MIDTERM MADNESS

 

There’s desperation as much as madness in the mind of that corrupt and stinking orange piece of excrement currently occupying the white house. His poll numbers are in the toilet. -- This presidency deserves to be flushed.

Of course, he wants to remain in power. His administration consists of sycophants who refuse to hold him accountable for his corruption which exists on all levels. His main goal has always been to stay out of prison, along with to make as much money as possible from the presidency. The Trump family fortune has tripled since he last took office. We are being looted, not governed!

The fact that he’s urging all his supporters to: “Cheat like hell!” Should tell you all you need to know! And why is he even allowed to vote? This piece of scum is a CONVICTED FELON! Why was he even allowed to run again?

Not to mention he incited a domestic terrorist attack on our county! If an insurrection, assaults on women, child rape, an illegal war, and multiple corruption aren’t a deal breaker for you; then you are either stupid, brainwashed, or morally bankrupt!

And now, he’s trying to bribe us with $5000. – He already owes every US citizen $8,700.! Remember the $5000 DOGE checks, $2,000 Tariff checks, and the $1,700 Tariff Refund checks!

Did we ever receive the best health care ever as promised? Did Mexico ever pay for the wall? Besides enriching himself; all he seems concerned with is putting his name on everything and building monuments to himself.

While perusing the local community newsletter, I wanted to vomit while reading the numerous comments praising this corpulent bag of slime! I’ve been told it’s a waste of energy to argue with cultists; but to quote the late Ann Landers, “Silence isn’t always golden, sometimes it’s yellow!” Besides, I am outraged and need to vent!

One woman claimed it was actually the Democrats behind the January 6 insurrection. -- Why the hell would the Dems try to stop the certification of an election they just won??? If that were true, why didn’t Trump step into end it sooner, instead of dragging his feet.

And when he eventually did, Trump stated (I heard this with my own ears) how special and loved they were. – Doubt he would have done that if these were Democrats!

These Trump supporters remind me of the emotionally needy victims of romantic scammers. Even when confronted with hard, cold facts from family, friends, and their own bank; they double down and attack, insisting the liar preying upon them is their soul mate because they feel it in their heart.

Constantly, I was labeled a Communist and a pot smoker. First, I have been a registered Republican since 1972 and consider myself conservative. Trump has redefined conservative and weaponized it. He is not a conservative, but a FASCIST!!!

Second, this face has never smoked anything! I don’t even drink alcohol!

And I must admit, I retaliated with plenty of insults of my own! In fact, I was banned from further posting. Odd, since it was fine when all that degradation was directed at me. But then I wear insults from that caliber of persons as a badge of pride!

Trump is telling us to vote as if he is on the midterm ballot. And I did exactly that! I’ve already voted against every single Republican listed!!!

Unfortunately, Musk rat and his money are back and behind him. Plus, a long list of billionaires with a personal stake in his retaining control. I wouldn’t be a bit surprised if Trump finds a way to prevent this election and even future ones to remain in power. This is what dictators do! He has proven beyond a doubt that he aspires to be one. Or he may win by rigging the vote! Cheating and lying is the only area he excels!

International election observers have been blocked from attending. This alone should be a red flag!

KNEE, TEA, ETC

 It happened during the night! I awoke with an excruciating pain in my left knee. It was a mystery since there was no injury to explain it! As if during the dark hours someone with a voodoo doll bashed my knee with a hammer and then shoved a sharp pin into it!

Days before, I was bragging to a neighbor that I’m only 5 years away from age 80 yet I can still take my stairs 2 steps a time at a fast clip. -- Now, just rising from a chair hurts!

The week before I’d completed a cat-sitting job. I had 3 throughout the summer. I was glad this hadn’t developed then. The job requires squatting & kneeling. I like to get down on the floor to pet and play with the cat.

Before the 1^st job, I was shown a tube of ointment and told it worked wonderfully on bites & scratches. Thankfully, I didn’t need it. Whenever I felt the cat bearing down with teeth or claws, I‘d let out a shrill scream that would frighten the cat and she’d release me.

