Tuesday, October 20, 2020

Best Keep Your Pecker in Your Pants

 


Oh, Jeffery, what were you thinking?  How could you do it?  And. . . why did anyone feel the need to tell? I mean, it was just a penis.  Sure, he touched it, but guys are always touching their penises, especially at home.  And besides, who wears pants to a Zoom meeting anyway?  

I am saddened.  Toobin was one of the smartest analysts on television.  His career is over unless he gets some roles in porn.  He'll be stripped of his credentials.  He won't make money as an attorney nor analyst. Maybe he can get one book out of this.  I've been told he is worth ten million dollars.  Most of that will surely go to his wife and kids.  He won't be able to dine in his usual restaurants.  What is left for a man who shows his penis to his colleagues?

Many women have asked me after this terrible incident, "What is wrong with men?"  I tell them there are just too many rules.  But in truth, technology has been their downfall.  Ben Franklin could deny anything.  But Anthony Weiner used texting like it would just disappear.  Everything is recorded now.  Everything is permanent.  

Even an angry God is said to forgive you of your sins.  But we are only human.  

The good news is that QAnon is not so dangerous as we thought.  See. . . they are an anti-pedophilia group.  They are only against The Church, Hollywood, and most democrats.  Someone needs to protect the children.  Why not QAnon?  Those are some people you can really trust.  

I watch "The Circus" on Showtime.  If you haven't seen it, it has insightful coverage of the election.  It began in 2016 when we thought things couldn't get any weirder.  They did.  I watched this weeks installment last night.  You should watch it, too.  

link

It's o.k. to watch.  They got rid of their sex offender, Mark Halperin, years ago.  What I really want you to pay attention to, though, are the militia who are interviewed.  They are some spooky sonofabitches.  Do you think you could reason with them?  Fuck no.  These are some of the dumbest people on the planet, but they think they are smart.  Without a high school diploma, they know more than the scientists and other great minds of our time.  Watch them on the steps of the Michigan State House, their hurky-jerky movements all nerve and muscle like schooling sharks when they smell blood.  I grew up around these guys.  I've seen them in action.  They are like retarded pit bulls after a small dog.  

They are the future.  

I propose that we should lock them all up before they reproduce, but that is just me.  You can't stop QAnon, though.  It has no location, no place.  It simply lives in the hearts and minds of the ignorant and willfully ignorant everywhere.  

I'm sorry to be an elitist, but, you know, I don't question them about things like how to bulldoze a forest or pick up a cow.  They got that shit.  But in the court of logic, yea.  I will look them straight in their beady little eyes.  

However, we all know brute force beats logic every time.  Besides, where truly does logic reside in the universe?  Trump beats Covid after a day and a half and Jeff Bridges has lymphoma.  

I'll bet you one thing, though--with odds:  there are no fewer pedophiles among QAnon apostles than there is in Hollywood or The Church.  Any takers?  

Be afraid, people.  Be very, very afraid.  

I ended my fast after forty hours.  I felt I could go on for another few days, but I did a fairly strenuous workout and decided that my body would like a little food.  Just a bit.  Then last night, for the first time, I made a brown jasmine rice/green lentil dish.  My god, it was great.  I cooked up some pork cubes to add a little flavor, and added sautéed onions and baby spinach.  This will become a staple in my dinner repertoire.  I'll soon be as healthy as a sherpa.  

I have not been able to get the new Kathleen Edwards song out of my head for about a month now, it seems.  It is playing there constantly.  That and the David Letterman video I posted a few days ago.  So I went back and listened to all her albums.  Almost every song is about a sad or bad relationship.  The female is always wonderfully and beautifully or savagely in love.  The male is always a fuck up.  And the songs ring true.  I tend to reverse the roles, of course.  You can do that.  But given the way the songs are written, I feel she is my kind of feminist in the Alice Munro or Dorris Lessing school of feminism.  My academic feminist friends would tear me up on this one.  Of that I am sure.  But holy smokes, the longing for love in a fallen world, as stupid as it is, is sometimes too overwhelming to fight.  Often we feel the need of an emotional rescue.  In the main, we allow ourselves to be fooled by the false promise, though, and that is the theme that underlies most of her songs.  

