Lombardo and the direction is provided by Noah Himmelstein. A nice paean to motherhood in the theater lobby are the portraits of all of the principals in the play, from Matt Doyle to Noah Himmelstein, hanging on hallway walls as you walk toward the theater entrance. It gives the play a very poignant touch.

I believe the play is ending May 11, so if you want to be touched by this endearing chronicle of a son and his mother over five decades, go see it – maybe with your mother if she’s still around!

And so it went!

And So It Goes

Today is Monday, March 24, 2025. The latest outrage from this lawless, authoritarian regime is the accidental dissemination of classified information over a public group thread in which information about highly classified information about U.S. military strikes on Yemen was sent to a reporter for The Atlantic. And we thought Hillary Clinton was bad with her unsecured emails. That’s what the disgusting repugnicans would have you think way back in 2016, but this demands an immediate inquiry into the incompetence of this clownish administration. I’m praying that Democrats finally take an active stand here and seek answers to this glaring incompetence. we all know if this ever, ever happened under a Democratic administration, the other hypocritical side would be thoroughly enraged and promptly demand an investigation.

This breaking story is covered in a CNN online article by Katie Bo Lillis, Kaitlan Collins, Jeff Zeleny, Evan Perez, Oren Libermann, Jamie Gangel, Kit Maher, and Sean Lyngaas entitled “Trump’s national security adviser added a journalist to text chat on highly sensitive Yemen strike plans.” But with this involving the dolt in the White House, it’s not even shocking anymore.

Thus top members of the Dump administration sent detailed operational plans and other highly sensitive information about the Yemen strikes to a group thread on a messaging app to which a reporter had been accidentally added. The person at the center of this scandalous incident is The Atlantic editor in chief Jeffrey Goldberg.

The least that the “gang that couldn’t shoot straight” administration could do was acknowledge the messages, sent over the nongovernment-encrypted chat app Signal, seem to be authentic without offering any explanation for why senior officials were discussing national defense information outside of approved classified government channels.

Because of this horrible lapse in common sense, multiple administration officials told CNN they were shocked, with at least two speculating that this could result in the dismissal of one of their colleagues.

It goes without saying, the use of this app, Signal, to discuss planning for military operations is a shocking risk to national security. Multiple officials said they could not recall any instance in which Signal was used to communicate classified information or discuss military operations.

One former senior intelligence official said, “They broke every procedure known to man about protecting operational material before a military strike.” He added, “You have a total breakdown in security about a military operation.”

The shit bag who is president right now talked as if he were in an Alzheimer’s daze when he was confronted with this possible breach in national security, actually fucking denying he knew anything about it [this is his fucking modus operandi for 78 years!]. He said, “I don’t know anything about it. I’m not a big fan of The Atlantic [because it has been overwhelmingly critical of him in article after article]. It’s, to me, it’s a magazine that’s going out of business [here he is denying, deflecting, and talking trash about a news magazine]. I think it’s not much of a magazine [even though it’s been in business since the early 1800s – what a fucking shit! Excuse my French here] But I know nothing about it [what the fuck does he know anything about?].

I truly hope this new outrage will rally Democrats to demand these compromising actions to stop immediately and hold hearings on the subject and to inform the American people how careless the current administration is with regard to these security concerns. They should tell Americans in no uncertain terms that America is far unsafe under this current incompetent administration.

Oh, and the person who was mercilessly attacked for her supposedly insecure emails, former Secretary of State Hillary Clinton, had this to say over this stunning bombshell. Taking to X today, Clinton posted, “You have got to be kidding me.”

As recently as 2023, the shit stain known as Dump attacked Clinton still, saying, “Hillary Clinton broke the law, and she didn’t get indicted” because “the FBI and Justice Department protected her.” Even former Transportation Secretary Pete Buttigieg similarly posted, “From an operational security perspective, this is the highest level of fuckup imaginable. These people cannot keep America safe.”

The Democrats should insist that the new totally unqualified Secretary of Defense, drunkard Pete Hegseth, be terminated immediately.

