feast

Patsara was fantastic (Jeff pronounced himself pleased and I ordered a bunch of to share appies which were, candidly, incredible) and we came back here to sing and play and talk and Jeff and I cleaned the house somewhat so yay us. Carry On Wayward Son was involved, plus the THR5A amp of posts previous. I drank two whole beers at the restaurant; feel fine. It was lovely to see Tom U., I hadn’t seen him in ages.

David Dowker’s chapbook Time-Sensitive Material (see Instagram links Here and Here) will be launched shortly. Congratulations Dave!

Alex dropped by yesterday and volunteered to be ‘left behind at grandma’s’ so his mamabear could get an alone phone call and he watched Chelyabinsk and Pompeii videos with me, plus he has this thing about the R Crumb Stoned Again animation that I don’t quite get. He’s 4.

Volcanoes! Meteors! Optical calcite crystals! Dinosaurs! Cartoons! Unboxing videos of die cast Disney merch! Throwing picks into the dulcimer holes and howling with laughter when I disapprove! Singing along to the soundtrack of the Xenon pinball! It’s all here for his enjoyment.

a feast and amusements

Dinner was set for 6:30, but our table was waiting when we got there early. “Early!” Mike said mildly, as if such things never occur on his watch. We walked through the restaurant and stepped down onto the patio, where we were transported to a world of attentive and kindly service, and got to watch a wedding out on the lawn. Some violinist, undoubtedly one who had not thought of such a living in music school, sawed away most competently on the exact traditional and classical airs which a) have no ducking copyright and b) are least likely to induce violence in the listeners/gathering. Well done, violinist.

We were bothered by no importunate birds or unpleasant insects as we chowed down on the fresh halibut and lamb tenderloin and west coast risotto (Haida Gwaii halibut, steelhead salmon, capers and lemon which was of surpassing nom, believe me). Dessert would have been folly – Mike and I rolled out of there with bug eyed slowness, such was our state of repletion. We got the charcuterie tray, too, which was so fucking good I’m having flashbacks. It’s also the exact wrong thing for me to eat with my blood pressure. I suggested it but only because I know Mike likes that kind of shit too and there’s not a damned thing wrong with his blood pressure. ( I had zero alcohol )

Mike took pics of my updo – it was held together with 20 bobby pins, 3 hair elastics and enough product to turn the prow of a ship ice-breaker capable. It also held together like grim death in the convertible (Mike’s driving the Mustang again, after many adventures in muscle strain and industrial accident getting the critter operational, all in Trent’s Man Cave, which is much like Tom’s Man Cave and other Man Caves of story and legend in that it has damned near anything you’d need to fix anything.)

Anyway, Mike was in Denver and like me he has trouble finding clothes that fit locally which is FUCKING LUDICROUS because he is an averagely proportioned man of Chinese descent WHO LIVES IN VANCOUVER but because merchandizing buyers are racist, there’s never enough size 28 anything (he’s a perfect size 28) so you can imagine how he felt when he found a designer suit in his size for 99 bucks US.

The suit is gunmetal grey and shiny; put together with a black dress shirt and Daytons elevator cowboy boots with silver chains he looked like a fucking whale at a casino. He looked so sharp I was splodey with pride.

I stepped out of the house and Mike said “You look smashing.” (I intend to share this comment with Teresa, the gal who put my hair up while we had a lovely convo.) I sure felt like it. We were also going for the monochrome look, me in solid burgundy and him in shiny dark grey. Nobody else at the restaurant dressed up. I just wish I could have gotten one of Elyse’s tiaras/necklaces as well, but Eshakti did me up fine with this outfit.

Wrong colour of course and also I got it on sale in the closeout colour. Let’s just say you won’t find an outfit that stylish, comfy and cheap at Penningtons. I’m never going to a classical fat lady store again, the chains can bite me.

So Hart House dins while dressed up for Mike’s birthday went exceedingly well. I am going to remember this meal as the height of company, location, food and basic happiness, because I don’t think I stopped smiling for the entire meal.

