In Memoriam

Dear Rick,

I’ve been remembering that humid night in Pleiku when I saw you and your friend Rusty, grinning up at me from the front row, your young faces furrowed by the burdens war.  Fear.  Sorrow.  Grief.  Frustration.  Boredom.  Homesickness.

The music from the little band I brought with me must have been balm to your ears after the metallic crashing exploding crying of combat.  You were close enough to see my face streaming with sweat, close enough that you could’ve touched me if you reached out.  

And I winked at you, Rick.  I saw the momentary shock on your face and  you turned to your friend, Rusty, and said something.  And you both laughed.  I did my show and sang my songs and you never took your eyes off me.  And when it was over and I had helicoptered off to another God-forsaken fire station, you and Rusty went back to your daily routines.  The other men who watched my show that night went on patrol and none of them returned.  I was the last woman they saw in this life, and they took the memory of me along for company.  

And you, Rick, when the sniper’s bullet ripped through your brain where a your memory of me lived, and your closest friend Rusty knelt next to you as your life fluttered away like a frightened bird—you took along a piece of my heart and left a piece of yours with me.

So I’m thinking of you on this Memorial Day’s eve, Rick, thinking of the night I flirted with you, and wishing there was a better way to honor you than with these inadequate words.  But they are all I have.  So with all my heart, rest in peace.

Love, Mamie.

Memorial Day is about honor and remembrance of those who did not return from war. Do that today. And every day.

Aren’t you afraid?

“There’s a killer on the road, his brain is squrimin’ like a toad…”—The Doors

The weekend’s coming. Aren’t you afraid of an ego on the half-shell somewhere, fondling the shiny new AR-15 he just bought, and wondering where the best place is to try it out on real people? It’s happening, you know, his brain is writhing with visions of human targets. He’s counting on blowing apart as many as possible in the hope of somehow easing his pain before a cop takes him out with a perfect headshot. And you just hope your kid isn’t in the school he selects, or that you’re not shopping in the same mall he sets his sights on.

It’s the weekend, the traditional time in modern America when mass shootings occur. It might be your date with violence in a world where many people are dying and we know the cause is too fucking many guns and we refuse to stop it.

Have a nice weekend.

Grab. It.

The criminal Trump is leading in the polls among GOP potential candidates. This must be good news for Republican women. Because they love Trump, they must logically love to have their pussies grabbed. Isn’t it wonderful that we live in such a free society? Women can choose pussy grabbing instead of, say, rallying support for women’s right to choose, or eliminating gerrymandering of voting districts, or doing something about the bloody epidemic of mass shootings with military-style weapons. No, they’re waiting for Trump to corner them in a dressing room and grab, grab, grab.

No glove no love

When women start sterilizing themselves because abortion is no longer available to terminate a pregnancy, you know some bad shit is coming down. The threat to women’s healthcare from the rightwing GOP is driving them to make a terrible mistake. Sterilization and tattoos are permanent. Unlike a tattoo, sterilization may totally ruin your life if you meet someone and want to have children. (Of course, if your new love is named Jim and the tramp stamp on your butt says “property of Doug” that could be a problem too.) But no kidding, DON’T sterilize yourself. The GOP fascists want you to. It’s their way of manipulating you. Women must band together. Say not no, but FUCK NO! to state control. Make your man wear a condom. If you don’t protect yourself, men won’t. Solidarity is humanity’s only hope.

Remembering the Villains

Thinking about the coronation of Chuckles the King. On the balcony, robed Albert the Pedofile (remember his photo feeling up a 16 year-old from Jeff Epstein’s stable?) behind Chuckles, while Harry was shunted to the side out of sight. Harry wore a suit with all his medals on his chest, earned in combat. Chuckles and the phony queen, both responsible for Diana’s death, are remorseless, lecherous, treacherous, kindless villains, racist to the core, more interested in tickling each other’s pee-pees than preserving a sagging monarchy. Bye-bye Britannia.

View from a small planet

I feel like I’m from another planet. Trump, Desantis, and all the other little Trumps sound like wannabe despots from the last century. Can’t anyone else hear what they’re saying? They want to ban books! Limit voting rights! Take healthcare away from women! Cut Medicare! What they offer isn’t a choice. They’re offering a crippled American democracy, with the middle class impoverished and beholden to corporate fat cats. They want you up against the wall, Fluffy, willing to bend a knee and accept the crumbs they give you.

Toxic Texas

A Texas woman is shot and killed in a parking lot by her boyfriend because she had an abortion in another state. In Texas it’s your God-given right to tote a gun. And once your Texas sperm is implanted in a woman, God wants you to own her too. And He wants you to shoot her if she doesn’t do what she’s told. The cowardly little fuck who did it deserves the harshest punishment, but in Texas he’ll probably get off. Texas is where justice goes to die.

CNN Drinks the Kool Aid

FUCK CNN! The network is groveling to the right-wingers by attempting to be “balanced.” Allowing a sexual abuser, who admitted to trying to overturn a legal election, and who tried to coerce the Georgia A.G. into manufacturing votes to win the
election, to lie on network tv makes CNN the weakest suck in cable news. Trump belongs in jail! And with a little luck the multiple legal actions against him will put him away for the rest of his miserable life.