Pep Rally

 Ugh, have you ever had to suffer through a pep rally? I don't mean a fun one, like when your NFL team is in the playoffs. I mean a high school one.

For those of you who need a refresher course, high school pep rallies are held to celebrate the sports teams. Twice a year (fall and spring), the entire student body files out and sits on the bleachers to scream and shout for the jocks.

To make an already dreadful celebration worse, students are seated together by grade level. At my school, each grade has a different color, and classes get points based on how many kids wear that color to school on pep rally day.

Then some admin or teacher grabs a mic and whips the students up by grade level, seeing which grade can scream the loudest.

Then the coaches of each sport stand up and introduce every member of every team. This afternoon my school had baseball, softball, boy's volleyball, robotics, and esports. Well, being a nerd who hates noise, I could get behind the robotics and esports clubs. Still, a lot of shy people got introduced for (in my opinion) no good reason.

Then more screaming, because the first time wasn't enough.

Then there are games that pit one grade level against another, again for points. Stuff like tug of war and musical chairs and water balloon toss. Stuff involving a small number of students from each grade, and even then they have to beg ten seniors to participate.

This riveting spectacle invariably falls on an unseasonably hot and humid afternoon when everyone (including the jocks) would rather be inside dozing through the final class period of the day.

Having endured pep rallies as an alienated teenager back in the 1970s, I can't tell you how positively soul-sucking it is to be sitting through two of these things a year at my current age. As a teen I only had to slog through eight of them, total. Now they just stretch into the distance, almost to the horizon. Pep rallies, pep rallies, rah rah rah.

What is it about our species, that we want to be separated into tribes that compete against other tribes, and we want to celebrate our warrior men and women? Why is screaming and stomping on aluminum bleachers more appealing than, say, making a nice craft at a table, in the shade?

It seems to me that the human race spends much too much time screaming and stomping and forming ridiculous tribes.

I can't end this rant without admitting that I, too, am in a tribe -- the Radical Lunatic Left, and we do get together in big groups from time to time. Looks like I'll be joining some peppy little protests in the weeks to come. But to be completely honest here, I'm ready to pivot. I want my craft table in the shade. I want to sit in a circle and talk about my feelings.

*Sigh* Guess I shouldn't sit down to write a blog post an hour after a high school pep rally. Don't worry, though. I'll bounce back. I'm always ready to MAKE. SOME. NOISE.

Going to the Polls with Dad

 We watch way too much CNN here at "The Gods Are Bored." It gets us all riled up where election results are concerned. So tonight I'm going to go to bed, pull the covers up to my chin, and listen to sports talk radio.

This year I used a mail-in ballot for the first time. It made me sad.

When I was a kid back in the 1960s, my dad always took me with him when he went to vote. He took me right in the booth with him, and it was so exciting when those curtains closed. I don't remember if he let me flip the levers. I doubt it, because he wasn't that cavalier. But I do distinctly remember the bustle of the polling place, the click of the curtain, the hush of the booth. And being with my dad, a staunch Republican who voted for Goldwater and Nixon. (Because Lincoln won the war.)

Of course I didn't think of it at the time, but when my dad made voting an event -- and showed how the process worked -- he created a comfort for me as a voter myself. When I went into a voting booth for the first time at age 21, I knew how it worked. I was comfortable.

There was only one time I didn't vote. It was a state election for governor and legislature. What the Hell. Why bother? Ahem, BAMMMMP!!!! So many Democrats stayed home that night that New Jersey wound up with a human pustule named Chris Christie.

EXHIBIT A: WHAT HAPPENS WHEN ANNE DOESN'T VOTE

Lesson learned! I don't shrug off those state contests anymore.

It's not the same, pushing a paper ballot into a drop box. How much fun is that? But I did it, and if I ever get any grandchildren, I'll make it an event -- let them put the ballot in the box, and then take them for cake, candy, and ice cream.

If you have a child, teach them to vote the same way you teach them to trick-or-treat.

Knock on wood, I am in fairly good health. It's my prayer that I some day get to shove a ballot in a box that has THIS guy's name on it.

EXHIBIT B: THE FUTURE I WANT TO SEE

Vote blue, no matter who!

I Can't Fucking Believe I Have To Defend Librarians

 When this blog started, I threw the shade of a sprawling oak over the lunatic fringe better known as the evangelical Christian right. That group is still the lunatic fringe, so how have they seized the nation in their evil iron grip?

Now they're coming for librarians.

Librarians.

You know, those quiet and underpaid people (predominantly women) who check out books and tell you which floor the restroom is on in a whispery voice.

Librarians are being called groomers for showing up at work and checking out books. They are being threatened with firing and physical harm.

Librarians.

I was a bookish kid from the time I could crawl. I've spent countless hours in libraries. I can remember my parents taking me as a toddler. I went just last week to the Haterfield Public Library to ask about the summer reading program.

Sixty years of libraries.

And in all that time, the only librarian who ever offered me books was the one on the Bookmobile that came to my neighborhood in the 1960s. She would have a stack of Dr. Doolittle and Freddy the Pig books for me. Was she grooming me to talk to animals?

I've never known a librarian who was outspoken. I've never known a librarian who tried to befriend her patrons. Librarians are more anonymous than the servant staff of a British estate. If teenagers are paying mind to librarians these days, it really and truly is a whole new world.

But the lunatic fringe is painting this humble profession as a den of vipers, out to turn straight kids gay by having LGBTQ books on the shelves.

I am genuinely curious, readers. How do you choose what book to read? Do you ask a librarian for a recommendation? I literally haven't done that ever. The Bookmobile librarian brought me Freddy the Pig books because my mom recommended them. When I outgrew my mom, I had friends. In 60 years of using libraries, I have never asked a librarian for a recommendation.

But the librarians choose the books that get put on the shelves, right? Well, let's take a look at that task.

