Settler words&music in S'ólh Téméxw, (leanpub.com/upsun) living where privilege meets precarity in MST country. she/her/they———– Novels: Midnite Moving Co., Upsun; Sweep Off Those Waves coming soon, Hair Sinister after that. —Restore All Indigenous Lands!
above noted sign not technically true and provided for entertainment purposes only Sign Generator Here.
The above noted sign has a quite remarkable typo, and I added the PS Gritty says f you because Gritty is the popular and ecstatically chaotic Phillie hockey team mascot. He would say something like that. This is a cutified version of him.
Grittney, the feminized parody of Gritty (woman’s actually a Brit, which makes it even funnier)
A housewife takes a lover during the day, while her husband is at work. Not aware that 9 year old son was hiding in the closet. Her husband came home unexpectedly, so she hid her lover in the closet. The boy now has company.
Boy: “Dark in here.”
Man: “Yes it is.”
Boy: “I have a baseball.”
Man: “That’s nice.”
Boy: “Want to buy it?”
Man: “No, thanks.”
Boy: “That’s my dad outside.”
Man: “How much did you say the baseball was again?”
Boy: “$250.”
In the next few weeks, it happens again that the boy and the mom’s lover are in the closet together.
Boy: “Dark in here.”
Man: “Yes, it is..”
Boy: “I have a baseball glove.”
Man: “That’s nice.”
Boy: “Want to buy it?”
Man: “No, thanks.”
Boy: “I think I just remembered something I needed to tell my dad.”
Man: “How much did you say the glove was again?”
Boy: “$750.”
Man: “Fine.”
A few days later, the father says to the boy, “Grab your glove. Let’s go outside and toss the baseball!”
The boy says, “I can’t. I sold them.”
The father asks, “How much did you sell them for?”
The son says, “$1,000.”
The father says, “It’s terrible to over-charge your friends like that. That is way more than those two things cost. I’m going to take you to church and make you confess.”
They go to church and the father alerts the priest and makes the little boy sit in the confession booth and closes the door.
The boy says, “Dark in here.”
The priest says, “Do not start that shit again.”
CONFIDENTIAL TO MOM I THINK THIS KID IS RICHIE
(with a Latin beat, (alas I could not determine which one, but I will eventually) sung by a single voice with guitar, trumpet and percussion accompaniment, and descriptively it’s the ‘Dah dit dit dit Dah dit dit dit’ rhythm, whatever the hell that is)
This song is, quite obviously, dedicated to the memory of John Caspell.
The moon is high and bright
It sheds a ghostly blight
Upon a battlefield
With chilling points of light
The little things we like to do
Will make us ever close and true
Oh how I bless the moon
For I will soon
go looting corpses with you.
Their boys put up a fight
You know it don’t seem right
But we survived the fray
And now sneak out at night
The CO will find fools to scold
until he sees that shiny gold
Oh how I bless the moon
For I will soon
go looting corpses with you.
There are many versions of this but one of my filkacqs received this from a loved one and JUST YESTERDAY I was talking to you about that, so funny coincidence.
Ran over to help Keith do Alex coverage, we played games and watched part of a movie and I asked him to name all his family and that was VERY INTERESTING as a window into his mind. Also meltingly sweet.
When I was done, Paul was done with his errands so I picked him up and watched him throw his prescriptions into the trash. I briefly lost my cheese and then one of the gaggle of Desi girls who works at the Tim Hortons he was sitting in front of came out with the key and helped him get it out of the trash. Honestly her kindness made my day.
Lovely wide-ranging phone call with Dave yesterday. He’s doing okay, it’s been hella hot in the Tdot.
Got both mOm and pOp on the phone yesterday. That was an unexpected happy note in my day.
Working on a new tune on the uke. Plugging away at both current writing projects. Must do laundry today. Summer service at John H’s tomorrow – Keith’s going early to help Marilyn (they were in Philosopher’s Café together) set up chairs.
Offered Buster many options this morning but what he really wanted was snuggles from yours truly, so that was sweet. Then he went out into the kitchen and catched treats without training. He is a cat.
Love and soft hugs and warm thoughts for all 8 of you, my dear consistent readers. If you have grandchildren, I hope you take a minute to enjoy them. I enjoy mine. And my oldest child is 37 today, and he wants media. I will see about it.
Okay this one is not promised but I think my characterization of my mammogram as a ‘tittysmash’ appointment is CLASSIC.
I had literally just jumped out of the shower and not brushed my hair, but the all black outfits with Astronauts on them is pure fam and I make no excuse. Mine says “Earth to the Dandy Warhols” and Alex’s says Off to Space.