Yesterday, I wrote that Elliot and I began watching Netflix’s new series Adolescence. Today we watched episode 2 and it didn’t disappoint. In this episode, the two detectives, DI Luke Bascombe, and his female counterpart, DS Misha Frank, go into the school where the suspected murderer of a female classmate was a student, seeking answers as to his motive for killing the young woman. There they meet surly middle schoolers cursing and just acting sassy and crazy. Finally, Bascombe has to hear what really motivated young Jamie Miller from his own son who is a student there. The detective and his partner had it all wrong about Jamie and the female student, Katie Leonard. They assumed she liked him, but Bascombe’s son, Adam, steers him to the uncomfortable truth of what really happened: it appears that Leonard was calling Jamie an “incel” and was bullying him online. I mentioned this in yesterday’s blog. To me, it’s shocking, even, to suggest that 13-year-olds are having sex at this age, but today, girls and boys shockingly mature at much younger ages. I thoroughly enjoyed the use of one-shot filming in both episodes; the episodes are filmed in one tracking shot. There is no editing or any editing that I can see.

In this episode, you get to hear a little more about Bascombe’s past and his reluctance to being a father. His partner, Misha, also reveals her desire not to bear children. Hell, after seeing how these adolescents behave in a secondary school, it’s no wonder that Frank would not want children. The ending of this episode was quite touching: Bascombe picks up his son Adam after school and suggests they have lunch together. Adam gets into his dad’s car and they drive off.

The father of young Jamie, Stephen Graham, is the cocreator of the series, along with Jack Thorne. Without question, I strongly recommend everyone watch this series, especially those with school-age children or, even, grandchildren. As parents, it becomes increasingly difficult to know what your child is doing behind closed doors in the dark. This cautionary series attempts to fill you in on what is actually going down in that setting. The series has only four episodes, about an hour long. It’s a totally gripping, unsettling story of how our children can be so easily radicalized on the internet by misanthropic and misogynistic influencers. In this episode, the principal of the school, I believe, even mentions Andrew Tate’s name – the influencer I mentioned in yesterday’s blog.

And so it went!

And So It Goes

Today is Thursday, March 13, 2025. It’s late here, owing to Elliot and me seeing our two adopted “nieces” at a lovely – but noisy – restaurant in Sunnyside, Queens. The name of the restaurant is SoleLuna and is located at 40-01 Queens Boulevard, right under the El. We intended to take the subway to the locale where we expected to have no trouble taking the E or F to Roosevelt Avenue and then changing to the 7.

However, when we got to the station, we saw people walking out of there and informing us that service was terminated because someone was struck by a train. Huh! We didn’t enter the station and started for the Q60 bus across the street when a commuter told me that we could take that bus to Queens Boulevard and 40th Street. When we got to the bus stop, there was a swarm of people left stranded by no subway service and I decided to call one of my nieces, “Elizabeth.” I explained the situation to her and she informed me that this incident didn’t just happen. It might have occurred as early as 3 and she opined that the passenger who was struck by a hurtling train was in fact “surfing” the train he was in and probably fell off. However, this has not been verified; I’m just reporting it here from what she supposedly learned. That’s when Elliot and I grudgingly decided to now drive to the restaurant. The car was parked right in front of the building; I just had to dart upstairs to get the car keys.

So now I had to drive our new car at night. Even though it wasn’t totally dark when we started out for Sunnyside. I turned on GPS from the car and drove exactly where the GPS voice told me where to go. What was totally bonkers was that we got to the restaurant within 15 minutes or so and we got to the area before our two nieces got there, Elizabeth and “Rae.” We did find parking close to the eatery – on the island right by the El. I’m elated that I looked at the signs indicating that the meters were still in effect until 10 p.m. These meters did not go off at 7, which is what I thought. If we walked away from the car without feeding the meter, we would have definitely have gotten our first ticket on this car. But we avoided that!

We got to SDoleLuna around 7:20 or so and mentioned our niece’s name in which the reservation was made under. We thought we were going to have five people, but the host said that four persons were actually coming. We didn’t know that. We were ushered to a rear table that sat four people. The host said if there were another person in the group, we would have been moved to another table.

When our “nieces” did arrive, a little after 7:30, we did in fact see only two other individuals: Elizabeth and Rae and not Rae’s fiancé, “Taylor.” We hugged and kissed them when they got to the table. Rae did say that Taylor was unable to attend this gathering since he was working late. We said that was too bad. I had actually brought two issues of Fantastic Four for him to peruse at the table, but I said to Rae that I would give them to her at the end of the evening. I made it clear that they were not a gift; they were being loaned to Taylor for the time being.

