Twitter Lenten Penance

Lent begins on Wednesday. Like other Catholics all over the world, I will attend a Mass where the priest spreads ashes on my forehead in the sign of the Cross upon which my Lord died.

Lent is meant to be a sober reflection period. As part of that reflection, Catholics self-impose a kind of penance on themselves to help them share more fully in the suffering of the crucified Jesus.

This has always been a difficult period for me. My brother, Gary, was killed at the age of 20 in a car crash at Easter time on a slick Indiana country road made icy by a snow storm.

I was five then. (Gary was my “brother” in the sense his mother also raised me as if I were her daughter. She was my step-grandmother.)

Sixty years later, I remember that period of time. The state troopers coming to the door, my Mom’s scream and collapse. She would go on to have a white streak in her jet black hair where her hand came to her head on hearing the news.

I remember how Gary looked in his coffin as my Dad (really my maternal grandfather) carried me around the funeral home on the night of the viewing.

Easter is tough for me because it brings to mind a tragic accident that forever changed the trajectory of our family life, not always in the best ways.

As each year of my Catholicism passes (I converted in 2008), I greet Lent with trepidation and difficultly in choosing an appropriate penance. I don’t drink or smoke, and while I love it, I rarely eat chocolate. Not because I don’t love it, but because I do!

Fasting is not an option for me due to my autoimmune and other ills and the medications I take for them.

The past couple of years, I have tried to “take something on,” to add an extra burden so that I might feel a heavier load in my life and walk in the Way of the Cross.

This year, I have decided on the more traditional penitential act by giving up my activity on Twitter.

Simply put, I tweet too much. Not that I believe what I have to say is so significant or because that many people read and either like, retweet or comment on what I have to say.

It’s just that a long time ago, I was a journalist. And like the paths not taken, we often wonder what our lives would have been had we stayed on our original path and not taken that fork in the road.

Naturally I dream mine would have led to a Master’s in Journalism from Columbia and a staff position at “The New York Times.” Oh, and maybe a Pulitzer or two.

Because Twitter is so news and politically focused, it has become my social media platform of preference. Although I have grown to love Pinterest for all the new yoga poses, Klimt renderings and crochet patterns I have started saving.

Still, Twitter is my thing. It has been since I detached myself from the GOP in 2016 even before the nomination of Trump.

It is my way of having a voice to protest all I abhor about this President’s hateful rhetoric, incoherent policies (especially his astoundingly bad foreign policy), and his unsuitability to govern this country that have nothing to do with Russia’s interference in the 2016 election on his behalf. Although that is upsetting in and of itself.

I fear for the future of my country, and that our representational government – rooted in democratic principles – will hold.

And as a person of faith, I do not like seeing people who would seek to impose their Christian values on others. Nor did our Founding Fathers.

Everyone who comes to Christ does so in his or her own personal journey. We would do well as a country not to enforce the will of believers on our system of government. That isn’t why Christ became Incarnate. He came so we could each choose whether or not to accept His Divine Mercy. He came to save souls, not nation build. He already has a kingdom of His own.

So talking about these things is one of many reasons for being on Twitter and speaking out.

Which is why my penance is to give it up. Because it matters so much to me.

And so I can allow Christ to matter more.

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Seeing Red

For those few people who regularly read my blogs, my apologies for an illness related absence.  My body just wouldn’t giddy up and go for the past several weeks. Autoimmune sufferers will understand. I was at 1/2 a spoon.

I started feeling better last week, but kept it low-key to be sure I had energy for family Thanksgiving.  It was delightful and I am grateful for another year.

I also managed (on purpose) a fairly Trump free holiday. I continued binge watching certain series (sorry Liev Schreiber – I made it up to half-way through Season Five of “Ray Donovan” and had to give up.  The Abby story line just got too depressing.)

