To dye for

Farrah Fawcett-Minor League. Public domain.
Via Wikimedia Commons.

Kayleigh McEnany is what happens when you attempt to buy an Afghan hound from a puppy mill, only to realize it's just a chihuahua with a Farrah Fawcett wig glued to its head.

No, I'm not saying she's a dog--I mean, I'm not the President of the United States after all, so normally I don't describe women's physical attributes using such language.

But you have to admit that her hair is more like a mane or a coat and that she apparently suffers from the same debilitating visual impairment that afflicts other members of the Trump administration, that is to say, that spray tans and dye jobs that are a bit too matchy-matchy with said spray tans are inherently gorgeous.

But they're not.

Springtime for shut-ins

Me, strolling the streets of Toronto in a new shirt after 2+ months of lockdown, now with a full beard and some extra "avoirdupois."

Except I wore a mask and gloves.

The hills are alive with the sound of Americans gasping for air

Because I hope he gets COVID-19 of course.

Pandemic Playlist #6: So Far Away

Another twofer in its own way--Carole King on piano and voice with James Taylor on guitar, "So Far Away."

Pandemic Playlist #5: Keep your distance

It's a twofer - the original Richard Thompson version is below (and much moodier); the Patty Loveless version is above and, oddly, slightly chipper in its own way. Sorry not sorry, I am required by my heritage to give a shout-out to the Kentucky native.

Pandemic Playlist #4: Message in a Bottle

Less obvious, so I'll definitely allow it.

"Message in a Bottle" was the song that made me fall in love (briefly) with The Police. They weren't quite mainstream in the US just yet, still somewhat of a hidden gem, at least at my university way back in 1979.

And then a year or so later, they released "Don't Stand So Close to Me," and everybody knew who they were. And then after that, they released "De Do Do Do, De Da Da Da," and everybody seemed to take that as a legit piece of music. And and that point, I knew they were dead to me.

Pandemic Playlist #3: Don't Stand So Close to Me

A bit obvious, but I'll allow it.

Pandemic Playlist #2: Don't Touch Me

"Don't Touch Me," a classic country hit by Titusville, Pennsylvania's own Jeannie Seely.

Yesterday's crack whore, tomorrow's CEO

Mike Lindell by NorthStarOasis. CC BY 3.0.
Via Wikimedia Commons.

Of late, I keep seeing TV ads from the My Pillow Guy, aka Trump Supporter and Craptastic Capitalist Mike Lindell, who is hawking his latest autobiography, What Are the Odds? From Crack Addict to CEO.

Well, actually I'd say the odds are pretty good. Whether it's cocaine, crack, Adderall, or OxyContin, to me that seems like the standard CEO career trajectory.

The ad also touts--I'm guessing in an effort to boost Lindell's credibility and the magnitude of the Very Public Christian ™resurrection miracle he employs to explain his life transformation--that Lindell has had "14 near-death experiences."

Dude. Whiskey-Tango-Foxtrot? I haven't even had one near-death experience and I'm more or less your same age (or use less hair dye, whichever is more relevant), I survived the AIDS crisis in the '80s, and I lived in Washington, D.C., during the Marion Barry era when there were 500 murders a year. (Interestingly enough, spawned in part by the demand for crack cocaine. Thanks for living the supply-and-demand dream, Mike!)

Who knew the pillow biz was so deadly?

Other than the occasional smothering incident, which I truly hope the spouses or children of Craptastic Capitalists everywhere (I'm not naming names) are currently plotting.

The straitjacket and the highway

A person wearing a posey straitjacket from the rear with a chain
attached around the body and attaching to the feet by Mark NL.
Public Domain. Via Wikimedia Commons.

I am usually fairly jokey in this blog and in social media. Not always, of course. And not because I am shallow (well, not entirely, although I have my kiddie pool moments). And also not because I don't care about the Serious Things in Life.

Quite the opposite, in fact. But leaning into humor helps me keep the negative thoughts at a distance, at least for a while. Hopefully it does the same for you, although I am sure at times I am quite annoying. (Sometimes I annoy myself, oddly enough.)

I think for the most part I've managed the 7-1/2 weeks of stay-at-home existence fairly well. Nonetheless, of late, themes of constraint and liberation keep creeping into my dreams. 

For example, a couple of mornings ago, I dreamed that I was in a straitjacket, desperately trying to wriggle my way out. In the same dream, I also thought I was being held in place by two people and was flailing to escape their clutches. I woke up tangled in my bed sheets, so that may explain the scenarios to some degree.

Conversely, earlier this morning, I dreamed that Cairo and I were driving around somewhere outside of Toronto, with no aim in particular. We just wanted to escape the confines of home, enjoy the spring air, and get away from everything for a little while. We came to a portion of the road and were presented with two choices: Option 1, take an older two-lane road or Option 2, take a new, modern, multi-laned highway with lots of bridges and overpasses.

Cairo was driving and decided to take the new highway. We soon realized, however, that the new road was literally under construction as we kept encountering work crews who were incredulous that we were driving on the new road. They started chasing after us, on foot and in trucks, and then the police started chasing after us as well.

I started to get panicky, feeling that we should stop and explain ourselves to the authorities. (I can be such a color-within-the-lines little puke at times.) That or we should find an exit as soon as possible. But Cairo remained calm and kept driving. And this explains our personalities to some degree and likely why after seven years of relationship we work together so well.

Every time we crested a bridge or a hill, I expected we would be faced with a very sudden end of the road: Construction barrels that we would have to crash into to stop or barriers that we would have to smash through only to be hurled over a ledge and into oblivion.

But I woke up before that happened. Instead, we just kept going with no end of the road in sight.

Which is in some ways a good thing--we will survive! But simultaneously a bad thing because we don't know yet where, when, or how this pandemic lockdown will end. And that is mind-boggling, frightening, and even somewhat liberating all at the same time.

Our regularly scheduled comedy programming will resume momentarily. You're welcome.

Pandemic Playlist #1: Ain't Nothin' Goin' on but the Rent

Thank you, Miss Gwen Guthrie, for this ever-appropriate pop classic.