Live and Let Live

A column of quotable quotes

Image by Syaibatul Hamdi from Pixabay

This is: A weekly column consisting of letters to my perspicacious progeny. I write letters to my grandkids and my great-grandkids — the Stickies — to advise them and haunt them after they've become grups and/or I'm deleted.

Warning: This column is rated SSC — Sexy Seasoned Citizens — A Perusal by kids, callowyutes, or grups may result in a debilitating intersectional triggering. Viewing with a tablet or a monitor is highly recommended for maximum enjoyment.  

About

Glossary 

Erratically Appearing Hallucinatory Guest Star: Dana — A Gentlereader  

"My conservatism is fairly avant-garde, and it is a kind of rebuke to conformity." -Roger Scruton

Dear (eventual) Grandstickies and Great-Grandstickies (and Gentlereaders),

I'm a collector of quotable quotes. I have a bunch of 'em recorded in a notebook that uses the dead trees format. Nowadays, I save 'em in a computer file. Live and let live is an oft-quoted ancient proverb that I wish all the kids on our modern playground would make a point of observing.

I hope the subtitle of this column will result in Readers Digest sending me a cease and desist letter since they've been running a feature of the same name in their magazine since before I was born.

{Wait-wait-wait. Why would you...}

With a bit of luck, and a well-written press release released on a slow news day, it might turn into my 15 minutes of fame.

Let's begin by pandering to my fellow Citizens of the Republic with a tasteful quote that any right-thinking person will agree with.

"The journey to spiritual awakening is better with french fries." -Bilquis

{Whoquis?}

Bilquis, an ancient goddess as portrayed by a very um, unusual (and now canceled) Starz network show titled American Gods. My fellow fans and I have been left holding the bag and there wasn't even a rushed, half-assed attempt to provide a conclusion of some sort.

{Are there temporarily delicious but now cold McDonald's fries that have morphed into plastic in that bag?}

"The American dream is the pursuit of happiness as each defines it." -I. Dunno

{I. Dunno? Who's that?}

A figment of my lame sense of humor; I can't find the source of the quote. It's from an article I read. I scribbled it down so I'd add it to my collection later but neglected to write down the name of the author.

Once upon a time, I was taught by Sister Mary McGillicuddy that the intention to live and let live was implied by our American experiment even though it has been imperfectly realized, to put it mildly.

"I want the playground to have minimum rules and maximum fun. I want just enough rules to give everyone an equal shot at some swing time and neutralize the bullies." -me

For example, I don't begrudge the Wokies the right to believe whatever they want. "...I will defend to the death, etc." -Voltaire.

However, if I were king, modern-day Piagnoni, followers of multiple modern-day Savonarola's, striving to remain in the good graces of the Intersectional Inquisition so they will have a place card designated, sustainably manufactured seat at the table waiting for them in Heaven Utopia,

And,

Who behave like members of the Westboro Baptist Church who've decided to become transnational Christian Jihadies...

Would have to undergo mandatory cult recovery therapy (yeah, it's a thing) to avoid having their voting privileges canceled. Also, Bonfires of the Vanities would be outlawed, even at mostly peaceful protests.

{Not everyone enjoys your obscure references.}

Merely established history. Follow the links for a free lesson. "...there is nothing new under the sun." -Ecclesiastes 1:9

"Where is all the knowledge we lost with information?" -T.S. Eliot

Mr. Eliot published the poem Choruses From the Rock in 1909. The quote above is from that poem. I don't...

{I had no idea you were a poetry aficionado.}

I'm not. However, I've been threatening to become more than an on-again/off-again dabbler since high school.

I don't know where or when I first encountered the line but I was immediately struck by the way it neatly and simply summed up one of the dilemmas of the Dizzinformation Age although it was written at the beginning of the previous century.

Too much information can easily lead to too little knowledge... and fresh ways and means to con, manipulate, and exploit Joe and Joan Bagadonuts for fun and profit.

I have it on good authority that Eliot was referring to spiritual knowledge, that he was referring specifically to the state of Christianity in his day, but it works in a somewhat different and modern context. I wouldn't describe myself as a Christian, but I wouldn't persecute...