I caught up on “Versailles” on Ovation and watched some docudramas on the Bourbon dynasty of Louis XIV, XV and XVI.  I think the GOP should have watched how over-taxing the lower classes and not taxing the “nobility” (aka the 1 percent) cost them their throne.

Of course, “Gladiator” is always a good movie choice and another cautionary political tale for our times. The first two episodes of “Escape from Dannemora” were interesting.  (Paul Dano, you look so different from Bezukhov in “War and Peace!”  Patricia Arquette, I hardly knew ye!)

Ooh, and “Dirty John” on Bravo is a very, very bad boy, Eric Bana.

And I don’t know why, but I can always count on “Black Rain” to take me to dream land, despite my decades long crush on Andy Garcia.  Or maybe because of it. (Who knew a violent movie about the Yakuza could be sleep inducing?)

Then today there were the nightmarish pictures of the shoeless, diapered migrant children being tear gassed on Mexican soil. No, the babies were not storming the gates, and those adults who did reportedly did not touch U.S. soil.

Thank God it was not our soldiers having to decide if Trump’s lethal force order was in order.

What is our sovereign right to tear gas people on Mexican land any way?  Hello?  Any international law expert available?

And tonight it is all about Trump’s efforts to subvert our legal system to jail his “political enemies” ( Clinton and Comey). Again, a not legally cool move.  How many dubious legal and policy decisions is one President allowed to make?

This leaves out Russia’s ramming a Ukrainian cargo ship, firing upon it and taking crew as prisoners, or the climate change report just issued, a damning report about the fire and ice that will destroy us.

In fact, the world seems to be spinning faster on its news axis than ever before. Is it a combination of the advancing Christmas shopping rush along with Democrats taking power in the House come January?  Anticipation for Mueller to do something, anything, that shows his investigation is still on target after Manafort has trashed his plea deal?

It seems like I have come down with Trump Tizziness just as I was feeling better.

I even fantasized Melania took Elmo’s fur and created red cone Christmas trees to decorate the White House.  Somebody please tell me I was indeed hallucinating.

Lord, I pray I make it to the New Year.  And please hurry up the schedule for the rest of the “Vikings” season on History Channel.  Ivar the Boneless looks good to me as a 2020 candidate about now.

Elmo would be even better.  Hopefully his fur grows back by then.

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Voting in My Dreams

First, I voted early yesterday – hooray!

Then today I woke up dreaming that I worked for Donald Trump, entertaining pets. Except he has none. Weird.

And he was staying in this big, white house – not The White House – and I was advising him that he needed to fly in a gardener to mow the lawn because the grass was weedy and high and it made the house look inelegant for a President to live in.

The pool needed cleaning up too.

Any psychologists out there – have a field day with the dream analysis. And yes, I really was in the midst of dreaming this when…well, nature called.

I love Mother Nature.

I don’t ever recall having had a dream like this before after casting a vote, regardless of whether or not the person I voted for was on the ballot, won or lost.

Except this election IS about Trump because – well – he makes everything about himself. Even when it shouldn’t be.

He MUST steer the national conversation all the time, because if we aren’t talking about him, I think he would cease to exist in his own mind.

Such as when he tweets his “expert” advice about how the World Series should be managed on a day a man took an assault rifle and several other rapid fire guns into a Synagogue and killed 11 people.

His own grandchildren are Jewish; just a reminder.

You would think it would have given him sober-minded pause that was genuine.  It seems not.

(I am no baseball fan, but if someone has pitched seven perfect innings, as the manager, might I not think his arm should have a rest? Especially with more games in the series to be played? Just seems kind of a, well, rational decision to me.)

The point of all this is that I am tired of Trump permeating my thoughts to this degree. Neither Barack Obama nor any of his predecessors ever did.

(I do admit to still being angry at Bill Clinton for all the lying about Monica Lewinsky and the way he called her “that woman,” as if he played no role in what happened between them.  There was about 9 months of hellishnish the country didn’t need and his family didn’t deserve.)

Ah, Presidents. What are you going to do.