There are hundreds of books published each month, and I've never seen a library that didn't have a tight budget. This means that acquisitions librarians (who are even more shy than the ones at the desk) read the trade publications and choose the books that get the best reviews. If these acquisition librarians have any agenda at all, it's to try to stock books in a way that all the readers using the library will find helpful.

So, having conquered abortion rights, having distributed lethal firearms far and wide, now the lunatic fringe is coming for those gentle creatures who check out books, just because the gentle creatures have titles that include all kinds of people, and not just lunatic fringe people.

This is like the fucking Red Scare.

Librarians. It boggles my mind. It's like blaming chipmunks for your cat clawing the furniture.

Shout out to the lunatic fringe: Threaten the librarians, by all means. But don't hesitate to trust that clean-cut youth pastor who wants to build blanket forts for late-night "Bible study." He's all up and up.

Fascist morons.

Free Advice on Traveling without Being Tracked

 Hi ladies, and welcome to "The Gods Are Bored!" I am Anne Johnson, a happy Pagan in the Great Blue Northeast, USA. I live in a state that has not only enshrined a woman's right to body autonomy into its laws, it also stands poised to be a "sanctuary state" for anyone looking for private medical care. 

If I can toot my own horn a bit more, I'm also a woman of a certain age. What's that age, you ask? Oh, I'm not shy about it. I was a stripling of 14 when the Supreme Court decided Roe v. Wade.

A lot has changed since then.

The biggest change, bar none, is the cell phone. Did you know the doggone thing tracks you everywhere you go? And you would have to find someone WAY techier than me to tell you how to disable the tracking, should you need to for personal reasons.

But I can still help you. What if you took a trip and left your phone behind? Then no one could track you at all.

Scary, right?

Well, I'm here to tell you, it can be done! When I started traveling across state lines in 1974, nobody carried a phone with them. The phones were in little glass booths on the street corner. Or stuck to the wall in your house.

So. Let's suppose you want to travel from, oh, I dunno, Oklahoma to sunny Atlantic City, New Jersey, without your phone. Sounds terrifying. And I'm not gonna sugar coat it. This will not necessarily be like hopping in your car and turning on your Maps app.

First, you need to plan ahead. WAY ahead. You need to pretend that you may need a medical procedure at some point, and you need to put away cold hard cash. Don't wait until you need the money! Start now. Today. Put away as much as you can. You'll need cash for travel and for your medical procedures, and for a hotel room. In Atlantic City, most of the hotels are ridiculously expensive, but not all of them.

Second, you need a paper map of the old USA. Buy it right away and keep it handy. Then locate the nearest Greyhound bus terminal to where you live. I know, I know, Greyhound is the suckiest way to travel. But they go everywhere, and they take cash and give you a paper ticket if you ask.

If you plan way ahead, you can even enter some hypothetical destinations in Greyhound's web site and find out how much you will need for your excursion.

But how can you book a procedure in a strange hospital in a strange state? Again, ladies, you need to have an abundance of foresight. Locate the names and numbers of clinics you may some day need to visit. Write the names and numbers down on old-fashioned paper with an old-fashioned pen. Then, when you do need to call, you can buy a burner phone or borrow your best friend's phone to make the appointment.

Once you get a person on the phone to help you with the appointment, you can ask them: Where can I stay? Can someone pick me up at the Greyhound terminal? Is there any support system in place for a lady in my predicament? I'm hoping we will all be pleasantly surprised by the outpouring of aid that will flow in certain cases.

Thank goodness cash is still an option for so many ventures! When they do away with good old-fashioned dollars and cents, we will all be up Shit's Creek.

Most of us don't have a lot of ready money lying around, nor do we have easy ways to earn it. So my free advice to you, ladies, is save what you can. If you can put two bucks a day in an envelope, you'll have about $700 in a year. That takes a lot of discipline, but it's a sensible plan. 

I spent a lot of miserable hours on Greyhound buses. They are slow and stinky. But they go from A to B to Z. My free advice on Greyhound travel? Have that paper map, and pay attention to the stops! You don't want to miss your stop. (Well, in the case of Atlantic City, you won't miss the stop. It's as far as you can go on dry land.) You'll probably have to change buses a few times, though. Stay alert.

My last piece of free advice really shouldn't cost you a dime. You need to go to the board of elections and register to vote. Here's something you can freely look up on Google! You can find out just how to do it in your state. Then, once you are registered to vote, go out there and vote these monsters out of office. Bad things happen when you don't vote. Very bad things.

I hope you never need this advice. But take it from me, it is still possible to leave your phone on the shelf and take a trip somewhere. You just have to plan the old-fashioned way. Beforehand. Before you need to go anywhere.

This is what we did in 1974.

Guns Are the New Cigarettes

 Smoking was very fashionable when I was a kid. There were t.v. commercials that promoted it, there were brands for women and brands for men, and the product was available everywhere and affordable. The tobacco industry employed thousands and thousands of workers.

Everybody smoked.

I have no idea why, but my family was an exception. My parents and grandparents didn't smoke, although their siblings did. But my tobacco-free household was the exception to the rule.

Movie theaters were hazy with smoke. Buses were clouded with smoke. Go to a restaurant, everyone would be smoking with their meals. Cigarette butts lined the gutters. Every house had ashtrays.  And nobody gave it a second thought. People weren't defensive about smoking, it was just something everyone did.

Big Tobacco knew as early as the 1950s that smoking was linked to lung cancer, mouth cancer, throat cancer, and emphysema. They released "study" after "study" that showed no link between tobacco and cancer.

Lots of people were dying, though.

It took a long while for reality to sink in. Figure that cigarettes became widely popular in the 1920s. So by the 1960s, people who started smoking in the 1920s were getting sick. In droves.