When the job ended, I discovered a new tea on the market that was perfect for my Saturday AM breakfast! It’s Taylor’s Blackberry & Raspberry infusion. While pouring, it’s the color of cherry soda. For all I know, that color is derived from crushed beetles rather than berries. However, if you watch Survivor or Fear Factor, you know people have consumed far worse and survived.

Back in the 1970’s when lunching at my favorite Italian Restaurant, I ordered a pot of tea with my ravioli. As I poured it into my cup, I was horrified to see cockroach parts floating in the tea. The waitress was embarrassed and brought a fresh pot.

Upon my next visit, I ordered tea emphatically stating, “No cockroach pieces.”

“I’m surprised you came back!” the waitress exclaimed.

As she walked away, my father chortled. “They probably charge extra for the cockroach parts,” he said.

Well, the cuisine there was so delicious, I didn’t care!

I predict that in another generation, if AI doesn’t wipe us out first, eating bugs for protein will be so common and normal no one will think twice about it. A necessity due to the exploding world population.

As to my knee, I consulted Doctor Google. It appears I’ve developed osteoarthritis, which is not unusual in people my age. This happens suddenly without any injury. I’ve discovered that if I straighten and stiffen my leg before rising, it doesn’t hurt as badly. There is still pain, but it’s not as excruciating.

I’ll continue to cat-sit, I need the money. Plus I love the little critters. I’ll just have to make some adjustments. My cat-sitting jobs should be drying up until spring. I doubt my clients will be traveling north to visit relatives once the weather turns cold.

THE DAY THE TEACHERS WENT MISSING

 

The year was 1968 and I was a junior in high school. My home room teacher was there, however when the bell rang and I went to my first class, the instructor’s desk was empty. No teacher showed up! Along with the rest of my class, we waited, still no teacher. Between 10 and 15 minutes later the principal arrived. We were ordered to report to study hall with no explanation.

Half the teachers didn’t show. Again, classes were directed to study hall. Soon we learned the teachers were on strike for an increased salary and budget. Despite this, the schools remained open.

Our new Governor, Claude Kirk Jr. was the first Republican elected to that office since Reconstruction. His personal and management style was combative and flamboyant. After taking office, he took a trip to South America. There, he met and soon married a beautiful German actress named Erika Mattfeld.

On a jaunt to Palm Beach one day, my father stopped at a drug store. At the counter, the woman before him was our new first lady of the state. Dad chuckled that the clerk was fawning all over her. I asked my father if he personally spoke to her. Dad replied that the clerk was doing enough gushing for the both of them, and he had nothing to add.

School was interesting to say the least during this period. We had a series of substitutes, some real weirdos! One in history class told us that a significant part of our grade would be determined as to how well groomed we were. – Not our knowledge of the subject! The next day a different sub was there and never saw him again!

Some classes such as that one, we had a different sub every day. Another, we watched a revolving circle of them. Only one class did we have one who remained throughout the strike. The following year, she was a permanent teacher there.

On TV I watched as our governor stood to address the striking teachers. With a swagger and an upward wave of his hands, he declared “Ok now, let’s hear one big BOO for the Governor!” My mother said he appeared tipsy.

The strike lasted two & a half weeks in our school, longer in others. Finally, an agreement was reached with 10.2 million for educational spending.

Gov. Claude Kirk Jr. was not re-elected.

BOUNDARIES

 

We all have them or should. Some people take them too far, others not far enough. Those of us who’ve been alone a long time seem to have the most rigid ones. I’ll admit I’m one of these.

My stepmother had been alone for almost 30 years before taking up with Dad. She was stone set in her ways with everyone but him. She was his mistress for 18 years.  And if you knew my mother, you’d understand how she was able to finagle her way into our lives!

After my mother’s death, Dad was free to wed her. Before the marriage, she treated my father like royalty. Afterward she alone, ruled the roost. We couldn’t make a move in our own home without first consulting her. My father always made excuses for her, even later when she was displaying clear signs of Alzheimer’s.

