Vote Platypus!

We are less than 2 months from the 2012 US (I have an international audience. Shout out to Iceland and Greenland! I want to come visit) Presidential election. Every day, we are inundated with election news: ridiculous super PAC spending, candidates with foot in mouth disease, polls that check the American voter more often than an obsessed dieter weighs him/herself (which can be hourly. That’s when someone gently suggests a good therapist and a prescription). I listen to people around me complaining about all the flyers from parties and candidates stuffing their mailboxes, complaints about robo-calls that disrupt life. And the relentless political ads on TV and radio (and the negative ones seem to hire the same two or three voices every election cycle. I can picture the resumes of  the voice actors and actress. Yes, actress singular).
I listen to the complaints because, as a registered independent voter, I don’t get the robo-calls and mailbox crap. I’m under the radar. It’s peaceful there.

Remember Todd Akin? (A woman who is “legitimately” raped can just shut down conception? Right! THAT asshat. I hope his wife punches him in the junk while he sleeps.) Among the chorus of voices telling him to step aside, some of the Republicans said he should step aside “for the good of the Party.”

Tom DeLay, former House Majority Leader and more recent convict and failed “Dancing With The Stars” contestant (People of America? If they’re going to put Tom DeLay and Bristol Palin on, DON’T FUCKING WATCH THE SHOW. Have some discretion here!) worked with convicted lobbyist and influence buyer Jack Abramoff to build “a permanent Republican majority” in the House and Senate. This should have made any American who had stayed awake in high school civics class REALLY uncomfortable. See: one party systems are  totalitarian systems (Communists in China, Baath Party in Iraq, the Kim family in North Korea). That’s not democracy.

I am sure there are examples on the Democratic side as well, but these are the two that come to my addled mind, so we’ll work from there.

Any time a group of people form an entity (political party, union or corporation as examples) to achieve a goal, a shift takes place. At first, the entity works for the benefit of the members. Gradually, the entity takes on a life of its own and it’s slow enough that the rank and file members don’t see it happen, the members of the organization start to work for ITS benefit rather than the other way around. Usually, this shift comes about when there’s money involved. A lot of money and a few people at the top of the organization want to control it, so the agenda begins to be about benefitting the organization.

Our two main political parties have reached this evolutionary point: they have become bloated monsters that are served by their members for the benefit of a few at the top rather than the party serving the members. Think of a televangelist with a Rolex and a website that takes credit cards. Who’s serving whom?
I’d like to propose a bold two-part experiment in democracy.

Part 1: Campaign contributions are limited to $xxx (pick a number) from REGISTERED VOTERS in the if district the candidate wants to represent and that’s it. Someone running for city council can only accept donations from registered voters in that ward, statewide candidates only money from the state, etc.  If you the registered voter want to donate to Robbie Republican, Donna Democrat, Lonny the Libertararian and that New York guy with “The Rent Is Too Damned High” party (he was real),

 God bless, have at it and deduct away. You can only give x amount to each candidate, but you can give to as many people who want to represent you as you want.

This will eliminate the PACs and Super PACs, “soft money”, which was part of the problem in the Nixon White House (have we solved that problem? Hell, no).  Without  the conveyor belt pouring money into campaigns, the candidates will be forced to actually get to know their potential constituents, won’t be able to afford the negative ads, the flyers, the robo-calls, the bumper stickers and the ads, ads, ads. Necessity may be the mother of invention, but working within limits like these will surely spark creativity. And anyone whining about not being able to buy TV time? There’s this thing called the “Internet” and it’s FREE. With Facebook, Twitter, etc., the message gets out. Look at the Arab Spring? That was Twitter.

Lincoln didn’t use robo-calls. Nuff said.

The only exceptions to the $xxx from registered voters rule would be bake sales and car washes performed by the candidates themselves. I’d love to see Paul Ryan shirtless and Simonizing a Prius with an “I’m Pro Choice and I Vote” bumper sticker. And no selling brownies for $50,000 a pop, either (Karl Rove).

