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So, let me say this about Mike Pence, current Vice President of the United States.

He’s a complete dirtbag.

He is woman-hating, closet-case gay persecutor who’s behind the State Department denying visas to gay men fleeing murder in Chechnya, a misery-encourager, a shit-sack of a Xian.  (Do NOT “no-true-Scotsman” me or I will fuck you up.  I have a law degree and I know how to  use it.)  He


as easily as you or I blink our eyes, and he — this is pretty creepy — won’t have a meal alone with a woman and he calls his own wife “Mother,” (and I’m not a woman normally given to judging anyone else’s kinks, but, eweeewww.)  At exactly the point where

“>The Handmaid’s Tale

begins and City of Refuge takes off, that’s where Mike Pence orgasms.  And Mike Pence is in so deep into the Trump administration’s lies about Russia…

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Annette mori

Today I was summoned to go to our local Worksource center to orient and learn tricks and tips for obtaining a job. I realized as I was getting ready this morning that this is the first time in 42 years I’ve been unemployed. It was a sobering thought.


As I drove to the center, I tried unsuccessfully to choke back my tears when the full force of the shame and humiliation hit me square in the gut. I’d been asked to be a presenter at that very center just two months earlier, a couple of days prior to leaving employment at the hospital. I used to teach people how to interview and create a resume and now I held my pride in my hand and walked through the doors prepared to listen to whatever pearls of wisdom they had to my current situation.


Since I love research, I looked up the…

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I don’t grow peonies, although I have always been madly in love with them.  I don’t get the right sun.  But, just now, peonies are blooming all over my northern Virginia neighborhood, and I stop at every neighbor’s yard and do homage.

Do you grow peonies?

I used to go most Sundays to the Dupont Circle farmers’ market and there was a man there who sold, at this time of year, peonies.  He told me once that he had a client down in North Carolina who paid him to ship peonies to her, tightly budded, and that she would then sketch them as they opened.

Sometimes, when my own life is too mad with briefs needing editing, and cases needing reading, and people who want attention, and beds that need weeding, and napkins that need ironing, and Goddesses and Gods who want attention, and a landbase that demands relationship —…

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One of the skills most abusers posses is the ability to slip context without being noticed.

So, here’s what I mean.

You come home from the store, within budget, with everything on the list.  You actually managed to get a few of the items on sale and to cash in one or two coupons and you’re feeling pretty good. And, then, unloading the items, he comes to the magazine.  You know, the one thing you bought that was not on the list.  And he goes ballistic.  And, then, a few weeks later, you come home from the mall, having bought, on sale, a dress for his sister’s wedding.  You came in under the budget he gave you and he actually likes the dress.  And, then, he comes across the CD.  You know, the CD that he didn’t give you permission to buy, because you didn’t ask permission, because you didn’t…

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You Who Wronged
~ Czeslaw Milosz
You who wronged a simple man
Bursting into laughter at the crime,
And kept a pack of fools around you
To mix good and evil, to blur the line,
Though everyone bowed down before you,
Saying virtue and wisdom lit your way,
Striking gold medals in your honor,
Glad to have survived another day,
Do not feel safe. The poet remembers.
You can kill one, but another is born.
The words are written down, the deed, the date.
And you’d have done better with a winter dawn,
A rope, and a branch bowed beneath your weight.
~ Picture found here.

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I remember swimming at the lake by our reserve. My brothers and cousins and me, we would dive deep, after we had swum out far enough that we couldn’t touch the bottom anymore. We would hold our breath, trying to be the last one to rise to the surface. I remember opening my eyes and floating in that space between light and dark, watching the sun shimmer through the water in soft waves. Looking at the light, feeling the burn in my lungs, and finally, finally, breaking through the glass of the water, gasping, sputtering, wiping my eyes and laughing.

This last month felt like I constantly trying to break through the surface.


And it’s hard for me to admit that. I’m not superwoman, but I do “a lot.” I’m in my PhD. I own my own business. I write and manage this blog. I’m a single parent…

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You may get tired of me talking about framing, but poor framing largely led to the mess we’re in.

I’m a baby boomer whose political consciousness first bloomed in opposition to the war in Viet Nam.  We had a song back then that encapsulates liberals’ current framing problem, particularly the line, “We’re knee-deep in the big muddy and the big fool says to push on:

Right now, an insane clown posse of rich, angry, old, white, men control the WH, the Congress, the Senate, SCOTUS, and most State legislatures.  One or two more state houses, and the fascists will be able to call a Constitutional Convention and permanently re-wire our democracy into a theocracy.  We’re really neck-deep in this big muddy and I, for one, believe that it’s the definition of insanity to continue to do what we’ve been doing.

George Lakoff is another old, white guy who sometimes, IMHO…

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To all my sisters and brothers in The Resistance,

I know it feels like this sham of a stolen presidency has been going on forever. I know it can feel like we’re calling and emailing and writing and donating and marching and working magic and NOTHING IS CHANGING. Not fast enough, anyway, as we watch so-called President Trump burn down our democratic institutions and international reputation and piss on the ashes.

But take heart, Dear Ones. It’s working.

There have been many comparisons to Nixon this week, but the most important one may be that when Deep Throat’s identity was eventually revealed, it turns out he was Associate Director of the FBI Mark Felt. So-called President Trump’s administration has been leaking like a sieve already, and now he’s pissed off the FBI. If history is any indicator, that’s not going to end well for him.

Meanwhile, Trump has also publicly…

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saxon bennett

Layce and I were going into Lowes to get paint. As we walked across the parking lot toward the entrance, I asked Layce about the state of my neck. “Do you think I have a yoga neck?”


“A what?” she asked, not looking up as she studied the list of supplies we needed for painting the porch, the dining room floor, and a beautiful old rocking chair. Emma was out of town so we decided to go on a painting frenzy. Emma’s not fond of change so we do things while she’s away, take a photo, and send it to her so she has time to adjust before she experiences the change up close and personal.

“Yoga neck, you know, with the muscular cords on the side of your neck that ‘scream look at me I am super fit because I do yoga twelve hours a day.’ I do a…

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I got metaphorically spanked a couple of days ago. Folks have been talking about the Fearless Girl statue ever since it was dropped in Manhattan’s Financial District some five weeks ago.I have occasionally added a comment or two to some of the online discussions about the statue.

Recently most of the Fearless Girldiscussions have focused on the complaints by Arturo Di Modica, the sculptor who createdCharging Bull. He wantsFearless Girl removed, and that boy is taking a metric ton of shit for saying that. Here’s what I said that got me spanked:

The guy has a point.

This happened in maybe three different discussions over the last week or so. In each case I explained briefly why I believe Di Modica has a point (and I’ll explain it again in a bit), and for the most part folks either accepted my comments or ignored them. Which…

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