So yea.  I can't get them out of my head.  


“Love is heavy and light, bright and dark, hot and cold, sick and healthy, asleep and awake- its everything except what it is! (Act 1, scene 1).” 

"This love that thou hast shown
Doth add more grief to too much of mine own.
Love is a smoke raised with the fume of sighs;
Being purged, a fire sparkling in lovers’ eyes;
Being vexed, a sea nourished with loving tears.
What is it else? A madness most discreet,
A choking gall, and a preserving sweet (Act 1, Scene 1).

Two perfect lovers, Romeo and Juliet, but not even perfect love can save you.  What then?  What have we to fall back on?

I don't know, but I'm sure as shitting going to keep my pecker in my pants on all future Zoom calls.  

5 comments:


  1. First paragraph - spot on what I was thinking when I was told about the event. It's just a penis.

    T. used to tell me that men think about sex every 8 seconds or something. The span of time of thinking stretched out some - he said - as he got older.

    I, of course, at the time, told him he was generalizing. He did often. Cause he was so sure of himself.

    I think that was one reason why our love/relationship worked as well as it did -- we were truly free to be.

    And I was never afraid to challenge him. And he challenged me - to continue to invest in my own brain.

    He challenged me with books, poems, philosophers, history. I mean I wasn't a dunce or a Qanon.

    But after he adjusted to my fixation of his mind, of my desire to dig it out like archeological treasures, T. wanted to be with me on my journey. And I wanted to be his partner in crime. As bothersome as I was to him in the beginning, well, you've seen the poems.

    And I know that women especially - can sometimes have a tendency to look at past love with - what is it? Rose-colored glasses?

    Okay. It is a shit day. I have no job. No love to go to and fluff his bed and his hair and his beard and make lunch etc. So this is going to be long and personal.

    I don't want to write a book. Really. But if I ever was - honesty must be part of the equation.

    I was never in love with the man I was married to for 32 years.

    BAM.



    I was in lust at the beginning. And looking to escape & probably prove to someone else that someone wanted me.

    Too young- broken hearted by the boy I did love - oh and I knew I loved him because we met on a different plane than bodily - we had a brain/spiritual relationship. And make the definition of "spiritual" whatever you want it to mean that encompasses "goodness."

    We didn't have sex for years but everyone could simply "feel" what was between us even at that young age when we were in the same room.

    We'd hideaway into corners and talk at parties - about everything. Laugh. He made fun of me and I was okay with it. I used my brain to twist him up. In a good way. :).

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  2. We'd drive to the record store and he'd stand behind me - close and we'd flip through all the albums. Looking at covers, talking about bands.

    When we were older, we'd go to shows to bars - I'd sleep over his house. I visited him at college.

    I never ever once told him I loved him. I was sure he knew.

    He says he wasn't ever sure. WTF. And so I ran away at 21 into the bed of a different man.

    We are still very good friends. We talked this all out over the years.

    He called me a couple of days before I was to be married (I've told this before but context since I'm letting it escape). He said "Are you sure you want to marry him and not me..."

    What did that even mean?

    My father tried to stop me from getting married. I didn't listen. Six weeks after being married I was balling my eyes out in a therapists office.

    I got pregnant - which was all I wanted from life it seemed - and threw my entire self into being a Mother. I had a cancer scare when my son was 3. I lost my father. My grandfather. And then I was having another baby.

    I met T. When I was mmm. 36 or 37? Online. I eventually visited him in PA. And we eventually moved him here. I stayed married - I had kids to raise up.

    T. was willing to accept what I could give him.

    Hannah often asks "why did you stay, Mom." I tell her because I wanted you and your brother so bad. I brought you into this world and dammit- despite the fact that your father wasn't ever going to be father of the year emotionally - staying together allowed me to give you & your brother opportunities. Opportunities that would not have been possible if I was a divorced, single mother.