And in a less formal way we’ll be doing it on Saturday at the Thai restaurant in New West with the rest of Mike’s friends and Jeff and I are hosting the afterpartay. LET THE GRAND CLEANING BEGIN mebbe with the cat puke in the living room.

IT’s a beautiful, beautiful day. Cloudless and bright.

Heart back in me

My blood pressure is completely godawful. Paul’s, no surprise, is perfect. I shall get the medical help I need but I’m pouting.

Mike called; he’ll be heading back soon.

Keith and I are buying clothes for him Saturday afternoon at THE TEMPLE OF MAMMON aka Metrotown.

Wonderful wonderful phone call with Tammy this morning. She had a bit of bad news but sounded much cheered when I got off the phone, which is after all the whole point to having friends, someone to share the ups and downs with.

2100 words into a fanfic I started three days ago.

I have found a fantastic tool for the removal of facial hair.

delightful

after a somewhat jostled trip downtown (travelling during rush hour being a real commitment for me these days) I joined Tammy for a lovely meal at Homer and then a wonderful walking tour of “Forbidden Vancouver” which Tammy also underwrote. I took the stool so I could sit down whenever; Tammy used it as well.

Nothing like standing at the epicentre of a race riot to help you get a grip on things.

After we hung out and I looked at pics of her vacays to places like New Orleans at Christmas (lovely light displays at night) and Fiji – my god, the guest house was set in a spectacular garden – and Sydney.

Then I went home, took a taxi from Edmonds.

And, apart from Jeff accompanying me on food to D Roti Shak, which supplied all of our meals yesterday, and a couple of shows I SLEPT ALL DAY YESTERDAY.

Katie’s here! Brekky time

 

Later – life sucks but I have friends and furthermore leftovers

In keeping with the Victorians

…. who, for the most part, did not take photographs 18/7, I shall attempt to keep a written record of yesterday.

After a morning during which I sacrificially avoided vaping, and turned my room from a tip to a tip that’s been through a willy-willy as my brother will attest, a willy-willy that FORTUNATELY did not reach all the way downstairs to the dead bird that is quite literally stinking up the joint – I have removed dead things before but I’m already doing cat chores and I BALK I just do – I made phone calls for the unfound T4s, kicked myself for not loading up my compass card (bus pass) when I had the chance, I walked to the 123, which went by in front of my face, so I spun on my heel to the obvious bug-eyed unhappiness of the Chinese assassin lady gardening in her back yard in a mask, Jacquie Kennedy sunglasses and a hat of such dimensional strength as to encourage the pitching of a Patagonia tent upon it, and proceeded to the 112, during which walk I got to watch in all of nature’s panoply the spectacle of two crows killing a fledgling starling while it protested loudly and vigorously and to mine ear quite angrily, with its mother in full cry upon the telephone wire above, until it was no longer making any noise, although its mother continued in the screeching obsequies marking her offspring’s death, which, given my parlous mental state, I took to be a terrible, terrible daysign regarding my visit with Tammy, which I was proceeding downtown to effect.

TLDR; felt like shit, the commute downtown was a blunt punt even before I got on the fucking bus.

While on the bus I was once again entertained by the kindness of bus drivers – although the first one I ever encountered in Vancouver was a shithead, most of them I’ve encountered since have been observant, fit for their jobs, and either good humoured or so conducting themselves in the course of their employment that their mood was of no relevance to me.

I proceeded downtown without incident although I briefly had to stand on the Waterfront train, which made me tired, and then some pert little madam tried to sit down on a seat I was about to occupy. I looked at her and said, “Do you really need to sit? I would be happy to stand,” because it was the first thing out of my mouth (literally, I did not consider my words before I spoke) and I have no idea how sarcastic I sounded but her lips compressed and she assured me she was fine. Let it be noted I could be her fucking grandmother and I have long.grey.hair, and that I don’t speak Punjabi but I think both her companions briefly roasted her piglet ways immediately after this encounter, which I did my best not to overtly enjoy.

