Project 2025 Family Planning

Dear you,

Christian Nationalism and "the end of democracy", as promised by a CPAC speaker recently, are very here and now. The fans of this Project 2025 dystopia are the absolute worst. Their god is the justification for every fucking nightmare policy they dream up. A year or so ago, I would have said dream on. The majority of Americans are too sane and too mindful of religious truths to put up with your antics.  But here we are now; the new American theocrats are increasing in number.  And power.  A center of their new plan for all of us is the emphasis on family. (Not a new thing, but typical of conservative backlash game plans.)That family is defined by them, of course. And kids, kids, kids must be produced! (See again Speak Johnson and his theory that every American female should be compelled to produce at least one child/worker.)The choice to be solo in this retro-conservative era now must be explained. People ask, why don't you have children?

I reply with the facts: "I'm a different kind of animal. I like to live on my own and I really don't like children." These declarations are often received with wide-eyed horror. I've seen people cross themselves and take a step back. Apparently I am a very bad girl. So, what do they want to hear?  What can be said to shut them the fuck up?  Well, as I often do, I consulted the fabulous comedy of The Onion for options, something to make me laugh and stop me from doom-scrolling about theocratic future. See their piece from 2021, "What to Say When Someone Asks Why You Don't Have Kids."  Suggested responses:

"I lost them in poker."

"I left those annoying little shits in Palm Beach."

"The Bible says that anyone who has children will die in a blimp accident."

"I accidentally spilled the IVF dish."

Stop there, cue "Sweet Home, Alabama."  We all know what went down this week. Some random judge (guided by god, naturally) declared that frozen embryos are children. Hence, now many medical pros do not want to mess with IVF and do hard time because of a dish drop. This makes no sense, if they want kids, kids, kids, why would they try to shut down one way to produce them?  It's all so idiotic and so very Alabama.  Back to The Onion and their version of this breaking news headline:  "Alabama Supreme Court Rules That Frozen Burritos Are Children."

If that is the case, Taco Bell better lawyer up.

The truth is, satire aside, we all better lawyer up.  The godly-family-planners are coming for everything, especially the "bad" girls.

Good luck!

Love,

Childless and I don't give a damn Joyce

Resilience Is Required

Dear you,

Keeping it concise today. Thinking about resilience. . .

After the New York decision dropped telling Donald he now owes 300-something million to pay for his lies, the Orange One threw a televised tantrum on the steps of his deplorable mansion.  Notable: his body language. The man was totally cracked out, jazz handing at the speed of light. You know that thing he does, fingers spread like an 80's video dancer. A gesticulating frenzy meant to express potency, outrage, something like that. A frenzy meant to distract us from this fact: he hacked the system, BUT the system in this case demonstrated resilience.  Resilience is needed now more than ever. See Bruce Schneier's A Hacker's Mind - How the Powerful Bend Society's Rules, and How to Bend Them Back:

"Resilience is an important concept, one that applies to everything from the human body to the planetary ecosystem, from organizational systems to computer systems. It's the ability of a system to recover from perturbations, including hacks." 

Thank you Attorney General Letitia James and Judge Engoron.

The system is resilient. For now . . . 

Love,

Joyce

Keeping It Light!

Dear you,

Keep it light, that is one of my new "to do" items as we roll into February.  Not easy to do, but there are random things that prompt a smile, an exhalation, a hope-restored for the moment feeling.  Some bits from my recent day tripping:

One - Still looking for the perfect real estate broker to sell this condo and get me out and away (destination still unknown, stay tuned), I Googled with search terms like 'liberal real estate agents in my area' and 'Panhandle realtors with a sense of humor'.  Diving in deeper and deeper into some pretty vague search results, I clicked on a link featuring the photo copied above. I love that. Wonder if this dude can help me out here. He's probably too busy since the 2024  election predictions are scaring the hell out of Americans who reject this Trump is Jesus thing. If Canada looked good in 2016, imagine its appeal now.  Thanks for keeping it light, Mr. Cook.

Two - I got change back from a cash transaction at the local liquor store. On exit, while fumbling around with my purse plus vodka-in-bag plus car keys, I dropped a quarter to the ground.  It fell face up and revealed an image I have never noticed before, Wilma Mankiller!  A native American honored on the coinage of the invaders, but my oh my, what a fabulous name. And what a fabulous reason to research this woman instead of Googling realtors. Ah, enlightenment.