The second part of the bold experiment is much simpler, more personal and requires a small leap of faith:

Re-register as an independent voter. No official party affiliation. Don’t get me wrong: you are free to vote a straight party ticket if you want, write in Bullwinkle J. Moose for Attorney General, you can vote any way you want. However, your name isn’t on a mailing list, so you aren’t buried in campaign flyers every time you open the mailbox. You don’t get robo-calls (and if you’re on the Do Not Call list, you can report those mothers).

What would the American political process look like if no voters declared a party preference?

1. For starters, our reps in Washington would become damned nervous. To them, this would be a rebellion, essentially being told to take their partisan politics and stick ‘em where the sun don’t shine.
2. We’d see an end to the abstract art form that is Congressional redistricting. Every 10 years, whatever party is in power in the state legislature tries to redraw the lines to favor itself (people working for the benefit of parties, not the other way around. Evolution: it’s a platypus. Maybe that should be the symbol for the independent voters). Take a look at a Congressional district map sometime.

http://www.govtrack.us/congress/members
It’s insane.

Constituents not registered to a political party? We’re talking a grid system.

3. Between the limited contributions and the lack of party affiliation, candidates would actually have to get to know their constituents.  (By the way, the third part of the plan will be to severely limit their expense accounts, cut their pay and pensions. We have to get through 1 and 2 first). You know those photos and TV ads you see of national candidates sitting with someone on a porch looking concerned? That should become the reality. Instead of big corporate donors getting the ear of your Congressman, he’s going to have to answer to you: what is the biggest priority we have now? Do you have ideas to achieve a particular goal? Does this area have a pressing need?


The Preamble to the Constitution starts with “We the People of the United States,” not “We the Bundlers of Big Donations.”  Lincoln, in the Gettysburg Address, spoke of government “Of the people, by the people, for the people.”  We’re getting ass-raped on that deal (Fuck you, Todd Akin).  We the people, the actual voters, are pretty much ignored until the Powers That Want to Be want our votes. We the people should stop enabling  this playground level partisan brawling that has rendered our Federal legislature (That’s the US House of Representatives and Senate) vapor-locked, frozen like they’d seen Medusa (Greek mythology reference) and about as useful as a screen door in a submarine.  Let’s take away their money and their smug sense of security. Let’s make them work FOR US, not for the parties.


Vote Platypus!

But VOTE!

All right, Gang, get your pens and paper to take notes. There WILL be a quiz the first Tuesday in November, November 6, 2012.

For starters, if you are (or will be) 18 at the time of the election and there is no legal impediment (lack of citizenship, for instance or having a felony record. Robert Downey, Jr. cannot vote), there is no good, valid or acceptable reason for you to not participate at this most basic level of democracy. Here’s the hard news, Kids: if we don’t get off our asses and vote, we lose this here democracy.  Those who DO exert themselves will have unchallenged authority to shape this country to suit themselves, whether you like it or not. If you don’t vote, you forfeit your right to bitch. I repeat myself from a Facebook status: there are people in Afghanistan, Iraq, Egypt and various other parts of the world who have to walk for days to cast a vote (and they do it), who are threatened with mutilation or death for exercising this right and they still go cast their ballots. We Americans, who talk big about democracy and freedom cannot be bothered to say who we want for the Leader of the Free World if it’s raining or the poodle has impacted anal glands again or we think that since the neighbor’s view are the opposite of ours, the votes will cancel each other out so why bother (this is the dumbest fucking piece of faux logic. If you actually believe this, maybe you shouldn’t have the right). The ONLY wasted votes are the ones not cast. Remember 2000? Do you think maybe, just maybe, if more franchised Americans had gone to the polls, the Supreme Court wouldn’t have had the opportunity to choose our President for us? Just a thought and yes, the Supreme Court decided the election. Frankly, I don’t think we should let it happen again.  It’s September. If you think you’re going to have trouble getting to the polls on November 6, GET AN ABSENTEE BALLOT. SIGN UP NOW. NOW, NOW, NOW.