Vote early.  Vote absentee.  Vote provisional.  Vote Election Day.

Just vote.

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I Am Satisfied

For those in my cadre of blog followers and curious Twitter readers who have been wondering where my spiritual side has disappeared to amidst recent political posts, let me assure you it is still there.

I continue my ministry activities, which have lessened in leadership positions and increased in worship service, as I am now a Lector, Cantor and occasional choir member at Mass.

I am still active in a social outreach ministry as a mentor, take the minutes of Pastoral Council meetings and lead a study group focused on Marian and Divine Mercy subjects.

My prayer life has suffered inconsistencies, though I speak to Jesus in my head and “at” him to the Divine Mercy image on my altar at home.

Still, this has more to do with personal struggles right now than my social activity regarding politics on Twitter.

It seems I am always running away from Jesus at the times I should be running faster towards him.

That has more to do with my desire to self-isolate when times are tough than a lack of faith or desire to pray. My secular self triumphs over the spiritual in these moments.

And of course, I still struggle mightily with auto-immune dysfunction that has run headlong into aging.  So, to those who don’t mind doing so, please send up a health prayer for me as I am going through a particularly difficult time right now.

Still, on balance, my blessings are greater than my trials.

And my virtual “pen” is still mine to wield.

Yesterday I wrote that words echo down the ages, though I doubted my own would. I say that because I am not a famous person, nor particularly profound.

But I have written poetry that has touched some hearts. I am satisfied. I have tweeted thoughts that have been “liked” or retweeted by a few famous people. I am satisfied. (Not because they are famous people, but for the size of their social platform and the number of others they reach.)

I also have more than a thousand Twitter followers with wide platforms of their own.  I feel “heard.” I am satisfied.

I have a loving family, loving friends, a solid roof over my head, a fairly new car in the drive, food in the fridge, an elderly cat who is living comfortably with palliative care.

I am satisfied.

“My soul is satisfied,
My soul is satisfied;
I am complete in Jesus’ love,
And my soul is satisfied.” *

*Daniel S. Warner, 1893

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“The British Are Coming” and They Are Us

I know I spend too much time on Twitter and that my words may be little more than shouting in the wind.

But sometimes words echo down through the ages.  Not that I believe mine will.

Words have always been my own two-edged sword: my saving grace and my weapon.  “The pen is mightier than the sword” is a motto in which I deeply believe.

Words matter.  This is why so much time and attention is given to what a President says; for its tone, its intent, whether actions and words align.

So as much as Donald Trump may hate it, his words will continue to be parsed, examined, questioned and – yes – criticized.

It goes with the job of being President.  If Trump didn’t have such an “I alone can do it” mantra, there are four past Presidents alive today with whom he might commiserate.

Sometimes my words on Twitter are too impassioned.  But only because my passion for the salvation of my country has never been as urgent as it is now.

I fear for it as I did when I was a child. I remember pictures of the Cuban missile crisis being beamed over our black and white console TV, the Russian ships moving inexorably toward Cuba, the footprints of missile sites being shown, the intonation of Walter Cronkite’s words.

I was only seven, but that is old enough to comprehend when life as you know it might be forever altered.

Our country was in danger; that was all the knowledge I needed.

Today I feel much the same way as I watch TV footage of the shooting of the Tree of Life Synagogue in Pittsburgh.

It follows a week in which more than a dozen pipe bombs were mailed in an assassination attempt against top former Democratic officials, including two past Presidents, a VP, Secretary of State, Attorney General, sitting Congress people and an actor.

Right now, I would say I don’t recognize the country I live in, but I have seen this before: it is an amplified version of the Civil Rights, anti-Vietnam and Watergate eras at one in the same moment.

I know the amplification comes from having so much choice in cable channels and social media platforms.

But it also comes from an inability and an unwillingness of those governing this country to reach across the aisle and come up with real solutions for the problems that beleaguer us.