The big news of the night was our nieces’ announcement that their father, a polymath by the name of “Ralph” was mulling a run for Congress from the state of Pennsylvania. We scratched our heads when we heard this stunning news. But it makes sense! Ralph as been devastated – like millions of others – by the direction this country has taken within the last two months with the election of an idiotic despot, so we said, “Why not?” Ralph has more or as many qualifications for seeking political office than the ninety-nine percent of cretins already in Congress – cretins like Marjorie Taylor Greene, Lauren Boebert, et al. He has a degree from Princeton University, is a licensed engineer, has written several books, has played in a rock band many years ago, writes for my political journal, The Banter, and is as left-leaning as they come. Of course, detractors will label him as “elitist,” but he will never give up his principles like so many ugly repugnicans with the same sort of ivy-league education that they turned their cowardly backs on in deference to the mighty appeals of political power. People like Josh Hawley, Ted “Ooze,” JD Vance, and a numbing number of other repugnicans who have held on to power in the age of Dump.

After the shock of Ralph running for Congress wore off, we finally perused our menu and ordered dinner. For starters, we ordered burrata and polpette for our appetizers, which were very tasty. My entree consisted of pesto pappardelle and Elliot ordered the same dish. The girls ordered something different which they devoured pretty nicely. No one asked for doggie bags at this meal.

For dessert, we ordered the chocolate mousse which looked like a ball of chocolate. It was more a creamy pudding than anything else. It too was very good.

My main criticism of SoleLuna was the acoustics which made it difficult to hear our nieces throughout the conversation. I had to ask Rae and Elizabeth to repeat what they said several times during our time in the restaurant. I would gladly overlook this defect because of the quality of their cuisine.

After we paid the check, we walked outside to the car since the girls hadn’t seen the new Subaru until now. I made the comment that since driving it, I can’t distinguish it from other similar models on the road. At least our old Nissan Altima was a distinctive color – light blue – and there weren’t as many out there as this Forrester.

We volunteered to take Rae back to Taylor’s apartment in Astoria. She put on GPS and I obeyed the commands to the letter getting Rae safely to her destination. We said good night when I got her there.

It was not difficult getting home since Elliot knew the way. We got home safely and we parked the car in the garage.

It was a very pleasant evening. Sorry to hear about the subway incident. I’m sure I will hear the details about this subway incident tomorrow, but as of now, I’ll just say “and so it went!”

And So It Goes

Today is Saturday, March 8, 2025. Well, I did have my group meeting today and there was no need to be nervous since only two people attended. Originally, I was expecting four, so two dropped out for whatever reason. Unfortunately, I had no one’s cell phone number in order to contact them if such an exigency developed. Thus I was on my own at Albert’s Bar on 41st Street.

To get to the designated rendezvous, I left the borough pretty early: around 1:15 or so. I took the E train to 53rd Street and Lexington Avenue and switched to the 6 local downtown train and got off at 42nd Street. I then walked down to 41st, but it was only a little past 1:30, so I ducked into a Le Pain Quotidien for coffee and a croissant. Even downing this repast, I was still early, so I began my search for the bar and found it very easily. It was right off Lexington Avenue. This time I walked to 3rd Avenue and slipped into a CVS where I picked up a bottle of water. I thought I packed everything that I needed for the meeting: notebooks, pens, markers, articles, name tags, etc., but I left bottled water at home.

Soon it was a quarter to 3; I determined it was time to walk to the site and enter and talk to someone about getting a quiet table or room. At that time, I had no idea how many members were really coming. I talked to a bearded chap who informed me that their separate room was already booked. So I just sat down at the circular bar and waited. I think that by 3, I recognized one attendee by his picture on the website. I was correct in assuming he was a member. Here “Stanley” walked through the revolving door and met me by the bar. I shook his hand and introduced myself. I actually put on a name tag before the appointed hour. I was still expecting three more people by then.

Stanley took a seat at the bar and we immediately conversed about the group. Within a half hour or so, we decided to take a booth since no one came through the door to attend the meeting. We were then given menus by the waitress and we told her we were still waiting for others. Checking my phone rather casually, I saw a text from “Paul” who came to my February meeting in Rego Park. He asked if we were still there, and I replied we sure were. He was just a block away and texted me that he was coming. Within a few minutes, I recognized him outside the restaurant, so I walked over to him by the entrance and took him back to the booth.

Thus began this very casual, informal meeting among three individuals. I told both gentlemen that I was going to start by reading the quote from a French senator who aptly captured the zeitgeist of our Dumpian age. I handed out the notebooks that I intended to give to the other attendees. I even distributed the article that I copied yesterday, with suggestions as to how to get more involved. However, the conversation was more casual befitting the number of people attending the meeting, which was fine with me. Eventually, we all ordered something off the menu; I ordered chicken pot pie and so did Stanley. I couldn’t really tell what Paul ordered. I did order coffee – what else?