My best friend's mother was a chain smoker. She died of emphysema in her 40s. And this unfortunate woman was not an outlier. I had numerous friends whose grandparents were battling cancer. My parents' friends were all sick.

In the face of such carnage, Big Tobacco could no longer lie their way out of responsibility. Better yet, the widespread public perception of smoking changed.

Smoking was banned in theaters. Then on planes and buses. Then in restaurants, hospitals, libraries and schools. Then in bars. Then in outdoor settings. Nowadays, if you light up a gasper in a crowded Irish pub, you'll get the stink eye and the bouncer along with your shot and chaser.

So many people had to die for this major social change. It was a rare family that wasn't touched in some way by smoking-related illness.

Guns are the same way.

The NRA will tell you that there's no correlation between gun violence and gun ownership. They have "studies." They have a veritable Bible of philosophy on the goodness of guns.

The assault weapons ban enacted after Ronald Reagan was shot was allowed to expire in 2004.

If guns have a 40-year run of death and destruction the way cigarettes did, the American public will finally be fed up and ready to enact bans around 2050. Sadly, that is my prediction. We are looking at a situation where gun violence will have to touch a majority of American families, the way smoking-related illnesses did, before any action will be taken.

Then it will be taken. Gun owners will get the bouncer and the stink eye. They will be shamed in public for their bad habits. They will give the guns up for their own safety and encourage their friends to do it too. They'll do it because they will personally know multiple people who have died due to gun violence.

This is the anatomy of a public health crisis. People blithely use a deadly product and justify their use, right up until there are widespread deaths directly linked to the product. Then, and only then, do people step back and show some common sense.

The difference between guns and cigarettes is that not many kids died from smoking-related illnesses. Kids are dying from guns. But until lots and lots and lots of kids die, until the gun-toting citizenry loses its own loved ones, nothing will be done.

Gun ownership is a public health crisis. It's a plague masquerading as a pastime.

As a teacher, I hope I survive it.

What Happens When It Happens?

 There was no particular controversy back in 1973 when women were guaranteed the right to bodily autonomy in the USA. Then as now, the majority of thinking people in American felt like the government shouldn't be messing in peoples' personal medical decisions.

The only blowback on Roe v. Wade came from certain sects of fundamentalist Christians. At first they made a lot of noise in their own domains. Then the Republican Party needed a platform to attract those voters, and abortion seemed tailor-made.

So, let's look for a moment at America since Roe v. Wade. At the time that decision was handed down, more than 24% of Americans were in labor unions. Now that percentage stands at less than 6. A family could live on one parent's salary. Now they can't. Housing and college were affordable. Now they aren't. There was government-provided day care. Now there isn't. Companies gave their employees health insurance that was pretty comprehensive. Now they don't.

Why is this important? Because both political parties stopped caring about the prosperity of the electorate, but the Republicans in particular.

No one has challenged the ridiculous stagnation of wages while prices rise ... because unborn babies. No one has challenged our deplorable health care in this wealthy nation ... because unborn babies. Heck, if not for one principled decision by a dying man, we wouldn't even have Obamacare anymore! Because unborn babies.

Just this past year, no one stood up for a terrific child care credit. It expired. Because the babies it served are born.

Now things stand to change.

States will pass draconian laws that roll back certain guarantees that have been in place since 1973. These laws will fall upon people who have never given their rights much thought.

It will be up to those people to go out to vote. If they don't, they deserve to live in the Hellscape that has been created for them.

Now, mind you, the Republicans are trying to find more red meat to fling at these same voters. But no amount of trans-bashing and teacher-bashing is going to overcome the sudden realization by millions of men and women that they may be saddled with an unwanted child. Saddled with pregnancy, which is a tough nine months. Saddled with expenses, one way or another.

It's not going to matter to Karen whether or not there's a trans student on the volleyball team when -- at age 40 -- she suddenly finds herself carrying a baby she doesn't want and can't afford. Critical Race Theory won't matter to Buffy when her cheerleading uniform starts fitting tight and she falls out of the running for 'Bama Cheerleader of the Year.

This is a test for our democracy. This is a test for workers. Breaking free of the "right to life" dogma, people might actually ask themselves what our government has given them in the past 50 years, as opposed to what the government has taken away. 

In New Jersey we have a blue legislature and a blue governor. A woman's right to bodily autonomy is enshrined in the state constitution. And just last week we got legalized weed!

If nothing else, the Republicans have just boosted New Jersey's tourism industry. But my feeling is, this regressive party has just Fucked Around and Found Out. And if it hasn't, the whole mess of a country should be divvied up. Just as when you lop off a rotting limb to save a whole person. 

I Stand Corrected

 January 6 was not, as I scoffed last week, a bunch of drunken yahoos run amok. It was a group of terrorists with a plan who drew in a bunch of angry, whipped-up ill-informed rubes.

New indictments handed out (finally) by DoJ. A long article in New York Times Magazine about the officers who were killed or injured due to that riot. Those are the two things that changed my mind.

One can only hope that this country includes enough citizens who don't want to see the government overthrown by bad white men with guns. One can only hope that this country includes voters who don't want their elected officials to glad-hand terrorists in support of an unhinged dictator.

What we need, to keep this from happening again, are some serious penalties. All these goobers have gotten off easy, except the one that was shot. But when you think that we have kept a number of Islamic men in Cuba for decades without a charge, shouldn't we be preparing similar accommodations for the people who planned this Capitol attack?

I have asked myself what these people would have done to Nancy Peolosi, or AOC, or Mike Pence, if they had laid hands on them. Would they have had the nerve to actually kill them? Well, they damn near killed a dozen Capitol police officers and injured dozens more.

So for the record, I went way too easy on the Capitol terrorists. Now the American justice system is doing the same. Pack them off to Gitmo. Deny them shade and Bibles.

My Case of COVID is Postponed

 Welcome to "The Gods Are Bored!" I'm Anne Johnson, working at home again until January 18. Because flattening the curve has been so very successful in the US of A.

