Hands off my menthol, dear FDA!

 

Dear you,

The FDA recently announced its plan to ban menthol cigarettes.  The menthol additive masks the harsh taste of tobacco; it is minty fresh and delicious.  I have been smoking menthol cigarettes for almost fifty years.  I only smoke menthols.  The non-menthols are just groce, very smelly and not delicious.  If my menthol Capris are gone, banned forever, I will not simply shift to the “hard” stuff.  I will simply lose my mind.

Look, times are trying.  I live in Florida.  I need my menthol treats here more than anywhere.  You know my governor, lovingly called DeathSantis.  His latest stunt was to criminalize protesting and forgive anyone who happened to mow a protester down with her/his car.  Check out a recent interview with the governor and a Polk County Sheriff.  That dude was all giddy about the fascist bill since Florida should be, I don’t know, a place without politics or reality.  Sheriff Grady Judd said “welcome to Florida, there’s a reason that this place is fun.”  Yes, really fun, Grady.  It is really fun to live in a state where new felonies are made-up out of the blue, magically, like at Disney World.  Our new felony crime is called “aggravated rioting”.  Well, if I am rioting, I am probably pretty aggravated about something.

I also need my menthol chill to handle some reactions to the conviction of Derek Chauvin for the murder of George Floyd.  Finally, a step towards justice.  Who would disagree?  Fox News and Tucker Carlson, of course. Tucker called public support for George Floyd an “attack on civilization”.  To him, the trial was not fair, the jury was swayed by fear of riots in the streets if they did not convict Chauvin.  This racist lunatic has his own television show, prime time, with millions of addicted viewers, high on white supremacy.  That drug is probably way more dangerous than a lifetime of inhaling menthol.

And then there is this, Idaho is now expanding efforts to slaughter the wolf population.  They already have a bounty on these creatures, but that incentive hasn’t prompted enough murder for hire response.  The state now has a year-round wolf hunting season, and they are calling in “contractors” to reach their goal of killing 90% of the wolf population. The motive, to protect the interests of agriculture and cattle ranchers.  We aren’t just talking about a clean shot to the head and dead.  We are talking about trapping these animals too.  Beyond awful.  I really don’t need an Idaho-grown burger that badly.  And I will give up Idaho French fries too.  Just let the wolves be.

And don't take my menthol.

In summation, dear FDA, please don’t ban my delicious Capri Menthol Delights because . . .  Florida.  Tucker Carlson.  Idaho.  Do it, and you might be in for a lot of aggravated rioting.

Time to light up and lawyer up :)

Love,

Joyce

Disappointment Island

 Dear you,

News reports inform me my magical thinking about Moderna invincibility is delusional.  My terrible reactions after the vax only bought me six months of safety.  Later, I have to get a booster.  Honestly, I am considering just giving up on this shot thing and rolling the dice.  I really don’t want to be that sick again.  But I know sick is better than dead.  This and then the updates on masks:  probably another six months of face coverings at best.  Very disappointing.

Some better news? Our troops are coming home from Afghanistan.  After twenty years, they return.  Many of these young men and women were not even born when 9/11 happened, the catalyst for our invasion to pursue the perpetrators, Al-Qaeda and Bin Laden.  The latter are neutralized and dead, but the Taliban remains.  This is not good news for Afghani women, gays, intellectuals, artists, or even pets.  The Taliban still rules.  Very disappointing.

Then, the executions of American citizens, specifically Black citizens, by members of law enforcement.  Regularly.  This has become regular.  Disappointing?  No.  Infuriating, heartbreaking, soul-killing, yes. We wait for justice, logical verdicts, we wait, but prepare for disappointment.

I look out my west window on a rainy afternoon and see disappointed visitors strolling about, bored.  They came here for sun, fun, a day at the beach.  I feel for them, especially the little ones, but imagining a consistently sunny and warm Panhandle of Florida is truly delusional.  Check the map.  We are a long way from the tropics.  Very disappointing.

They are disappointed.  I am disappointed.  We are disappointed.

To break my fixation on disappointment, I Google “good news” and check out a site called goodnewsnetwork.org.  Some headlines:

Endangered Trout May Soon Return to Los Angeles

They Found A Baby on the Subway – Now He’s Their Adopted Son

Man Mailed Himself Home in a Box from Australia – Now He’s Looking for the Pals Who Helped Him

Futuristic Green Fabric That Works Like a Smartphone Unveiled by Scientists

Woman Uses Lockdown to Teach Her Clever Dog Math and Colors with Homemade Flashcards

No, this is not a satirical news site.  It featured some interesting and uplifting stories, more substantive than the above.  But I left the site even more disappointed because:

I don’t understand why a trout would want to live in LA.

I don’t trust “finders keepers” adoptions.

I don’t even want to know this mail-myself-home man’s story.

I don’t need another version of the ubiquitous, rule-our-lives Smartphones.

I don’t think this woman should own a dog.  Forced math instruction is abusive.

Those don’ts are a product of a currently disappointed mind programmed by inflated expectations.  I have got to get my head in line with empirical reality.  Moderna won’t save me; the Talibans of this world won’t go away; people with power are not always good.  Got it.

But I can dream, can’t I?  Reality-infused dreams maybe? Besides, the truth is Moderna probably will save me (at least from Covid), eventually the Talibans of this world end up tripping over their own dicks, and most/many people with power are very, very, very good.  Got that!

That is sustainable magical thinking, disappointments be damned.  

