I just caught myself wondering what a synonym for "equivalent" might be.
I'm not sure yet, but needing to find one is pretty funny.
I'm Too Sacks-y for My Shirt
About Dr. Oliver Sacks from Radiolab website: chosen from several images of a revolutionary mind, Renaissance soul.
I can't believe I just remembered this...
Garry was the person who recommended the amazing medium Char to me. She is the person who told me I could talk to dead folks. Took me about fifteen years to pay attention to it, but she ended up being right.
Btw, weird as it sounds, I like skeptical clients with the door open just a tad to the Great Unseen.
I have yet to purchase a goddess dress or unicorn bumper sticker, but who knows what this nutty campaign will require.
(And here is where I write that I'm kidding on the very last part to head off the website suggestions on where those very things can be gotten.)
Itty Bitty Birdy
Now I think that itty bitty birdy landing in front of Bernie was just as precious as the rest of you do.
But let that not speak volumes in and if itself: A certain other candidate has a nest of cassowaries in his hair.
(I could have gone for a simpler bird but not a funnier one, y'all.)
Pray It Forward
Man I wanna be like my friend Tom Agna among others, but pretty much just pitched a fit on my personal page about one of those pray it forward things, asking God to protect this county from those who wish it harm.
That is the tiniest version of a prayer I understand. Just guessing that amen clickers for that wouldn't care much for the Pope washing the feet of Muslims.
It's crazy having that page anyway: don't know most of the folks in the house, but I love orbs of so much bigger than exactly the kind of brat I'm being right now that come across the bow.
This is where I'll post a shot of Rockwell Kent's "Drifter". Thanks, y'all.
It can be dicey mentioning the passing of someone you cared a lot about hand in hand with a silly thing like a career. But when I got out to LA, Garry was one of the first people to not only welcome me but include me.
He was different in tender ways.
A few examples, if I may...
He liked nothing more than having the people he cared about sweating profusely and shooting hoops and hollering happily like kids together.
OK maybe he loved the hot fine surge of a big laugh when he was funny more.
Who the hell doesn't?
He'd talk about real things, things that scared him and when he talked about being let down, he didn't dish.
He got a kick out of me and his Mama Muriel being friends.
He asked me to be on his show and - gasp - even for ideas on the plot, etc. Then they showed up in the episode.
He made sure I got a scene with Rip Flipping Torn.
Who DOES these things!?
I know that heaven is spectacular but earth feels a chill wind passing through it when folks leave too soon.
Break the room in, Big Guy.
Hope you see and feel all this love.
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I feel GUUT!
Really I'm kind of mad at 'the Crown' this day. Jian Ghomeshi has not guilty verdicts and that means that in about a year, probably, the equivalent of a garden slug will be seeping into radio loving ears unless it's a podcast.
He'll undoubtedly have listeners.
Like those weird chicks who go marry freeway killers in prison.
Well. Apparently I found an open window through which to toss a few of these sparkly pebbles anyway.
I feel GUUT. (Like James Brown.)
I'm DYIN' ovah heah!
So on my supposedly personal Facebook page which is kind of a joke because I just used to say yes to every friend request because otherwise that Zuckerberg guy's right about something that I don't wanna think about, but then it got ridiculous because people I didn't know at all started saying wildly personal stuff right there in front of everyone: Wah, wah, etc.
So without cleaning house, every day I'm bombarded and bemused by these gigantic fonted lobotomy version type "amen" if you buhleeeve yadda yadda yadda things, scrolling endlessly on the timeline, which is fascinating largely because one of the posters used to bully us waaaay back in another century.
If you think I'm using this time to talk about repenting and stuff, you'd be wrong. I wouldn't have said 'yes', etc. if it bugged me. Like I say, is ironic.
And I'll say that I've probably several demerits religion-wise stemming solely from my immense distaste for evangelical Peeps: And I don't mean 'people'. I mean those damn chick marshmallow things clotting the CVS aisles all year. You know - Virally transmitter, saccharine, mass produced hypnotic jargon.
Kind of like when we get sober. The people hollering at us had little effect beside those who had the Look and Behavior of someone who had transcended hell with Great Help.
Sorry. I had a point. One of the tin drums for Him posted about a website where you control who you're vacationing with because you don't want to share a pool with - and I'm quoting - "that guy".
My accusation? Not going there. You're right. I do have my usual feverishly accumulated fistful of rocks ready to throw but just noticed my Windexed walls.
As I gently put them back down, however, might I ask one of my less hypocritical pals to toss a few FOR me?
I mean, after all. Isn't this about damnation?
Here's a thought. If sharing a pool with a felon is a concern, why not limit vacations to day trips to amusement parks?
Good Lord. Literally.