Barkeep, he seems to be saying. The soother comes into and exits his mouth on the basis of some arcane baby logic. He is STANDING ON THE CAT TREE which is lying on the ground because he kept climbing it. The cats KEITH VERY SAD have gone back to their original keeper.
ParticularSummer6019 on reddit ran ‘the opposite of the star spangled banner’ through chat AI and this is what happened. It’s doggerel, BUT WHAT DOGGEREL
Oh, the shadows we cast in twilight gloom
At the land that divides us, our hearts find no room
The stripes of discord, the fields of disdain
We March to the dissonance, a fractured refrain.With no gleaming stars, just darkness above,
No unity we find, no binding love.
Where freedom falters, and justice bends,
In this shattered land, our hope descends.The flag of division, we unfurl high,
A symbol of discord, where truth and trust die.
No land of the free, no home of the brave,
Only chains of discord, a nation enslaved.
Happy 4th July
Mo-no-ny-mous
I mean Shakira
Mo-no-ny-mous
And also Cher
Mo-no-ny-mous
Adele and Bono
and Plato, & Cato,
Colette – and don’t forget Voltaire
(This above for mOm, I sang it to her the other day and she laughed so I thought I’d write it down for her.)
Made fruit salad for the meal yesterday. Last I saw, leaving their house, Paul was going to eat the rest before anyone got seconds. It was that good. And candidly, given that he daily complains about how hard his poops are, who minds that he inhales some food value with his roughage.
It consisted of pieces of melon, blueberries, strawberries, mangoes, the best fucking Bartlett pears I ever et, and oranges. The dressing which is from a recipe I got online, I’m not smart enough to invent it, and it’s for those who can eat dairy: a cup and a half of 10%BF Greek yogurt, three tablespoons of maple syrup and half a capful of vanilla. WORDS CANNOT EXPRESS how nommy it is, and like I said I would have taken home leftovers if there had been any. The mouth feel, good god yall.
Oreo sat on my shoulders a good long while and purred hard in my ear.
I PLAYED A BOARD GAME WITH THREE QUARTERS OF MY DESCENDANTS YESTERDAY. It was Alex’s idea and I had so much fun. Hasbro’s latest version of Clue, if you need to know.
Dax changed the oil in my car. I asked him anxiously from the back deck if the oil was very dirty and he swilled it around in the container and considered the matter and said, ‘Yes’ so dryly that I burst out laughing. I owe him forty bucks for the filter and the oil so I’ll be heading out to drop it off sometime today. Perhaps I’ll combine it with a trip to Peggy’s to ditch that weird fretless bass ukulele.
Made soup yesterday. Started with a litre of unsalted Campbell’s chicken stock, added organic ramen (so damn good), chopped carrots, mushrooms, baby bok choi, a little tiny dab of veggie soup base, a splish of soy sauce. Today or tomorrow I am going to attempt Instant Pot (did you know the parent company is going out of business thanks to asset stripping? Capitalism HOW YOU SUCK) red beans and rice. I may bake up some chicken breasts and taters since the weather seems to be veering off into ‘June-uary’ temperatures.
Thunder and lightning two days ago. Not usual for these parts. We talked about the weather a lot yesterday.
Ryker was just down for his nap and Alex kissed his head AND WOKE HIM UP. He was down for most of the meal and the board game but since he’d gotten no other nap that day and was up at 6:30 Katie was SPARE while Ryker ran around the house terrorizing everything he could and parroting everything his mother said. WITH HER INTONATION. He’s got dozens and dozens of words, some clear enough that people who don’t live with him can understand him. Keith was like that, pristine pronunciation from the git. But Ryker is DIFFERENT. He is stronger, braver (yeah, like no sense of self preservation) smarter, faster, funnier, more able to understand what the adults around him are saying, more able to self-soothe, more durable – he took hits yesterday that would have had me bawling and just walked it off – picking up language so fast. Mike the father brought him back with a pinch bruise on his leg from a recliner, apologetic af, and Katie wasn’t bothered. What can you do? He’s not Alex, or Keith, who conducted themselves from a very early age knowing that the world can bite ya. I told her they should promise each other ten bucks and hand it to whichever of them DOESN’T have to take him to hospital with a broken bone first. You should have seen Katie rubbing her face as she contemplated how many TIMES she’ll likely have to take him to hospital. Like the tshirt said, today we keep the tiny human alive. Except he’s NOT tiny, he can open and shut doors with the handle.
everything about the visit is overshadowed by the fact that Alex is crying every day about how he can no longer go to second street school because his mother can’t afford to live in the catchment area. And the landlord fucked her over by not giving her a duly completed eviction notice so she can’t move up the BC housing list. This world is a horrible place for my children right now and I am helpless.