    I was never attempting martyrdom. Really. I honestly can say I don't regret those years as a mother. I relish them.

    I found ways to make myself happy with writing, poems, reading, art. Some work. I love to cook. Decorate.

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  3. Of course, deep in my own self, I yearned for a partner who appreciated me. Who accepted me. But how could I let these two little humans down?

    Being a family is difficult even when there is a good relationship. I never had illusions that doing it with someone else was going to be "perfect." And no, I didn't want to struggle by myself, broke in an apartment, working, trying to pay daycare and having to fight someone for child support. I'm far from perfect. I admit it. Humans are not perfect.

    Plus, I'm loyal to a fault. Everyone in my world knew what was really going on in my house. People used to meet us and say "Wow - you are quite a different sort of couple."

    And please do not take this as any condemnation of divorces. People have to do what is absolutely right for them.

    It never felt right to me until my children were "fledged."

    I never bought into the "I'm doing this because I am making a better world for my kids."

    I have always believed it was my job to make my kids want a better world for themselves.

    And that takes a lot of dedication. I was dedicated.

    And to be that dedicated, I needed to provide them a sense of safety, structure and plenty of time and yes, resources to expose them to the world. Good and Not so Good.

    I was lucky - they made me happy enough to live in the box I had put myself in. Mostly.

    T. rescued me. I rescued him. One day I opened my email, after we had been communicating a long time. Then talking on the phone, to a message "Are we in love?" And we were.

    We were intellectually compatible. Our temperaments suited each other. Of course the fact I was married and he was sort of married - well those facts existed - but we decided to give it a go.

    I absolutely KNOW love is possible and can change you for the better. Can change how you wake up in the morning and see the world. Even if the circumstances around that love aren't perfect - or considered by others to be "wrong."

    We made an odd pair. He and I. He was short I am tall. He was older and as I've mentioned - no Cary Grant looking (oh but how I adored everything about him). I'm not a super model but I'm okay looking and as my mother always says "beam an inner light." T. was almost always forlorn about the world.

    I came from a perfectly upper middle class family - he came from the poorest, single mother, not sure of who his father was place.

    None of those things mattered - except if one of us needed to talk about things that happened as children - or needed someone to bounce things off of for writing purposes or just coming to grips with ourselves, etc.

    We always 100% of the time - had each others backs.

    He'd tell me if he thought how I was proceeding on a decision may need to be rethought etc. And he always knew he was going to get what I thought was best for him - from me.

    Our relationship existed on the intellectual plane ( so incredibly sexy and allowed for just - damn a freedom I had never experienced). On a spiritual plane if you will. Similar to how it was with my young love.

    And, I think those feelings made them both the most attractive people I have ever met. People I never tired of being near.

    Now. I have very little experience with relationships. I mean in the varied, numerical way. I jammed a lot of sex into my life from 17 - 20. It was dangerous and not fulfilling but I denied myself nothing during those years.

    And I've seen horrendous breakups and crushed up hearts up close (my son being one of the worst).

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  4. But I stand, with my feet firmly planted in the ground, like a rooted tree, on my belief that good and true and healthy love exists.

    It may not be inside the homes of your neighbors - who appear to have it all -

    it maybe squirreled away in a cottage on a lane full of misfits.

    And so, in conclusion, keeping it "all about me.'

    What I've learned, now, is I am ready to come out into the Light of Love fully. I deserve it.

    Everyone with an open heart - ready and willing to be the best we can be deserves it. If it is important to them - or wanted.

    I'm picky though. That's a problem. And a little shy to be honest. If not shy - prideful. I was rejected enough and the thought of it all frightens me some.

    Honestly, I'm probably a 15 year old girl in the matters of the heart. But one who has had some positive & good experiences behind her now.

    I know how to be a good partner. I know what hurts people. I'm not shy about that.

    Fuck. If I have to do Tinder. I will be facing off a bunch of pantless men won't I?

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  5. I'd say those pantless fuckers on Tinder better beware.

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