Leprosy and Lies

Dear you,

I have become an indoor girl, more than ever before.  The brutal heat along the Gulf Coast is not slacking off. Yes, yes, yes, Florida is hot in the summer, but this is (the word of our times) unprecedented.  Bad as it is here, it is worse in Texas, so Texans on the run are packed in our rental units. This is a major drag. Add to this weather trauma the constant bad news for the sunshine state. Like the cases of resurgence of leprosy. Leprosy?! Another nightmare revival of something we thought was over, something that would never happen here. We melt, deal with crowds and accelerated living costs, and now worry about our digits dropping off.  Florida, a really expensive, annoying leper colony. Has Governor DeSantis blamed this on Biden yet? Give it time . . .

I have also become a metaphorically indoor girl in terms of local chit-chat, even in the friendliest of contexts.  The rage around here is defense of free speech and I just cannot endure having one of those conversations. The free speech right, of course, does not apply to artists, educators, writers, progressive activists, environmental warriors or anyone "woke" (how sick of this am I).  The defense is all about the thrice indicted Mr. Trump.  Any/all blaringly obvious charges noted in the Smith indictment are declared to be protected speech.  Even though the document clarifies that lies are protected, it asserts criminal actions are not.  This too is dismissed by the cult of DJT.  I don't know why any of us thought reality would cure their addiction to MAGA. Everything is just speech! Free, free, free speech.  We are dealing with this diseased perspective, a leprosy of lies. Trump's fans will believe and defend anything; current statements of support prove that to be true.  Those statements are so absurd, they rival these from my beloved satirical friend, The Onion.  From their piece "Republicans Explain Why Trump Is Innocent":

"Eyewitnesses, verified text messages, recorded phone calls, physical evidence, his own confessions caught on tape - It's just not enough to go on."

"Donald Trump came to me in a dream and told me that not only is he innocent, but that I am his one true successor."

(This one attributed to Marjorie Taylor Greene) "He doesn't have the ridges that characterize the skull shape of a criminal."

"Committing a crime or two doesn't mean you're not innocent."

"Title 18 S 371 of the U.S. Criminal Code is obviously a slut who's just lying for attention."

Now, consider NOT SATIRICAL statements made regarding Trump's indictments (DC and Florida cases):

"It is unconscionable for a President to indict the leading candidate opposing him."  That is from House Majority Leader Kevin MaCarthy who knows damn well the charges came from a special counsel representing THE PEOPLE, not from POTUS.

"If he wants to store material in a box in a bathroom, he can do that."  That is from Jim Jordan, House Judiciary Chair who  knows damn well . . . never mind.  He's an idiot.

With that, I sign off and send indoor regards from the land of leprosy and lies.

Love,

Joyce 

Look Closely

 Dear you,

Yes, the beautiful may be small. But consider a couple of not so beautiful small events, symptoms of our national/global fracturing and tilt towards dystopia.  First, there is the recent fire bombing of a Unitarian Church, a church in Plano Texas.  The church is known for acceptance.  This of course includes the LGBTQ community.  Prior to the attack (luckily, no one was hurt), an anti-LGBTQ troll visited the church with a couple of wingmen. The man, Bo Alford, creates Youtubes testifying to his war on this segment of society.  The aforementioned church visit was featured on one of those videos. See NBC.com news:  "At the end of the video, which has been viewed more than 200,000 times, the men stand by the church sign and ask viewers to "pray for these people," calling the church "pagan and satanic."  So yes, many see the link between the bomb and Bo.  Local authorities, however, haven't established that connection. Alford's defense, again from NBC.com. appears in an email (look for the spelling error):

“First and foremost, my prayers go out to anyone effected by the fire. As to the accusations, My channel spreads the message of Jesus and his love for us. If you watch the video you will see the members of the church having nothing but nice things to say about us. She enjoyed our conversation and even ended it with a hug. The fact we are being labeled as a hate group and being tied to this fire in any way is appalling.”

In his social media bios, Alford describes himself as, "Believer Of Christ YouTuber/ Boxer/Pro Lib Troller." His videos often feature him and his friends "pranking" politically and socially liberal Americans, particularly focusing on members of the LGBTQ community."

Oh, okay.  Not a hate group but a PRANKING group. Whew.  No problem, Bo. You are probably pranking all the educated libs with that homophone error too (effected instead of affected). Ha, ha, ha! I said HOMOphone. You are so funny, Mr. Alford. But, seriously, have you considered how your little videos encourage other idiots of your ilk to act out violently?  Have you considered your Christ and thought about the "what would Jesus do" message on that T-shirt you probably own?  Pointless to ask.

Next event, here in Seagrove Beach, FL.  My stroll studying visitor bumper stickers this week introduced me to another Texan and his point of view.  The sticker: an American flag with three words, "Jesus and Trump!"  I expected this. My assessment when I first saw the car's owner was right, unfortunately. The previous evening, I watched pelicans cruise over the coast while stationed at my south bedroom window. I heard a bang, looked down to the source of the noise, a man slamming the trunk of his vehicle. Trunk secured, he strutted to the driver's side costumed in tight denim slacks, tucked in long sleeve shirt (red, very red), pointy cowboy boots, and a big old cowboy hat.  So, what do you think my read on this guy was?  Besides the idiocy of all that hot clothing on a "feels like 110 evening", I judged him as idiotically conservative, probably a Christian Nationalist. I did a fast bias check and tried to shut down the judgment. Appearances mean nothing. Be cool, Joyce! But then, the next day, I saw the sticker.  Small but not beautiful.

