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Monday, July 17, 2017

Madame Crapoud, One Horrible Landlady: Part, The First

She was born dirt poor in the trailer court situated right outside the Lernerville Speedway. Like her mother before her, she eventually trolled the place when she was in her teens, found and was latched on to by an older man who made her pregnant, old, and used up before she was twenty. He left her and the boys in the trailer next to her mom. Having no means and no education, she became a barmaid close to home which allowed her to stay near the thrill of the track and in constant motion surveying the men who might be of some use to her.  Her mother had christened her Antoinette Victoria remembering a beautiful queen of France and frothy pink dresses and glittering sitting rooms from a history class movie she saw in the forties. The Victoria name was placed like a good luck charm on the child with the hope that she would be victorious.  Instead, she was just Vickie--too embarrassed to use the Antoinette name and not wanting to be called Tony--like a boy. Her mother died her dark brown hair platinum when she was 12 because in a drunken weekend she wanted the little girl to "look like an angel" at Christmas time. It was the last time Vickie looked like an angel or acted like one. When she floated into her classroom with the shimmering blond hair, her classmates gasped and not in a good way. Mrs. Thomas, her sixth grade teacher, tried to ignore it, tried to buffer the little girl from the teasing. Finally, she had to issue an edict condemning any comment upon it. Vickie was in the cloak room, removing her winter snow pants, her heavy quilted jacket, and boots. She heard the edict. She realized that no one thought she looked like an angel. She caught sight of herself in the cloak room mirror. Her hair was damaged by the harsh bleach job and like straw. Her clothes looked even more poor, dirty, and used. She smelled like the trailer--and only just recently discovered this when Bobby Miller, the cutest boy in the room walked up behind her and hissed in her ear--you look like a whore and you smell like burning cigarettes. He gave her a shove and moved on. She wasn't altogether sure what a whore was, but she was about to find out throughout the rest of that school year.

Haggard, fat, bleach blond, and possessing a smokers hack--is where the love of her life found her.

Welcome Back, Wanderer

I wandered away from this blog, it looks like, as we were descending down into the morass which was the 2016 United States Presidential Election. I feel like I am done discussing politics all of the time. My colleagues on the Left have continued the descent into madness that is the Russian connection of election tampering. A few have blocked me or blocked their content from me on FB. For this I am thankful to them. I could and may still yet, have something to say about Russian election tampering 2017. However, at the moment, I am not inclined to beat my learned colleagues on the Left over the head with the big stick. I am no fan of the DT era of American politics myself, but I do not have the time nor the patience to go down the rabbit hole of the whole Russia thing. I chase plenty of conspiracy theories down plenty of rabbit holes. I'm just not interested (beyond a meme posting on FB or two or three). If Russia did tamper with US elections, it started long, long, loooooong before 2016, probably around the time of the JFK elections or even further back (just after WWII). Since I already am into the whole JFK thing--I will place the 2016 Election Conspiracy Theories into a file and file it under JFK Assassination Conspiracy and Ongoing Issues. Done and done, for the time being.

Did the Russians tamper with the 2016 Election? I don't know. You don't know. We will never know. Should you waste your valuable time and life source trying to figure it out and bring it to the attention of The People? No. Why? The People do not care. Why do the people not care? There are many reasons why people do not care about a thing. Here is the short list:

1. A thing may be true, but they can do nothing about it.
2. A thing may be true, but they are not social justice warriors.
3. A thing may be true, but that doesn't pay the bills or put food on the table.
4. A thing may be true, but it doesn't and will never make Hillary Clinton the President.
.
.
.
.
.etc.
Into Infinity. A thing may be false.

 
Not a good idea, this time, friends. Just sayin'.