{I see what you did there.}

I wouldn't persecute a Christian baker that takes his faith seriously if he refused to create a cake masterpiece for my — I self-identify as an African-American lesbian (traditional) woman who could pass for Hale Berry's more attractive sister — coming out party. I'd just find another master baker and skip tossing a casual contempt grenade through the door of his bakery.

Live and let live. Sister Mary would be proud.

Addendum: On a related note...

Lookie what I found at a website called Grammarist (.com).

{Lookie?}

"Live and let live is a proverb that is hundreds of years old."

Yada-yada-yada...

"To live and let live means to be tolerant, to live one’s own life in the manner that he [she/they] wishes and to allow the other fellow [person] to live his [her/their] life in the manner that he [she/they] wishes. The philosophy of live and let live does not necessarily embrace or condone the differences of others, but it promotes accepting the differences of others without trying to change them."

Yada-yada-yada...

"The phrase live and let live comes from the Dutch. It is found in The Ancient Law-Merchant, a collection of commercial law compiled by G. De Malynes in 1622. This code of law was written by medieval merchants to govern trade throughout Europe, North Africa and Asia Minor."

Imagine, Pasty Patriarchal money-grubbing capitalists understood what the concept of diversity and inclusion should mean, and made it the law.  

{Yada-yada-yada? And what about equity?}

As to the yada-yada-yada, follow the link. As to equity, entrepreneurs trying to survive in the real world understand that equity (defined as equality of outcome) is an adolescent dream that could easily become/is becoming a nightmare.    

Poppa loves you,

Have an OK day

Scroll down to share this column or access previous ones. If you enjoy my work and the fact I don't run adverts or sell things, please consider buying me a coffee via PayPal or plastic.    

Feel free to comment/like/follow/cancel/troll me on Cranky's Facebook page. I post my newest column there on Saturdays and interesting stuff on other days.

Dicktaters

A diggin' the dictaters/news you might've missed column

Image by Here and now, unfortunately, ends my journey on Pixabay from Pixabay

This is: A weekly column consisting of letters to my perspicacious progeny. I write letters to my grandkids and my great-grandkids — the Stickies — eventual selves to advise them and haunt them after they've become grups and/or I'm deleted. Reading via monitor/tablet is recommended for maximum enjoyment.  

Warning: This column is rated SSC — Sexy Seasoned Citizens — Perusal by kids, callowyutes, or grups may result in a debilitating intersectional triggering. Intended for H. sapiens that are — in the words of the late, great bon vivant and polymath, Professor Y. Bear — "Smarter [and cooler] than the av-er-age bear." 

About

Glossary 

Erratically Appearing Hallucinatory Guest Star: Dana — A Gentlereader  

"I'm not a dictator. It's just that I have a grumpy face." -Agusto Pinochet

Dear (eventual) Grandstickies and Great-Grandstickies (and Gentlereaders),

Once there was a blogger from Belarus... Dicktaters can grow, and thrive, just about anywhere. The bully that runs Belarus uses MiG-29 fighter jets to swat flies. Now that's a dicktater.

Alexander Lukashenko, a Pooteen protege, is an OG dicktater whose territory, Belarus, the alleged Republic of Belarus, butts up against/was part of the now officially disbanded USSR.        

{And we care about this because?...}

He ordered a MiG-29 to intercept an Irish passenger plane that was flying from Athens to Vilnius, Lithuania. 

{I think I heard something about that...}

The pilot was told there was a bomb on the plane by Belarusian air traffic controllers, and that it might be activated over Vilnius. The pilot was also told to divert to Minsk, in Belarus, and then a MiG-29 was graciously dispatched to escort the plane.  

Fortunately, no bomb was found. 

Belarus said they had no choice, that someone from Hamas, a spinoff of the religion of peace, had emailed them that a bomb was on board. Guilty conscience I guess.  

Alex the Not So Great says the email came from Switzerland, which as everyone knows, is lousy with Hamas social clubs. The Swiss confirmed that somebody sent an email, oddly, 24 minutes after the plane was ordered to land in Belarus.

Not for nothin'...