By 5:15, we exhausted the trove of subjects to be discussed like linking up with other organizations, the things the Orange Blob was doing to wreak American democracy, what we expected to get out of the group, and we even discussed seeing comedy shows. I stated this is a great time to see any comedian because of what is going on right now in this country. Stanley provided some names of YouTube channels we might be interested in.

I discussed having another meeting, but this time in two weeks, on Saturday, March 29. I also asked that they provide feedback as to where we could meet if Albert’s Bar wasn’t deemed satisfactory by them. I must say I had a little trouble hearing both Stanley and Paul because of the large table of revelers in front of us making merry. So this location was definitely not a quiet nook in the restaurant.

That’s it, folks. I wish more people had attended, but Paul commented that what I was doing was all right. He didn’t criticize anything I was doing to get people into the organization. I considered this to be somewhat of a compliment, given his long history of activism. He said that this could take a little longer to get off the ground. I’m just wondering where the other 23 people were hiding. Well, as the old saying goes, “Rome wasn’t built in a day!”

I’m dreading the beginning of DST, which is tomorrow. So don’t forget to move your cocks , er, clocks, ahead, folks.

See you tomorrow – maybe. On the first day of DST, I’m not happy that we have to set the alarm in order to see Elliot’s daughters tomorrow morning since they’re visiting their mother on the Island. Don’t get me wrong, I do love seeing them, but did it have to be the day we lose an hour of sleep and have to get into a car so early? We’re supposed to meet them at 11. Because of that commitment, I will try to get to sleep a little earlier tonight. No more hitting the hay at 2:30 or later. At least not when we move the clocks.

And so it went!

And So It Goes

Today is Tuesday, March 4, 2025. Tonight the liar in chief is delivering his address to a joint session of Congress, of which I have deliberately tuned out, as I had mentioned yesterday. Instead, Elliot and I watched a silly comedy from 2022 on Netflix called The Estate starring Toni Collette, David Duchovny, Ana Farris, and Kathleen Turner as a wealthy dying aunt. The movie devolves into a mad dash to inherit old Hilda’s estate, as a bevy of cousins descend on her and her mansion in New Orleans to try to get their names on Hilda’s will before she dies. Collette and Farris play Macey and Savanna, two down-on-their-luck sisters who run a rundown cafe in town and scheme, along with their married cousins, Beatrice and James, and their single cousin Richard – or “Dick,” as he would like to be called – played by natty Duchovny, who continually hits on Collette, to become the heirs of Hilda’s substantial estate. The film lacked any nuance as cousins are pitted against each other in their desperate attempts to curry favor with the dying Hilda, played with the usual brio by Turner. The film has quite a number of jokes about flashing and other body parts. We watched this feeble comedy as a way to get our minds off the address by the liar in chief, which was still going on when the film ended before 10.

Since I won’t write about what was contained in the blowhard’s address, I think I’ll wade into city politics, in that our own mayor, Eric Adams, is facing calls to resign amid controversy over the Dump Department of Justice’s move to dismiss his federal corruption indictment. An article (I know I’ve said I don’t read papers anymore, but this time, I picked one up) in today’s Daily News covers the fallout from the move to dismiss those charges against the mayor. It’s titled “Adams doubles down vs. critics, says foes after him with ‘lynch mob mentality,'” and it’s written by Chris Sommerfeldt.

Holding a press conference at City Hall, Adams was asked by reporters why he thought it was appropriate last week to label Black politicians who have urged him to resign “Negroes” in need of saving from God. Adams replied, “well, those Negroes knew they were wrong.” Sheesh! Not only is this an offensive thing to say coming from a Black politician like Adams, it’s offensive to the concept of the Deity to being Him in connection with calls for him to resign because he’s now viewed as a very compromised candidate for reelection since he’s seen as being beholden to the liar in chief. But Adams claimed there was nothing derogatory about the remark he made at a Black History Month celebration at Gracie Mansion last Tuesday.

Conversely, Adams said the outrage should actually be about the mounting calls for him to resign or be removed from office.

Those who have called for him to step down are City Council Speaker Adrienne Adams, state Senator Majority Leader Andrea Stewart-Cousins, and other prominent Black elected officials.

Adams’ controversial comments are herewith quoted in total here when he spoke at Gracie Mansion last week and said, “When Jesus was on the cross, he said, ‘God forgive them for they know not what they do.’ All these Negroes who are asking me to step down, God forgive them.”

Black leaders, reacting to the mayor’s comments, including Harlem pastor and civil rights advocate Johnnie Green, said last week’s the mayor’s use of the racial phrase in that context was deeply insensitive.