Oh we're so sorry that Ken Howard passed away.
He was as good as human beings got.
Setting The Record Straight?
Lemme get this straight - no. Wait. I actually HAVE it straight, so this is for the pinhead- who ran/wrote/okayed and purchased those despicable ads featuring Trump's wife:
That's the best you could do? Yeesh. You're trying to take down Trump and this is the best you've got?
Nice play, too, running the ad in a state where plural wives has a big fan base. U guess plural one at a time doesn't suit you.
There is just so much wrong with this.
You're conjuring votes from a base electorate so hateful, depraved and judgemental that showing us frankly gorgeous images of a man's wife is your dirty pool?
I'm trying to think of a really unique way to say, "Damn you, you buncha glass house bastards. Your thoughts are exactly like pornography except less honest."
Sometimes you just gotta put on your bossy pants and SAY these things.
Just so you know? Trump is pretty awful as a candidate goes. I'm not a fan or a supporter, but you leave a man's family out of this. It's already been one of the most degenerate campaigns in history, but this is a step lower.
And Donald? Be very careful assuming that Sen. Cruz is behind this. Right now, there is actually one filthy puddle you've refused to get in... so far.
I can't believe I'm rooting for you to rise above this and not release whatever you think you have on Heidi Cruz.
Surprise us! Even Hitler was a vegetarian. (That's a little joke, y'all. True, but a little joke.)
Apparently, my mention of unsober times has created concern when the opposite effect was intended. Yikes. Not a casual error on my part. In that vein, please allow this very specific message to...
Rob Ford. Yes. That Rob Ford. Rest in peace, sir. He didn't really get a chance to dig his way out, up or back - whatever you call it. He's got a family who knew who he was under all the trouble and who stuck by him.
A public life lived in exemplary fashion. That's my advice to anyone choosing the well-lit highway. In the absence of that, in whole or part, the best we can now for is that hand - and in lucky cases, many of them - who reach back for us. That and for the original guts we were given to be miraculously relocated before it's too late.
It's certainly worth holding on. Rob, fly well, big guy. Prayers for you and your dear ones. Actually for the whole big glob of us. Cosmic flash mob style. (Different tune: I'm just sayin'.)
I know one of these guys.
And the one I know isn't crazy.
And yes I'm fully aware that very important, real and awful things are happening on the planet that could command this space instead of maybe THE most absurdly fantastic incandescently brazen video I could find that - gulp - I actually believe more than not.
My God. Instead of being like the guy who took the time to let us know "flash mobs suck", would I sound a bit more sage for saying it about these ISIL +C::"!?uc?rs?
That's what I thought. Carry on.
Kitty Blog Post
Attention, kind readers:
So, it starts out looking like a kitty blog post but then she careens wildly into off-road territory, which probably needs to happen a hell of a lot more around these parts. Word.
Blogging about cats is only marginally less pathetic than actually thinking what I think about them and, as they say in the little clubhouse I go to, you're only as sick as your secrets.
The cat facts are this: I did not like them at all until I turned twenty. Maybe getting married at that exact age to someone whose sense of completion was more intact by pummeling his astonished bride on a nearly daily basis whittled down my objections. POW. Here kitty, nice kitty. POW.
I did the cat math. Not a coincidence. She was a tortoiseshell, too. I named her Patches because it suited her and - oh man I'm bad - because my then husband had a bit of a lateral lisp and it was funny to hear him say it.
Pawsive aggressive? Upon reflection, perhaps.
This kitty right here, Miss Mitzi, has never seen her mommy bloody flying across the room. CATerwauling, as it were. She's never even seen her mommy high. Oh she suffers. Just in another way. You may surmise from her expression: she endures her human caregiver referring to herself - incorrectly, laughably, lamentably - as Mommy. Her forbearance is impressive. Too, I bring her other creatures to bathe and I brush her and cut her long hair just so.
And, in return? She mostly pisses where she's supposed to.
"Don't judge books by their covers and, for God's sake, don't judge cats by their mothers."
Vocal Flash Mob
Just like this but, say with Otis Redding's live version of "Try a Little Tenderness" instead. Exactly. But different.
Seriously. Grazi, y'all.
Compassion For Animals
On looking up the skirts of angels and not telling what you see.
Hey. Made you look..
So I'm respectfully posting Father Mann's video here despite the inherent hypocrisy of my doing so: It's about his awakened compassion for animals. As in not eating them, which I still sometimes do.
I'm not a vegetarian but not wholly unconscious, either, which might be another way of saying I'm damned. Actually, falling precisely equidistant on the spiritual plane between Eckhart Tolle and Martin Shkreli.