{Not for nothin'?} 

Not for nothin', in what might turn out to be the coinkydink of the year, it was discovered that Roman Protasevich, whose cover story is that he's a humble but lovable journalist and blogger self-exiled to Lithuania, was on that plane. He was on a list, compiled by Belarus's KGB, of individuals involved in terrorist activities.

The evil blogger, and his Lithuanian college student girlfriend, were tossed in the pokey. 

Mr. Protasevich was so racked with guilt about being a terrorist that he immediately came clean. His video confession was broadcast on television 24 hours later to a relieved/grateful Belarus. 

He's been charged with the horrific crime of organizing protests, from Lithuania, over the alleged election fraud perpetrated by Alex the Not So Great in Belarus's last presidential election in 2020.

Alex the Not So Great is a very popular public servant. He's been repeatedly reelected president and has been in charge of Belarus for 26 years.

Meanwhile, in the Middle Kingdom, Xi Dada, the current emperor of China, continues to try and out Orwell Orwell. 

Ethnic cleansing, enslaving the Uyghurs, swallowing Tibet whole, mass surveillance, eteceterance — well sure — but eventually, a smart dicktater figures out that rewriting history serves multiple purposes.     

 

It not only helps to keep the sheep in their pens, aid in the never-ending process of indoctrination, and influence future generations of sheep, it might even help if a given dicktater finds themselves on trial in the Hague someday for crimes against humanity.

{What are you?...}

I just discovered that Xi Jinping set up something called the Chinese Acadamy of History a couple of years ago (sorry, I'm running behind, keeping up with the Kardashians is exhausting) in order to (according to the Wall Street Journal), "...counter negative views of the ruling Communist Party's Past."

How he resisted calling it the Ministry of Truth I'll never know. 

{Doesn't netiquette call for a link to the WSJ?}

Well, their well-built paywall is very tall, so...

Anyways, it's been officially announced via a social media post, that the vicious story that Mao Anying — son of the world (in)famous Mao Zedong (who murdered more people than Hitler and Stalin put together) — got himself deleted by an airstrike in the Korean war when he fired up a stove to make egg fried rice is pure bonkercockie. 

This was discovered after an in-depth investigation of the events of roughly 70 years ago. Turns out that radio transmissions from Anying's commander's H.Q. inadvertently led to Anying getting blown to bits.

“These rumormongers have tied up Mao Anying with egg fried rice, gravely dwarfing the heroic image of Mao Anying’s brave sacrifice. Their hearts are vicious.”

They also discovered that Teddy Kennedy fired the kill shot from the grassy knoll and was an undercover assassin working as a cook in the kitchen of the Ambassador hotel.   

{I don't get that obscure reference, waaay too much ancient history for my taste.}

Easily googled if you're interested.

{You're aware that Keeping up the Kardashians has been canceled, right?}

I try not to think about it. I have a ways to go before I'm caught up and I'm cautiously optimistic that there will be splendiferous spin-offs and specials. 

Addendum — On a related note:

If you're worried because China's navy is now larger than ours, 

And,

Xi Dada, in a speech commemorating the 100th birthday of the Chinese Communist Party (the CCP, in Tiananmen Square of all places) while wearing his Mao jacket, declared that anyone who messes with China, "...shall be battered and bloodied from colliding with a great wall of steel forged by more than 1.4 billion Chinese people using flesh and blood.,"

Well, at least the US still leads in rapping. 

A 15-minute rap that includes 100 different CCP approved rappers extolling the "Chinese Dream" (yeah, that's a thing) face planted and was disappeared faster than a pro-democracy demonstrator prior to the birthday bash.

     

Poppa loves you,

Have an OK day

Scroll down to share this column or access previous ones. If you enjoy my work and the fact I don't run adverts or sell things, please consider buying me a coffee via PayPal or plastic.    

Feel free to comment/like/follow/cancel/troll me on Cranky's Facebook page. I post my newest column there on Saturdays and interesting stuff on other days.   

Obituaries

 Junkies and babies, and Wuflu, oh my!

Image by b0red from Pixabay

This is: A weekly column consisting of letters to my perspicacious progeny. I write letters to my grandkids and my great-grandkids — the Stickies — to advise them and haunt them after they've become grups and/or I'm deleted.

