Criminal blogging.

Dear you,

Oh, if only I did not have to comment on #DeathSantis, governor supreme, ever again.  But it is state legislative session time in Tally and Ron's goon squad of GOP code creators are on fire!  Setting liberty on fire.  See The National Review's (a traditionally conservative platform) Charles C. W. Cooke:  "An idiot in the Florida state legislature has introduced a bill that would require the registration of bloggers who are critical of the state’s government."

The idiot's name is State Senator Jason Brodeur.  His handiwork is S.B. 1316 and it requires any blogger who writes about the Gov. (and gets paid for their work) to "register" with the state ethics commission or some other Big Brotherly body.  I am happy to say I AM NOT PAID TO SPEAK MY MIND HERE IN THIS BLOG-SPACE.  And, dear senator, my mind-speaking today is simply this:  leave professional journalists the hell alone.  You come for them, you come for all of us.  And yes, you are an idiot because you are going to be ripped by the left, the right, and the center. Foxnews.com quoted Sarah Rumpf, contributing editor of Mediate, who shared a picture of the U.S. Constitution and declared:  "Here's my documentation needed to write about DeSantis, Moody, Bordeur, or any elected official. I'm not filing any 'registration' or reporting my salary to Tallahassee. Go step on all the Legos with this unconstitutional nonsense."

Go step on all the Legos, a child and idiot-friendly version of "go fuck yourself"!  You are fabulous, Ms. Rumpf.

That's all I got today . . . 

Please pray, fight, speak (choose your verb, any verb) for Florida. It is going down here and it could happen to you.

Love, Joyce

Animal spirits/Spirit animals

Dear you,

The official national animal of Ukraine is the common nightingale.  In their folklore, the bird is a harbinger of spring and a sweet voice of joy. On the anniversary of Ukraine's invasion, we long to hear the nightingale's voice heralding victory.

Throughout the war, stories about wild things under siege, birds, cattle, cats, dogs, ducks, zoo animals etc., have moved us. Brave organizations like @k9rescue.org are on the ground there, doing miraculous work. They give us hope. We see reports of rescue as pictured above, one majestic lion in his cage in Odesa who made it out.  As reported by cpr.org in 2022: 

"Nine lions airlifted out of Ukraine have now settled in Colorado’s Wild Animal Sanctuary.

An 11-lion pride was rescued from the Bio Park Zoo in Odesa, a port city in southern Ukraine, during the early stages of Russia’s invasion. The pack of lions arrived in Romania in May after traveling more than 600 miles. Once there, rescue officials worked out a final destination. 

The Wild Animal Sanctuary in Keenesburg, a small town in Weld County, immediately offered to bring the lions into their facilities. A spokesperson for the sanctuary said their executive director worked with several global agencies to ensure the lions were resettled to permanent homes."

Thank you, Colorado.

This lion, the symbolic nightingale, the kittens and puppies we see wrapped in the arms of Ukrainian warriors, all remind us of how precious wild things are and how we should honor their spirits.  Some say we each have our own animal spirit. I thought mine might be a cat just because I like them. Was I right? Good excuse to play around on the internet when I should be doing something else. I logged on and took some quizzes.  One test revealed I am an owl. So not a cat. "The owl spirit animal is emblematic of a deep connection with wisdom and intuitive knowledge. When the spirit of the animal guides you, you can see the true reality and see beyond illusion and deceit." Gee, thanks for the compliment, but I never thought of myself as that deep and certainly not that wise. I took the quiz again to verify and once again got the owl result.  Still not convinced, I took another assessment on BuzzFeed.  Those results revealed my spirit animal is a Shiba Inu (a doggie with a permanently smiling face) because "You're very curious about the way things work, but that doesn't mean you don't have a smile on everywhere you go. You're friendly, loyal, and you have a certain fondness for misspellings."

Well, I do have a "certain fondness for misspellings." And I am loyal. Not so sure about the smile or the friendly thing though. My "elfin" grin often reflects a mischievous train of thought, more wicked than warm. Friendly? Does transactional friendliness count?

Overall, the smiling pup and wise owl don't seem to match my self-perception. There are other options. Check out a list of all the spirit animals online during your next procrastination event. While we all might want to be tigers, horses, or eagles, that list includes creatures like the inchworm or the jellyfish. Bummer.  But wait, even those less than glamorous beings represent excellent qualities. The inchworm is logic, transformation, subtlety, concealment, and transmutation. Cool! The jellyfish is faith, transparency, illumination, acceptance, sensitivity, protection and intention. Who knew?

