What's New, Pussycat? Acceleration!

 

Dear you,

Yesterday, 102.1 The Wave played Tom Jones’ sixties hit “What’s New, Pussycat?”  This fabulous waltzy song surprised me while sprinting the beach on a cold day.  It inspired bad public dancing on my part. I love, love, love this song!  My snowbird audience took the performance in stride. They probably just thought I was another local on meth.  But then, after the final “woah-woah-woah” chorus, The Wave betrayed me and played Night Ranger’s “Sister Christian”. From the ecstasy to the agony.  “Motoring. What’s your price per flight, for finding Mr. Right?”  Yes, that is just what we all need, a power rock band interrogating a virgin, acting all provocative and deep.  The Jones question, on the other hand, just lights me up: “What’s new, pussycat?”. 

“Woah-woah-woah!”

Ah, what is new, pussycat? 2021 is new and so is the feeling that everything now is like my musical anecdote, a schizoid rollercoaster.  We free fly down with glee, “weeeeeee!”  We trudge back up with effort, “screw this ride.”

Current events illustrate this contrast:

😊 Darling Texas furniture store owner turns his shop into a shelter during the weather crisis!

☹ Idiot Texas governor Abbot blames the power failures on AOC and The Green New Deal.

😊 The COVID vaccinations are happening and appear to be effective!

☹ The distribution/availability of those vaccines is not so good.

😊 NASA’s Rover, Perseverance, lands on Mars!

☹ Flat Earthers still exist. 

😊 The Real Housewives of New Jersey is back with a new season!

☹ The Real Housewives of New Jersey is back with a new season.

😊 Ted Cruz left the country and fled to Cancun!

☹ Ted Cruz came back.

2021.  A rollercoaster!

At least we’ve returned to spurts of acceleration.  The spirit of our age?  Trudge and fly. Fly and trudge.

Plug in to a “What’s New, Pussycat?” state of mind.  It will sustain you during those “Sister Christian” days of deceleration and drudge.

Love,

Joyce

And Tom

Kissing a Stranger

 

Dear you,

Valentine’s Day 2021 is approaching.  How are we celebrating this romantic holiday during a pandemic?  Beloved partners might be sick of each other.  The quarantine effect = intimacy overload.  On the other hand, beloved partners might be even more in love, having faced their fears (and boredom) together for a year now. The victims of intimacy overload are dreading V Day.  The in-love-more-than-evers are pumped!

But what about the uncoupled?  How do they feel about Valentine’s Day, specifically a Valentine’s Day during a pandemic?

When I was young and sexy, I was rarely in a committed relationship.  I had a long list of boyfriends and phases of intense couple-hood, but I never really wanted a forever relationship.  I did, however, always love romance.  And because I loved romance, I loved Valentine’s Day, with or without a beau.  I think about my New York City self during this holiday.  One of my favorite things to do was to go out to a lovely (not trashy) bar or club on Valentine’s night and meet a stranger.  Just for a chat.  Just for a dance.  Just for a kiss in the dark.

This was fun. This was erotic and sweet and fleeting and so not 2020-2021.

Our young (or old) uncoupled can’t do this now.  Bars and clubs are contagion zones.  Chatting and dancing six feet apart with a mask on?  So not hot.  And obviously, forget about kissing.

I heard one health expert predict we might not return to a kissable normal for seven years.  I hope this guy is really, really wrong.  I want our coupled and uncoupled to be able to do what Valentine’s Day is all about, at least for me:

Kissing a stranger.

That's all.  That's actually everything.

Happy V Day 2021; looking forward to our non-distanced, smoochy future.

Love,

Joyce

Shortages & Gluts

 Dear you,

I cannot find the perfect house in this zip code or in the zips to the east and west.  There are structures called homes available, some are nicely designed, but ones I am viewing are always in bad places.  Bad places are not within walking distance of anything, have no Verizon connectivity, are loaded with vacay rentals and barking dogs, and tend to be populated by at least one gal or guy who has a Confederate flag fetish.  Right now, the available stuff is usually in a bad place.  Case in point:

Their neighbor is an asshole. Nevertheless, the owner will get fifty calls a day because we, here and nationally, have a housing shortage.  Period.  Shortage of the bad and the good. I have options. I just don’t like them.  But what about the people who have no options?  Where are they living?  What chances do they have to find a place they love?  And, beyond aesthetic choices, how many are without shelter of any kind?