But fortunately, and thanks to me, and the high price I paid, he couldn’t pretend forever.

Fast forward to the year 2000. My father was paralyzed on his left side from a stroke and was in a rehabilitation hospital for an entire summer. Every day I visited and wheeled him to all his physical therapy classes.

One morning about 10 minutes before the start of his first class, my father pointed to the therapy room across from him. It led thru into his first session in the adjoining room. He instructed me to take this as a short cut, rather than wheel him all the way around.

Inside, everyone was setting things up. The physical therapist was a muscular man around age 30. He said nothing but made it clear with his chilling stare and body language that I was unwelcome there! His stare reminded me of a snake ready to strike.

The following day, I told my father never again, were we entering that room! We’d continue to take the long way around. I didn’t like the threatening look that man gave me. My father said he noticed and understood.

I have plenty of my own boundaries. Unlike my mother, I don’t give escorted tours of my home. A practice I’ve always found unnecessary and questionable. All but a few rooms of mine are off limits to visitors. Any place they can’t see, they have no business going.

My mother used to say that she loved showing off our home because others were curious. Well, my home is not a tourist attraction, it’s my private space! When I was younger, there were people who probably wondered what I looked like naked. That didn’t mean I was going to put myself on display. I’d rather they remain curious.

And when someone disrespects me, they are expelled from my life fast!

A FRIGHTENING DAY & AN UNNERVING ONE

 

Driving in rain or rush hour traffic is something I try to avoid at all costs. I’ve had to overcome anxiety attacks just to get behind the wheel. And now I have posterior vitreous detachment in both eyes. This happened shortly after cataract surgery in 2017.

What this means is that I see light flashes as well as 3 different kinds of eye floaters: big black ones, little brown ones, & gelatinous of various sizes that are the worst. Yes, there is a surgery to correct this, but I neither have insurance nor the money to pay for it. So, I must live with it and adjust.

Not long ago, it was necessary to meet with my CPA. After I left, it was only sprinkling outside, but soon it began storming. My windshield wipers were going great guns, but all I could see was gray along with the headlights of oncoming cars. And too many cars in front of me had no lights on at all! Mine were not enough, I needed this to see the road ahead of me.

The heavy downfall was blinding. I couldn’t even see a place to turn in and pull over. Rounding a corner I hit a curb and felt one side of my car go up. I thought my car was going to flip over, but it didn’t. I honestly thought I’d never make it home alive, but I did.

My last eye exam felt like something out of the Twilight Zone. It happened at a time I hated to be out, late in the afternoon. This meant I would be driving home in rush hour traffic.

The waiting room was crowded, except for the very back. Along one wall was a lengthy desk filled with busy workers.

I went to the check-in and was given papers to fill out. I walked to the far back where it was empty, I sat with my back toward the crowd.

Almost immediately, a strange woman who looked around 60 came and sat directly across from me. Every time I looked up, I found her staring fixedly upon me with her body leaning forward as if studying me. This creeped me out!

After filing out the paperwork, I moved to a crowded section leaving no room for her to follow.

Wait times are always lengthy in these places, but this one took it to a whole new level; even after a nurse seated me in a room. A tedious wait ensued. Normally this was my nap time and I was missing it. However, since I was reclining, I let myself fall asleep in the exam chair.

When I awoke, I had no idea of time. I wasn’t wearing a watch, nor do I own a cellphone. I got up and walked outside. The waiting room was now empty, as was the long desk. Apparently, the employees had all gone home.

I started to panic! Was I alone in there, and locked in?

Fortunately, I spotted a doctor and flagged him down. “Have you forgotten me?” I exclaimed. “Have you any idea how long I’ve been here?”

He apologized and led me back to the room for an examination. My vision, the posterior vitreous detachment had not changed since the previous visit.

