Missing inaction

Ted Cruz searches for his conscience but fails to find it.

No worries, though. I'm sure he's keeping it in a safe place. One so dark, cold, and airless that upon discovery, it would quickly disintegrate, leaving behind only dust and the smell of sulfur.

His humanity and intelligence are probably there, too.

But I'm making a lot of unfounded assumptions . . . .

Friendster is the most popular social media site in the world!

Yahoo still has half a billion accounts? Who came up with those numbers, the New Accounts staff at Wells Fargo?

Baddabing!

Not today, Satan

Editor's note: Well, wouldn't you know it? As soon as I find a clip from Muvhango to illustrate my point, SABC 2 makes it private. Maybe you belong, but the rest of us have to wait for the return of the video.

Instead, you'll have to make do with this image from the 23 September 2016 episode of the show, in which Khomotjo describes how she feels about Serithi to the scrumptious, p-whipped Siya. "I wish wasps would nest in her armpits." 

Evil and creative. Me like.


* * *



Best. Fight. Ever.

. . . Starts at 14:49, but there are other highlights throughout. For example, starting at 8:40.

My South African soapie obsession continues. Khomotjo and Serithi go at it full force on the 16 September 2016 episode of Muvhango, a show I'm still struggling to follow. But after scenes like this and the poisonous barbs zipping back and forth between the two characters, I'm catching up quickly.

For the record, I'm #TeamKhomotjo all the way.

* * *

For your viewing pleasure: The aforementioned Siya from Muvhango.

Why do I have the sudden craving for a pumpkin spice latte? Yes today, Satan.

Sick daze

As we continue our downward spiral in the 2016 election for the President of the United States, one of the "major" issues that the trash-talking Republican nominee for president, his merry "basket of deplorables," and most of the popular media (both in the U.S. and Canada you should know) are fixated upon is Hillary Clinton's bout with pneumonia.

So she kept it a "secret." More than likely because Hillary Clinton is damned if she does and damned if she doesn't. Go public with your diagnosis of pneumonia? Get pilloried in the press and by the right-wingers. Don't go public with your diagnosis? Get pilloried in the press and by the right-wingers.

For the record, pneumonia is not necessarily a life-threatening condition and certainly doesn't disqualify someone for public office, even the highest office in the land. After all, Franklin Delano Roosevelt lived with polio during his presidency. And yet he completed three terms and almost a fourth and was so damn good at his job that they had to pass an amendment to the U.S. Constitution (the 22nd) to prevent anyone from holding the office of president more than two times.

Somehow we made it through both the Great Depression and the Second World War led by a man in a wheelchair. But how we'll all survive a woman with a case of pneumonia is a complete mystery!

It's just an old war, not even a Cold War, as Marianne Faithfull once sang ("Broken English"). This time, it's a war against women and the center-left of American politics. But when you don't any real policy to run on, any ideas, just diatribes and insults, all that's left are allegations of wrong-doing over e-mail servers (not good but not a treasonable offense, as far as I can tell, certainly not worthy of hanging) and innuendo about "mental and physical capacity."

I didn't think I could despise any one person in American politics more than I despise Dick Cheney. But Il Douche has broken new ground and plumbed new depths in my disgust and anger.

In case you hadn't figured it out already, I'm with her. I may have had my qualms in the past, but I am now firmly in the Hillary Clinton camp and short of her strangling a puppy on stage at a rally, nothing will change that.

(And even she did harm a puppy, I still wouldn't vote for Spray-Tanned Putin.)

Now where were we?

You might expect a "muse-athon" from me this week--a sudden outpouring of thoughts, dreams, ideas, humor, and, of course, whining, long overdue. How has it come to pass that I haven't published anything since April 2016?!

Well, there are lots of reasons--work, life, love, moving, vacation, head cold, mass murder, an overheated summer, a lack of interest in words, in thinking, and in expressing opinions in this wordy American election season. There are only so many times that even I can rage against the Orange Julius machine that is Donald Trump, issue an eye-roll in the direction of the over-earnestness of Bernie Sanders and Hillary Clinton devotees, or prattle on about my American expat/Canadian misfit adventures.

It should be noted that while I didn't publish anything, I did indeed write, or at least start to write, several blog posts. Some of those will start to show up on the scroll this week, while others will be discarded, no longer seeming relevant or interesting. It's probably a big assumption on my part that the ones that have survived and are to be published are relevant and interesting, but humor me, please.

All is well, more or less. There have been some bumps since the spring, but I think I've survived most of them quite well and might even be thriving in some areas of my existence. I'd like to share more and probably will in time. Right now, giving you a bulleted list that includes items such as "entering my albums into the Discogs site," "watched every episode of 7de Laan," and "Orlando massacre" seems incredibly banal, sad, and inappropriate.

And speaking of banal, I just burned this morning's oatmeal while trying to write this short passage. Perhaps I still can't be trusted with opining and functioning like an adult simultaneously, but that surely hasn't stopped most of the Western world from running for elected office, creating "reality" TV shows, praising Beyonce ad nauseam, and invading countries illegally. Why should I give pause to writing and sharing my low-wattage thoughts, actions, and reactions?

Good, I thought you might agree . . . .