Warning: This column is rated SSC — Sexy Seasoned Citizens — A Perusal by kids, callowyutes, or grups may result in a debilitating intersectional triggering. Viewing with a tablet or a monitor is highly recommended for maximum enjoyment.  

About

Glossary 

Erratically Appearing Hallucinatory Guest Star: Dana — A Gentlereader  

"Health nuts are going to feel stupid someday, lying in hospitals dying of nothing." -Red Foxx

Dear (eventual) Grandstickies and Great-Grandstickies (and Gentlereaders),

In theory, the title of this column, Obituaries, should be world-class clickbait. I'll/It'll probably go insanely viral and rack up millions of hits. 

Also, I rendered the word obituaries in bold and used it a second time only 39 (or 40) words in.

{What the h-e-double hockey sticks are you on about now?} 

Well, it depends on whether ya count I'll/It'll as one or two words. 

{Cute. You know what I'm talking about.}

Well, Dana, I have it on good(?) authority that by repeating the title early on and in bold, using a title that "users" might type in that are oblivious to me and my columns existence; repeating it regularly throughout the column (but not too regularly); writing h-e-double hockey sticks instead of hell to indicate that this is a family-friendly column to appeal to my fellow Neoneoconservatives, my "community," — "going viral" is inevitable. 

{What does any of this crap poop have to do with obituaries?}

Nothing. 

I'm merely, one, reminding my fellow H. sapiens that the Earth has been invaded by an army of Algorithmites created in virtual laboratories by the minions of the semi (so far) evil tech oligopoly that's taking over the world. 

Algorithmites, like rust, never sleep. They're always virtually peering over your shoulder to see what you're up to so as to turn you into data for maximum monetization.

And two, pointing out that there's an entire industry devoted to teaching creators of content how to serve said Algorithmites so as to attract "sticky" eyeballs to your work and maybe make a buck — which is how they try to make a buck. You're much more likely to make pennies but it's like the lottery, ya gotta play to win.

Think of it as a public service announcement. I'm all about serving my community.

{On behalf of the community please accept my sincere thanks. Any chance we can talk about obituaries now?}

Why Certainly. 

To a certain segment of my "community," geezers and geezerettes, obituaries are important. For example, I begin my day by consuming a cup of Cafe Bustelo and an amazing amount of information (if I do say so myself) about current events via a highly engineered and continually tweaked system that includes the obituary section of the Hooterville Hornblower. 

My purpose in doing so is twofold. First, to verify that I'm not dead, a clueless ghost sitting in front of a keyboard writing non-existent columns for people who can't see/read them (or me).

Second, to check and see if anyone I know that lives on the periphery of my life have passed away peacefully into eternal rest, and no one told me. Not that I would be likely to go to his/her/their funeral or whatever. I try my best not to do funerals or whatevers. 

As to why... well, that would take a column's worth of words to explain properly. Suffice it to say it has nothing to do with a fear of death. Also, I pre-encourage anyone/everyone not to attend my Celebration of Life if there is one. If there's a funeral, I'll come back and haunt whoever is responsible.

Anyways, reading about people who went to their heavenly home comes with a major downside. Babies, toddlers, and teenagers die too. The announcement that one has is enough to bring tears to the eyes of even cynical, grumpy old cranks and crankettes.

If someone younger than fifty or so dies suddenly from unknown causes under investigation there's a good chance they succumbed to a drug overdose. Those sorts of obituaries are usually short, light on details, and sadly, appear regularly nowadays.  

According to the obituaries, most people don't die, they pass away, which I know from personal experience is not necessarily true, and the exact cause is rarely mentioned. 

Many people, particularly people over the age of roughly 70 or so, pass away peacefully while surrounded by their loving family. Well, I hope that's true. Regardless, I suspect that often the wording (like funerals) is more about the living than the dead.

I'm not entirely sure it's appropriate but I want to know the cause of death. Like when someone falls asleep in the Lord after a quietly courageous battle with Stage 4 lung cancer. Since the Wuflu plague, although rapidly/hopefully is fading but is still with us, this bit of knowledge seems particularly pertinent. 

For example, I'd like mine to be something like: 

It is with a mixture of sadness and rejoicing that our much-loved patriarch has set off on his final road trip to the Great Gig In the Sky. He was instantly vaporized, while traveling as a space tourist, when on the return leg of one of Elon Musk's To the Moon and Back Sightseeing Space Junkets the spaceship mysteriously exploded. 

