LOVELY shopper at JCPenney - "happy" holidays . . .

Dear You:

The story has gone viral.  Racist woman (pictured above) goes nuts and unloads insults on the customer ahead of her.  Racist woman's claim is that customer had broken in line or something silly like that.  Her reaction . . . LOVELY! Among my favorite quotes from racist woman is "go back to where you came from".  Really?

But I digress.  This story connects to my adventures in retail!  Yes!  I am outing myself now as a JCPenney sales associate, the store-site of this hideous event!  And I am assigned to the Shoe Department, the department that sells the things inside that green box racist woman is holding.  I happen to know that is a boot box.  Imagine those legs in boots and leggings.  Imagine those legs (or similar owners of similar legs) walking around your department on the daily.  Imagine the questions the mouths belonging to those legs ask.

Apparently, racist woman has been "banned" from the mall housing this JCP location.  But what else will be done?  Should she be "punished" further?  Not really.  It's just speech, stupid speech, but still just speech.  Besides, Karma is already on the job.   If you can see the photo, you can see HER.  There it is . . . justice.  Poor old thing has to live inside that . . . body.  Outside reflecting inside.

I wonder what JCPenney will do about this?  I'm sure they'll create pointless workshops about protecting customers from racist rants, etc. The problem, however, is that many of these sales associates are reprimanded if they stand up for themselves, colleagues, or the sweet customers.   I don't care.  My record shows a consistently fearless "talk back" history :)  But others are afraid.  They are told that the customer is always right and they must make ALL customers happy . . . even the stupid, business-killing ones.  Something in the working "climate" there held that sales associate back.  But I cannot say exactly what held the other customers back.  That is a puzzle . . .

Please, everybody.  Speak.  "We" > "fat woman holding boot box".

Happy Christmas Eve Eve . . .

XO

Joyce

Oh HELL no!

Dear you . . .

Sweet Madea, my muse and comedic savior.  Tyler Perry blessed us with this gal and only she can speak for me now:

"What the hell is wrong with you?  LISTEN TO ME, little hands Donald.  Why you appointing some trashy wrestling  woman, Uncle Ben, and some big ass oil executive to your cabinet?  You actin like this is a kitchen cabinet, filling it up with cracked junk.  Hell to the DAMN no."

Hell 2 the no.

Pruitt appointed to take over the Environmental Protection Agency.  Pruitt - the oil dude.  Pruitt - currently suing the EPA itself.  Pruitt - from OKLAHOMA.

Jesus Lord.

Might as well go ahead and rename the agency:  Environmental Destruction Agency.

This kills me.  The majority of American people have got it together and will survive the Donald's rule.  Legally, socially, technically, we will regress under this administration, but we'll come back.  We can. I can.  I can even survive the neighbor sending a redneck sheriff to pound on my door, giving me the third degree about a broken light pole at a Trump-neighbor's house.  (Like really, this wasn't just a cop looking for testimony; he was SENT to shake me down.  This dumb ass neighbor actually thought I, the one democrat in zip code 32461, or at least the only visible one, destroyed the pole-light because it illuminated a TRUMP-PENCE sign.  Hell 2 the No again.) But yes, I will survive the world according to Trump.

But the planet?  Mother Earth on-the-edge and so close to going over . . .

I may have Tweeted hopeful "I will work with you" statements, but those days are DONE.

Fuck these deplorables :)

Love and kisses to you adorables :)

Joyce, trying to channel her inner Madea

Tea time, ladies! Happy Thanksgiving?

Dear you . . .




So, we have all been busy in terms of information absorption.  Yes, an election over . . . with an unusual outcome.  Understatement.  History "unmade" because I will not see Sister Clinton as POTUS.  However, that Tuesday night, after I lifted my paralyzed self from the couch, I got busy.  Tasks:

1.  Research which sector (environment, education, etc.) I need to devote time to/defend.

     Information absorption time spent on this task:  100 hours to date

2.  Figure out why I feel like the outcome was driven by some anti-femme reaction.

     Information absorption time spent on  clarifying this "feeling":  10 minutes

Only ten minutes because I really don't want to know if this is true.  Perhaps the assigned roles are not really changing after all.  Consider the White House meeting of POTUS Obama and POTUS elect Trump. Then consider a parallel meeting in another room, a lesser space. (See photo.)  The women met for tea.  Seated properly in dainty chairs.  Contrast that to the power postures of their mates (note Donald's red power tie dangling over his power zone).



Why didn't the femme-meeting look like this?



Women running together in an urban, free space.  Women moving.

Depressing.  Same shit different day.  And yet, there is reason for euphoria!  As Donald would say (and said), what have I/we got to lose?  Go big or go home.  Make noise and refuse to cooperate.  But on the other hand, why not be reasonable?  Good change might occur.  But then again, here comes Bannon, Flynn, and possibly Rudy G. as Secretary of State (Oh Hell No).  But wait! Donald has totally backed away from his scariest campaign horrors (Muslim ban, torture doctrine, or "lock her up"), hurrah!

It feels like this:



I guess I should be thankful I can feel at all. The struggle can continue, whatever that means.

So today, Thanksgiving 2016, I choose to appreciate the ride.
And I am definitely OFF THE COUCH!

XO

Joyce

Sanity, baby!