In such fashion I proceeded through all of the stations until Granville was reached. As is inevitably the case they’ve IMPROVED (seriously what the fuck, people) the Granville station so that you are now herded through a completely different pathway so I was pummelled and pitched forward by the crowd through a hallway NARROWER than the previous one…. yes, you heard me. I wasn’t even there at rush hour, but nevertheless it was completely fucked, but I did note the Timmy Ho’s for the return trip.

I waited, wandering about since I wasn’t fit to stand, while a Franco-something-or-other diasporatic Black man DRONED ON BOUT JESUS calice tabernac. I wished to silence him and instead turned my attention to how he was like the rest of us a poor crathur making his way and at least he wasn’t hurting my ears with the volume; he wasn’t blowing cigarette smoke in my face; he had rights, which he was using, rather more than I was at the moment; eventually the fucking #50 bus would come, which it did.

To the obvious horror of my travelling companions, I expatiated upon the most remarkable wildlife scene I have witnessed during my sojourn in Vancouver, which occurred some years ago, and consisted of fifteen rats of various sizes feeding in the open in daylight in the park immediately adjacent to the south west end of the Granville Bridge. Noting their horror, I allowed the American tourists to take over the conversation long enough to be prevented from getting off at the wrong stop by a fine young fat gentleman in rather chic clothing.

Having received Tammy’s mom’s incredibly good directions, I walked with confidence to my destination and achieved it.

After a sit down and convo we proceeded from the condo to our visit to Granville Island, where we acquired tomatoes for Tammy’s supper and ate at Bridges. It was nourishing, delicious, gave me no enteric regrets, and I didn’t pay. We could have eaten outside but enough of my foolishness regarding the sun has eroded that I thanked Tammy profusely for choosing indoors; I am lightly pink today and I didn’t need more.

We had a lovely long convo about lots of things, mostly stuff we’ve learned the hard way, and I bought a wedding present for a wedding I learned about yesterday that will be in less than two weeks and a pOp’s day gift which is so entirely pointless and useless that I think he will love it. Picture how I went into the children’s market at Granville looking for stuff for Alex (none of which his mamabear would have appreciated me buying) and emerged with shit for adults instead. I TRIED THEM ON, okay, I’m not stupid.

Today we’re going out for dinner, possibly at some joint on Homer, and then going for a walking tour. This is a big deal; she has a new knee and SHE CAN WALK seriously folks physio is important and Tammy made the commitment and she’s fine on her pins. Also, and I should have told her, her outfit was gorgeous; subtle, comfy and very nice detailing.

Had a visit with her mom after we got back around 3:30 and then left since I didn’t want the commute back to be too horrific. Pell mell through the station, held up at Timmy’s THANK GOD THERE WAS A WASHROOM, bought treats for us. Commute was shaping up to be a white-gloved stuffing standing nightmare. And then a Black guy in his mid twenties looked at me and saw how tired I was and gave up his seat and I’m a goddamned atheist but after thanking him most sincerely I prayed for the next three minutes for that guy. I prayed all the crazy (problematic) stuff in my head “May your hair remain lush and you never go bald. May your parents or guardians be blessed every day with the knowledge of what a good kid you are. May you never break any bones—” you know, crazy (problematic) random shit.  I pushed good feelings out into the universe for him, and watched as some asshole stepped on his foot on the way out the door.

Took a cab from Edmonds because I was burnt fucking toast at that point and said, as I got in, I just want you to know I think Uber and Lyft are the very devil and he began, calmly, to enumerate the ways in which the travelling public would be poorly served by Uber and Lyft coming to Vancouver. Cabs are cleaned once a day. That was the first thing he said, and I just went…. oh. Then he talked about the insurance situation. That was interesting. Well, I hope the next time people I love take an Uber there are no insurance consequences. Cause that would suck.

No pictures. I really don’t mind. I have a clear picture of Tammy with a glass of rosé and a cheerful smile as we tucked into our seafood.

Get enough sleep and it’s amazing

I am well rested, and in an hour or so will be off to the brekky place with Katie and possibly brO.

