REGRETS TO BLIND YOU

Yes, Mom is lucky to be gone today. As the streets are being oiled, the cats cannot go out. And boy are they unhappy about it. Oona looks at me as if I am the meanest person ever, meaner than a shitgibbon. She feels that mewing constantly will cause me to rethink her horrible incarceration. She knows well the power of annoyance. Theoretically, we can drive on the streets in a few hours, but given Oona's penchant for 1) filth and 2) rolling around on her back in the dirt or on cement, there will be little recourse save to bathe her (and her compatriots) which would result in a multitude of scratches and likely some tears along the way.

I suppose I could sequester myself somewhere.

Vera is taking it well, though. Comfortably relaxing in a stuft rocking chair without much of a care. She knows better how to go with the flow. And should she need an outlet for oncoming frustration, she can find Butterscotch and menace her.

Butterscotch, on the other hand, enjoyed another night of free access to me. I think if she did not have to live on the edge of terror, i.e. other cats, she would relax and be even more cuddly than she is becoming. I had to remind myself that it was her curled up next to me last night.

Meanwhile, out in the greater world, the shit show continues. Not even application (consumption) of too many madeleines can assuage or allay the horror of our political situation.

As a child and as a an adult, I was afraid of The Great Depression. That was something I most decidedly did not want to live through, along with volcanoes, the mere idea of which would send me crying to my mother's bed. Once I learned about the rise of Nazism in Germany, I didn't want to live through that either. I wondered, afearedly, what the quotidienne (once I learned that word) would be of the rise of daily horrors. 

And GODDAMNIT if I am not living through it, for fuck's and all other sakes. 

(Oona, Emmylou, and Ariel are all lined up at the front door like airplanes waiting their turn to land. Fortunately, Oona has been distracted by Zora Idris Caledonia into playing. Nothing like kicking someone in the face repeatedly to relieve tension. Emmylou is trying pace the table, probably to be follow by tail in front of the screen. Maybe a round of catnip for all will help. Zora Idris Caledonia rushes up to Ariel in an "I'll have what she's having moment.")

Perusing the LA Times, which generally frustrates me, I found an article that SHITGIBBONFUCKTARDLARCENYLARRYDUMFUCK's lawyer said obstruction of justice is not possible for SHITGIBBONFUCKTARDLARCENYLARRYDUMFUCK as he is, essentially, justice defined as president. SMS says Nixon tried this argument, too. I think it is worth noting.

I need to go. Just heard about allegations and expulsions from WNYC. I just want all the good menfolk out there to keep their shit together on this. All of this is just as bad as is now being exposed. After you reach enough decades of mistreat, not being heard, rude categorizations and judgments, and the all rest of it, you learn to cope some. If any of you, female or male, are surprised by ANY OF THIS, you were living in a big ass bubble of denial. Some of that denial is understandable if not excusable. How the hell do you take on this problem? 

As we all know, wholesale hanging of the accused does not work out. In a case like Senator Franken, well, I think he could be redeemed and reprogrammed. I think he has learned his lesson. And we need him.

And as we head into another long and lonely evening, I offer more Richard Thompson. Now, don't blow this off. Listen to this here, carefully, a few times. Then read the lyrics.

TAKE CARE THE ROAD YOU CHOOSE

If I ever get out of these shoes
And I shrug off a skin or two
I'll come looking in the wasted places
Beat-up, last ditch rendezvous

If it had been some other place
Some other time to find me
If I had been in my right mind
Not looking for ghosts behind me

Then I'd hold you with my fingers burning
Kiss your little tears of yearning
But sometimes there's no turning
Take Care The Road You Choose

If I ever get out of my mind
Guillotine myself to stop me dreaming
And let my heart go where it will
Without those other voices screaming

Some take the high, some take the low
Some take the straight and narrow
Some still standing at the crossroads
Some fly like an arrow

With my radar I'll find you, darling
No regrets to blind you, darling
And never look behind
Take Care The Road You Choose