I happened upon a post I wrote last year at this time. October 30, 2015 to be exact. I thought it would be interesting to see where exactly I was one year ago, and let me tell you what–it was like a time warp. Everything has changed, yet nothing has changed. I often feel that way, but here I have written proof. I actually had to check the date I first wrote the words, and sure enough, it was one year ago. Craziness. Pure and utter craziness.
I suggest you read the post. It’s titled “Well, really.” Go on and read it now. Then come back and finish this. You’re going to pretty much have the gist of what I want to say anyway. May as well get the CliffsNotes version. https://madranchwife.com/2015/10/30/well-really/
Let’s dive in.
First, let me tell you in case you don’t follow the zombies and Rick Grimes and the apocalyptic world he and his fellow inhabitants are trying to navigate, Glenn is dead. Truly dead. Not “mostly dead” a la the Man in Black in the Princess Bride (H/T to Billy Crystal…https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=D9tAKLTktY0 ), but really dead. I didn’t watch it. I knew it was going to be horrendously violent, beyond belief. And my sensitive self is so beaten down and up and sideways from this election cycle, that I didn’t have the heart to inflict any more damage on my psyche. Thus, I read the Twitter feed after the premiere of the season, saw a few still photos and vowed then and there that I was truly done. I quit TWD before. Actually twice before. The first time was when Beth was killed after a season spent building up to reuniting with her and saving her. The second time was last fall when Glenn was supposedly toast. But now, I am truly, most sincerely done as he is truly, most sincerely dead. (Do I need to put in a link to the Munchkin mayor? Good, I don’t have the time to find it right now.) To the producers of TWD, here is my statement: you made me care, not once, not twice, but three times. And not once, not twice, but three times you ripped out my heart and stomped all over it. And I am done. Period. Finished. Not going to watch anymore. Now, some might say that the definition of insanity is repeating the same behavior expecting different results. And thus my actions and heartfelt feelings may be construed as insanity, but still. Still.
OK. Got that one out of the way. Done with TWD. They can all go be wacko birds and I’ve got nothing else to say.
Speaking of WACKO BIRDS. Holy mother of god, sweet jesus, mary and joseph all rolled into one. I. Can’t. Even.
This election. The Republican candidate. Last year I spewed coffee on my keyboard as I contemplated the candidates for the esteemed title of Republican candidate. I’ve spewed so much coffee in the ensuing year that I’ve had to make a rule to not hold a cup of coffee in my hand nor a swallow in my mouth as I open up my preferred site for news. The poor spiffy MacBook simply cannot take any more coffee.
(I skipped the present situation regarding Spanish lessons. We’re sort of in the same place, plodding ahead one new word or phrase at a time. Someday we might be fluent. Might be.)
Last year at this time Ben Carson was doing well. I say that TOTALLY tongue-in-cheek. Whatever the hell that means. And Rubio had won a debate. Jeb! was still in the running. Cruz was making hay. And there was NO mention of the Trumpster. At least in my post, so that means he was sort of just there, but not in any really threatening kind of way.
I wrote then: “If you want to be respected by the majority of Americans as being of sane and right mind, then put forth respectable candidates that are of a sane and right mind.”
Which obviously, obviously, noone bothered to listen to. Not a one. Instead, we’ve got Donald J. Trump as the stellar example of the GOP.
I. Can’t. Even.
Benghazi was a thing a year ago. A $20 million thing. And now we have emails, emails and more emails. That aren’t even Hillary’s damn emails! But the gist is the same. FAKE scandals. Scandalous, scurrilous, salacious scandals.
I don’t even have a high enough eyeroll anymore. I have no more words. I can’t even formulate a coherent sentence about the sheer insanity that is ensuing ONE WEEK OUT from the election.
In some less blood-pressure-raising news, we still don’t have snow. I was lamenting this to someone last week, saying that we should have had snow by now. The grass, what little there is left, is SO dry. I can’t even rake up the leaves as I might permanently damage what little grass is left. It did snow about an inch or two last week, but it’s long gone. We did drive to Steamboat last week with a little bit of snow flurries flurrying, but I had the cold weather bag in the car!!! I had an appointment to get the snow tires on last Friday, but was laid flat by a migraine, so had to cancel. Thank the Goddess for a compassionate, caring, intelligent, competent little girl who rubbed my neck, packed her lunch, made her breakfast and did her schoolwork as I lay there until I could get vertical.
And finally. In one more of the I. Can’t. Even. stories of the day.
Paul Ryan again rears his elegantly, perfectly coiffed head with the piercing blue eyes, making you think he’s just the boy next door. But he’s not. Do NOT be fooled by those eyes. The man is a snake. But then that is slightly disparaging to snakes. And snakes aren’t all bad.
Well, whatever. The man is not the saint some would make him out to be. Catholic or not. Today he admitted he voted for Donald J. Trump…LAST WEEK. Smarmy, sleazy little man couldn’t even admit it when he did it. He was caught and had to give an answer, so he was forced to fess up. Ha. He hemmed and hawed and gave some cockamamie excuse, knowing full well that he has shown no support of the Republican nominee for the last several months (as well he shouldn’t, given the absolute disgusting nature of the nominee), but caved and voted for him. Nice morals there, Speaker Ryan. Yessiree bob. You are one fine example of a Catholic boy. Way to support the lying, narcissistic, misogynistic bully that you all have as the fine pillar and example of GOP values.
Whew. Another rant.
But! But! Starting tomorrow afternoon, XM Radio will once again begin with a dedicated Christmas music station.
Praise the heavens. Thanks be to the Goddess. Glory on high. And all the other folderol that one may utter to demonstrate supreme and utter happiness and delight. Now I can listen to something else besides Andrea Mitchell and her annoying voice about EMAILS.
I go to sleep tonight knowing that tomorrow I have something to look forward to. Isn’t that special?