Mike’s at Trent’s ManCave™ finishing off the Mustang so he can get it back on the road. I was hoping to see him tomorrow but scuffed knuckles come first. He told me he bought a looper and now I’m mad chuffed to see it. His forearms were so sore they were in spasm the last time I saw him, poor guy.

Started watching the UK show Coroner, really liking it! the coroner/cop investigative team is very well done.

Some woman on reddit wants to know Am I The Asshole for breaking up with a man who admitted he had sex with sheep. My comment : How do you explain to a man with that kind of interior landscape that the real issue is not that he 3x interfered w/ sheep, (although “pick a gif for squick”), but that he doesn’t seem to understand the concept of informed consent, which would make any real life they had a mess.

If he was serious about never doing it again he shoulda kept his muttonhole shut.

I will try to work on Cuffs some more today but I need some kind of narrative hook that doesn’t involved 7 point fucking three billion dollars in money laundering. The fact that my novel has now collided with reality is fucking me up.

Was looking for a weapon from my Scythian heritage (the first blue eyed red heads!!!) and found this tasty store.

At conflikt 12

Travel was excellent, border was a lark; on Friday we stopped in Greenwood and ate ‘za from Razzi’s – expensive but VERY FINE PIZZA with tremendously high quality ingredaments.

Checked in without difficulty, comfy room with a balcony, not too noisy (faces SEA so there is aircraft noise.)

Last night filked with Cindy (Lady of Komarr) and sang Murder Hobo:Odyssey so that was fun. (Paul was paying attention to people’s reactions and he said people laughed their asses off… you know how it is when you’re too busy singing and playing to pay much attention.)

Steak din with Lemming and Paul tonight, we had a good time until my credit card barfed. Since Paul’s did too I’m not too upset because it sounds like a system issue – we use the same bank – but as is often the case my emotional balloon was punctured and I don’t feel great about singing and playing and I now owe Lem 137 bucks, although he was a total sweetheart about it.

We talked about John a fair amount. It is good to have good memories about him.

Today it was announced officially, I will be the Toastmaster for Conflikt 13!!

This means staying at the hotel Friday through Sunday at mininum, doing a concert, being at the Guest Lunch and doing the instafilk, judging a song contest, contributing to the Interfilk Auction (of which I have previously been a beneficiary), songbook and lunch CD, host open filk for at least a couple of hours, doing a panel or workshop, emcee for performer concerts.

I’M THRILLED, I’M HONOURED, I’M GONNA WORK HARD AND DO MY BEST

and I intend to book off the following week to collapse into con crud and exhaustion, because I’m going to be 61 and I’m not completely altered in the head.

 

They have an electrified toastmaster badge NOM I love it so.

 

I have a year to plan outfits!.

 

year end round up – all the best up to the number of 50 which is so freaking arbitary