Addendum: The Great Gig In The Sky

And I am not frightened of dying

Any time will do, I don't mind

Why should I be frightened of dying?

There's no reason for it, you've gotta go sometime

If you can hear this whispering you are dying -Rick Wright

 

Poppa loves you,

Have an OK day

Scroll down to share this column or access previous ones. If you enjoy my work and the fact I don't run adverts or sell things, please consider buying me a coffee via PayPal or plastic.    

Feel free to comment/like/follow/cancel/troll me on Cranky's Facebook page. I post my newest column there on Saturdays and interesting stuff on other days.

    

Hooterville, Ohio

 A Mr. Cranky's neighborhood episode featuring Congressperson Timmy 

I don't know who owns the rights to this image but if they should send me a cease and desist order I'll happily take it down after trying to use the letter to go viral by claiming I'm a victim of ageism, elder abuse, and intersectional abuses to be named later.

This is: A weekly column consisting of letters to my perspicacious progeny. I write letters to my grandkids and my great-grandkids — the Stickies — to advise them and haunt them after they've become grups and/or I'm deleted.

Warning: This column is rated SSC — Sexy Seasoned Citizens — A Perusal by kids, callowyutes, or grups may result in a debilitating intersectional triggering. Viewing with a tablet or a monitor is highly recommended for maximum enjoyment.  

About

Glossary 

Erratically Appearing Hallucinatory Guest Star: Dana — A Gentlereader  

"And that's Uncle Joe, he's movin' kind of slow at the junction..."

- Fron the song Petticoat Junction written by Paul Henning (creator of Petticoat Junction/Hooterville) and Curt Massey (musician/songwriter).  

Dear (eventual) Grandstickies and Great-Grandstickies (and Gentlereaders),

Hooterville, Ohio, a "city" in Northeast Ohio, sits in the middle of a cluster of "cities" and townships that includes two (former) actual rustbelt cities that have lost so much population our congressman congressperson Timmy, may soon be out of his second real job.

He worked for his predecessor, the (almost) famous Congressman Jimbo, for a few years till Jimbo got locked up and Tim's current job became available. Jimbo ran against him from prison, twice, but lost both times. 

If you lived here the fact that Jimbo lost, at least the first time, is the surprising part. The fact that he ran, twice, didn't surprise anyone. 

Timmy has announced that he's running for the Senate next year to replace Republicrat Rob Portman, a professional pol of 32 years who has been a (mostly) reliably conservative and blessedly boring senator for 11 years.   

Congressperson Timmy is a Depublican but markets himself as an old school Depublican, a Democrat, as there are many Democrats still living in the Hooterville metropolitan area. He talks, a lot, about how the current version of the party should become the party of the working class again.

This area is top-heavy with working-class people. Timmy's never earned his bread by workin' the line, operating a machine, stockin' shelves, etc, but he was a high school football star which gives ya street cred in these parts. 

He was recruited to play ball at Youngstown State but blew out a knee and wound up at Bowling Green State, majoring in political science. He went to work for Jimbo and picked up a law degree from Franklin Pierce Law Center but didn't see any point in taking the bar exam. 

Next, he became an Ohio State Senator but only served for two years before Jimbo's unfortunate incarceration and has been Congressman Timmy ever since.   

He's since published a book about practicing mindfulness and another about healthy eating. The one about mindfulness (2012) brought him a bit of national attention. He republished it in 2018 with a different title. 

The first line of the same forward in both books is, "This book is a remarkable and unusual gift to the world." It's written by Jon Kabat-Zinn, a former professor who nowadays sells MP3s and CDs of guided meditations.   

Congressperson Timmy's been trying to call attention to himself on the national stage for years by doing stuff like pretending to run for Speaker of the House (Nattering Nancy crushed him). He ran for president for about a minute in 2020 before returning his attention to getting re-elected to Congress. 

He turns up occasionally on national lamestream media shows when some interviewer wants to present the perspective of the working person. Local, somewhat miffed talk show hosts can't get him to answer the phone anymore but perhaps now that he's running for the Senate there will be a reconciliation.   