Perhaps with my Twitter feed and this blog, I am part of the amplification problem.  I don’t know.

Trust me, there are plenty of other things I would rather be doing than this. It is neither a peaceful nor stress-less way to spend one’s time. I would rather cuddle up, watch a movie and drink hot chocolate now that winter is nudging at the door.

But inside, I feel like I am one of many Paul Reveres spreading the warning that “The British are coming.”

The problem is, this time the British are us.

(Photo from on Pinterest)


After Kavanaugh: Warrior’s Pose

It is Sunday night of the Kavanaugh confirmation weekend.

I have been to Mass.  I will do yoga before bed.  I am ready for some spiritual healing.

But I am not ready to give up.  I am not willing to stand idly by and let Donald Trump ruin the principles and institutions on which this country was founded.

As the current party of power, I am not willing to let the GOP – now the Party of Trump – take us all down the Vichy path.

We already know where that path leads. To an authoritarianism based on one’s skin color and place of prestige in society.  To fascism, which my Dictionary app defines as “a governmental system led by a dictator having complete power, forcibly suppressing opposition and criticism, regimenting all industry, commerce, etc., and emphasizing an aggressive nationalism and often racism.”

We aren’t completely there yet, but we already hit many notes along the political scale:

  • A dictator having complete power.  While he is not there yet, Trump admires dictators much more than those of representative governments.  And with the GOP controlling both the House and the Senate; with a nominally Republican Executive Branch;  and with the Supreme Court now shaped in the image of Mitch McConnell and the ideology of the Federalist Society and the Heritage Foundation; Trump certainly has more power available to him than one would have supposed in 2016 when he was first sworn in.
  • Forcibly suppressing opposition and criticism. While we are not yet at the point of “disappearing” journalists and leaders of government institutions, we have a President who will denigrate anyone, anytime, any place, so long as he can get the crowd to scream ‘lock her up” and get them to laugh at the expense of a survivor of sexual assault for their entertainment. (GOP women, if you think this one day won’t extend to you, you are kidding yourselves.) Now women who march in protest, who confront Congress in its halls to register their positions on issues that matter to them are “mobs.”  It would be one thing if it were just Trump doing this. But McConnell, Senators Lindsey Graham and John Cornyn and others have followed him over the cliff. And they think somehow they won’t be crushed on history’s rocks for doing it.  Then of course, there are the “enemy of the people,” aka any reporter not working for Fox News. No need to belabor that point.
  • Regimenting all industry and commerce: With his tariffs and trade wars, with his desire to restore industries that long ago passed from the economy, Trump is trying to return us to our manufacturing past.  But that is not our future. Nor is it the way the free enterprise system works. Nor can we put the global genie back in the bottle, despite trying to destroy things like net neutrality and every trade agreement of the last 70 years. As our economic opportunities have evolved, the world has become smaller in its interconnection of the supply chain. Trump is trying to re-forge it. I am just wondering what products and services we will do without going forward because companies cannot get the materials or intellectual talent we need.  Perhaps we will all be eating soybeans for breakfast, lunch and dinner going forward. Start ginning up recipes for their use, oh ye chefs.
  • Emphasizing an aggressive nationalism and often racism.  Well, when your slogan to your European allies is “America First,” and you have actually turned Canada into an enemy, I think that covers the “aggressive nationalism” pretty well. And when you are dogged about building a physical wall on our southern border when what is really needed is greater cyber security walls, well, your eye is on the wrong ball. Speaking of balls, scapegoating NFL players for kneeling quietly in protest during the national anthem to protest high-profile shootings of 12-year-olds like Tamir Rice because he was holding a toy gun…yes, that will likely create racial division and stoke tensions. We don’t even need to revisit Charlottesville.

I know all these things have been written about before. And there are plenty of better educated writers on the subject of totalitarian governments than I with more comprehensive credentials  and experiences than my own.

