Up? Down.

The awfulness is the point, apparently, when it comes to Republican candidates in various races across the land. They may be liars, they may be violent spouses, they may be religious zealots. They may be predatory creeps, or dumber than a bag of hammers. But they’re also, somehow, perfect antidotes to what many on the right perceive as demon socialism or tolerance run amok.

What amazes me is that many people will waste their vote in this battle of attrition, and the country they claim to love so much will continue to suffer because of their willingness to perpetuate incompetence and ignorance and fear.

Cold Cynicism

Nearly a billion dollars?

The picture of jubilant family members embracing struck me as being more indicative of celebrating not having to worry about money for the rest of their lives than being some sort of continuing vindication of their children’s deaths. I’m sorry.

Some will ask, “Haven’t these families suffered enough? Don’t they deserve recompense?” Sure, within reason. But suffering has a shelf life. You can only milk your sadness for so long before it starts to look like a variation on ambulance chasing, a hunt for a cash cow in the form of some low-brow, low-hanging fruit like Alex Jones.

Message sent, I guess. There’s always a message to be sent in hopes of some lesson being learned. It’s never about the money…

It’s difficult to believe that it’s not about the money, or that they’ll see anything near that settlement amount.

Inevitable?

Word has it that Merrick Garland will indict Trump. It’s only a matter of when. I’ll have to see this to believe it.

One has to figure that Trump will treat an indictment the way he’s treated many other significant things in his life—it won’t matter, it won’t apply to him, since it won’t benefit him. There will be some sort of in-your-face response, most likely involving denial or delay and cries of “witch hunt.”

Garland, as a key figure in the government response to January 6, really has no choice here. To not prosecute would announce that the U.S justice system is toothless. No doubt, precedent would be established—a former sitting POTUS indicted? That’s big.

But holy shit… Trump has had this coming his entire life. He’s a playground bully who’s made it his shtick to run rough shod over propriety and the rule of law. He’s needed to be schooled for a long time. May the chickens finally come home to roost.

Lost Boys

Ruthless, impersonal rocket attacks that do the dirty work of a ragtag army, perhaps the signature move of hardliners around Putin who are fed up with recent Ukrainian gains, at least as these have been reported in western media.

The same tired momentum swings, the same gut-wrenching scenes of destruction and death, and crowds of people singing the national anthem of Ukraine as they gather in subway stations, hopefully out of harm’s way until Putin sends the bunker busters, and complete with tables for the kids to do their schoolwork. My oh my.

The pain and upset being caused, the losses being felt. The cold, hateful, arbitrary, calculated evil being perpetrated on innocents. It should make the world’s blood boil– that a handful of dinosaurs can keep us all on pins and needles while they act with impunity and do whatever it takes to turn back the clocks.

Kids Are Taking Notes

Justin Tucker may be a fine field goal kicker, but he can tone down the histrionics. I’m way beyond tired of attitude. It gets reinforced at every turn, commended, expected, worshiped even. Treated as part of the game, whether it’s the NFL or baseball or curling. I find it annoying as hell, a symptom of some sort, a flaw.

People like a good show, though. They love to be entertained. This isn’t entertainment to me. If it is, it’s about as cheap as it comes, and increasingly hard to watch.

Do your job, celebrate a little, then take a seat. The theatrics and bravado are getting ridiculous.

Seeing Red

Spent two hours at the magenta store the other day. We took the plunge and switched over from the check mark. Lots of paperwork, lots of deal sweeteners and incentives. But the bottom line is we have upgraded phones and a better plan for less money each month.

Kind of a no-brainer, unless their service ends up sucking.

Siren Song, I Guess

I sometimes struggle with priorities. In my head, I fantasize about getting the pick-up truck of my dreams, figuring, “We might not be around much longer anyway, if the nukes start flying, so why not live a little, live life with a certain reckless abandon? Who’s gonna be left to collect the lease payments?”

But the angel in white on the other shoulder, nonplussed yet patient, lays on the guilt. “Sounds like a convenient excuse to me. What about the special people in your life? Is a silly pick-up truck that important to you?”

My answer, depending on the day, is “Yes! A pick-up truck with 4-wheel drive, a vehicle that sits higher on the road and would be better in the winter, and so much more comfortable and practical? Something I’ve had my eye on forever? Are you kidding me? No contest.”

I prefer to file this under my pursuit of happiness.  Happiness, at least the American version of it, can encompass more than just the important relationships in your life. Right?

Lighter Fare

Had a nice night out last night. Went to a local fall gathering of food trucks and craftspeople and music and things for the kids to play on. I got to thinking, as we walked around, that this event was probably thick with MAGA fans, but it didn’t much matter. We were co-existing, even sharing the same mission: looking for something to eat. No need for unnecessary confrontations or icy stares when stomachs are growling.

It was simply nice to be out and about, freed, for the most part, from our Covid concerns and ready for something deep-fried, or maybe a slightly healthier dish.