 
Dear you:

Swamped by normalcy (working my hilarious retail gig, online essay tutoring, maintaining beach-house-beach-yard-beach-life), I emerge daily to hear the news.  Yes, that would be election drama.  We are so close to November 8.  This will be a Hillary Clinton win.  And here we go again . . . another happy, historical day (a female as POTUS) will be fucked up by those guys (and gals).  Please "enjoy" this excerpt from a Boston Globe article:  

"If she’s in office, I hope we can start a coup. She should be in prison or shot. That’s how I feel about it,” Dan Bowman, a 50-year-old contractor, said of Hillary Clinton, the Democratic nominee. “We’re going to have a revolution and take them out of office if that’s what it takes. There’s going to be a lot of bloodshed. But that’s what it’s going to take. . . . I would do whatever I can for my country.”
He then placed a Trump mask on his face and posed for pictures."

I was frozen with horror and rage until I got to the mask moment. 

Does this dude imagine he is part of a V for Vendetta movement?  "V" is opposed to everything Trump.
Yet these dudes and dudettes see themselves as rebels, freedom fighters, ready to lock up the MAJORITY of American citizens who will elect Clinton.

During the Reagan years, I remember being baffled by many things.  One was the fact that he was not (to me) a great communicator.  Vague phrasing and big smiles.  However, not being INSANE, I realized the MAJORITY of my brothers and sisters had voted him into office.  And I had to think about that.  And respect that.  And move the hell on.  That is what liberals do.  (See the Gore v. Bush situation too.)

The contractor featured in the Globe piece is INSANE.  And not in the good way, the cool and swervy Seal's song "Crazy" way.

Who would blatantly try to incite DE-VOLUTION?  Donald.  I wonder what Trump really thinks about the man in the mask?  He thinks he's a tool, a fan, a customer for his future Trump Network (his real motivation for running for POTUS).   But after November 8, neither Donald nor Hillary actually have to deal with the masked contractor.  I do.  You do.  And it won't be pretty.   "They" (yes, I used the awful, vague pronoun) aren't pretty and since it is now very correct to be so fallacious, I'll say it again.  "They" aren't pretty.  And they all should be required to:
1.  Sleep in beautifying mud masks.
2.  Memorize the amazing poem "We Wear the Mask".
3.  Research the author and context of the above poem.
4.  Spend one hour a day reading (can they?) substantive "media" journalism.
5.  Participate in fitness boot camps.  Exercise = Endorphins.  Endophins = Sanity (See the great El Woods in Legally Blonde.)

So, enjoy history being made on 11/08/2016.  And remember, "we" outnumber "them".

XO
Your Joyce

Nature . . . storms and blood and wonder.

Dear you . . .

Red in tooth and claw.  And wet.  And sometimes wonderful.

Finally posting this month (!) to express unease as a tropical storm swirls around the Gulf of Mexico.  I don't want to wish it on someone else, but I also don't want it here.  Random.  Nature.

When is it not wonderful?  It is not wonderful when you wake up to discover murdered kittens on your porch.   Long story about that.  But in summary, my outside-tame pet (Gato) has produced children.  This last batch belongs to a little gal who did not know how to protect them in the bushes/brush.  She brought them on to the porch she knows.  I let it be.  And overnight, something (probably a possum) did not let it/them be.

So, good morning carnage.

I cleaned up the scene and now witness the confused Momma Cat meowing.

She has survived.  And so has Mr. Gato.  This deal I cut with nature, ever optimistic, thinking the odds were always in my free creatures' favor was naive.  I am still a city girl in a not so city place.

Waiting for the next natural event.

Rest in peace, creatures.
Give it your best shot.
I guess that is all any of us can do.

Talk about a tropical depression.

Shaking it off,
Your Joyce

France . . .

 
Dear you,

To honor and celebrate what France is and inspires, enjoy the words of one of that nation's greatest poets:

Be Drunk

Charles Baudelaire, 1821 - 1867

You have to be always drunk. That’s all there is to it—it’s the only way. So as not to feel the horrible burden of time that breaks your back and bends you to the earth, you have to be continually drunk.
But on what? Wine, poetry or virtue, as you wish. But be drunk.
And if sometimes, on the steps of a palace or the green grass of a ditch, in the mournful solitude of your room, you wake again, drunkenness already diminishing or gone, ask the wind, the wave, the star, the bird, the clock, everything that is flying, everything that is groaning, everything that is rolling, everything that is singing, everything that is speaking. . .ask what time it is and wind, wave, star, bird, clock will answer you: “It is time to be drunk! So as not to be the martyred slaves of time, be drunk, be continually drunk! On wine, on poetry or on virtue as you wish.”

The above is compliments of poets.org I believe.

Carry on.

XO

Joyce

Political Hair!

Dear you:

Please consider these two pictures . . .




The top dude is Sir Johnson of the UK "we are out of the European Union" clan.  And you know who the bottom dude is.

Both have interesting hair in common.  Fluffy.  Crazy.  Strangely albino-like.
And under both of those hair-dos (or don'ts) we can find fluffy, crazy, strangely albino-like brains.
Shared nationalism of the 19th-20th century variety and fear of global anything dance around their gray matter.  Which I have now decided leads to hair-reaction!

Both share rebellious hair.  Those strands on each reactionary head long to fly free!  They want to EXIT those heads they reside on.  GET ME OUTTA HERE!

So, don't blame their hair.
Blame their brains.

And that is as deep as I am capable of being this hot June day, 2016.

XO

Your Joyce