Well, maybe it will be this time. But my guess is that I will return to school on January 18 to a miasma (great word) of Omicron variant and no N95 mask for my mug.

I do have the paper mask I wore at the Mummers Parade, and lots of microfiber cloth masks. I'll double up.

Yesterday, January 6, there was a lot of hoo hah about the riot at the Capitol last year. CNN and MSNBC have been harping on this event nonstop for 365 days, so it's not surprising they were slobbering all over the anniversary.

Here is my two cents on that awful event:

1. This was not a well-organized, well-planned attempt to instigate a coup d'etat. This was a rabble of stupid white men (mostly), many of them liquored up*, all of them fired up by the hateful rhetoric of the person who was president at the time.

2. These people had been encouraged not just by the former president, but also by his "superstar" propagandists, to expect "something big," or to cause it to happen. It happened organically, maybe driven by a few individuals who weren't drunk and had read Crowds and Power by Elias Canetti ... oh wait. A few individuals who felt like they could get something going and weren't drunk.

3. The most despicable piece of this is the recent news that the former president sat in a White House dining area and watched with glee while the attack was occurring. Sat there, apparently re-ran parts of it, and refused to speak against it even when begged to by the superstar propagandists.

4. The even more than most despicable piece of this is that the entire elected Republican party, except for two members, has made peace with all the lies, deceit, and violence behind that day. Some of them even say the thing was a false flag, or a happy tourist romp, or no big deal -- let's move on. Elected Republicans don't believe this bullshit. They're just too craven to tell the truth.

5. Liz Cheney loses nothing by losing her seat in Congress. Her father is richer than God, and she'll be all over CNN and MSNBC even though her conservative bona fides should put her under a general gag order. And while I'm ranting, have you noticed that Wyoming has two Senators and one Congresswoman? Tell me why Wyoming should have that much senatorial power. I'll wait.

6. The liberal news media is beating 1/6 to death. By the crucial election next November, people will be sick of hearing about it. So shut up, already. We've seen the footage. Let it marinate until election season instead of re-running it every night. Here's a tip: Talk about how efforts to unionize are meeting with success. That would be refreshing.

*My evidence for the drinking is this: I have one Facebook friend who attended that debacle. When I saw her plans on her page, I started following her posts. And those planning to attend with her bragged not about bringing firearms, but about bringing Fireball. Which makes men mean, for sure.

They Are Not Just

 The Supreme Court has become completely political. I have no faith in it at all.

I didn't have any faith even before the most recent abortion case. My public sector union watched as this court (minus two of the horrors sitting on it now) overturned a case regarding collective bargaining.

Now, Trump supporters are going to get their fondest wish: an end to safe and legal abortions for women in states with scant health care.

During the arguments, Amy Coney Barrett said that adoption is easier now than it used to be. How can someone who has birthed children not see that every pregnancy takes a toll on the body? Maybe I'm assuming she's human. I could be wrong.

But watch: This same court will hand down a dozen pro-gun decisions. After all, you've got a right to life until you're born. Then it's a crapshoot.

I do not see how the U.S. Supreme Court can rebound from its partisan tilt. The way this was achieved is nefarious, and it cannot be undone.

When I started this blog, I belittled and pooh-poohed the Christian radicals who were making so much self-righteous noise. But they have achieved their goal. By this summer, half of the women in America will be unable to control their own bodies.

My friends, the radical "prayer warriors" have been praying over this for 50 years. Will this be a lasting victory for them, or will the consequences plow them under? I hope they inherit the wind.

Interview with a Bored Something or Other: The Grim Reaper

 You might want to tiptoe away from this installment of "The Gods Are Bored." I'm sweating bullets myself. No one wants to see this creature coming up the walk.

Anne: Ummm ... uhhhh ... is it my time? Or someone who lives here? There are some ants in the cupboard that you can have ... ahhh .... not my Gamma cat, please. Or Mr. J, he makes such good pies!

Reaper: I have come with a message.

Anne: OH NO WHO IS GONNA GET IT???? 

Reaper: Many will get it. "It" being an untimely visit from me.

Anne: When you say "many," do you mean "many members of Anne's family" or "many people" in general?

Reaper: Many people in general. There are plagues afoot in America.

Anne: Don't I know it! But I got my vaccines, and my booster, and my flu shot, and I'm going to get Shingrix over Christmas ... and...

Reaper: SHUT UP A MINUTE OR ELSE.

Anne: 

Reaper: Your country is in the throes of multiple plagues. And no one seems to care. There's that illness Covid, and there's the opiate epidemic, and the gun thing. I am cutting down people in the prime of life. People who should be home with their families and friends.

Anne:

Reaper: You may reply.

Anne: I was just going to say that both guns and opiate addiction are serious public health crises that no one seems to be taking seriously. There was a teenager out in Wisconsin just this week who got a free pass after shooting three people. To say nothing of all the gun violence in Philadelphia.

Reaper: It is thus everywhere right now.

Anne: I know! Gee, it's almost like the people profiting off guns and opiates don't care about who they harm.

Reaper: And that's the small stuff. The oil, coal, and gas barons are keeping me so busy with all these natural disasters. I have had to hire more staff.

Anne: I daresay. But Sir, or Your Majesty, or Your Grand Wazooness (How does one address the Grim Reaper?), what can I do? I feel like the horse is out of the barn with both opiates and guns. There's no way America can take all the weapons out of circulation. And doctors continue to prescribe opiates in great quantities.

Reaper: I know you are about to acquire some property. Do not buy a gun to "defend" it.

Anne: Wasn't planning to, honestly. The last gun I fired was a BB gun in day camp when I was 10. I almost shot my eye out. But Your Highness, I do so worry about my daughters in the city! There have been more than 450 deaths in Philadelphia this year to date.