You need to do some homework. Judging by the popularity of shows like “Jersey Shore” and “Honey You Gotta Be Fucking Kidding Me Child”,  our brains are on hold so often, you’d think the entire nation was calling Customer Service at the cable company at all hours. Here are some simple rules:

1) What a politician looks like doesn’t make a damn bit of difference. Chris Christie, the Governor of New Jersey, is a hardline conservative Republican who stopped work on a tunnel that would have connected New York City and New Jersey because he believed it was a boondoggle (look it up, People. If you were my 7th graders at Shelburne Middle School, you’d be reaching for the dictionary by now or asking if we could include it next time we played Spelling Baseball). Yet, the first thing and only thing you hear is about him being fat. Mitt Romney’s looks have nothing to do with his ability to govern effectively. Neither do Barack Obama’s. These men have records as politicians. THAT’S what matters.  By the way, William Howard Taft, the fattest President, was also the first to throw out the first baseball at a game. And after his Presidency, he was appointed to the Supreme Court.

2) Figure out what YOU believe. Seriously.

"Those who stand for nothing fall for anything."
-Alexander Hamilton

That guy.

What do you think about taxes? The healthcare reform? Would the economy benefit from taxes being cut or money being spent? How important is the question of marriage equality? On abortion, do you believe that a woman should be free to determine what happens with her body or is abortion something to be outlawed? You need to know where YOU stand on these issues so that you can accurately hear what the candidates are saying.

3) California is big on ballot propositions: everything from legalizing growing marijuana for personal use to same sex marriage to cigarette taxes. When you see the TV ads telling you to vote this way or that, you MUST MUST MUST MUST read the fine print at the end that tells you who paid for it. Like Deep Throat told Woodward and Bernstein (Watergate. 40 years ago. How old are you?) to “follow the money.” Yeah. A couple of years ago, there was a ballot initiative to raise the cigarette tax to fund cancer research.  The airwaves were plastered with ads telling people to vote no. Want to take a wild guess who the biggest sponsors of those ads were? RJ Reynolds and Phillip Morris aka BIG TOBACCO. The phrase we learned in law school is “Whose ox is gored?” In this case, had the initiative passed (it didn’t), it was likely that tobacco sales in Cali would have taken a big hit. Oh and eating Oreos puts money into RJ Reynolds’ pocket (they own Nabisco. And Kraft. So that blue box of mac n cheese? Same as buying a pack of Camels. RJR isn’t big on health).

4) Anybody who promises you ANYTHING during a campaign should be prepared to provide details and plans to back it up WITHOUT being asked. Promises without details and how-to? Fuck ‘em: that’s an empty suit talking. Oh, and if someone claims to be running on his record, familiarize yourself with it. Make sure it’s something worth bragging about.

I have never voted a straight ticket in my life. In Vermont, for a while, we had a Republican Governor in Dick Snelling (voted for him) and Democratic Lt. Governor in Madeline Kunin (voted for her). People from outside the state would be flabbergasted and ask, “How does that work?” Quite well. We were more concerned with the individuals who would hold the office rather than party affiliation (my theories on party evolution are a whole other windy blog post). I have also voted third party, written in candidates and exercised my right to vote as I see fit. But I exercised my right.

By the way, I earned Mitt Romney’s irritation way back in 1994 when I refused to let him and his campaign workers put a bumper sticker on my car. True story. That space is reserved  for the Red Sox and an “I’m Straight But Not Narrow” bumper sticker when I can find one. And AAA. No politicians.

Okay. That’s enough homework for now. We’re into the “official” Presidential campaign now, so you have a deadline. Let’s review: 1) Vote (register if necessary), 2) Figure out what’s important to you, 3) Research the candidates and 4) proceed accordingly.

Why Don't I Feel Pretty?

No, I haven’t been on the scale.

No, I haven’t been to the gym. Lingering cough that makes people move away from me or threaten to haul me to a doctor. And I’ve been working my butt off (I wish literally, but hey).

I have blonde hair, blue eyes and great legs (I speak the truth. Not a brag. The rest of me can look like a sack of fertilizer with potatoes in it, but the legs are always good).

I’ve been taking supplements (maca root, biotin and prenatal vitamins) to thicken my hair and strengthen my nails. I use Revitalash to lengthen and thicken my eyelashes and it’s working. I’m using Aveda Invati shampoo, conditioner and scalp serum for my hair. It’s working (my hair stylist told me so and she IS truthful. And highly skilled).

 I got the hair cut and colored yesterday (and I pay top dollar for it. Worth every cent). The nails are manicured (the feet pedicured) and I have new clothes, including my very first ever LITTLE BLACK DRESS.