Three - Dusting the south bedroom, I saw fingerprints on the TV screen.  Even my cat can't be blamed for that.  I stood there stumped and then remembered.  During the NFL playoffs, I was placing my fingers on the first down marks highlighted in yellow on our screens.  I did this whenever I was cheering for a team, hoping my magical screen touching would work in their favor.  That may be more loony than light, but whatever.

Four - Continuing my radio as soundtrack life, I am still in enjoyment mode.  However, sometimes keeping it light with smooth jazz is more like dozing off with snooze jazz.  A day or so ago I heard a cover of Jackson's "Rock With You" that moves at a glacial pace.  More like I want to "Nap With You." But still smile-worthy.

Five - Then there was this morning's news compliments of MSNBC, thank you, that a DC appeals court rejected Donald Trump's demented claim about presidential immunity.  Now it's in the hands of SCOTUS. Maybe, just maybe . . .

Six - Finally, I sighted a doe and fawn on the edge of our Point Washington forest last Friday, perhaps too near the interstate, but still, they were alive. And oh so beautiful.

End list. 

Begin again with light in mind.

Love,

Joyce

Let it go?

Dear you,

My dryer died Monday.  Ten minutes into its spin, I heard a thud, like a brick hitting the floor.  Yes indeed, that alarming sound came from my darling dryer. Oddly, the machine kept working, but instead of its typical hum she was wailing. I paused the cycle to check for electrical problems; none existed, so I just let the cycle wind down and endured the mechanical aria. My cat was not happy about that and I was feeling increasingly annoyed. I realized I would have to deal with yet another broken thing.  Ownership is really fun. Then, I thought about my current detachment project, not being mainlined to cable news 24/7 (okay, maybe 16/7). I like it. Free smooth jazz is my soundtrack right now, compliments of a nice little radio station 106.3, the "Sea Breeze". The commercials are limited and the advertisers who support the station are civilized.  You won't hear screaming ads for the Trump Store in Panama City or the latest appeal to buy more more more guns. If and when the all powerful HOA board decides to nix my old school cable feed, I am ready, practiced in the art of moving forward while relying on things from "the past".  So, back to the dryer.  I woke the day after, looked at my note-to-self about calling appliance repair people and just decided to let it go. Gee, how easy is that?  I can hang dry my clothing, smalls, and even light towels and socks from the shower rods in both bathrooms. And I might have a little fun messing with the HOA busy-bodies by stringing a clothesline across the balcony! (That would be worth whatever they fine me.)  If I need to dry something massive like bedding or beach towels, I can use the hideous laundry room on the complex, something I pay for anyway and never use. And there you have it. Another "let it go" task checked.

Are you feeling this way too these days?  Are you thinking about break downs or break ups and coming up with a healthy Plan B? I'm talking about more than appliances or cable access now. In public life, so much breakage is happening and feeling imminent. Shaky democracy, book bans, a trashed environment.  What is my/your Plan B for that?  Do we really have to let the important stuff go too? No, so not a let it go option. We can keep at it, defending democracy and hoping that the opposition will, in time, trip over their own dicks.  For example, we can count on far-right infighting to inadvertently give us some breathing room.  See Florida, the current legislative session in Tallahassee.  The Republicans in charge proposed a bill that would take Florida state taxpayer money to help Trump pay his legal bills.  I know.  Jaw-dropping, isn't it? Well, we got a reprieve from that horror because Governor DeSantis vetoed the bill. Yes, the bill was so deplorable that even Ron said hell no. Now, in addition to his embarrassing failure to win the GOP nod for the presidency, he will have to watch his back (literally) in the state capitol building. No matter how much this dude kissed and kisses Trump's ring, when things got totally psycho, he said "enough".  Like I said, a little hope there.  No need to let go of democracy or giving a damn about our nation just yet.

Still, having a Plan B for most things is probably a good idea. Start small, detach from your dryer and constant screen viewings. Then move on to what seems impossible, like cigarettes, morning coffee, and evening cocktails. Let it go!  Let it go? Wait, no. Not the latter three. When it comes to those addictions, I echo the Governor's hell no and cry VETO!

