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Archive for June, 2016

Monsoon!

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It’s here!  Right on time!

After this June, I welcome the ten-degree drop in temperature that accompanies a monsoon. The fact that 83 degrees at four am is cause for celebration should give you an idea of what the weather has been like here in the Valley of the Morlocks this past month.

Showers are forecast for this afternoon, and as I sit at my computer with all the doors open, smelling the damp ground outside, I couldn’t be happier about that.

Hoo effing hah!

 

 

 

 

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Want To Protest?

You know who to call:

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House Democrats staged a sit-in, literally, on the floor of the House yesterday. All they got was publicity, but, as John Lewis knows, that’s better than nothing.

The Dems were asking for a vote on gun safety legislation. They could have asked for votes on lots more pending legislation–for years the Thugs’ tactic has been to offer votes only on legislation they like.

It’s hard for Thugs to argue that Dems are breaking the rules when the Senate has held up a vote on a Supreme Court justice nominee for months now, not to mention all the other Obama appointments that are languishing in committee.

Maybe they learned this tactic from the southern white supremacists who used it prior to the Civil Rights Act:  do nothing, because the status quo itself protects your interests.

 

 

 

 

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Not Again!

I turned on the kitchen tap yesterday and nothing came out but a strained sigh. Dammit!  The well was down again. Fed up (and in 100-degree heat) I hiked through my considerable back yard and through my neighbors’ considerable back yards, in order to find out who had left their hose running. Again.

Nobody home at either house. No hoses apparent anywhere.

So I trudged back to my next-door neighbor’s house, hiking through his considerable and verdant back yard. By this time I’m regretting my decision to undertake this trek–damn, it’s hot. Neighbor’s door is locked and dogs are silent. So either he is not at home or resting.

What to do?  I take another considerable walk out to check the well, whose works are humming away, thus suggesting that it is working but that the holding tank has been emptied. By somebody. Ignoring my mother’s voice, when I get home I phone my neighbor, no longer caring whether or not he was sleeping. Sure enough, he tells me, he “forgot” to turn off his hose when he left the house this morning.

I’ve lived in my house for almost twenty years. My next-door neighbor was the only one here when I moved in–he and his wife preceded me into the neighborhood by about six months. We shared the well for five years or so until the two houses in back of us were built. Those homes have been owned by several different families over the years.

During those years the well has stopped pumping at least twenty times. Twice it stopped because the equipment failed, which is to be expected–so much so that we established a shared bank account to cover such exigences. The bulk of the well failures, however, occurred because one or another of my neighbors “forgot to shut off the hose.”

In all those years, the culprit behind a well failure has never once been me. I repeat: I have never abused our fragile water supply. The natural flora in place around my house remains in place, and I planted only a bit more of the same. So everything in my considerable yard can live through the summer without my help. I also practice water conservation–do the dishes by hand, do laundry only when there is enough for a large load, shower briefly rather than bathe, etc.

And yet, and yet–my damn well goes down two or three times every summer because my neighbors are trying to turn their desert yards into Indiana.

And they wonder why Lake Mead is going dry.

 

 

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CkY_veUVAAEKurYFor a change, this has been a good week. On Wednesday the Democrats unloaded an impressive barrage of endorsements for Hillary, including a persuasive video by POTUS himself. Elizabeth Warren and Joe Biden delivered blistering accounts of the threat posed to our justice system by Trump’s ignorance as well as by longstanding Thug refusal to  appoint judges to federal courts.

And while the import isn’t so profound, on Tuesday my orthopedist decided that I don’t need a hip replacement! In fact, he said, his X-rays show that there’s enough tissue remaining in my hip joints to “see you through to the end” in his rather tactless but nevertheless welcome words.

And my tax guy recommended that I buy a new computer.

So while I won’t exactly be doing a happy dance, I’m smiling.

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Nearly There

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I’m thinking tonight of the brave and determined women who gathered in Cady Stanton’s kitchen to compose a “Declaration of Sentiments” demanding their rights as human beings. As Hillary noted in her speech, these were the first women in human history to insist that we are people too: people who reason, who have yearnings, beliefs, desires, and hope.

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I’m watching Morning Joe, as I often do in order to wake up in the early morning (the show begins at 3am here in Arizona). Once in awhile the producers procure an interesting guest, but I mute the sound whenever Scarborough works himself into a snit. Which is often.

This morning, though, I was able to listen to the entire program. The Thugs and docile Dems who generally sit around Joe’s table were finally admitting, out loud, that the man the Thugs have nominated for the presidency is an unabashed racist. (I guess they missed the birther vileness in 2008). I thoroughly enjoyed their outrage. Mika even crossed a sacred line by pointing to the cowardice displayed by party leaders (McConnell, Ryan) who have yet to separate themselves from Trump’s intolerance.

The one thing the assembled Thugs could not bring themselves to do was to admit that a large portion of their base is racist. But studies show that support for Trump correlates with racism more often than any other metric (http://fivethirtyeight.com/features/elections-podcast-racism-among-trumps-supporters/). Nor can Thugs admit that the party leadership has encouraged racism in their base ever since Lee Atwater invented the “Southern strategy” back in the 1980s (see Rick Perlstein on this at: http://www.thenation.com/article/exclusive-lee-atwaters-infamous-1981-interview-southern-strategy/). Ronald Reagan announced his bid for the presidency in Philadelphia, Mississippi, whose citizens murdered three civil rights workers back in 1964. This choice of venue was NOT a coincidence.

As my friend Jan would say:  “Clue phone!”

Face it, Thugs: thanks to Trump, you are now and will forever be associated with outright bigotry rather than the sneaky variety your candidates have relied on for the last forty years. Good luck with that. And good riddance.

 

 

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Oops!

On one of the Sunday morning TV shows, a pundit opined that Trump might be in trouble if he keeps bashing a judge with Mexican heritage, because the southwestern states (California, Arizona, New Mexico) have “populations with large Hispanic folks.”

Can we look forward to more Hispanic football players from these states? Heavyweight wrestlers? Discus throwers?

 

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