But if I, a 65-year-old retiree sitting here in my suburban Atlanta living room can see the eve of the destruction of the Party of Lincoln, why can’t its leaders?

I don’t know how to make all this stop. All I can do is prepare myself spiritually, mentally, emotionally and morally for what is to come:

  • To be willing to speak at the risk of being labeled a “witch” by Vladimir Putin and to protest while alleged to be paid by George Soros. ( Gee, don’t I wish!  It is tough living on fixed income. Anyone have his number?)
  • To be told that because I stand in solidarity with other women who have been sexually assaulted and harassed, I am either “trailer trash” according to Graham, or part of a radical mob ( McConnell.)

One thing my spiritual life has taught me is to have faith, show mercy and pray for God’s grace and provision.

What I have re-learned in the last two years is the power of my voice, my vote and my convictions.

What I have learned from history is that one never gives up and never gives in to a government that would suppress its citizens in any way.

Especially from a podium at a rally that has the air of a circus of hate, rage and derision.

Especially that.

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Our Democracy Is Being Covered By the Sands of Tyranny

Right now, I am trying very hard not to think about Brett Kavanaugh while simultaneously watching MSNBC Senate coverage and occasionally tweeting.  I am not sure why.

Yesterday’s blog was titled along the lines of whether or not, in this #MeToo moment, anything I had previously blogged or said in messages to Senators even mattered.

It was reading last night’s WSJ Kavanaugh apology tour that I knew it hadn’t.

I do not know with 100% surety that Brett Kavanaugh assaulted Dr. Christine Blasey Ford – neither do I know he didn’t.

We would need a more robust FBI investigation for that.

For me, the spectacle of his enraged testimony last Thursday compared with her attempt to stay composed as she recounted what she remembered happening to her was the clincher.

His mask dropped.  The partisan Brett Kavanaugh he was during his early career is not that far below the surface of the jurist.

And the meanness he might have displayed in his high school and college years while under the influence was scary to me because in his performance, I could imagine it.

But then, I always find men’s anger ugly. It absolutely cows me.

It was ugly in my alcoholic father when he came home at night and berated and demeaned my mother for no good reason.

It was ugly on Lindsey Graham’s face in every interview he has given this past week,  and his ugly implication that all one had to do to find a woman who will willingly lie about being sexually assaulted is to drive through a trailer park, handing out $100 bills.

Basically, Graham was calling women who claim sexual assault “trailer trash.” (That phrase mine, interpreting what he said.)

It was very ugly on the face of Brett Kavanaugh.  His rage.

As a sexual assault survivor and victim of multiple instances of sexual harassment, it was scary to look upon.

When I see the face of justice, I imagine it as having no discernible emotion.  Not until all have been heard and a judge has weighed testimony and evidence in the context of the law and how it has been applied in prior cases, how it applies in the case now being heard.

I do not trust Brett Kavanaugh to have the face of justice any more.  I am willing to be wrong.  But it will have to be proven over time.

Meanwhile, I believe this country needs a course correction.  It will not come at the hands of the GOP, despite the dearest wishes of Jeff Flake.

Which is why for the first time since Reagan, I will be voting Blue down the line – unless there are credible reasons not to.

At the moment, I can’t think of any.

In the meantime, after Nicole Wallace’s hour is over and I have taken a long, hot bath, I will be reading Hannah Arendt on “The Origins of Totalitarianism.”

Because, dear friends, we are already many years headed down that path.

I just pray my vote this November is not too late. And that the ones I cast before can be ameliorated.

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Kavanaugh: Did Anything I Wrote or Said Matter?

I am exhausted.  For many reasons.

My 16 1/2-year-old cat is slowly dying from kidney failure.  That she has lasted this long is a combination of kitty dialysis (running fluids to expel toxins) and feeding her Chik-fil-A (just the meat, not the coating; and before you suggest it, she won’t eat it grilled.)