I will adapt.  But I refuse to soberly die. 

Love,

Joyce

The Analog, The Transient

Dear you,

January 14, 2024, Seagrove Beach, Florida.

A fearless raptor visited me as I strolled about today.

Quite a beauty, this one.

A hawk, brown, white dotted feathers, lush, muscular body.

Its visit was brief; I dared come too close and she/he flew away.

And there it is, my humble epiphany for the day: beauty is transient.

I head inside and tune to the local public radio station (yes, some survive).

Smiles! They play the score from The Sound of Music.

Quite a beauty, that one too, available for real, for free, to anyone with an FM radio.

Free, like analog television once was.

Why did we give that up? 

Even pricey digital cable is on its way out, replaced by even pricier streaming.

See yesterday, the NFL streams a major wild card playoff game, severing access to the big all of us, or mostly all.

Quite cynical, this decision.

Quite sad too.

I worry we are losing access to so much artistry, in poetry, in body art, in reportage.

I pout on a perfectly lovely Sunday. Remedy?

Shift focus to the analog, continuous like a heartbeat, continuous at least until it stops.

Shift to the soundtrack filling my silly condo, listen:

"Raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens/bright copper kettles and warm woolen mittens/

bright geese that fly with the moon on their wings/these are a few of my favorite things.

When the dog bites, when the bee stings, when I'm feeling sad/

I simply remember my favorite things/and then I don't feel so bad."

My favorite things. Like public radio, televised sports, a fearless hawk.

Very analog.  Very transient.

You made my day, you wonderful (wonder full) transient things.

Gracias.

2024 - the year of beautiful things

Dear you,

2024 begins with some anniversaries.  Tomorrow we have to remember the January 6, 2021, insurrection.  I say "have to" because so many among us deny the carnage party happened and someone has to speak truth to idiocy.  Those who admit to the occurrence blame it on the FBI and Dems, suggesting we/they were under-cover actors trying to make the MAGAs look bad.  No, just no.  Why? Consider the vanity defense.  The FBI and Dems are way too attractive to look like the characters "on stage" that day.  The bad denim pants, reactionary baseball caps, the immense facial hair.  No, just no.  So, we remember. And we speak.

We can also happily remember that fifty years ago we were sane enough (and humane enough) to create the Endangered Species Act (ESA).  So many variants saved, if only for the moment.  I was reminded about this anniversary while listening to NPR, a program featuring scientists fighting for the rights of random beautiful things to exist.  I learned this:  top of the endangered list, orchids and red wolves.  As for the red wolves, there are supposedly only twenty left in the wild.  As for the orchids, some species are vanishing due to global warming (honestly, let's call it what it is, global broiling).

I am sure the fate of endangered wild things seems irrelevant when we think about our wars, our poverty, our emerging tendency to embrace the brutal autocrat-type. But why does relevance matter? Beauty is necessary; it cannot be properly priced or assessed in terms of "use value".  Beauty is worth fighting for. 

So, I hereby declare this new year, 2024, with all its predicted chaos and drama and stupid human activity, to be the YEAR OF BEAUTIFUL WILD THINGS!

Let it be so.

Happy New Year,

Joyce

Defiant and Alive

Dear you,

Christmas day in the bubble of coastal Florida.

Beautiful, warmish, breezy, scattered gentle showers.

My chubby brown girl cat wakes me, pawing at my face, nawing at the spine of the novel by my pillow.

I wake to peace and ease and feline antics.

I wake to NPR and the voice of Sedaris retelling Santaland Diary tales.

I laugh as I do every year, preferring satire to sentiment.

I stroll around the condo grounds between the waves of rain.

They come and go, those waves of rain, like waves of thought, memory, simplicity.

Ah, my lucky peace and ease between the waves of rain.

Chubby cat is napping now, like any other day.

She, like me, is in the bubble, but perhaps she dreams of brother and sister cats far away in war zones.

Perhaps she dreams of strutting triumphant under some country's flag.

Defiant and so alive.

She dreams between the waves of rain.

As do we all.

Defiant and so alive.

Love,

Joyce