Reaper: You're telling ME this?

Anne: Oh! My bad! So sorry! Of course you know all about it! I guess what I have learned in my many years (which I hope will be extended many more) is that the people who have the means of production do not care one whit about how their products are abused. As long as the bottom line is green in their ledger, they couldn't care less. And I am powerless to affect this. I do my part for climate change. I'm sure you don't notice, but it's cold in here because I'm trying to burn less fuel. I also have a clothesline. Soon I will own four acres of trees that will not be cut down. But guns and drugs? I feel so powerless.

Reaper: You are powerless over capitalism. It must run its ugly course.

Anne: I figured as much. Ummm ... can I offer you a warm beverage?

Reaper: No.

Anne: Oh, gee! Look at the time! I have to run to Petco to get some cat food! I mean, I hope there will be a need for cat food ...

Reaper: I am not going to take your cat. Or you. Not today.

Anne: (gulps) Tomorrow?????

Reaper: That is for me to know.

Anne: It sure is, Your Excellency. But I wonder. What will be the ultimate fate of Kyle Rittenhouse?

Reaper: Live by the sword, die by the sword.

Anne: I expect so. Guns are made to be used, and lots of people with guns don't like that kid. So! Umm. Is there anything else today? Because that cat food ...

Reaper: That is all. Have a nice day.

Anne: (big sigh of relief) Oh trust me, I will!

Actually I have plenty of cat food. It was the best dodge I could think of in a pinch. Dang. Close call.

Photo found here.

Malcolm Kenyatta Is Amazing

 Hello there! You may have Googled Malcolm Kenyatta's name and come to my page as a newcomer. If so, welcome aboard! I am a resident of New Jersey, progressive as get-out, and I believe in a future that is epitomized by Malcolm Kenyatta.

Now, my three regulars. I know you have never heard of him, so I'll give you some back story on Malcolm Kenyatta.

My daughter The Fair lives in Center City, Philadelphia. When the pandemic began and her hours were cut, she couldn't get unemployment because there was an unresolved issue with a social security number that she had gotten wrong once, on a long ago job. Fair was so upset, crying, certain she would never get things straightened out, and I told her to call her State Representative. I even looked up his name in the Pennsylvania legislature. His name: Malcolm Kenyatta.

Finally I persuaded Fair to call Malcolm Kenyatta's office, and his staff quickly fixed her issues with Pennsylvania and got her that unemployment pay.

It's kind of sad that no one knows their State Representatives can do such things. People are way too used to the idea that the government doesn't care about them at all, except at election time. But long story short, Representative Kenyatta has an efficient staff, and they are quite helpful.

Then one day I was driving to work, and the local news station played a clip about a State Representative who was giving Republicans some kinda sass in a committee meeting. The clip they played was hysterical. Bunch of old white men telling Malcolm he was out of order, and Malcolm not having it. I thought, "That's the guy who helped Fair! I think I have a new hero!"

It was about this time that MSNBC discovered Malcolm Kenyatta, and he started appearing on the various evening shows. That's where I was able to put a face to the name. The odd thing is that now, I can't even remember the issue that got him on national t.v. There are so many that could qualify.

If you want to see him standing up for voting rights, here he is.

Earlier this year, Malcolm Kenyatta announced that he is seeking the position of Senator in the state of Pennsylvania. It didn't take me two seconds to sign up to support his campaign, even though I'm across the river. I'm doing it for my daughters.

Malcolm Kenyatta is young, gay, progressive, and passionate. He reflects the America I would like to see, where people of all races and persuasions have a seat at the table where big decisions are made. I like the way this young man doesn't suffer fools. I flat-out love his platform.

So imagine my surprise and delight, when I went to this year's Philadelphia Labor Day Parade, that I turned around and nearly smacked into Malcolm Kenyatta! I did a little squeee, of course, and before I could say ICANTWAITUNTILYOUARESENATOR, we were hugging for a photograph.

Readers, I do truly want to see this fine man advance in the halls of government. If you live in Pennsylvania, vote for him. If you don't, invoke the help of your deities on his behalf. He is the America we need to see.

More about Labor Day soon!

The News from Texas

 I know you've heard all about it. Texas has a new law that forbids abortion after six weeks of pregnancy. Oh, shucks, let's dispense with the formalities. Texas has made abortion illegal, and the Supreme Court has wink wink nod nod approved of it in the middle of the night.

This is a tricky little dodge that the Texas state legislature has passed. It's not the long arm of the law that's gonna enforce the abortion ban, it's ordinary Texans. They can report anyone who is getting an abortion, or anyone who helps in any way. Maybe what we would call a "citizen's arrest." And there's a nice bounty of $10,000 for any tip that leads to prosecution.

The law is so draconian that you practically have to reach back to Stalin and Mao to find precedent. But pish tosh! It's fine with the Supreme Court!

It's fine with me too, mainly because this kind of shit reminds me what a blessing it is to live in New Jersey, the Garden State, may the Gods guard and keep it!

You know why else it's fine? I'm all for this whole citizen cop thing. After all, the Supreme Court has approved, right? So let's get some good out of this.

I am contacting my state legislature. I think they should pass a bill that makes gun ownership against the law, except for active duty military. Any citizen of New Jersey can report a gun owner, or anyone who drives the gun owner to buy a gun, or anyone who operates a firing range, or golly, anyone who sells ammunition and camouflage clothing! I'm really cool with that $10k reporting fee, too. I will be really vigilant about turning in all those criminal gun owners out there.

Tell me how this is differs from the Texas law? Guns kill. Let's get them out of the hands of potential killers. And get paid to do it. Supreme Court will have to help us, because, you know, quid pro quo.

I'll bet I could think of a dozen laws for citizen vigilantes to handle. Take leaf blowers, for instance. What we need is a good stiff law that prevents people from using leaf blowers except for Saturday afternoons in October and November. Pollution! Noise! Where are my citizen crime fighters?