It seems all creatures, great and small, are as significant as the regal lion or glorious nightingale. Thank you to all who work to protect those creatures, especially in Ukraine.  Ah, Ukraine; soon, soon, soon, I hope, your lions will roar and your nightingales will sing of victory.

#StandWithUkraine

Joyce

DeSantis v. Da Vinci .....

Dear you,

Participating in Florida's raging education debates is a total mind fuck. Governor DeSantis' antics (the latest being a purge of New College in Sarasota, installing a "conservative" ruler there) cannot be described with an elevated vocabulary.  What he is doing is vulgar.  Beneath vulgar.  First, some context, some stats on Florida's education level:

High school graduate or higher, percent of persons age 25 years+, 2017-2021 89.0%

Bachelor's degree or higher, percent of persons age 25 years+, 2017-2021 31.5%

Essentially, the state's citizenry functions on a 12th grade level.  This can vary by county; case in point, Leon County (home to Florida State and the capitol) has a majority of college grads.  Overall, our colleges and universities are highly rated, even if our "general population" is not.  But these little slices of smart bother our governor.  Enlightened, critical thinkers tend not to bend a knee to autocrats.  For anyone who thought his early attacks were simply meant to defend the "innocence" of very young (K through third grade) students, I am sure you've caught on.  This little war on intelligence has no limits.  

For example, the book purge in all public schools as noted in this excerpt from a Duval County news outlet:

JACKSONVILLE, Fla. — Reports of empty classroom libraries and an extensive review of a book about hall-of-fame baseball player Roberto Clemente have put Duval County Public Schools in the hot seat with the Florida Department of Education.

The 40-page picture book has been prevented from going on library shelves for months, as the district reviews it to ensure it complies with new state curriculum laws.

“This is absurd,” said Florida Education Commissioner Manny Diaz in an exclusive interview with Action News Jax.

Roberto Clemente Jr. said the book is about his dad's upbringing, his time with the Pirates, and humanitarian work. Part of the book discusses the racism Roberto Clemente was subjected to."

Even DeSantis found targeting this specific book ridiculous, but the reactionary panic seen in Duval County was/is caused by him.

Of course the shelves were stripped; the DeSantis edict (HR 1467) puts educators in jeopardy, criminal jeopardy.  

As reported, in the National Review: "In mid January, in response to the new state law [HR 1467], leaders of the Manatee County school district, south of Tampa, sent guidance to their teachers and staff about their classroom libraries. Kevin Chapman, the district's chief of staff, told National Review their intent was to direct teachers to temporarily remove any unvetted books from their classroom libraries until they could be approved by a trained media specialist. And there was urgency, he claimed, based on an existing law that said "if there was an inappropriate book found in a school, that person or persons could be charged with a third-degree felony."   

That "existing law" mentioned in the National Review excerpt states Florida adults face felony charges if they provide access to “Any book, pamphlet, magazine or printed matter that contains explicit and detailed descriptions or narrative accounts of sexual excitement, or sexual conduct that is harmful to minors.”

Sexual excitement.  This includes nudity.  See Vitruvian man above.  I suppose teaching Leonardo da Vinci could cost you your freedom in not really free Florida. The Christo-fascists are really messing with our minds, literally.  They want absolute liberty to do as they choose and think as they think, but if others choose or think in ways contrary to them, look out. Why?  Back to my lifelong and not so original diagnosis that these control freaks have very afflicted, dirty minds.  And they probably hate themselves, loathing their bodies and nature in general.  What do they see when they look at The Vitruvian Man?  Do they see the artist's love of proportion?  His view that the human body is an analogy for the universe itself?  Probably not.  I think they do a "groin check" and gasp at how that might upset little Liza, or, worse, possibly excite little Larry.  The conservatives say Woke Progressives are the fun-killers in one breath and in the next, say we are out of control hedonists. Many in their ranks would react suspiciously to praise for someone being a polymath (like Leonardo himself).  Keep them stupid; train them to be compliant workers in a consumer society; avoid "exciting" their spirits. The overarching mission is simple:  kill their wild and wonderful souls.