I am fighting an infection with an antibiotic that has side effects that limit me more than the original infection.  And thanks to sitting in the ER for more than 3 hours to get meds, I seem to have a virus on top of it. ( Still, I am a big believer in flu shots – if you haven’t yet, get yours.)

And as a survivor of sexual assault (twice) and multiple instances of sexual harassment in the workplace, I am so dispirited by the political discourse (or in the case of the GOP, its lack of civility therein), I don’t even want to get up off the couch. With all due respect to Senator Jeff Flake (R-AZ) not withstanding.

I am tired of hearing how aggrieved Donald Trump is about women who make up false stories about him. I am sure given his fame and wealth, it has happened.

Just as I equally believe Stormy Daniels had sex with him only four months after Melania Trump gave birth and then was later paid hush money to keep from hurting his electoral chances on the heels of the “Access Hollywood” tape.

Is it fair that someone would accuse him falsely? Of course not.

But maybe it should give him an inkling of how women survivors feel when they are asked about whether or not they were provocatively dressed;  how much were they drinking; are they a spurned woman; did they send a “yes” signal and decide after it was “no.”

(Or, if Lindsey Graham is asking, did you ever live in a trailer park/possess a $100 bill.)

Trump of all people should know how hard it is to disprove a negative. (Oh wait, he doesn’t; he has just learned that if you tell enough lies, bully enough people and create enough chaos, people forget what the last allegation was because there is yet another new one taking its place and soaking up all attention.)

I am also exhausted because I feel I have said and done all I can.  I have called my own Senators and ones who are not my Senators about Brett Kavanaugh’s possible Confirmation.

I have tweeted them all so much I am sure I have a reputation as a troll somewhere.  I have blogged really personal information that was not in my original vision of how my blogs would be styled.

But I felt it was important because I did have a story to contribute and because I know Trump had a list of at least 24 other potential jurists just as conservative as Kavanaugh who will not take a place on the Supreme Court carrying the baggage and unresolved questions he will carry: about Dr, Blasey Ford’s accusation and those of others, about his political impartiality and about his temperament – not as an 18-year-old but now, after 50+ years of living.

No, I no longer consider myself a member of the GOP.   In his manner and method, Trump raped me of my willingness to be called a Republican.

Because I am more center right than most Democrats, I guess you could say I “caucus” with them.  And I admittedly resist the Trump Administration and its decimating policies.

But I guess in our divided political nation, that makes me a member of Kellyanne Conway’s “vast left wing conspiracy.”

(How hysterical she would co-opt a phrase made famous by Hillary Clinton.  Or is it irony? Don’t know.  Don’t really care.🤷🏼‍♀️)

I just know the only recourses I have going forward remain my Twitter account and this blog.  I am opposed to Donald Trump and have been since Day One.  As a Republican voter.

I am so sorry to see him destroy the party of Lincoln.

Most importantly, I still have my vote, no matter how I self-identify on the political spectrum – or how others might suggest to identify me.  (Sisterhood, at Wa Po’s Jennifer Rubin!)

I will be using that vote in November.

Even if you are as sick as I currently am, have a cat that’s dying and are appalled at what has been happening these past two weeks – including the shaming of a sexual assault victim by the President of the United States and the now scary likes of Graham – I pray you will use your vote too.

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When God Made Eve

Tuesday evenings my prayer group regularly meets.  I have been with this group for seven years, but the last three years, ministry meetings often interfered.  So they were surprised to see me turn up at the last-minute this evening.

After opening prayers, we listen to the upcoming Sunday Mass readings and then discuss them.

God must have a sense of humor, because this coming weekend’s readings start with the creation of Eve as a “partner” for Adam.  That is the reading coming off two weeks of Supreme Court drama involving a “she said,” “he said” situation as I write this.

Think about it.  Adam seemed to have everything.  He lived in the garden of Eden.  He had every tree and plant that provided good nutrition.  He got to name every beast God presented him.  He walked and talked with God himself in the garden.