In all seriousness, I truly hope this abortion ban is the tipping point that turns Texas blue. How can a majority of citizens approve of ending abortions? (Legal and safe ones, anyway ... there will never be an end to abortions.) Come on, Texas! Vote the bums out. Start with the guy who flew to Cancun when the whole state was frozen solid and people were dying of hypothermia.

Texas gals, if you can make your way to New Jersey to "visit the historic Stone Pony," you can stay at my house for free. Wink wink, nod nod.

Mackenzie Scott Should Read the Bible, or Be Eaten. I Don't Care Which.

 Welcome to "The Gods Are Bored," where we don't comfort the afflicted ... we afflict the comfortable. Today's comfortable person is Mackenzie Scott, formerly Mrs. Jeff Bezos.

In case you haven't heard, this chewy and nutritious plutocrat has been giving billions of dollars to the charities of her choice.

I found out about this by seeing a Facebook page called "YOU Are Now RBG." This article was posted, followed by dozens of ordinary women, applauding dear Mackenzie's generosity.

When I dared to suggest that someone who has $60 billion giving away $4 billion is laughable, insulting, and grounds to be chopped up for soup, I got scolded. I was (in no specific order):

*anti-feminist

*hard-hearted

* cynical

* a danger to woke society

Several clearly intelligent women seemed to have a complete inability to grasp the fact that giving four dollars away when you have 60 dollars is nice, but giving $4 billion away when you have $60 billion is LAUGHABLE.

"But she has plans to give away half her fortune!" one Karen exclaimed.

Half of 60 dollars is a lot. Half of $60 billion is NOTHING.

This person could give away 99.9 percent of her wealth and still live large. She would still have millions!

Next question: How much did she pay last year in taxes to the government of her native land? The answer is not available, but my guess is, not much. Certainly nowhere near the percentage we common middle class scum pay. And why give money to the U.S. government when you can fund theater projects and colleges? Well, let's start with public fucking schools. And go from there. Did you know that America's senior citizens have to pay the entire cost of hearing aids? And there sits Mackenzie, on a fortune that would buy hearing aids for every damn senior citizen in America.

Final question: How did Mackenzie Scott acquire $60 billion (with a b) dollars? Well, for those of you who do your shopping in stores, there's a company called Amazon that has practically monopolized the purchase and delivery of every item you could ever want. Amazon has done that by creating inhumane conditions for their workforce and by strenuously blocking efforts at unionization of said workforce. It's basically the 21st century's answer to coal mines and shirtwaist factories.

So, to the dear feminists at "YOU are now RBG," I've got to say: This is not about a woman. It's about an owner who exploits workers. Who does Mackenzie Scott think she is? To me she seems like some emperor of old, flinging ducats into the crowds of starving subjects on Festival Day.

EXHIBIT A: FEED HER TO GRITTY

Speaking of Festival Day, this is Juneteenth! Now a federal holiday! I had 12 years of public schooling, then four years of college, then a lifetime of reading and watching the news, and I never heard of Juneteenth until last year. So please allow me to catch up and learn how to celebrate this holiday before I begin to comment on it.

This sermon will end with that rarest of recommendations from "The Gods Are Bored." Mackenzie Scott should read Jesus Christ's advice to the rich man, and then follow it. Same goes for anyone who has more money than they could spend in 100 lifetimes.

In Which I Defend Motherhood as a Profession

 I'm old. I can remember a time and place where the vast majority of women stayed home to care for their families. The women who worked were few and far between, and those who did were either school teachers or secretaries. And a lot of the female school teachers were single.

Television -- all three black-and-white channels -- showed happy homemakers like Donna Reed, dressed to the nines making fragrant meat loaf.

Then came the Women's Movement, which basically said, "Enough with the barefoot and pregnant slavery! We want education, good jobs, and fulfilling careers!"

The oligarchy perked its ears.

So women went into the work force in numbers. They dropped their kids at the child care they could afford by working long hours for less wages than their children's fathers.

Motherhood was looked down on as a form of submission. Which of course it was, considering that stay-at-home women worked long hours for no wages at all.

Just recently, Senator Romney introduced the idea of paying women $350 per month per child (up to a point) to help allay the costs of rearing a human being in our modern society. And the hue and cry against it, once again led by the New York Times, is making me so furious I could dine on penny nails and window panes.

I don't only blame the assholes who are saying that giving women money to stay at home and raise children will encourage them to be lazy. I also hold that early Women's Movement to blame for making motherhood seem like an extraneous duty, instead of the crucial one it is.

Let's address this nonsense.

1. No one who has small children to care for is lazy. Even in these days of video games and 2,000 t.v. channels. Kids need to eat, they need supervision, they need baths, they need stimulation. These are the formative years of a human being's life! And yet moms are paid zero, and day care center workers are paid like they're slinging burgers at Wendy's. Paying people to stay home and perform child care might not result in better-nurtured kids 100 percent of the time. But it would improve American humans exponentially.

2. Motherhood is a sacred profession. Many cultures recognize this. There is no more important job than bonding with and nurturing children. Do we have a Goddess of Cubicle? BAMP! No. But all the enlightened religions have Mother Goddesses. Even Christianity venerates Mary. So why is staying home to raise children looked upon as a life lacking meaning? Because the feminists of the 1960s and 1970s declared it to be that way.

I fully support paying women directly to stay at home with their children. If I was in charge, I would give them a universal basic income of $1500 a month and call it money well spent.

"Well, Anne," the oligarch says, "there are child tax credits."

NOT ENOUGH. (And by the way, oligarch? I'm going to eat you as soon as I finish this column.)

There's a difference between a tax credit and a payment. One is buried in paperwork, the other comes to the door and is tangible.