It's suddenly summer here in Hooterville. I never get tired of the joke, what are the four seasons of Ohio? Answer: almost winter, winter, still winter, construction.   

{You may not be tired of it but...}

My oldest granddaughter, whom I used to call Abbagirl but now address as Asparagoose, just limped through an awful senior year of high school. Before I forget, if you're keeping track, her sister is no longer Bug, she's Josceleena or Josceleenie.

My oldest grandson is still, Dude. The youngest is still Duuude. 

Asparagoose went to band camp for three years and enjoyed the good while stoically dealing with the bad and the ugly, all the while looking forward to the summer before senior year. Seniors at band camp see themselves as minor royalty and behave accordingly. 

Band camp 2020 was canceled, a victim of the Wuflu Plague.

Well, at least there was senior year to look forward to. Seniors in Hooterville High see themselves as minor royalty.

[Insert sound of a stylus skidding across a vinyl record here.] 

Classes wearing masks, canceled classes, virtual classes, masked classes.

Shortened football season and canceled band concerts.

No money from Burger King till the lockdown began to lift a bit.

This, that, and even that closed till further notice.

That's now gone, and the Hooverville region's herd of empty storefronts has expanded again.    

BIG BUT.

There's a fledgling electric truck company trying to get off the ground in what used to be a General Motors plant, GMs gonna build car batteries here, and we've got new natural gas-fueled power plants.  

No fields covered with glittering, Chinese-made solar panels so far but local boosters, including Congressperson Timmy, are promoting a Voltage Valley meme since the Steel Valley meme has been deleted. 

Asparagoose got her first tattoo when she turned 18. Small, but emotionally significant. She was accepted at YSU but has decided to keep her powder dry till she can decide on a major that will pay off in spite of the absurdly expensive, politically correct classes. 

I remember when I was 18...

{And  we're  outa  here.}

Short Addendum this week since we're already running long: 

Who decides who's too important to get busted, for lying under oath, to the United States Congress? 

{Who are you claiming...} 

Here's a hint, Dana... Dr. Anthony Steven Fauci, the highest-paid employee ($400,000+/year) of the Citizens of the Republic. 

Poppa loves you,

Have an OK day

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Feel free to comment/like/follow/cancel/troll me on Cranky's Facebook page. I post my newest column there on Saturdays and interesting other stuff on other days.

Cranky don't tweet.

 

  

Going From Cigarettes to Crack

A Random Randomnesses column

News that you can use/missives you might've missed 

Image by Pexels from Pixabay

This is: A weekly column consisting of letters to my perspicacious progeny. I write letters to my grandkids and my great-grandkids — the Stickies — to advise them and haunt them after they've become grups and/or I'm deleted.

Warning: This column is rated SSC — Sexy Seasoned Citizens — A Perusal by kids, callowyutes, or grups may result in a debilitating intersectional triggering. Viewing with a tablet or a monitor is highly recommended for maximum enjoyment.  

About

Glossary 

Erratically Appearing Hallucinatory Guest Star: Dana — A Gentlereader  

"We're going from cigarettes to crack." -James Griffin, chairperson of the Hawaii Public Utilities Commission.  

Dear (eventual) Grandstickies and Great-Grandstickies (and Gentlereaders),

I learned from an article on the Foundation for Economic Education's (FEE) website, an organization that translates economics into English for right-wing wingnuts like me, that Hawaii ("...the first US state to mandate a full transition to renewable energy.") is replacing a coal-fired power plant with what amounts to a ginormous battery. 

Hooge problem: There's not enough energy available from (Chinese-made) solar panels and (bird murdering) wind turbines to reliably keep the battery charged so there's a high probability of rolling blackouts. 

So the Hawaiian Electric Company is preparing to burn oil to make sure the battery stays charged. Oil, like coal, is also obviously a fossil fuel and is the most expensive way to generate electricity. This is what prompted Mr. Griffin's comment about going from cigarettes to crack. 

{Why don't they build a Natgas pipeline from the West Coast? Think of the thousands of jobs it would generate!}

I don't think that's practical, Dana. Somebody get Elon on the phone! Besides, Uncle Joe would veto it unless it was being built by the Russians. Can't say I blame him. AOC and the squad might surround the White House with pitchfork and torch-waving mobs of green Wokies for a peaceful demonstration.