Speaking of damned: bloviating and/or condescending comments will be taken out and shot. Just be the you soooo superior or ardently inferior person you are and let us be the judge without precious speeches. Like this one. We confess to being evangelically anti-evangelical. (Yes. Sometimes it hurts being in our tiny head.)
Cartoons at 11!
Harmless enough to see. Ugly even.
I am not sure exactly what this means but I sat in it today and didn't want to get up. Ever. Let's just say it does things.
The sad part? I go to (the) Home Depot for this stuff called Odo-Ban the pet OK kind. Stinking little bastards have Mama on her hands and knees and not the fairy tale way if you know what I mean.
Excuse me. The only thing worse than falling in love with a random piece of outdoor furniture is taking its picture before I leave like a drunk girl crawls across the floor to look at the drivers license of the guy she's just....
Um. Is this thing on?
You know when you're little and you accidentally see your grandmother naked and you think to yourself, That's not happening to ME?
Guess again, kiddies.
If you do skip that path, it just means you left the game early, in which case, may God rest your immortal soul. This is for the sistahs still playing.
Resistance isn't futile, but it is expensive.
Today I saw a woman my age who hadn't cheated like I did. No tucks, sucks, nips or slices on her. And her hair was a lustrous silver with just the slightest whisper of the raven it used to be. And her husband couldn't keep his hands off of her. Not in a gross way: Actually its opposite. Like they had all. The. Time. In. The. World.
Just for an evil moment I was jealous then, thankfully, I thought of dipping them both in gold, but decided I'd commemorate the pleasant shock of meeting their acquaintance. Think I just did that by telling everyone.
Weird facts have always stuck to my brain like how many dead skin cells fall off every single night, but they don't fall fast enough to make a dent in the lines that outpace them every waking second.
I live where these observations are less plain fact than true horror story:
I'm an aging broad in a town that, theoretically, has no use for us.
But the good news fairy came by earlier and reminded me that Funny doesn't wrinkle. It digs in deeper and for every inch further back I have to hold something to read, yonder comes a punchline. Crazy how it works.
This stuff evens out. And there are clues all along the path.
What makes me happy is closer, cheaper and way easier than young me would have believed on a bet. On the other hand, I'd like to dismiss petty unpleasantness as quickly as I notice it, unless there is actually some fat chance that what I'll say or do could matter. Just because outrage is in fashion doesn't mean I have to stock up. Besides, it looks about as good on me as Walmart capri pants. In camouflage. With an elastic waist. (I love Jaclyn Smith, but has she ever SEEN those things with her name in them?)
I'll see y'all over the ridge just as soon as I've set fire to this heap of plucking, masqueing, flambéing, tweezed half to death product/arsenal to stave off visual proof of my very survival.
This seems like a good place to tell my favorite joke for about forty years - but profanity haters might wanna stop here:
Old bull and a young bull grazing at the top of a hill.
Young bull says, "Look at all those cows down in valley! Let's run down there and fuck one!"
Old bull says, "Son, let's walk down there and screw 'em aaaaaall."
Thanks for stopping by.
World Down Syndrome Day
For my cousin Jeannie Lou and everyone else rocking that extra chromosome:
Today's World Down Syndrome Day.
Thank you for being a living manual for living joyfully so much of the time. And not because you don't know better. Because you choose it over and over again. My life wouldn't be the same without knowing you.
This was a really long post about what animals may know that was entirely too speculative, maudlin and silly for words.
But this photo needs a little intro:
My oldest dog is kind of circling Rainbow Bridge and, too, today I've been missing not just Big Rex but the precious children who are missing him something fierce tonight. But this big guy is having none of it. No, sir.
He absolutely pushed into me with his great big paws as if to tell me that love never goes anywhere. It might seem like that Other Room is a long way off, but, by God, that's just in the thinking.
Cheetah, you chill cat. Thou rocketh. Cheetah. The one who came up with cross species cuddling at our house. Thank you, buddy. I'll take that hug any old day.
And thanks to you human creatures who've extended such kindness and understanding in your comments. They met their mark. Bless you all.
Jimmie Walker in the fantabulous, magnificent, indubitably marvelous flesh. He was master of ceremonies in the scene we did together and happens to be one of God's finer efforts in the human being department.
You know the adage, "If you can't say anything nice, don't say anything at all"?
It's his credo. And he STILL manages to say plenty that's good. Go figure.
This was the wrap of an all-too-brief shoot in NY this week. There was no way i was going to ask this particular actor for a photo: Then he surprised us all by asking himself.
The film Taylor Hackford's 'The Comedian' comes out in a year. My part was small but I did get to do stand up in it which makes me realize I've been too long without it. Am working hard on a brand new act and y'all will be the first to know when we're ready to hit the road with it.
Thanks to Taylor Hackford for letting me be a part of it.