Eden was Paradise, a word literally from the Greek that means “a pleasure park.”  With God as his friend.  Yet it wasn’t enough for Adam.

In fact, God himself acknowledged “It is not good for the man to be alone.”

According to Genesis 2:18-24, God caused Adam to fall into a deep sleep, took one of his ribs from his side and created a woman out of the rib.  When she was brought to Adam, his response was:

“This one, at last, is bone of my bones and flesh of my flesh; this one shall be called ‘woman,’ for out of ‘her man’ this one has been taken.”  Genesis 2:23

In Hebrew, woman translates as “ishsha.”  From it comes the word ishah (her man).

The author of Genesis says this is why a man leaves his father and mother and clings to his “wife,” and the two become “one body.”

If you combine that last sentence with the Hebrew translations above, taken together they do not indicate a man dominates, but “he” belongs to “her.”

Or at least that is the way I am choosing to interpret it.

That’s an important distinction coming off a week in which it seemed like male dominance – well, predominated.

I have never seen so much anger and so many red faces on men in my life at one time as I saw on the GOP side of the Senate Judiciary seating.

I guess it is because they see their cultural Eden slipping away from them.  They are no longer Masters of the Universe.  Or at least, they can see they won’t hold that power for very much longer.

As Bob Dylan sang clear back in 1964, “The times they are a-changin.”

Many people didn’t like it then, when it involved full Civil Rights protections for blacks and the final push for desegregation of public spaces and schools, as well as ensuring voting protections.

Clearly they don’t like it now, when the #MeToo movement is adding fervor back into the life of women who have been physically violated, sexually harassed or been treated with less than equity and dignity when they have the same skill sets, talents and credentials as their male peers.

Despite all his amped up rage about how hard he worked to get where he was in life, the truth is that Brett Kavanaugh had things pretty much handed to him.  He started life at Georgetown Prep, a Jesuit and elite private school on the East Coast.  He was a Yale legacy student.  Okay, he was a smart Eli, got good grades and went on to Yale Law School.

So have a lot of men.  And a lot of women, for that matter.

Then either fate or the right connections land him in a fellowship with Judge Kenneth Starr, and he becomes an integral part of the team pursuing Bill Clinton for impeachment and the lead in drafting the Starr Report (hands up from those, like I, who actually read the darned thing.)  He was hell-bent on seeing Clinton impeached.

From there he goes on to work for the G.W. Bush presidential campaign (doesn’t everybody who lifts a few weights and drinks a few ‘skis’ and was somehow “disadvantaged” and had to “work his butt off?”) He again played an integral role in the “hanging chad” controversy and went on to become Bush’s White House Staff Secretary because – hey – he just happened to be in the right place at the right time again.  Pure co-inky-dink.  No special connections to call on at all, I am so sure.

Then, without ever really having practiced law in court a day in his life, without having advised a client who didn’t have a politically partisan stake in the game, without having ever prosecuted anyone but Bill Clinton on paper, Kavanaugh gets nominated to the U.S. Court of Appeals for the D.C. Circuit because, well, I am sure there were just no other potential jurists who had actually practiced law anywhere to be had.

That he didn’t make it the first go round didn’t stop the GOP from pushing for a second, just like it didn’t stop them from saying they would vote for him for the Supreme Court after three women alleged sexual misconduct and there were doubts about whether or not he truthfully answered questions put to him in both his FIRST hearing and the one involving Dr. Christine Blasey Ford.

Brett Kavanaugh DESERVED this, by gosh.  There were weights lifted.  There was beer drunk.  He had a calendar!

And the women coming forth were just lying.  Period.  End of discussion.  Before an allegation had even been investigated by the FBI.

After all, it was all Eve’s fault, right?  She was the one that took the bite of the apple first.  She was the one who “seduced” Adam into taking one too.  At least, that was basically his answer to God when God wanted to know why Adam was hiding from him.  I mean, it wasn’t like Adam had any free will of his own to exercise and say no, right?  It wasn’t like God had befriended him, walked with him, talked with him.  Trusted him.