  1.  Jeff
  2.  Recovering a normal digestive schedule after getting rid of my ulcer last year
  3.  Wrote a lot of songs (melodies, airs and instrumentals) this past year
  4.  Published Upsun
  5.  Alex
  6.  Mike
  7.  Peggy
  8.  mOm and pOp
  9.  Keith continues to challenge himself and the results are wonderful
  10.  Katie is a safety officer and if someone had told me that when she was 15 I’d have fucking choked to death laughing, or possibly crying, or walking into a door from just the utter strangeness of such a happening
  11.  Reconnecting on twitter with my second oldest friend, Liz GOD WE ARE LAUGHING NOOOOOW
  12.  The Black, Latinx, trans, disabled, Indigenous and combinations thereof activists and academics on twitter who hold me to my oath to improve my understanding of gender and race every damned day
  13.  @GreatDismal is great on twitter (William Gibson of Neuromancer fame) because he supports his wife and children in their endeavours, reposts the coolest damned stuff, and is fucking hilarious in that standard low key way of his.
  14. @DecolonialBlack – his tweets are one third pure fire, one third reasoned argument and one third hilarity through a very fine lens and all of it educational as hell
  15. @cricketcrocker I won’t say she’s my fave Indigenous person on twitter cause I still think
  16. @apihtawikosisan is that person mostly because of how she talks about her kids and also her clarity with language is like drinking elfin wine
  17.  @ConnerHabib is my fave male sex worker / cultural commentater on twitter
  18.  @whoresofyore is so wonderful in so many ways she gives me life ALSO she does everything she can to repost pictures of non-white sex workers and also men wearing allied uniforms in wwII which is like freaking awesome. Some of her reposts are racy as hell, and it’s very nice to see some black and white booty for a change in a full colour race toward hell
  19.  @SFdirewolf is getting me on board with disability rights – she is FYYA (FIRE)
  20.  LOVE @ZoeSTodd although sometimes I find her challenging
  21.  @StephanieCarvin is about as politically correct as a hand grenade in a barrel of refugees but she sure has a lot of well researched opinions about Canadian security and so as long as I’m writing about asymmetrical warfare in Vancouver I kinda hafta pay attention – and she is grimly feminist and no chump, so I accept her as she is
  22.  @Olivia_Graciela AKA Auntie Carpet Weed is freaking awesome. If you’re on twitter follow her and get dragged into the light Indigenous women are holding up over their challenges
  23.  @xodanix3 another amazing person worth following. She has a mean streak I quite like.
  24.  @BorschtSiouxp ‏is likewise full of bright beauty and hot takes and awesome
  25.   @IvaCheung takes on user guides, grammar, social justice and life in general and I love her with whatever my gristly heart can beat out
  26.  @Inked_Archivist who not coincidentally is my biggest fan (Upsun series) and posts fantastic SJ stuff from Europa and the Netherlands I wouldn’t otherwise see.
  27.  @GeorgMir is my dose of Austrian game making fandom – a beautiful soul who wants the best for the world and ain’t takin’ no shit in the process
  28.  @APebbleInTheSky is my favourite anarchist
  29.  @rechelon is not my favourite anarchist but I need him because he’s the only anarchist I know of who is remotely consistent in his personal and political life
  30.  @cjane87 is an amazing writer and opinion leader and her comments on sports events especially football have given me more laughs than I can count
  31.  @bogiperson ‏is an amazing writer and anthologist and I’m a better person for reading their posts and links
  32.  @SpicyTunaRo not exactly as spicy as advertised but has given me plenty to chew on regarding Indigenous rights and history
  33.  @MikeStuchbery_ is so wonderful I’m just going to tell anyone who is on twitter to follow him. He’s not always right but he’s edumacational as all get out.
  34.  Alex not drowning on my watch at Edmonds Community Centre
  35.  Paul driving back from Seattle in the rain to housefilk at Cindy’s in January and Paul in general and I hope his ears are burning over what we said about him today, all nice except his driving of course
  36.  @LuxAlptraum, not perfect always perfect for me
  37.  @gerdurhalldora is the magical Icelandic woman who showed me around a very small part of Reykjavik and I’m SO HAPPY I MET HER
  38.  The Iceland trip, all of it.  The landscape, the people, even the food although I’ll eat fermented shark in hell and not before…
  39.  This message on facebook was about me.  IFUCKINGROCK screw the haters

    This morning, I had the longest facebook messenger convo of my life and it was, with little exaggeration and without getting into personal details, a life saver.
    Technology really can overcome distance and give you meaningful connections with people far away.
    Reach out to your friends, and you will get and give support in ways you can’t imagine.
    We all need each other.
    I am grateful and thankful for the love and support of my girlfriends.

