Dear you,
Good morning, 2/27/2022. I woke to some good news; the Ukrainians pushed
Russian troops out of Kharkiv and now have regained control of their second
largest city. Yes! But then again, there was also news about
Pooty Putin doing something nuclear.
Putting his nuke handlers on high alert or whatever. Here we go again. Flashback to childhood and those drills. At least this time I am sixty something instead
of six and nobody can make me duck and cover under my DESK. Seriously, even a six-year-old knew this was
a pointless thing to do. Those Alabama pine, lift-top desks did offer helpful
graffiti warnings such as “Patsy Digby smells like baloney” and “Mr. Guthrie is
a pervert”, but effective protection against nuclear radiation? Um, no.
But I digress, back to Ukraine and the topic of “a star is born”. Yes indeed, we (well, the civilized and
attractive among us) are in love with their President, Volodymyr Zelensky (Zelenskyy/Zelenskky,
lots of different spellings appear in media reports; Americans aren’t good with
consonant overload).
Beautiful and badass, he has been praised globally. My favorite Twitter comment this week:
“Going from a comedian on tv to staring down Russia tanks,
planes, choppers, and bombs and you don’t even blink is the most gangster shit
I’ve ever seen in my life.” (@BlackKnight10k)
And then there was Z’s response to our suggestion that he
evacuate Kyiv with our assistance, “I need ammunition, not a ride.”
Now that is some gangster shit. I have such a crush on this man. And a respect-crush on another star of the
week, Judge Ketanji Brown Jackson. Stellar
legal history and untouchable in terms of character. But the GOP will do its best to twist her record
since she probably doesn’t like beer.
She will be on the court. They
can say what they want; she’ll handle it.
Like Zelensky, she won’t blink. However, it has got to be daunting to
take on a job like that. SCOTUS. No expiration date assigned. Just her and the other eight, twenty-four seven. Of course, Judge Jackson is undaunted. But I enjoyed The Onion’s satirical riff
about her imaginary doubts:
. . . “in the hours
after learning she had been chosen as the first black woman to be nominated to
the U.S. Supreme Court, Judge Ketanji Brown Jackson reportedly weighed making
history against the soul-crushing thought of spending time with these
people. ‘Of course, sitting on the
highest court in the land would be a tremendously meaningful position for
someone like me to hold, but then again, it just kills me inside – absolutely kills
me – to think of spending any time at all with these people,” Jackson said on
Friday, furrowing her brow as she considered the symbolic impact of her
elevation to the Supreme Court alongside the sheer deadening idea of seeing
Neil Gorsuch’s stupid fucking face every day for the better part of the next
half century.”
Better Neil than Brett.
Satire aside, Judge Jackson is on the record for this
declaration from a 2019 decision: “Presidents are not kings.” That is a judicial point of view we dearly
need now, having barely survived a previous would-be king who is still lurking
about . . . like Pooty and pervy Mr. Guthrie.
Anyway, this week had its shining moments. President Z and Judge J, they won’t blink. They
make me feel safer, momentarily not compelled to hide under a metaphorical desk. Sure, nobody can save me from dictators with
nukes or Patsy’s body odor, but Zelensky and Jackson give me inspirational badass
ammunition. Two stars in our
partly-cloudy 2022 skies.
Cue applause.
Joyce