I hate being right. Small sketches, big picture.

But as Kant advises, I must look for the beautiful small sketches too.  Right now, I look up and out and see clouds forming for a cooling rain, an ancient longleaf pine standing strong, cat Coco lounging on the bed, a delicious cigarette sending up smoke signals in a crystal ashtray, a happy child headed to the beach, twirling fans overhead, etc. etc. etc.

Looking Closely. 

Joyce

War On Woke

Dear you,

Where to begin? I'll begin here, right here in Florida where the assault on enlightenment continues.  Recently, Leon County banned the following books from high schools:

Push by Sapphire

Dead End by Jason Myer

Doomed by Chuck Palahniuk

Lucky by Alice Sebold

Me, Earl and the Dying Girl by Jesse Andrews

According to Moms for Liberty (them again) who made the initial complaint, these books did not meet state requirements.  Key requirement? To "protect students from woke indoctrination in schools".  Once again, life stories (fiction or nonfiction) are labeled dangerous.  More voices silenced because they might wake people up.  The rage against the "woke machine" is pretty obvious in its motivation; keep them dumb, numb, and obedient. Keep them asleep. The Ragers have now extended their project beyond literature.  Actual history is being rewritten in the most 2 + 2 = 5 way possible.  The Florida State Board of Education now requires instruction about how "slaves developed skills which, in some instances, could be applied for their personal benefit."

Oh for the love of god.

These people told us what they wanted and they are making it happen.  The Christian White Nationalist dream is gaining traction.  Listen to Alabama Senator Tommy Tuberville defend himself against assertions of racism by stating throughout his life he has "dealt with" minorities as a coach, etc.  He dealt with them. We use that verb when referring to things we handle or tolerate.  We deal with annoying neighbors, we deal with inflation, we deal with toothaches, we deal with flight delays.  The senator wants validation for dealing with minorities.

Unbelievable bastard.

Tommy and his crew have a pretty clear mission statement:  WE WILL DOMINATE AT ALL COST.  WE WILL TELL YOU WHAT TO DO AND WHAT TO THINK.

This is where we are.  And I, in Seagrove Beach, Florida, am surrounded by the advocates of this fucked up dominance.  The sad thing is the majority of those advocates are getting screwed over by the people they support. They will remain uneducated, unenlightened, asleep. And they will continue to dump their money into the coffers of the grifters just like the poor dude I passed on the beach cross-over yesterday.  He wore this:

He paid for that; he chose to be an advertisement for Trumpism at his own cost. Poor dude. He was intoxicated, crimson from sun exposure, and rather unfortunate looking. I wonder why he didn't just buy a "Fuck Joe Biden" suit. Perhaps this trunk wearer didn't want to offend the women and children he surely believes he owns. I wonder what makes him tick, why he supports a movement whose key aim is to erase/rewrite truth?  Doesn't that require an awful lot of angry effort? Chuck Palahniuk answers that question in Doomed, one of those five banned books:

"It's exhausting, the energy it takes to unknow a truth."

Bless their weary hearts. Damn their twisted actions.

Stay energized, my friends.  So much to protect and defend these days. #TruthMatters

Love,

Joyce

Happy Muted 4th of July.

Dear you,

Post-Independence Day, I reflect on that (for me) muted holiday.  My joy is on mute.  As fireworks exploded around Seagrove Beach last night, I paced around grumpy.  Independence Day?  It felt like Dependence Day.  We depend upon the decisions of a Supreme Court to tell us how free we are. Last week's bloody verdicts, not so good for individual freedom, unless of course you are a white Christian nationalist.  We depend upon the cruel whims of certain governors like my DeSantis whose captive state legislature dropped more restrictions on citizen choice.  Among the worst there, a thumbs up for using toxic waste to build highways; yes, radioactive roads.  Add that to the list of fun things to enjoy in the Sunshine State.  We depend upon branches of government that are partly or wholly owned by a gun lobby.  See the list of 4th of July holiday mass shootings.  Overall, I am not feeling independent at all.  And yet, the flags flew, the grillers grilled, and the locals and visitors here donned their favorite red, white, and blue beachwear.  Party on. Me? I'd rather adopt my cat Coco's strategy; curl up and snooze with paw blocking input, a very effective muting action. Wake me up when it's over!

Today, the morning after, I am determined to turn off the mute button and regain my Aurelian sense of "carry on", and as always, comedy helps.  Case in point, the recent political ad by my governor attacking Trump for being too soft on the LGBTQ demographic. In the ad, we see shots of male body builders. I guess these represent his idea of masculine normalcy.  Oh, Ron.  Your fans may not get it, but that choice is so obviously homoerotic, one can infer something different than you intend. And we see this:

Ah, the dream of laser eyeballs that can target and eliminate those pesky "others".