Okay, it’s not so little (XL) and I’ll need torso Spanx, but you get the point.

I am told that I have good skin (it’s called “No sun, no smokes, plenty of water, limit alcohol and eat your veggies”).

This may make me sound high maintenance, but I’m the one who pays for it and gets it done, so I’m not a burden.  I earn a good living and don’t expect someone to support me.

I’m educated, stay up on current events (and satirize them at www.dognewsteam.com and on its Facebook page. I write some of the one-liners they post) and can carry on a conversation about a lot of stuff. What I don’t know, I generally want to learn about (unless it’s how Jee-zusss is going to come back to Earth to punish us for supporting gays and Jews and Muslims and gay Jews and Muslims who don’t give a crap about gay Jews) or how I should really have a universal life insurance policy (I used to have a life insurance/annuity license. If you can get universal insurance, do it. It’s a good investment vehicle).


So why don’t I feel like an attractive, vibrant woman, which according to all of the above, I am?
The guys my age (which is 51. Why lie? There is a birth certificate out there. I  am 2 months and 3 days older than the President) want the 25 year old arm candy. I DID once date a guy who had voted for Roosevelt (Teddy). He would have preferred the chippy in her twenties, too.

When my hair color (they call it a “weave” out here in Cali.  As I have African American friends, this caused me some confusion. Regionalisms) was complete yesterday, I loved the color, but saw a tired, middle-aged, worn face beneath it. And fat. I think I could be 98 lbs. and still see myself as fat.

I work hard at it, but I do not feel beautiful and do not really believe anyone who tells me I am (and it’s always women). Those who do are generally the lovely, generous souls who see all people as beautiful.
I have only been asked out on two dates: one guy turned out to be a perv and the other, I never heard from again. Not exactly the kind of thing that boosts one’s self-esteem or confidence.

It’s like the sum of the parts don’t equal the whole. I pay attention to my grooming, dressing, health. Doesn’t matter: no man (not a member of the Sapphic Sisterhood) has liked it well enough to put a ring on it. Or even ask it on a date.
WTF?

Motivation...

(Yeah, I’ve been silent for a while. And sick. And out of the gym. BUT I’VE STUCK TO EATING MY VEGETABLES AND IGNORING GRAINS, SUGAR AND PROCESSED FOODS).
You are about to listen in on an internal pep talk.

“Hey, Blondie, you need to get that ass of yours back to the gym.”
“No foolin’.”
“Why haven’t you gone?”
“Sickness, working overtime, working a LOT of overtime.”
“Well, Soldier, we need to realign our priorities a bit. You’re getting soft again and you NEED to be in tip top shape when it hits.”
“When what hits?”
“Zombie apocalypse.”

“That’s bullshit. Zombies? Really?”
“All those earthquakes out of Yorba Linda? It’s Nixon trying to break out. ”

“Oh, please, really?”
“Just go with it.”
“Fine. Zombie apocalypse. What do I need to do?”
“Resistance training. Get those upper body muscles REALLY strong.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re going to be swinging a shovel or a baseball bat to knock the block off of those ugly undead brain munchers. You’re going to be making like Mark McGwire or…”

“Could you please reference someone who WASN’T on steroids?”

“Ted Williams. And you’re going to need to get those legs good and strong, wonky right knee or not.”

“And that’s for…?”

“Climbing up on top of stuff. Zombies can’t climb. Their arms and legs fall off.”

“I’m in no position to argue. Stonger legs for climbing. Check. How come we’re not focusing on preventing it or curing them?”

“Because that won’t get your ass to the gym. You’re going back on 6 days a week of cardio. You’ll need endurance. You’re going to be on the move. Ever seen ‘Walking Dead?’” 

“No, and I don’t intend to. I’ll have nightmares. Zombie Girl Scouts and all – one even showed up at a Halloween party.”

“See? Ass. Gym. Tomorrow.”
“What about vampires?”
“What about them? Ever see ‘Buffy, the Vampire Slayer’?”

“No. I’m not up on pop culture, I admit it. I’m not part of the Whedon-verse. I am a dweeb. But ask me about baseball, jazz, history or Star Wars.”