The estimated number of homeless in America ranges from 600,000 to possibly 1.5 million.

The estimated number of homeless in Florida is around 29,000.

Shelter shortage. This is us.  We are low on the supply side of survival basics, homes, shelters from the storm.

Another thing I am searching for is the vaccine, any version of Covid kryptonite.  But I can’t get an appointment.  I just checked the Walton County Health Department website again and clicked on the “eventbrite” link they use for registration. (Like I’m responding to a bridal shower invitation or something.) This is what I got:

“Registrations are closed.  Thank you for your interest in a COVID-19 vaccine.  At this time all appointments are full.  Please continue to monitor . . .” etc., etc., etc.

Thank you for your interest????? I am inquiring about a potentially life-saving vaccine, not a new refrigerator or smartphone upgrade.  I know my county only has X number of doses, so the Health Department is not at fault.  We have what we have and right now, we do not have enough.  But keep in mind my section of Florida (and pretty much all coastal areas) is about to be besieged by spring breakers, carriers galore!  We are in the kill zone.  So “please continue to monitor” my increasing rage.

The estimated number of Americans waiting for the vaccine is certainly in the millions.

Vaccine shortage in the 21^st century.  This is us too.

Now, what do we have in excess?  Where does supply exceed demand in the USA?  From my perspective, we have a glut of the following:

Brands and flavors of chips.  We can buy lime flavored Doritos!  Why?  Am I supposed to drop one in my gin and tonic?

Dangerously dumb people holding elected office.  Marjorie Taylor Greene.  Enough said.

Real estate agents.  We have hundreds in my county alone.  But we only have, like, two optometrists and maybe three good dentists who won’t jack up your teeth.

Bathing suit stores.  Most of these suits will disintegrate in the Gulf of Mexico anyway.  (That is not really true. I am just trying to get a rumor rolling about how the Gulf is full of flesh-eating poison to halt the spring break invasion.  Is it working?  Maybe I can ask Marjorie Taylor Greene to post this on her Facebook page.  That would hit my target audience of “please don’t come here” people. They believe whatever she says.)

Denim things.  OK, some people love their Levis.  But do we really need “denim-look” couches, cars and condoms?

Dollar General Crap.  Spend an hour or two walking around one of these 1$ type stores.  Yes, the merch is cheap.  It is also, for the most part, unnecessary.  Please explain to me how those “Ten Commandment” potholders and stained tube socks improve the quality of my life.

Finally, T-shirts that say things.  I can see you’re a “Professional Couch Potato”.  No need to reiterate that fact. As for suggestions that I “Work Hard, Play Hard, and PRAY hard”, just shut the hell up.  Your t-shirt is not my life coach.  (I think I’ve ranted about this before.)

All the things we need but do not have enough of.  All the things we have but do not need.

This is us.

Change the balance.

Love,

Joyce

#ResistToxicity

                                

 Dear you,

The Florida Panhandle is now the mothership for POTUS 45 grumps.  Congressman Matt Gaetz is their loudest leader, selling the new version of MAGA, something-something-America-first-blah-blah-blah. Whatever. This dude is really toxic.  Yet here I am, STILL, in his/their world.  But I am getting good at resisting toxicity.  I don’t get edgy when I read his weekly emails to constituents anymore.  I can channel surf to Fox News when Matt is on with Sean, Tucker, or Laura and watch without throwing my beer across the room.  I can just laugh at him now. I am developing Gaetz immunity.  Perhaps the mangled Nietzsche saying “what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger” applies in my case. I am resisting his virulent toxicity. Gaetz hasn’t killed me!

But a Glade-Plug-In almost did.

Since I live with a feline and sometimes smoke inside, I like to freshen up the condo air.  Typically, I just open windows and use lightly scented air spray.  I light “safe” scented candles too.  This works.  To make it even simpler, I thought I would try one of those plug-in devices.  I bought the amber-oud scent.  (What is oud anyway?); it was working.  However, in time I started getting headaches which I am not prone to, and I suffered a sinus/tooth blowup that might have been connected.  Not right.  I kept going.  A week or so later, I was out and about for several hours and discovered . . . no headache! Annoyingly, when I got home, throbbing resumed.  Then, epiphany:  outside = no headache, inside = headache.  I turned my head to the outlet near the entrance.  There it was!  Spewing poison into my little world. The evil plug-in.  If I had simply googled the device before purchase, I would have discovered screaming complaints on the Consumer Affairs website.  Naïve buyers like me suffered headaches, nausea, and worse.  I unplugged and threw the toxic device out.

