Dear you:
Two months have passed since my last mini-entry, and you can blame the gap on fall semester biz: Composition, American Literature, and a very strange "basic reading" class to teach. Here in La Panhandle, at "GCSC" (abbreviation will suffice), I am grateful for the gig and actually surprised enough work came through. Meanwhile, a flurry of goo spins us around: a killer typhoon this week, internet system dramas halting the ACA implementation, and the usual suspects shutting down the government to "protect us" from that Affordable Care Act. Clearly, the resistance is all about the President. The star of this fiesta is the man from Texas featured in the telling photo above.
Seriously, Dude. What are you doing with that rifle and ammunition-clip-looking thing? Going after dancers, professors and ACLU members?
He should provide LOTS of comedy in the next election cycle.
Crazy Cruz.
Beach-life still rules. The Gulf is clear and blue-green wonderful. The water is cooling now, but I shall buy a wetsuit for full immersion. However, yes, I am slightly alienated here, well, largely alienated. (Reading the late David Foster Wallace's biography and essays again reminded me of a term he would say applies: solipsism. I avoid "going there", but trips to the college or Walmart -- OHN-- aren't that stimulating. Whatever.) However, it is worth it, keeping the neighbors at bay.
Gratitude month is here. Thankful. Quickly followed by the horror of America's obsession with Christmas. About that, I saw a local commercial featuring a car salesman whose southern accent would rival the Duck Dynasty cast. He droned on and on about how his business was "Christmas friendly" and then the camera turned to his children. It gets worse. The well-rehearsed offspring then chanted, "Happy Birthday Jesus." Where the hell am I? Really, I know they must be good people, but something about this huge demonstration of BELIEF (as opposed to FAITH) creeps me out.
It's a brave new zip code :)
Must run for TV news input.
Love,
Joyce Here and Now