Well, dear Florida, it is time for us to choose, da Vinci or DeSantis?

2023, and I am actually posing a question like that.  Who would choose ignorance over enlightenment?  Millions would.

Like I said, total mind-fuck.

#Resist

Love,

Still here, Joyce

Questionable February Fashion

Dear you,

Happy Valentine's Month, Super Bowl Month, and State of the Union Month!

About last night, POTUS Biden surprised us all with an unexpectedly lively speech and sassy interaction with the insurrectionist hecklers. The sparring was as entertaining as the bad fashion on display. As featured above, Sinema's mustard yellow costume certainly made a . . . statement.  It reminded me of that dinosaur with the wing-y things around his neck.  And then there's MTG in her fur collar coat. Was it cold in there, Marjorie? Both of these women and their clothing choices are inexplicable to me.

Unfortunate fashion can also be sported by Super Bowl fans and Valentine's Day celebrants who want to look super sexy.  The Super Bowl:

The item is also available in Philadelphia Eagle's green.  I'm sure the ladies who live in Philly's Main Line mansions are happy to hear this.

For Valentine's Day:

This is called the Kasanova shirt.  Mercifully, Kasanova is dead and unable to see the horrors his legend inspired. Shades of Seinfeld's puffy shirt episode.  But the shirt seems quite compatible with Sinema's ruffled dress.  Perhaps she should buy one for her beau or "beauette".

Clothing crimes make me smile. But I don't want to dwell on this too much because:

Joy Harjo from "Emergence":  

A human mind is small when thinking/ of small things./ It is large when embracing the maker/ of walking, thinking, and flying.

I want a large mind.  And a large heart. Happy February, in spite of "it" all. 

Love,

Joyce

Note: My mind and heart hover over the earthquake victims in Turkey and Syria, and, as ever as always, my mind and heart #StandWithUkraine.

Bad Karma

Dear you,

I am slowly working my way through Guided Buddhist Meditations, Essential Practices on the Stages of the Path, by Thubten Chodron, and fascinated by the teachings. My hopes here, as in all study, is to grow, not just find another escapist panacea.  As I continue my bumpy ride here in Panhandle world, Chodron's teachings are difficult to apply.  And that is the challenge!  Me versus people I don't like. Quote Chodron:  " We like to think we're broad-minded, caring people and realizing anything contrary to that may be difficult.  Our self-centered attitude prefers to think 'I'm a really good person.  I'm unhappy because the rest of the world is ignorant and hostile."  Well, that hits a mark.

While I am a long, long way from "the path", I am enjoying the lessons, the philosophy, the discipline of attempting meditations and mantras.  The only talent I bring to this study is breathing, for real, I love the lift of inhale-exhale.  Other than that, I am quite the novice.  However, as Chodron advises, I need not rush or expect something that takes a lifetime (or several) to master. Those lifetime-cycles are determined by our karma (actions done by our body, speech, or mind).  Yikes. Well, I'll just keep trying and "be brave and honestly acknowledge what is going on" in my mind.

Okay. This is what's going on in my mind now, some bad karma thoughts. I imagine the forms my "enemies" might take their next time around:

1.  Trump and his sons will return as Pez dispensers.

2.  Annoying Seagrove Beach vacationers will return as dental floss.

3.  Florida governor DeSantis will return as a feather boa; he shall be dragged for eternity across the floors of the finest drag show stages in Orlando.

4.  The angry MAGA Publix cashier lady will return as a checkout conveyor belt.

5.  The far-right censors and enemies of art will return as Dr. Scholl's shoe inserts.

I know, reincarnation/recycling doesn't involve taking the forms of inanimate objects.  But it gives me a little Buddha smile to imagine this happening.   Which means I am not only a long, long way from "the path", but probably a thousand life cycles away from knowing where it is.  I need a spiritual GPS. Poetry always helps, so I re-read/re-study Joy Harjo.

Her collection How We Became Human, uses the words of Nizzar Kabbani as an epigraph:

What kind of nation is this

Deleting love from its curriculum

The art of poetry

The mystery of women's eyes

What kind of nation is this

Battling each rain cloud . . .

Beautiful questions. Instructive, honest, not a drop of negativity there.  Impeccable words and clean karma.

Something to aim for.

Joyce

I'm the problem!