That was easy.

Disposing of Gaetz style toxicity is not that easy.  He and his grumpy clan (klan) are not going anywhere.  They can’t be unplugged and tossed.  So, I just have to deal, get “relative” with the “inevitable” (as Matthew McConaughey would say, read Greenlights) and continue to pump up my social-political immune system.

If I can survive a Glade Plug-In, I can survive the new version of MAGA.  Stay tuned! I’m not going anywhere either.  At least not today.

#ResistToxicity

#MetaphoricallyUnplugTheGrumps

Love,

Joyce

Memes of Joy!

 Dear you,

Such a rush, yesterday.  Glorious inauguration, liberation and release.   After four years of Florida Man’s nonsense (do not say his name again), I was almost immobilized by the reality that it happened, democracy won.  All day and into the night, I kept realizing reality in fragmented clumps:

Decent weather in D.C. . . . Obamas arriving . . . burgundy dress stunning him too . . . ah George Bush . . .   masks masks masks . . . I wish I could see total expression on Mike Pence’s face . . .  eyes hard to read . . . Lady Gaga sizzling anthem . . . J-Lo declaration fuego . . . what was Bernie wearing . . . Kamala femme in the executive branch . . . suffragette spirits all around her/us . . . soldiers . . . huge Bible . . . Bill Clinton wobbly Hilary relentless . . . nothing exploding . . . poet clarifies . . . the stuff of memes . . . is that Brett Kavanaugh . . . and what was Bernie wearing?

Bernie wore his Vermont dressed not to impress best; you have seen the photos.  The image is now a meme, digital artists inserting the curmudgeonly-badass-beloved-senator in hilarious contexts.  My favorite so far, Bernie in Sex and the City:

 

Clever memers!  Making memes of joy, opportunities for celebratory humor.  Quite different from memes featuring Florida Man during his reign, created to satirically critique, mock, and provoke (necessarily so).  These are the honeymoon days of a new, “radically normal” administration.  We can lovingly laugh with our political employees once again and at last, at last, at last, dismiss the constant nag of MAGA negative dominance.  We can live with elegance and grace because . . .

We’ve got the culture.

We’ve got the persistence.

We’ve got the science.

We’ve got the memes of joy!

Love,

Joyce

Manly Lunches and the Masculine Mystique

Dear you,

Bill and Jackie are from Wisconsin.  They are adorable snowbirds who spend a month or two in Seagrove Beach every winter.  Friendly, attractive, and positive, they are the perfect visitors, a relief from what is to come in March.  Today, returning from my routine Publix run, I saw Bill grilling in the little grotto under the magnolia tree.  It’s cloudy and nasty-chilly, but Bill is undeterred.  He is grillin’ chicken for darling Jackie, and he is the man!  Me, on the other hand, am not the man. I am eating donuts for lunch.  I think there’s protein in the icing.  I am staying inside with my central heat and post-donut sugar rush. Such a “girly” thing to do.

Men grill protein.  Outside. This is masculine.

Women consume donuts. Inside. This is feminine.

Neither is true.  It is an individual thing.  Yet, even in 2021, we still play with masculine-feminine cliches, and sometimes our debates over what defines what are hysterically funny.  Take yesterday.  A Fox Cable News anchor asked the national press secretary for the Trump campaign if Donald felt “emasculated” after being banned from his beloved social media platforms.  Secretary Gidley responded weirdly, asserting Trump is “the most masculine person” to “ever hold the White House.” 

Gidley is obviously pimping for his boss. But Trump, “masculine”?  I just don’t get it.  Donald Trump is outside any identifiable gender cliches. In fact, he is sort of asexual and blobby.  He fits none of the masculine assumptions:

Masculine assumption one – Men are muscular and athletic.  Check NO for Donald.