Anyone familiar with Swamp dweller folk wisdom knows that would generate "bad optics."

Governor Greg Abbott, the money-grubbing Neanderthal responsible for the millions of deaths that have occurred since he officially reopened Texas in March is at it again.   

His constant whining about the Border Patrol releasing tens of thousands of illegal aliens undocumented foreign nationals due to the non-crisis at the border into the US who have promised to behave and check back in later (61,312 of 'em as of 5/19 anyway, as detailed by this informative, detailed article), 

And, 

Taken custody of who knows how many unaccompanied, children of illegal aliens undocumented foreign nationals is bad enough. Who's a better foster parent than Uncle Sam after all?  

Now, he's bitchin' about the fact that enough Fentanyl has been confiscated along the Texas border recently to kill every person in the state of New York, an 800% increase over the year before. 

Why's he picking on New York?   

Why does he have nothing positive to say about entrepreneurial Mexicans that purchase precursor chemicals from everyone's friends, the Chinese, and turn them into a popular product that generates good-paying jobs all along the supply chain?

In case you've been living under a rock, acting person Gwyneth Paltrow runs a company called Goop, excuse me, goop, that sells cutting-edge this, that, and even that to the little people via a website.

"In 2008, Gwyneth Paltrow launched goop from her kitchen as a homespun weekly newsletter." She's just a regalah poyson! (HT: B. Finkelstein)

goop also has a half dozen conveniently located brick and mortar locations to serve the not-so-little people in places like Brentwood, Ca. and Kohala Coast, wait for it, Hawaii. 

"We don't mind being the tip of the spear—in short, we go first so you don't have to."

My favorite goop product is the "This Smells Like My Vagina" candle. For only $75 ya get a candle made from geranium, citrusy bergamot, and cedar absolutes juxtaposed with Damask rose and ambrette seed. It's supposed "to put us in mind of fantasy, seduction, and a sophisticated warmth."

"Let me tell you about the very rich. They are different from you and me." 

                                                                              -F. Scott Fitzgerald 

I'm saving up to get one because I've always wondered what Gwyneth Paltrow's va...

{Stop that joke right now! This is column is (more or less) family-friendly. Why are you...}

Oh sorry, well, some dude in Texas is suing goop inc. He claims that the vagina candle he bought exploded and became engulfed in flames.

{Wait-wait-wait. You made this entire third section up, didn't you?}  

Nope. And now I want to buy one of these candles more than ever. Can you lend me $75?  

{No.}

I wonder if it would be possible to track the guy down. I'd really like to know why he bought a $75 candle that smelled like a vajayjay in the first place. Perhaps he has/had a crush on Ms. Paltrow? 

Addendum: Apropos of nothing above 

I'll betcha a bottle-a-pop that if you haven't yet heard about Lego's Everyone is awesome rainbow-themed LGBTQIA+ set yet you soon will. It's just been released in time for pride month. 

There are 11 different characters, each of a different color.

Pale blue, white, and pink represent the transgender community. Black and brown stand for different skin colors across the LGBTQIA+ community. Purple is the only one with a specific gender and has a beehive wig to honor all the"fabulous drag queens out there" according to the designer.

{Wait up, that's only six colors, what does...}  

Red, orange, yellow, green, dark blue stand for?

I went a-googlin' and clicked on two pages worth of hits, most of which brought up stories obviously based on a Lego press release of some sort and never did find out. Three notions spring to mind. 

First, we'll never know, ambiguity is part of the concept. Think "gender fluidity." 

Second, you might have to buy or borrow a set to find out because a large cohort of the purple press stays busy by rewriting corporate propaganda and/or each other's work.

Or, perhaps red, orange, yellow, green, and dark blue represent the same thing as the matching colored stripes of the original rainbow flag: life, healing, sunlight, nature, and serenity respectively. 

FYI: The original, eight-striped flag, now six stripes, included hot pink (for sex) and turquoise (light blue) which represented both magic and art. I wonder if the Legotians are aware of that?   

Poppa loves you,

Have an OK day

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