 

Dear you,

Deforestation, compliments of unchecked development in the Panhandle beach area, is bloodier by the day.  Road kill everywhere.  And the creatures who do manage to dodge death by car are forced into residential zones seeking food, water, anything to survive.  Hence the appearance of racoons here at Beachwood Villas.  According to the nosey old farts snow-birding with us, this is my fault. Because for the past year I've been feeding two feral kitties who have been here longer than me. So what's the big deal?  Racoon poop, that's the deal.

Night before last, a really revved up racoon gang hit the Villas and pooped all over the landings of my building and the one next to me.  The old farts were outraged!  Poop on the landing!  "They are here because of that cat food put out by that snotty fast-walking lady who ignores us."  (Yes, this is my survival strategy.  I walk fast with earbuds in so I don't have to engage.)  When I saw the poop near my front door, I thought it was hilarious.  And really, cleaning up after a furry friend is so much easier than cleaning up after barbaric "guests".  Believe me, I have found much worse that coon poop on my landing.  

Anyway, the farts ratted me out to our condo management dude, who I actually like.  He forbid future feedings; his minions tossed out the cat dishes and spread cat repellant (or worse) around the green spaces. I don't want to know their plans for the racoons.  This won't end because with or without Joyce treats, racoon habitats are vanishing and they will continue to show up, searching for anything, especially in our dumpsters. But don't blame the developers or greedy investors, of course.  Blame me! Yep.  It's me.  I'm the problem. Cue Taylor Swift, "Anti-Hero": 

It's me, hi, I'm the problem, it's me (I'm the problem, it's me)/ At tea time, everybody agrees/ I'll stare directly at the sun but never in the mirror/ It must be exhausting always rooting for the anti-hero.

I love that song!  More relevant lyrics from the same:  Did you hear my covert narcissism I disguise as altruism/Like some kind of congressman?

I guess the farts saw my cat care as a self-indulgent show. Fuck them.  But speaking of congress and poop (bullshit to be precise), how about this dude?

This guy is unbelievable, literally. Doesn't he look like the love-child of Marco Rubio and Gov. Ron Desantis? Startling resemblance. My favorite Santos lie is how he claims to have been a volleyball star at Baruch college, a school he never attended. Why volleball?  Why Baruch? Such an eccentric little falsehood. But apparently HE is NOT a problem.  And neither is the Missouri state legislature that has created a new rule for their female representatives. They can no longer show their bare arms. So very Taliban, these legislative versions of my old fart snowbirds.  And apparently THEY are NOT a problem either.

It's me. Hi.  I'm the problem.

Racoon poop, Santos, and a bare arm ban in Missouri.  The year is already deeply absurd.  And it's only January.

End.

Joyce, your ever-evolving condo criminal

Woke! The bird, the man, and Democracy.

Dear you,

January 6, 2023, the second anniversary of the failed coup.  I exhale and remember that day.  I think about what it means to pay attention to what matters, to be aware, awake. The week's events, small and large, played out that theme.

Wednesday, annoyed by the roar of the cleaning person's blower and the image of Matt Gaetz wrecking Congress on my TV screen, I heard a loud smack, like a hammer on wood.  Alarmed, jolted out of my annoyance, I saw a strange, beautiful bird stunned on my balcony.  She had flown head first into the sliding glass door.  Her little body, black with white dots, appeared frozen.  But then I saw movement as she began to breathe. I resisted the impulse to interfere and just gave her time.  I distracted myself by washing dishes.  Ten minutes later, I went to check her status and saw she was gone!  No blood left behind.  No signs of damage.  She recovered and flew away.  She woke.

Yesterday, tracking the hoped for recovery of NFL Bills player, Damar Hamlin, after his heart attack on the field Monday, I scrolled and scrolled online looking for good news.  Yes.  Doctors on the job released statements that Hamlin was recovering, neurologically intact, and awake!  He woke. 

January 6, 2021, that event at our Capitol, an attempted insurrection fueled by lies and fear, played out "like a movie".  People died. Many officers defending the People's House survived but carry the trauma with them still.  We watched and, most of us at least, realized Democracy is not necessarily a forever thing.  We woke.

This state of wakefulness is transient. Still, we can celebrate it today. For the moment, hallelujah!  The bird, the athlete, the abstract dream of democracy are with us.  Let's stay awake too.

Happy dance.

Joyce