Public Advocate Jumaane Williams, a vocal Adams critic who is Black, said his reference to a “lynch mob” was likewise offensive. I would agree with Williams’ assessment here. He remarked, “The second Black mayor in our history is actively undoing the decades of progress it took to elect even the first. It’s deeply disrespectful to both the leaders who worked to get us here and people who hope to carry us forward.”

A related story here is the announcement just made this past Saturday by former governor Andrew Cuomo that he’s now running for Eric Adams’ job. I believe that Adams is fearful of his candidacy, even though Cuomo is fraught with quite a lot of baggage himself: Cuomo was accused by 11 women of sexual harassment and he also came under fire for a policy directing nursing homes to readmit patients recovering from COVID. Cuomo eventually resigned as governor on August 24, 2021, as a result of the investigation into those charges that were substantiated by the state attorney general.

Personally, I’m not a fan of the current mayor and think anyone else would be better than him in the job. I’ve written how he betrayed municipal workers with Medicare and now he’s more of a Republican than a true Democrat in my opinion. His cozying up to Dump soils him forever in my book. I look forward to hearing the other candidates for mayor provide a case for voters to vote for them as the race heats up.

And so it went!

And So It Goes

Today is Monday, February 10, 2025. It’s late here, owing to my attending my very first meeting of my so-called group called the “anti-Trump patriots,” with the subheading “Defenders of Democracy,” held at a local restaurant in Rego Park, Diner Bar. I scheduled this meeting at the behest of a member with the name of “Paul,” who suggested I arrange meetings later in the day to meet the needs of those interested parties who work. Thus I scheduled this meeting at 7 p.m. instead of in the height of the afternoon. What excuse did I have not to have the meeting at 7? The only thing I was involved with on this cold day was driving to a new breakfast place called Florence Prime Diner with our new car, the Subaru Forrester Sport. I surely regretted my decision to drive to this new site since I had to put the GPS on in the car and when I finally got to the diner, I unfortunately discovered there were no parking spots. I should have called ahead to ask if there was a parking lot next to the diner. I didn’t.

Elliot and I separated early in the day, as he went to see a new foreign film called Rose at the Kew Gardens Cinema, while I went on a wild goose chase, as they say, for this new diner. After I passed the place in Elmhurst, I drove back to Forest Hills and stopped at a Rego Park coffee shop located in my former neighborhood. It was close to 12 when I was able to sip my first cup of coffee.

For the meeting later, I took the subway to 63rd Street in Rego Park and walked to Diner Bar. I believe I got there around 6:30, so I sat inside for close to an hour or so, before I met Paul who did text me that he was indeed coming. I was going to wait until about 8 before calling it quits. I met him around 7:40 when he texted me that he was sitting at the bar.

When I walked to the bar area, I saw a dark-complexioned, youngish man with a gray woolen hat having a drink. I extended my hand in greeting and I introduced myself as the organizer of this new group. I offered him the booth where I was sitting drinking cup after cup of coffee and partaking in onion rings as a side dish.

We immediately connected and we engaged in a lively discussion of the sorry state of affairs under the Orange Turd. One thing we both agreed on was that this sitting president truly represented an existential threat to the preservation of democracy and that ordinary Americans better get off their asses and stop scrolling on their fucking iPhones to launch the resistance against this lawless avatar of awfulness before it’s too late. Germany fell to Nazi rule in just 53 days, I’ve learned. It could happen here in even less time, given what Chump is doing right now in only three weeks. Paul impressed me with his knowledge of current affairs and his ties to many friends who expressed interest in my little group. He gave me hope that the group could finally pick up steam. Paul did suggest that I hold meetings not only during the week but on weekends, preferably on a Sunday. I did not rule that out considering I have all the time in the world. Manhattan was also suggested as the venue for the group since many of his friends hail from that borough. I didn’t rule this out either. I said I could definitely consider Manhattan as the venue to hold group meetings there. Another suggestion that Paul offered was to rename the group – he suggested something simple, not the “anti-Trump patriots” or “Defenders of Democracy,” which is what it is also called. The second name conjures up something of a far-right nature, not what it is supposed to represent, so I agreed with him.

We spoke animately until 9:15 or so, until I noted the late hour, and said it was time to call it a night. He said he lived in Harlem, which is about an hour away, and mentioned he might have to take three trains home. To me, this alone tells me he’s committed to this organization. Look how far he came to a meeting dedicated to commiserating about the results of the election. At the end of the evening, I left the restaurant with some hope that the group could take off when we come back from Argentina at the end of February. So let’s see what could be afoot in March.

And so it went!