Where the Democrats are today

Look at that, three posts today

And my first one was the best and now it is buried, dang it.

Stay Classy, Kamala

 Harris never said a word of substance during her campaign. I should not be surprised Kamala Harris is a no-show when it comes time to concede, to thank her supporters, to address the nation. 

It reaffirms my opinion of that vapid, empty, and probably not nearly as smart as she believes herself to be presidential candidate . 

It is 10:30 AM EST and all we have from the Democrat candidate is bupkis.

At what point does this become election denial?  Asking for a friend…

What Gives?

I keep clicking that box on my computer screen that says “accept all cookies” but not a one has appeared at my door. 

By now I should have dozens of chocolate chip, oatmeal raisin, sugar, or snickerdoodle cookies piled on the counter. 

I think I’m being scammed. 

Duty Done

I went to vote around 10AM. For the first time in a while there was a line.  I suppose It took around 45 minutes to wait and vote.

I get you want to make sure and vote wisely. One woman was standing at voting machine #2 when I came in. I waited. Showed ID and waited. I finally voted. The process once I got inside took about 20 minutes. The SAME woman was still standing at machine #2 when I left. 

Sheesh. 

Suck it up and do it

Go vote. 

It is perfectly acceptable to vote in your own best interests.

No, I’ll not wear the silly sticker after. 

I’ll say this, I got a text at 11PM last night. It was from the campaign of Mike Braun who is running for governor of Indiana. It ticked me off to no end. I’m sick of election texts anyway and sending one at bedtime is a jerk move. I was going to vote for him because he is marginally better than the alternative. I may vote for the democrat out of spite. 

It won’t matter, the Republicans have an iron lock on the Statehouse and a lefty governor has zero chance of implementing her agenda. 

Somehow, I find it strangely appropriate that today is Trash Day.  There is a metaphor in there I’m sure. 

Stolen

 

H/T MC

Now it’s in your head

 Flashback to 70s pop

A slice of Saturday

For as long as I can remember whenever I cross a State line. * I lean forward or stick out my arms to be the “first” one in the car across the line.  Of course I know it is goofy. 

The wife and I went on a little road trip yesterday. Living in central Indiana a couple of hours or so in any direction can put you into another state. Yesterday when we crossed back into Hoosierdom I reached out towards the windshield to earn my well deserved victory. The wife looked at me and shook her head.

I laughed. “After all these years you either think ‘He’s so weird’ or ‘that’s one of the many little charming things that makes me love him,’” I told her. 

She didn’t say anything . I laughed and prompted her, “You have lots of charming qualities, Joe.” 

Silence. 

I guess I know where I stand.

*when I cross into Indiana from Illinois on I-74 I always sing the opening lines to Back Home in Indiana. I don’t know why.  I suppose it is more than a quirk. I was weird even as a kid. 

PS try it the next time you cross any State line. Take any victory in life you can get.

A brief excerpt

It was a typical sunny Hawaiian morning. Joan Kowalski sipped black coffee while she skimmed the thick Sunday Honolulu Times. She was casually dressed in slacks and a blouse. An ignored cigarette burned in an ashtray at her elbow. The cigarette produced a trail of blue smoke that waved and curled in the gentle breeze from the open windows. Joan folded the newspaper expertly as she skipped to the jump page to finish an article. Across the enameled kitchen table Paula Jones wore her nightgown and a robe as she absently stirred sugar into her coffee cup while reading a page in a novel. She was hunched forward in concentration. Neither woman spoke. Music played softly on the radio. 

Alice Daughtry walked sleepily into the kitchen and headed straight towards the coffee pot on the stove. “Morning kids,” she mumbled. She was wearing silk pajamas that fit tightly across her large breasts. Alice yawned open-mouthed and stretched her arms above her head. Her top crept up, briefly exposing her flat stomach and navel. Alice rotated her head on her shoulders. Her brown hair was still sleep-tousled. She lit a Lucky Strike and reached for a coffee cup.

The roar of airplanes droned in the distance. Alice cocked her head and stared at the ceiling. “Sounds like the flyboys are at it early this morning.” She filled her cup from the metal percolator. “Edna gets off at eight, I better make another pot of coffee. You know how she is after working the overnight shift.” Edna Faber was their fourth roommate. Alice walked over to the table and poured the last of the pot into Joan and Paula’s cups.

“Huh, those planes seem pretty low,” Paula said. “There is a bunch of them.” She turned towards Alice, “You got in late last night Alice.”

Alice smiled and started to speak when her reply was cut off by distant popping sounds and what sounded like fireworks. “What the heck?” Alice exclaimed. She set the empty pot on the counter.

Joan walked outside barefoot followed by her roommates. Planes circled the distant harbor like flies at a picnic. She could see spurts of smoke and fire to the left around Hickam and more around Ford Island in the middle of Pearl Harbor. The air raid siren up the hill began to wail.

All three women looked at the distant base in awe. None thought to move despite the noise from the sirens blaring throughout Honolulu. The volume of noise grew. Puffs of smoke dotted the air from what Joan supposed were anti-aircraft guns. These made a lighter pop in the sky compared to the deeper thud of the bombs and larger boom of explosions as the torpedoes and bombs began to hit their targets. A buzz of machine guns was barely heard above the cacophony of explosions and the constant howl of the siren. 

The planes circled and dove in succession. The three nurses stood frozen in the yard. Suddenly there was a loud explosion, and a black spout of smoke and flame roiled from the harbor. “We are under attack!” Paula shouted. Her words woke something in Joan and called her to action. She sprinted into the house and pulled on some shoes. Joan immediately started jogging towards the hospital. Paula watched her go and headed into the house to pull on her uniform. Alice asked where she was going. 

“To the hospital, Alice. There are bound to be casualties.”

“But you are not on duty.” Alice whined. Paula gave her a withering look and followed in Joan’s wake.

Don’t fret, it is a first draft of a middle section. I hope to make it better with the inevitable rewrites. 

Pot meet kettle

I saw a campaign ad for Kamala Harris last evening. The spot  claimed “Donald Trump ended Rowe vs Wade.” 

No matter your position on that particular contentious issue, that claim is an out and out bold faced untruth aimed at ignorant voters. 

Yet the press repeatedly paints the Trump campaign as liars. 

Boo!

Today is beg or loot day or as you may call it, Halloween.  The weather has been fantastic all week , so it is fitting it is supposed to rain today. 

I like to pretend disdain for Halloween. In truth, I liked it as a kid. Strangely, the town I lived in allowed three days to trick or treat and I took full advantage of the situation. It wasn’t until we moved away after I was married that I understood the rest of America only celebrates Halloween one day. 

The houses that gave out Milky Ways or popcorn balls were my favorite. 

Before we moved here our neighborhood was inundated with costumed kids trick or treating. The streets and sidewalk were filled. It was like the movies or on TV. We would have literally (in the true sense of the word) hundreds of visitors. Usually, I did not even bother with the door. I sat on the stoop handing out candy.

This house is far different, I doubt we have had thirty kids total in the decade we have lived here.