Over 500 words on TB yesterday. Richie and Blossom have finally met.
Gosh, I can’t believe how much better I feel this morning! It’s as if everything feels clearer and lighter.
Today’s Father’s Day. My pOp is best pOp, your argument is invalid. Okay, Leo’s a good father, and he fathered good fathers! Damnit, so is Terry. So was Jim (actually among the best) and then there’s Tom, he was a bighearted dad, and my grandads, and Barry, and David, and actually my life is full of good dads. Paul was among them. He’s still family, but he has passed into the part of the world where he is no longer really a dad. Katie didn’t advertise it as a father’s day meal but we’re getting together tonight. I hear Dax is fixing to change the oil in Paul’s Echo.
I am going to endeavour to persevere; I hope you all can manage that today. We are for going schlepping when the grocery opens.
A long joke, stolen from saturn128 on reddit. Typos have been corrected and it’s been slightly edited.
One day Fibonacci goes to the fair with his friends: Ms. One, Mr. Five, and Dr. Twenty.
While Fibonacci perused the fairgrounds, his friends decided to enjoy a variety of different competitions and games.
Ms. One thought to try her hand at the ring toss and ball throwing games. She’s a pretty good shot and quickly wins a pair of adorable stuffed toys shaped, oddly enough, like small cherry trees.
Mr. Five, being a man with a hearty appetite, went to sign up for the pie eating contest. When the time came to compete, Mr. Five set to his task with a ravenous fervour. The competition was brutal and incredibly messy, but by the end Five had scarfed over a dozen pies.
Dr. Twenty wandered to an area a little more removed from the main fairground. He was, in fact, looking for the tent that he knew would host the poker tables. Dr. Twenty was an avid gambler, a man of numbers and statistics as well. Upon finding the tables, Dr. Twenty is already prepared with his own bet. Placing ten dollars in the pot, he is dealt his cards and solidifies his poker face. After a solid hour of cards, the doctor had won over three times as much as he had originally bet.
All the while, Fibonacci had walked between his friends and checked on their activities. In his wanderings he had run into an acquaintance of the group. They asked, “How did the others fare in their games?”
Fibonacci responds, “Oh, One won two trees, five ate thirteen, Twenty won $34.55.”
original attribution unknown and sought; current source Reddit jokes
Why does the flag of Texas have one star?
Because you aren’t allowed to leave a zero star rating.
How I miss Molly Ivins on a day like today.
Don’t act like it’s God’s job to hate; to this atheist that all looks wrong. It’s not God’s job to hate! It’s God’s essence to be BIG. Bigger than our categories, our lusts and spites and thefts. Big enough to get us comfortable with how some things were, are, and will be, big. God always cozies up to physics and mathematics! They’re some of the few other essences rolling about the universe that are big enough to be decent company.
Lou-ann Neel cross posted this on facebook.
Also I learned how to say ‘stupid person’ in an Indigenous language from across the Salish Sea and it’s a simply lovely word…..
Three top five scores in Lumosity. Time to roast almonds. I may walk over to the Rona for the silverfish killer if it stays so pleasant.
SO MUCH RUNNINESS. I think the forsythia are blooming, but this is what we’re sneezing over today:
One of my twitterdudes said this and I had to memorialize it.
(Family friends keep telling him how much he looks like his despised, despicable grandfather and he wants them to effing stop.)
I just found out you can sing into the extra soundhole on this Riversong ukulele and get absolutely wild harmonic effects. Also, yesterday I learned THE ORIGINAL LYRICS to the ‘2 & 20 Blues’ and they completely change the tone of the song. I shall herewith demonstrate: The very first line is “There’s evil men in this DOGGONE town” but the way my ex (and Dr Filk) taught it was ‘GODDAMN’ and that really changes things. First is worldweary, second is angry, and the song is resigned, not angry. The very last line is “You may say that I’m wrong but you know I FEEL all right.” I was taught ‘I’LL BE’. The singer is OKAY IN THE PRESENT, not sometime in the future. But right now! The song’s about grabbing life where and when you can, not hoping you’ll be happy sometime.
Thank you for attending this bathtub dive into 2 & 20 Blues by Linda Morrison, pressed 1981.
The above was NOT TAKEN IN CANADA, look at the fucking cars.
This mural at Humphrey and Edmonds has been painted over, so I’m glad I snapped it when I did.