Maybe that's not funny after all.  Moving on, I check out my foolproof source for laughter, The Onion.  Their current edition's Breaking News headlines:

Oath Keeper Shoots Out Other Eye

Mysterious White Powder Found In West Wing Identified As President Biden

Texas Governor Adds Backup Prayer System To State Electricity Grid

Critics Say Submersible Should've Been Tested With Poorer Passengers First

CEO's Skill Set Transferable To Any Job That Requires Dumbass To Receive Big Salary

Smiling temporarily!  But still, reality kinda bites right now.  Dependency bites.  You say this too shall pass?  Excellent.  Just wake me up when it's over.

Meow.

Joyce

A Sticky Situation!

Dear you,

It is quite difficult to concentrate in this beach-zone during the smoothest of times, but after this weekend?  Woo. I am suffering from super-fuzzy focus.  There was that horrible anniversary Saturday, the overturning of Roe V. Wade, and then the strangest Russian coup attempt ever.  The hangover effect of all that isn't helping as I try once again to find the perfect place to move.  I am kicking myself (quite challenging for someone with a bad knee) for not having gotten this done last year, the year before, the year before that etc.  Anyway, action must be taken. Once more, with feeling.

I Google "warm, liberal towns to retire in" and get lost reading testimonies and viewing local photos.  Two hours later, I grow weary, give up (for now), but do one more Google search just for fun:

"Stuck in Florida"

I wanted to listen to other people in similar sticky situations, hear their advice or humorous takes on being wherever they are.  But the machine is very literal; I got results like this:

Florida horse stuck in pool hoisted to safety with crane  (How did he get in the pool in the first place?)

Worker gets stuck in Florida sewer trench (Did he die from the stench?)

Florida man accidently gets stuck inside tornado while driving (Uh, why "accidently"?  I know this is Florida, but why would anyone intentionally get stuck inside a tornado?)

Florida State Fair patrons get stuck upside-down on ride (Did they all post upside-down selfies?)

Naked man rescued after getting stuck on Florida drawbridge (I don't even want to know.)

So sticky life goes on in Florida, literally. At least this absurd act of Googling made me feel better about myself. My clever cat will never require rescue by crane; I don't have to do poop-related labor; I wisely avoid  tornadic activity and freaky state fairs; I always like to dress for success when crossing bridges. (Spin that as you will.)

Enough procrastination. 

End.

Joyce

#Pride and a Better God

Dear you,

Pride month, and all over the nation (the world perhaps), we are celebrating all people's right to simply BE.  Even in the deep red Florida Panhandle, there are Pride events in little places like Niceville.  Thank you Niceville for being more than nice. Surely the local chapters of Moms for Liberty are peeing their proper panties and decrying these gatherings as godless. Well, their "god" is something to consider.  And reject.  Let a poet clarify what I cannot:

Prayer/Oracion

BY FRANCISCO X. ALARCÓN

I want a god

as my accomplice

who spends nights

in houses

of ill repute

and gets up late

on Saturdays

a god

who whistles

through the streets

and trembles

before the lips

of his lover

a god

who waits in line

at the entrance

of movie houses

and likes to drink

café au lait

a god

who spits

blood from

tuberculosis and

doesn’t even have

enough for bus fare

a god

knocked

unconscious

by the billy club

of a policeman

at a demonstration

a god

who pisses

out of fear

before the flaring

electrodes

of torture

a god

who hurts

to the last

bone and

bites the air

in pain

a jobless god

a striking god

a hungry god

a fugitive god

an exiled god

an enraged god

a god

who longs

from jail

for a change

in the order

of things

I want a

more godlike

god

AMEN to that.

Happy Pride Month!

Joyce

Brace Yourself!

Dear you,

It's my birthday month and I am not aging gracefully.  In fact, I am really pissed off. My left knee blew out over a week ago. The cause is perhaps too much action, too many hamstring curls and 80's style aerobic play (see photo).  Whatever the cause, age or chosen action, I found myself in that section of Walmart no one wants to be in, the one stocked with aids for the infirm.  So unattractive, all of it, the bunion buttons, hernia wraps, and my "aid", the knee brace.  I think it's called a sleeve. 

Well, it could be worse.  I could be indicted!  Just like my fellow Gemini "pal", Donald.  Read the indictment.  Pick your favorite Trump quote from a witness.  This one cracked me up:

"I don't want anybody looking.  I don't want anybody looking through my boxes, I really don't. I don't want you looking through my boxes."

What an idiot. Doesn't that sound like a petulant nine year old?  I cannot believe we are trapped in this endless hell dance with Trump and his devotees.  The man is so twisted, so corrupt, and so possibly able to dodge this latest indictment.  Ooof.  Is our democracy suffering from some sort of degenerative disease, like my knee, is it too just ready to call it a day and check out?  I don't think the Walmart infirmity aisle is stocked with a cure for our Donald Disease.

My birthday wish?  Perfect success for Jack Smith, Esquire.

Maybe this time, maybe this time, we'll win . . . 

I shall hobble on!

Love,

Joyce