Being summer, it was still light outside. And thankfully rush hour traffic was over. Most people were now at home, or else engaged in happy hour somewhere. I felt relieved! To me, happy hour is home at my kitchen table where I was soon to be. The end of a long, strange afternoon.

SINGERS & A MEMORY

 

I’ll venture a guess that most of the younger generation have never heard of Connie Francis, although she was quite a popular singer, actress and celebrity when I was a child. I enjoyed her as an actress, along with her movies. She was a petite woman with a powerful voice. And she possessed a vibrant personality that exuded genuine warmth. But when it came to singers, I was more of a Leslie Gore fan.

Back then, it seemed every time I turned on the radio Leslie was belting out: “It’s my party and I’ll cry if I want to!” I loved bopping around to that song and Leslie sang it with gusto. I often joined in with my shrill off-key voice.

Leslie’s songs were geared to young teens & pre-teens like me. Connie’s were for an older, more sophisticated crowd.

By the mid 1960’s both singers’ popularity was on the wane. The public’s taste had changed, and they were being replaced by rock groups. However, Connie & Leslie still had their fans.

Fast forward to the 1974, I was shocked and saddened to learn that Connie Francis was raped at knife point in a hotel room after being awakened from sleep. She sued the hotel chain, stating faulty locks. She won! But the large amount was not enough in my opinion. No woman should have to endure that!

Her attacker was never caught.

But I dispute the faulty lock, based on a personal incident.

During my elementary school years, Miami was almost my home away from home. My parents loved the shopping & nightlife there. So, we spent at least one weekend a month there.

I was too young for the nightlife, and I found the shopping tedious, so I spent much of the time cooped up in a motel room. At night, my parents didn’t usually return until long after midnight.

One evening, they were exhausted and decided to stay in. We went to bed around 11:00 PM. About twenty minutes later while still awake, I heard a key turning in the lock. Suddenly light from outside came streaming in. A heavy-set man in a suit entered.

My father hollered out, “You’re in the wrong room!”

The man mumbled an apology and hastily departed.

What unnerved me most was the stranger’s key fit our lock, making it easy for him to enter. I began to wonder if all motel/hotel locks & keys were secretly interchangeable. I doubt Connie Francis lock was faulty, any more than ours!

And I was fortunate that my parents decided to stay-in that night.

THESE SCAMS NEED A HAM

 

And then there’s Spam, but I’ve already done plenty of blogging about that. This is something different, but equally despicable!

Being an independent author, I don’t have a publisher behind me to promote my work. But my phone rings constantly from scammers ready to pick up this slack. Every time I release a new book I’ve been told it’s so special or outstanding that it will be featured prominently at a book festival in some exotic part of the world. – Yeah sure!

One scammer offered to turn a novel of mine into a movie, -- but I was expected to pay for it! I told them they had me confused with the new billion-dollar lottery winner and hung up!

And then there was the scammer who pretended to be from Paramount Pictures who informed me that this same novel was set to become a movie and they wanted to buy all rights. A red flag shot up when he kept referring to me as Deanna. My name is Dianne.

Also, on my Facebook author page I’ve received messages from so-called other authors who claimed to love a novel of mine so much they want to help me promote it. “Oh my publicist is wonderful and she has helped me tremendously,” they say.

I tell them I’ve hired publicists in the past who made big promises, but all they did was take my money. I wasn’t interested! They insist theirs are different. And no matter how hard I try, they refuse to change the subject. I end up blocking them! – I strongly suspect they ARE the publicist trying to drum up work.

Recently, I discovered a call on my answering machine from a podcaster who wanted to promote my latest novel: A Balmy Winter on Topaz Waters. The call stank of phish, so I deleted it.

Next day, I received an email from this same podcaster praising my novel in gushing terms along with a fluffy romantic synopsis.

I emailed back inquiring if they’d actually read my novel. Despite the sound of the title, it wasn’t a dreamy romance any more than The Silence of the Lambs was about a shepherd who sang lullabies to his flock!

So, I was expected to promote it as something it isn’t. – Not happening!

This is the reason I rarely answer my phone anymore.