Isn’t it always the woman’s fault, even when it isn’t?

Yet God’s harshest words were for Adam:

“By the sweat of your face shall you get bread to eat, until you return to the ground, from which you were taken; For you are dirt, and to dirt you shall return.”  Genesis 3:19

Yes, Masters of the Universe, God was harsh with you that day.  He had expected you to be “her man.”  He had expected you to stand up for her, not victim blame her. As the steward of Eden, God had expected YOU to say “get thee behind me, Satan.  We won’t be tempted.”

But you were – tempted.  Men sometimes are.  Eve, she was just tricked by the devil.

It’s not like guys have free will, after all.  Just weights to lift and “skis” to drink.

And low friends in high places to help them hide from God when they don’t want to answer his questions truthfully.  Or those of the Senate Judiciary.

close up of fruits hanging on tree
Photo by Pixabay on



Waiting for Tom

Am spending today on the couch, taking an antibiotic that makes me nauseous.  So much fun.

I haven’t the energy or desire for political programming or Twitter.  So I decided to watch some of last week’s Season Premieres.

I am not much for episodic TV any more, except for things like “Game of Thrones,” “The Crown,” “Versailles,” etc.  Yes there is a theme there.

I very much enjoyed “New Amsterdam.” It stars the actor who played “Tom” from the “Black List.”  Finally, a medical drama I will enjoy.  I put that on “Record All Episodes.”

A fan of the original “Magnum, P.I.,” of course I had to see the reboot.  It was okay.  I only am recording all the episodes because I got nostalgic for the scenery (two trips to Hawaii in the 80s and 3 islands visited. Did not want to come back to the mainland either time. Mahalo.)

The first trip was the most nostalgic.  I missed being Mrs. Tom Selleck by a mere 20 minutes.

A friend from work had a daughter who lived on Oahu.  She belonged to the same gym as Selleck. We went there one evening only to find we had missed him by those 20 minutes.  So bummed.

But hey, my old friends at the newspaper had given me a nightshirt with Tom Selleck’s mustachioed image on it.  So it wasn’t entirely without credibility that I could return from my vacation and say “I slept with Tom Selleck.”

Well, a facsimile, at least.

I think I have previously blogged that I don’t laugh easily, so sitcoms aren’t really my thing.  But I had to, absolutely had to, watch “ Murphy Brown.” It did not disappoint.

The highlights were Murphy’s Twitter feud with Trump and the application of Hillary Clinton (one L only 😉😉) to be Murphy’s new secretary.

Although I haven’t watched “SNL” in years, I saw on-line Matt Damon’s terrific send-up of Brett Kavanaugh at the Senate Judiciary hearing last Thursday.

Just had to watch it on TV.  It was even funnier. (Seriously, what was up with all the snuffling on Thursday that Damon mimicked so perfectly? Hello, FBI, I don’t think Don McGahn had that issue as a no go zone. Director Wray?)

I wasn’t laughing at Kavanaugh himself on Thursday. I was too busy being horrified by his anger, arrogance and complete lack of dignity.  Hopefully the “undecideds” of the Senate keep that in mind when they consider confirmation and the issue of judicial temperament.

Fortunately the FBI won’t need to investigate his temperament under stress. We all clearly saw how he behaved.  It was Dr. Christine Blasey Ford who was dignified in her testimony, willing to answer every question put to her.

I am not sure what I will watch next. It might be time for a movie now.  Thank goodness I don’t have to take the other antibiotic dose until bedtime.

But I know for sure I will be watching Sir Paul McCartney on “60 Minutes” tonight.

It would be a tough call as to whether I would rather have gone through life as Mrs. Paul McCartney or Mrs. Tom Selleck.

Now I understand polygamy a bit better.


Me in Hawaii – mid 80s