XO

Joyce

PS – Did you know there is a place named Disappointment Island?  It’s in the Auckland Islands, New Zealand.  Uninhabited, but home to lots of albatrosses.  Those creatures are NOT disappointed; they are safe, far away from human interference and the abusive flashcard lady.

M words!

Dear you,

This blog entry is brought to you by the letter M.  It feels like MAYHEM, locally, nationally, and globally.  No, this isn’t just me being older and reacting to change in a defensive way.  Things are objectively messy and I am weary of asking the question “did that just happen?”  A lot is strangely happening that I call mayhem.

First, locally, yes, spring break came in hard here the first week of April.  In this phase, we hosted Atlanta and other Georgia high schoolers.  These were not the children of Stacey Abrams.  These were the children of MARJORIE Taylor Green.  Stolen bikes strewn about, stomping, slamming, screaming, and attempts to reel in the madness were responded to with “I paid good money for this” or “fuck you, I can do what I want; I ain’t afraid.”  (What they were claiming to be not afraid of is unclear to me.)

Next, the stream of anti-vax rhetoric about the shot being the MARK OF THE BEAST.  Well, I got the mark and I want the hardcopy passport too.   The Christian Bible’s final chapter of Revelations grounds their reasoning. I wonder if they consider that this book is prophetic in nature and not historic?  John (which specific John is a point of argument in that faith) had a vision on the island of Patmos.  In a way, he was just high. Typical scenario, angel descends to deliver the word of the deity about the future.  The future is apocalyptic in nature and revolves around the good versus evil trope.  The beasty verses read like this (one of many translations): “And he causeth all, both small and great, rich and poor, free and bond, to receive a mark in their right hand, or in their foreheads. And that no man might buy or sell, save he that had the mark, or the name of the beast, or the number of his name.  Here is wisdom.  Let him hath understanding count the number of the beast: for it is the number of a man; and his number is six hundred threescore and six.”  There it is, the old 666 thing.  I am not so sure this “is wisdom”.  I am pretty sure this is just apocalypse-porn.

And then we have our local congressman Matt Gaetz, righteously fighting charges of sex trafficking and other lovely crimes.  I looked forward to his weekly email to his constituents wondering if he would even mention his sticky wicket situation.  But not a word about that.  He blabbed on about the Dems messing up Georgia and causing the border crisis.  Quote from one section:

“Both Gov. Greg Abbott of Texas and Gov. Doug Ducey of Arizona have determined that the current border situation is a crisis.  Fentanyl is coming across the border, cartel members are coming across the border – and of course – Covid is coming across the border.  Hey Dr. Fauci, why aren’t those illegal immigrants wearing masks?”

Good to know Matt is finally concerned about Covid.  The M word for our Matty is MORON. Someone on Twitter calls him Rapey McForehead.  I think that is a highly suitable MONIKER.

Finally, Prince Philip has died.  The United Kingdom mourns this loss to their MONARCHY.  Can’t say that I blame them.  Maybe we all could use a strong, silent type acting as a figurehead these days.   Stiff upper lip, keep calm and carry on, etc.  But then again there is all that imperialist and racist history, so never mind.  I am standing with MEGHAN MARKLE, safely tucked away in California exile.

Mayhem, Marjorie, Mark of the Beast, Moron Matt’s new Moniker, and Monarchy. 

Maybe next week will bring me a lighter, brighter list of M words.  Looking forward to Mystery, Merriment, and Majesty . . . while dancing the MACARENA!  Everybody hit the floor with me:

Days like these, we might as well dance.

Love,

Joyce

Good Friday Meds . . .

Dear you,

Good Friday.  While leaving for my second shot of Moderna invincibility, news breaks about an attack on the Capitol.  Suspect drove his car into the barriers.  Capitol police, again, stepped up, doing what they do.  As of now, one officer is dead and another is in critical condition.  The suspect is dead.  His name was Noah.

Good Friday.  Driving back from that shot, I turn on the radio.  Science Friday on NPR informs me that cattle are being fed seaweed to eliminate methane farts.  Turn the channel.  On 95.1 The Grateful Dead sing “we will get by, we will survive.” Survival made possible by the elimination of methane farts.

Good Friday.  The Chauvin trial continues with stories of remorse.  Remorse expressed by witnesses, the Cup Foods cashier who took the infamous $20 bill, emergency workers on the scene, all broken by not being able to stop the murder of George Floyd.  Remorse not expressed by the masked murderer, jotting notes on his legal pad.

Good Friday.  My congressman, Matt Gaetz, is in deep shit and Fox News pretends they don’t know him.  Even the local paper (a far-right prop piece) printed the story about the DOJ’s investigation of Matt re: paying for sex.  Sex with minors.

Good Friday.  I look at the bottle of Tylenol I bought.  I was told by random people to down a few after shot 2 to prevent the reactions I had after shot 1, or at least lessen the impact.  But the good nurse who gave me today’s shot said don’t.  “Let your body fight this. That is how it works.”

Good Friday.  Scott Dworkin tweets “Major League Baseball is moving the All-Star Game out of Georgia due to racist voting law.”  Florida is working on a voter restriction bill like Georgia's, as are other states. Vermont may be the only remaining go-to state for corporations with souls.

Good Friday.  Visitors are pouring into the 30A beach scene for their versions of holy weekend. A huge red truck with Texas plates pulls up to my building.  Big group. They like to slam doors.

Good Friday.  That Grateful Dead song is stuck in my head as I take in all these events, “the ABCs we all must face/try to keep a little grace”. Just another day facing the ABCs. Trying to keep a little grace.

Considering all that, I AM TAKING THE TYLENOL! 

Love,

Joyce