Women should be paid to do parenting. Or men. I imagine a lot of men would love to stay home with their kids. Parenting should be considered a profession, and a noble one at that.

Notice I'm not saying that parenting should be an obligation. If you want a meaningful career outside the home and still want children, you go girl! That $350 a month will help you pay for excellent child care. If you want a meaningful career and no children, you go girl! One needn't measure meaning entirely through raising kids.

So let's put some weight behind this whole "pay the mom" movement. We would be investing in the very future of the nation. The way things are going now, women work long hours for poverty wages (thanks, oligarchs! Pass the salt.), and then they come home to neglected children. Talk about slavery! Might as well be the damn plantation.

Pay moms to be moms! 

Declaration of Independence, Republic of Johnsonia

 When in the course of human events it becomes obvious that the nation one inhabits has failed to address and respect the well-being of its citizenry, it becomes necessary to declare independence from the same. 

We hold these truths to be self-evident: that all human beings are created equal and that they deserve to be considered so throughout their lives. That the planet, being the only place these people are able to live, should be revered and protected. And that leaders should concern themselves solely with the prosperity of their citizens and the preservation of the planet.

The current governing bodies of the United States of America, including its president, are deficient in all these respects. Therefore, we the citizens of *** ******* Ave., Haterfield, NJ, do hereby declare independence from the United States of America.

We do this because our wishes as citizens of the United States of America have been belittled and overlooked for too long, and we see that this state of affairs will get far worse in the years to come.

Therefore, this Declaration of Independence will go into effect on 1st October 2020. We pick this date because it's easy to remember.

Our nation will be called the Independent Republic of Johnsonia. May it never perish until its founders do, and after that we don't particularly care.

24 Hours, 9 Emotions

 *5:25 p.m. September 18, 2020

Had chili for supper. It was good. (Satisfaction)

*6:25 p.m.

Splayed into recliner, too tired to join Mr. J on a simple walk around the neighborhood. Promptly fell asleep in chair. (Exhaustion)

*8:25 p.m.

Awakened by daughter The Fair. Looked at t.v. RBG dead at 87. Went from sleeping to full freakout in 20 seconds. (Panic)

*9:25

Total freakout mode, panic attack, predicting the end of the nation as we know it. (Panic)

*10:25

Congratulating self on not drinking the cooking wine, but did take a sleeping pill. (Fortitude)

*5:25 a.m. September 19, 2020

Nightmare that my daughter's car was stolen. (Fear)

*6:25 a.m.

Feeling a strong urge to engage in a fracas with fascists, knowing that there is a Proud Boy rally scheduled in Philadelphia at 1:00 p.m. (Fury)

*7:25 a.m.

Persuaded by spouse to abstain from rioting in the city. (Disappointment)

*9:25 a.m.

Bought some flowers at the farmer's market. Asked for a funeral bouquet. (Sadness)

*10:25 a.m.

Bought and drank some fresh cider and had an apple cider donut at the Berlin Farmer's Market (different from aforementioned farmer's market above) ... (Satisfaction)

*11:25 a.m.

Stood with my back to the Trump merchandise booth in Berlin so the vendors could see my Gritty cross stitch jacket and Black Lives Matter pin. Stood there awhile. Then a little longer. Then sauntered away. (Fury)

*12:25 p.m.

Sat in the sun wondering what it must have felt like in the USA the morning the Japanese bombed Pearl Harbor. Told self it must have been worse than the death of Notorious RBG. Then told self that the attack on Pearl Harbor brought out the best in Americans, while the death of RBG will probably bring out the worst. (Pensive)

*1:25 p.m.

Saw Trump's tweet that he would seat another judge on the Supreme Court because that was what he was elected to do. Replied: "Say it louder so the moderates in the back can hear you." (Fury)

*2:25 p.m.

Got a package of new clothes and they all fit. Talked to The Fair, who is on a hike with a new gentleman caller. (Dim happiness)

*4:25

Back to the recliner to read about the Proud Boys event I was dissuaded from attending. Reports indicated that over 500 residents of Philadelphia turned out to counter-protest, and if the Proud Boys even showed up at all they retreated like egg-sucking dogs without being seen. (Satisfaction)

*5:25 p.m.

Still sitting in recliner, writing blog post, wondering why my words aren't historical enough for the Smithsonian, wondering if I'll die of COVID seeing as how I have hired a Goddess who presides over the death of women. Wishing I had asked my parents how they felt when the Japanese bombed Pearl Harbor. (Sadness)

Summer Solstice 2020

The longest day of the year in the Northern Hemisphere means that now the wheel will turn, and we begin our descent into the darkness.

And this time, we need to rage against the dying of the light, because there is important work to do. Work that requires energy.

There's a great evil afoot in the land. It's bigger than Trump. It's the Earth herself crying out against the destruction wrought by thinking apes.

It's time to ward our houses and tend our gardens. As you work on your land, say the following petition:

"I'm doing this for Gaia. I'm doing this to counter the evil afoot in the land."

So now you're saying, "But Anne. I don't have a garden!"

A house plant in a pot counts as a garden. Anything that grows from dirt counts as a garden. Even a sky plant is a garden!

We've got to tend the Land. It's practical and symbolic. The more growing things we cultivate, the more oxygen goes into the sky. Every dandelion counts. Grass counts too -- just ask Walt Whitman.

Go to ground. Go to Gaia.

Solstice energy.

Bernie

I always precede posts about Bernie Sanders by noting that I voted for Hillary Clinton in the general election, even though I live in a Blue state and my vote meant less than nothing.

Having said that, I've never admired a politician more than I have admired Bernie Sanders.

He has pointed out the obvious for decades and has voted accordingly. He has never changed his position for the sake of expediency, except perhaps becoming anti-gun over the years.

When a handful of people sit atop mountains of lucre and flaunt their excessive lifestyles while the rest of us struggle with endless debts and uncertain employment, a great wrong is afoot in the country. Bernie called it out. Every damn day.