Masculine assumption two – Men respect women and defend their honor.  Check NO for Donald.

Masculine assumption three – Men stand up for the underdog.  Check NO for Donald.

Masculine assumption four – Men love the outdoor life and animals.  Big NO for Donald.

Masculine assumption five – Men don’t care about gossip.  Check NO for Donald, for sure.

There is all that. Plus, I am pretty sure he has no idea what a grill is.  There might have been a picture of one on his Trump Steaks label, but that would be as close as he ever came to that macho cooking method.

I don’t want to promote whatever the “masculine” mystique is, but in defense of anything positive associated with that label, I must refute Gidley.  Trump is the opposite of "the man".  He is orange.  He is scared.  He is sadistic.  He is powerful but brutally stupid.  He will always be remembered like this:

A big baby full of hot air and killer instincts, the most UNMASCULINE man to ever "hold the White House" hostage.

Enough!

Time for lunch.  I am going to defy all gender labels and go GRILL MY DONUTS!

Love,

Joyce

No mercy for horn-hat man . . .

 Dear you,

My friend Eric and I decided the theme/motto for 2021 should be #NoMercy.

Considering yesterday’s Trump show at the Capitol, our motto is on point.  Trump’s White Nationalist base and the politicians who support them deserve zero mercy.  There it was, on the screen in real time, vulgar, domestic terrorism.  And what on Earth was the dude featured in the photo (above) doing?  What is up with the horns?  He looks ridiculous. He is ridiculous. I do not want to work it out with this man. I do not want to accommodate his barbaric fears and ignorance. He is to be resisted and restrained. As for his political enablers, consider my congressman, Matt Gaetz.  Last night, after the chaos, he still objected to democracy. He looked ridiculous.  He is ridiculous.  Where is his horn hat? He might as well dress the part. Stunningly, sixty percent of voters in my district support Matt. Are all these Panhandle supporters as vile as Trump’s Capitol Riot Crew?  Why, why, would a sane and civilized human being bend that way? The truth is a good number of this voting base is just following the lead of their clan, their corrupt pastors, or believing whatever crazy Aunt June posts on Facebook.  Some among them are like the young man I encountered yesterday.  He works the customer service counter at Publix near Blue Mountain Beach; we met when things were really getting ugly in the Capitol.

Me:  Hi.  May I have four packs of Capri menthol, long blue?  Oh, by the way, how are you holding up during the coup?

Him:  I’m sorry mam?  During what?

Me:  Right now, Trump supporters are storming the Capitol to shut down the certification of Biden’s win.

Him:  That sounds bad! 

Me:  Yeah.  We saw it coming.

(Young man walks away shaking his head to get my cigarettes.  He returns.)

Him:  Here you go.  Anything else?

Me:  Thank you.  Yes, there is something else.  Don’t support our congressman, Matt Gaetz.  He is part of this nonsense.  He lies to you and doesn’t give a damn about your life.

Him:  I think I voted for him.  My family told me to always vote for the “R”.  I really don’t know much about all that.  I just work my hours and go home.

Me:  You are very young.  Where are you hoping to go next?  School, travel, the military?

Him:  I haven’t thought about that. 

Me:  Well, good luck!  Thank you!

(He smiles. I leave.)

I am concerned about “him”.  I am concerned about every person who is stuck, just knocking out hours and going home.  These are the victims of Gaetz.  For them, I say #HaveMercy. No mercy for the assholes in their laughable MAGA hats.  No mercy for the white trash vandalizing the Capitol yesterday.  But here, in this place that I am, I know I must have mercy for “hims” (or “hers”) like this guy.  Unwittingly complicit and unwittingly victimized.  Matt Gaetz and company want to cement young ones like him in place, serving a vampiric economy.  He just does not know.  He means no harm.  He is not the problem. And as I move forward, committed to my #NoMercy approach to Trumpers in 2021, I must be specific.  I must have mercy and not give up on the inexperienced, the uninformed, the stuck. Any given “him” is not necessarily a part of “them”.  It is just hard sometimes, especially after days like yesterday, to be specific. To be merciful. To be temperate.  I will do my best. However, as for “them”, #NoMercy, especially for horn-hat man and Matty Gaetz.

Please consider embracing this specifically applied theme too as we finally rise in 2021.

Love,

Joyce