  40.  the picture of the grandson of the above noted friend HAPPY SIGH
  41.  really feeling like I’m coming around from this depressed period. writing at least 300 words a day
  42.  Starting to meditate – still not consistent at it but I am enjoying how hard it is
  43.  published 114000 words of fanfic on a03 JUST THIS YEAR if you think I haven’t been writing I basically never stop
  44.  Rawd’s package came for mOm and what a bonanza of family history
  45.  mOm fell down and got a hip 18 months faster than she was booked to, got the surgeon she wanted and got a private room — this is like hitting a hole in one from the moon even if you live in a major metropolitan area in Canada
  46.  season three of The Expanse
  47.  My mOm, just now, reading A PURE FIRE LETTER FROM FAMILY HISTORY ABOUT THE HORRORS OF FUNDAMENTALIST CHRISTIANITY YUP YUP YUP
  48.  Margot dying was horrible but how kind we tried to be about it was not and what happened with Deimos was a fucking tragedy but it was not made worse by the people around me and that’s not nothing
  49.  Mike, who needs two mentions
  50.  Jeff, ditto

lovely visit

So we sat around in Take Five in New West and caught up about our kids and my grandkid and at the very end of our convo when we’re walking to RCH and the Skytrain respectively she pitches me for a job starting in January. It’s maternity coverage but hey, the longest job I ever had started as mat coverage.

Needless to say…. I’m chuffed.

Thanks Dina!

 

Don’t let them see.

I have met somebody who wears her heart on her sleeve. I’d like her to tuck it away, but I don’t get to make that call.

She got stuck at the airport. She is in the sf/horror fan community, knows about 30 people in common with me and since it’s her story to tell, how she got stuck there, I will stay quiet.  Katie let me borrow the car to unstick her, and now she’s either asleep or colouring mandalas. A few of the designs are straight up eyepopping.

Got Keith’s Christmas present to me set up – I regifted the Instant Pot from Mike to Katie; I’ll get it back at Litha.

It never ceases to amaze me how much better my life has been because of the people I’ve managed to get close to. Sometimes I think coupling up is an extended magical joke of some kind. Now I’m old and I want completely different things from partners; less excitement and more being there.

I talked to Katie last night and after I got home and started tidying up a bit I was standing at the sink and I just started crying because despite everything, all the stupid anger I’ve been holding onto, she gets me. And so does Keith and so does Paul. I’m glad they didn’t see me crying. They would have been upset on my behalf, and I’m feeling better than I have in ages.

Now I’m going to check if our houseguest is up and start singing like a chicken if she is because I can get away with that, and Jeff’s not ‘hear’ to plead for the sanctity of his eardrums. He’s supposed to be back today; hope the 5 to 10 cm of snow we’re getting (Erie PA got 6 inches of lake effect snow yestreen, how droll) doesn’t hurt his chances of getting back here safe from Victoria.

I salted all the walkways, I’ll salt the driveway before the predicted snow flies too hard. I put so much salt on the back deck that I can now hear it creaking as the compressed snow/ice starts to let go its grip.

Sigh

Was supposed to hang out with Janice L and sing and play this afternoon but she got overtime and I slept. How very exciting eh wot? Keith came over to watch Westworld with Jeff.

We started watching Hap and Leonard and I’m really liking it, although the standout to my mind is Michael K. Williams as Leonard. Liking Christina Hendricks as Trudy – still not convinced about the casting efficacy of James Purefoy as Hap.

Back at work for another five days. I’m going to try to edit tonight; I’ve had a couple of epiphanies

awake, of course

Mike feasted me at Yianni’s last night, and the lamb shoulder was quite splendid. I even drank alcohol last night, and for my trouble I have a faint pain behind my right eye. Back to sobriety!  I love the stuff, but it doesn’t love me.

Since I’d already had five solid hours of sleep, I’ve kipped for a  couple of hours and now I’m awake in the dark and quiet, but I shan’t repine despite my wakefulness; I have the LAST CHAPTER of the current book, which is going to be a monster, in prospect; the book will be somewhat shorter than I intended, but I may plump it up during editing, since I invariably put more in to be clear than I take out avoiding repetition or extraneous stuff.

Jeff has produced (I do not know how many hours he put into it, but it was work) a wonderful cover for MMCo, which you can all see when it goes live on Leanpub. My only contribution was the basic design idea (which Jeff immediately improved, by adding an unmarked white truck), a creative commons picture of a man against a starfield, the font and a suggestion re the basic shape.

