Category Archives: Oh shit

Doggie Bags

Today is Duncan’s birthday — his 3rd!  He is a wonderful dog.  Sweet, relatively obedient, and incredibly lovable.

Duncan Easter 2 2017

The Birthday Boy!

But I went a bit overboard with doggie treats for this good boy this year.  So I figured I’d share them with his friends at the park.  In a way that would be good for the earth.  In a way that positively shouts “DOG!” I made doggie goodie bags!

Goodie Bags

OK, in the stupidest way possible.  I used biodegradable dog poop bags, and filled them full of delicious brown dog treats.  That way, if I missed any of the morning friends Duncan and I usually walk with, I could leave one on their car.

A dog poop bag filled with brown stuff, left on a car.  What could possibly go wrong?

Luckily for me, we saw his friends, and they and their parents were delighted by the goodie bags.  They didn’t think me weird for

  1. Making doggie goodie bags,
  2. Using poop bags for party bags; or
  3. Expecting that if they found one of these on their car that they would open it up and feed it to their dog.

 

 

 

 

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I Can Change The World!

It will come as no surprise that I would personally love to save the world.  But like most folks, well, I just couldn’t figure out how.

 

When the Women’s March happened, my hopes dwindled.  How could I save the world and still be within reach of the bathroom?  Ditto all the other spontaneous and planned demonstrations that have taken place since January 21.

But then I learned that Yes. I. Can!  Really!  I can save the world from climate change single-handedly.  Really!  Me!

You can’t though.  Sorry.

You see, I just read this article that says that the city of Portland, Oregon has come up with a terrific way to produce electricity through poop.  And pee.

I can do that.  In fact, I often can’t NOT do that.

It’s true!  They installed toilet turbines to generate power with every flush.

I volunteer to power the East Coast.  Except for the White House and Mara Laga.  Because I don’t give a shit about Trump.

 

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There’s a Name For That!

Feeling down in the mouth?  Discouraged?  Hopeless?

You’re not alone.

When I’m suffering with something-or-other, it really helps to know that I’m not alone.  Since November 9, 2016, there’s been a veritable epidemic of misery sweeping the nation.  Relax, though.  Because your misery now has a name, an actual diagnosis:

‘Post-Election Stress Disorder’

We’re all suffering from PESD.  Although frankly, I don’t know why they needed a new diagnosis.  Because if the election of Donald Trump doesn’t represent a traumatic event, I don’t know what does.

The only treatment is action.

 

 

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Gigantic Turds

Earlier today, after spending hours trying to digest/swallow Putin’s President’s nominee for the Supreme Court, I tried not to vomit.  That continued as I tried not to go ballistic over the fact that the Senate Finance Committee cheated by changing the rules for reporting nominations out of committee and sent PRICE — nominee who wants to gut Obamacare, Medicare, Medicaid and Social Security —  out for an up or down vote on the senate floor.  You see, in the real world — pre-Trump — the Senate had rules.  They followed those rules.  And things worked out OK.

Now?  Not so much.  Things don’t seem to be going quite so well.

So naturally, I thought of poop.  And my friend Nikki/Jordan provided the backup for my concerns.  Sloths.

sloths

So I’m figuring that the Trump Administration is a collection of sloths, all holding in their shit for a week at a time.  And that explains how miserable they are.  Constipation doesn’t make for happy government nominees.

This explains everything.

You’re welcome.

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How Be a Friend

It’s International Holocaust Remembrance Day. And so, of course, Putin’s President, with the irony born of someone without a soul or a keen eye for history, chose today of all days to ban Muslims from entering the U.S.

Naturally, that means anybody who “looks” Muslim will become even more of a target than they have been since Trump took us all down the gold escalator into hell.  It is now open season on “others” here in our nation of immigrants.

So what can we do about it?

I will admit that the safety pin movement left me feeling decidedly unhelpful.  It’s a nice thought, but it never made me feel like I was actually standing up for anyone.  Or like I was doing something to help people being targeted.

But a while back I saw this article that offered some practical suggestions that have some meat on the bones.  Really!  Click on the link.  Cause I’m not going to tell you everything it says.

Anyway, I like to think that I would be the kind of person who would stand up in any situation to protect those in need.  But frankly,  I’m overweight, slow moving, and cowardly.  They don’t make superheroes who look or act like me.  So the odds are NOT in my favor.  Besides, when something happens around me, I never have a clue what’s happening.  I generally stand there, looking around, confused.  Immobile.  Saying “WTF” with my mouth hanging open.  Quick witted I may be with words, but actions?  Not so much.

But the Vox article showed me a way to help when someone is being verbally assaulted, in situations where I am most likely to see it happen.  It’s brilliant.  And relatively safe.  Win-win.

Here’s an example.  Say you’re in Target, passing by the children’s section, when you hear a man harassing a woman in a hijab.  He’s big and burly, and you want to help. You also don’t want him to target you.  Still, you can’t just walk away, turn a blind eye.  You’re a good person!  You wouldn’t be able to look yourself in the mirror if you didn’t help.  But how?

Why, act like an idiot, of course.  Me, I’m a natural!  At acting the idiot, that is.  Not being one.  That’s the role of the racist.

You interrupt the jerk.  Wander in between him and his victim as if you’re looking for something, and can’t quite find it.  Request his help.  Be totally oblivious.  Give the poor target the opportunity to get away.  Think Roseann Rosanna Dana.

roseann-roseanna-dana

Gilda Radner as Roseann Rosanna Dana.

Or, in an equally ditzy way, pretend to be the friend/shopping buddy of the woman being mistreated, and in an oblivious way whisk that woman out of the children’s department and into the table linens.

“Sylvia!” said in the most nasal tone imaginable, “THERE you are.  You were supposed to meet me in the shoe department … you come with me right now before they’re out of the size 7s…”

Read the article.  Learn steps you can take to help folks who may really need your help.  Because it’s a Brave New World out there.  And it helps to be prepared.

Today of all days, it’s important to recall these words, from the U.S. Holocaust Museum:

The Holocaust did not begin with killing; it began with words. The Museum calls on all American citizens, our religious and civic leaders, and the leadership of all branches of the government to confront racist thinking and divisive hateful speech.

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