Don't expect Joe Biden to allude to this injustice. He's going to rely on Bloomberg money and fistfuls of dollars from other fat cats who will want business as usual when November has come and gone. He is an empty suit with a pretty smile, and I am seriously concerned about his ability to express himself. What is he going to do in a debate with Trump? Trump will lie, Joe will say, "You're lying," and that will be that.

Meanwhile the rich will get richer on the backs of the poor. Our younger generations will drown in debt and be unable to participate in the middle class lifestyle of their parents (which, in the case of this household, means having a house we have never paid for and never will).

And the latest tactic of the oligarchs? Pit the younger generation against the older. "Okay Boomer" is exactly what the one percent wants to hear.

As long as we had Bernie, we had someone who cared about the younger generation. Now we don't. Kids, it's sink or sink for you. Your options? I don't know, but whatever you decide to do, this Boomer is with you.

Bernie may be out of the race, but the need for Bernie rocks on. Power to the people.

Reply Here

I don't do Twitter. There's a reason. I can't curb my enthusiasm. Inevitably I would get in big trouble, because on Twitter the trolls are everywhere. 

But here, safely ensconced at "The Gods Are Bored," mostly among like-minded -- and therefore highly intelligent and enlightened -- people, I can post tirade after tirade.

So today I'm inaugurating a new recurring motif: Replying Here. When our sorry excuse of a commander in chief tweets some brainless drivel that heightens my ire, I'm going to post it here and then smack the shit out of it. This is my comfort zone, and I need to vent.

Today's Assault on Humanity comes from March 29, 2020.

Real Donald Trump on Twitter:

"Because the 'Ratings' of my New Conferences etc. are so high, "Bachelor finale, Monday Night Football type numbers" according to the @nytimes, the Lamestream Media is going CRAZY. "Trump is reaching too many people, we must stop him." said one lunatic. See you at 5:00 P.M.!


Anne's Reply:

For real, are you kidding me, you bone-headed, knuckle-dragging insult to everything Neanderthal? Where's your empathy? Oh, wait! I go way back, watching your antics. You lost your extremely limited supply of empathy during a coke binge at Studio 54 in 1978. A janitor sweeping up the next morning dumped it in the trash and didn't even notice, because it was so small.

Empathy is what we need right now. We need a leader who is actually a human being.

EXHIBIT A: IF YOU CAN'T BE EVEN THIS HUMAN, YOU ARE HOPELESS

Nobody's asking you, Donald Trump, to stride in to an emergency room and kiss elderly women on ventilators. But you should be able to express something more than a brag-out about your television ratings! Oh, right. Maybe you did. Maybe there are 42 compassionate tweets that I don't know about. But it doesn't matter, you chimp! One stupid, ridiculous tweet like the above totally cancels out any sympathetic tweets you send.

Trump, you execrable egg-head, you are only as good as your worst tweet. You are president. You should think, and think hard, about the contents of each tweet. And if you can't think (there is abundant evidence of this), you should turn this task over to someone who can. Oh, wait. There's abundant evidence that you have surrounded yourself with toadies who don't think much either, if their wallets aren't in the game.

Repent, clueless tweeter! Take that ridiculous, unprotected cell phone and fling it into the Reflecting Pool. Your boasting has always added insult to injury, but right now it is intolerable.

From Anne Johnson
Citizen

Sacrificing Grandparents on the Altar of the Economy: A Rant

Did you see where the wealthy Caucasian lieutenant governor of Texas went on Fox t.v. and said that senior citizens would be willing to sacrifice their lives to keep the economy humming? He's 70 or some such himself, so of course he could speak for all the wealthy white motherfuckers loving grandparents out there.

Count me the fuck out, Tex. I'll hang on to my life, Dow Jones be damned.

There is hardly anyone alive now who can remember the Great Depression. My mother was a little kid in the 1930s, and if she were still alive she would be 95. But the point is, America made it through the Great Depression. Without killing grandma! Jesus, has nobody read the last chapter of The Grapes of Wrath?

This bonehead Texas lt. gov. had the bloody nerve to speak for all older Americans everywhere. What does he know about the many households that are headed by grandparents? I'll tell you: He knows squat. Bupkus. Nada. Less than zero. There are significant numbers of such households, including in his state.

And excuse me for pointing something out to this clueless moron, but he forgot to ask grandchildren if they value their jobs over their grandparents. That's a big omission! Oh my Bored Gods, the stories I could tell him about my students and the bonds they share with grandparents! I wish I felt comfortable telling you all about it, but it would violate my students' privacy. But what does an old white guy care about people of color in New Jersey? The economy! Jobs! Executive Compensation! Salaries! Asshole.

I can only talk about myself.

When I was a child, growing up in a household ravaged by mental illness and redneck mentality, my father's parents were a bastion of strength and sanity. My life would have unfolded entirely differently if I had not had them and their gentle care, their little mountain home, and their comfort.

EXHIBIT A: BELOVED ANCESTORS

That's me on the far right. Smiling.

In order to keep my grandparents from dying before their time, I would gladly have worn feed sacks and eaten potato peels, or stood in line for soup, or lost my job. What amount of money can you place on the lives of your grandparents?

This is not to say I would never be willing to sacrifice my life for my daughters. Pish, tosh! I certainly would! But the reason for that self-sacrifice would have to be more than the national economy. My daughters are already suffering from this recession, and they will continue to after the quarantine ends. But I have confidence in the sweep of history.  We will bounce back. And if it gets grim, if we find ourselves in a Great Depression, we will live as they did then. Sharing sacrifices.

I want to live to see my grandchildren, if at all possible, thank you very much you clueless moron of a lieutenant governor. A plague upon your house! Go ahead and sacrifice yourself. As for me and my house, we need each other more than that.