Back to work….

the delayment of the inevitablelike

I AM NO QUIT I AM EXTEND SON

I’ll be working until the end of January. The woman I was hired to temporarily replace for medical reasons and to be a casual is now not working for the company, reason unknown. My reasons for not wanting to be there are still in place but I’m getting paid and I don’t have to work weekend days so I don’t care.  Steady middies for me!

It’s amusing that I’m awake now.  The world is white and quiet with snow, and if I was working tonight my shift would be about to start…. I just woke up.

I could use the money, although I’d forgotten the extent to which commuting in the wintertime is such a fricking drag in this burg.

Getting to and from work the last week has chewed through a bus station mop. But… it only took an hour to get home yesterday.

My characters are sad and so am I.  It’s the pathetic fallacy folks.

Also one of them is quitting drinking and I’m walking alongside him for portions of that, which I loathe.

Although I did think of THE MOST DISGUSTING SIXER RELATED GAG I mean I burst out laughing when poor Jeff was trying to watch the Dallas/Tampa game, which was ugly and beautiful and what the hell’s going on with the zebras, and mah God Dak Prescott, but I just had this vision of Sweetie, who is like 3 kilos, being the security guard for the whorehouse, and controlling a patron with the vilest impersonation of Clint Eastwood as Dirty Harry one could possibly imagine, and I couldn’t stop laughing because the joke grows organically out of the situation and at this point we could all use a laugh,

because Trump sailed through the Electoral College, and the Republic, tottering after decades of hacking at the Constitution and weak from never dealing with racism and the Civil War, is in full kleptocratic collapse.

What to watch for over 4 years in the US:

Moar racism

Moar war

Higher infant and maternal death rates – this has actually been going on in slow motion over the decade I’ve been keeping track, it’s sickening…

More prison rioting (underreported) as the food in prisons gets worse and worse under Trump’s prison owning buddies

Higher violent death rates, across the board, all kinds – vehicles (road rage), guns, knives, stranglings.

More alcoholism and alcohol related death

More needle drug abuse and higher rates of AIDS HIV infection. More people dying of ODs, pills and otherwise.

Zika running wild in South Florida and the gulf coast and women being forced to carry the fetus to term with no health insurance for a lifetime of need thanks to Republican state legislatures

Hundreds more deaths each year from white people carrying guns, being scared of black people and shooting grandmothers and toddlers but mostly teenage boys who are existing while black

Muslims being burned alive in their mosques. Hasn’t happened yet but it’s going to happen and more than once.

Tripling of deaths in custody. (The statisticians just learned that the number of people who’ve died in custody in the US in the last five years is ACTUALLY DOUBLE what they thought because there’s no reporting mechanism and now the cop unions are trying to prevent any oversight of this statistic at all…)

Diaspora people – Jewish, black and Muslim – who have family and opportunities in Canada, moving here, although they’ll probably need a couple of years of Trump to realize it’s time to get out of town.

Tourism tanks across the US and Trumpites CELEBRATE America for Americans.

Confederates bringing automatic weapons to Pride Days and killing grandmothers and toddlers along with some queers.

Open war on First Nations Land; mass incarcerations and arrests, and Trump’s buddies making money on it.

More legal weed.

Secession talk from more than California.

The Left NEVER calling him President Trump. Just Trump. Or Cheetolini.

Patton Oswalt falling in love again and remarrying.  Because honestly, that man deserves happiness.

Sad family note. Young cousin got a bad (not what he specifically and carefully asked for) haircut… but we have a hairdresser in the family and our relations did not have to have that experience.  I wish it were otherwise but how often does adult convenience drive the nightmares of small children. I speak from sad and memorable experience here, thinking about Katie and the earring back. I still cry when I think about that, tho’ Katie has long since forgiven me.

A friend asked me what my Christmas Day plans were and I said “Reheating takeout and watching Die Hard with my brother” and now we’re eating at Hal and Cassidy’s, go team!

At some point Jeff and I have to leave the house for supplies, but the urban slushy streets are too disgusting….