“Well, Buffy kicked vampire ass. Literally. You can’t do it with tapioca tush or Christmas hams where your upper arms are supposed to be. Now, get going.”

25 Things to Love About Being American

A Bunch of  Things to Love About Being American (in  no particular order):

1) It’s hot here in Southern California today (not as bad as some parts of the country have been, to be sure. Hey, global warming doubters? Suck it): I’m not required to wear head to toe covering. I CAN if I want to, but it’s also acceptable to be in public in shorts, tank top and flip flops (Yes, Mom, I showered, did my hair and applied mascara first).

2) Hot dogs

3) I’m relieving the heat with a Dark & Stormy (DARK rum and ginger beer). Well, sort of. I don’t have Gosling’s Black Seal Rum, which is the quill for Dark & Stormies.

4) I can say “Fuck the Yankees” without censorship. I could also say the same thing about the IRS, Republican ticket and the Dallas Cowboys, if I so choose. 

5) The tire store was open today. Technically, if the business was hardcore “Christian” , it would have been closed today.(seriously, if you’re going to shut down for the Christian Sabbath – Sunday – but give money to organizations that promote intolerance, your “Christianity” deserves to be questionable. Christ didn’t have limits). I got some necessities for the home, my lunch for the week and  accomplished some stuff because of the still putative secular nature of our society.

6) Immigrants who have brought their food, God bless them: burritos (although I don’t eat them), avgolemono soup, bubble tea, kappa maki sushi with avocado (it’s cucumber and avocado. I like it.  A lot). Ropa viejai. It’s all good.

7) Shark Week on Discovery Channel.

8) “The Daily Show With Jon Stewart”

9) www.dognewsteam.com. Dog News. It parodies Fox News and in America, nobody gets locked up. They have an ongoing series called “Stump” that parodies the Presidential election process. Pussy Riot just got locked up in Russia for mocking Putin. How long do you think Dog News would have lasted?

10) I’m 51, unmarried and it’s okay.  Actually, I’m renting from a great, laid-back lady and her dog and cat love me. Life is good.

11) I can get a drink of clean water just by turning on the faucet.

12) My most involved discussion today was divided into the relative merits of Tide Boost v. Oxi-Clean and the Tide Pen v. Shout Wipes (Shout Wipes rule).

13) My neighborhood isn’t  getting shelled by government forces. It’s not getting shelled by rebel forces. It’s not getting shelled, period.

14) Bacon. No limits (and yes, according to Steve Kamb, www.nerdfitness.com , it’s on the Paleo Diet). 

15) I can live anywhere I want in the USA. I chose Southern Cal. 

16) We get to choose what newspapers to read, TV channels to watch, food to eat and teams to support. Suck it, Yankees, Giants (football), Rays, Cowboys, Lakers, Jets (NY or Winnipeg) Canadiens (Habs), Heat and especially the fuckin’ Yankees.

17) Even if the tax rate goes back up to 39.6 (Clinton-era rates. They worked, by the  way), I can afford to support myself. 

18) Classic rock radio stations. And if I get sick of listening to them, there are about 10,000 other different things I can listen to FOR FREE on the radio  (not including Sirius).

19) I’m free to eat barbecued ribs/chops/pig.

20) If I get sick of  being a Congregational Protestant, I can choose to follow another faith without government interference.

21) If I decided to drive to Disney World in Orlando, FL (Disneyland being about 2 miles down the road), I can do it without having to get approval from any government or even have papers other than a driver’s license, registration and proof of insurance (if the state requires it). It’s A Small World. We are free to move about the country (except for the unintended consequences of SB 1070 in Arizona. Hey, Jan Brewer, Governor of Arizona, to enforce your stupid fucking law without racial profiling, I’LL have to carry my passport in case I’m stopped in Sedona. You fucking stupid bitch, you. And that’s another thing I love about America. I can call the Governor of a sovereign state  a fucking stupid bitch without official consequence). I could leave the country if I so chose. Hey, Rush Limbaugh: you SAID you’d move to Costa Rica if Affordable Health Care was upheld. Need help packing”

22) State fairs that experiment with the limits of deep frying, even if I don’t indulge. What[‘s his name, Abel _____ in Texas who deep fries damned near everything for the Texas State Fair?  Go for it, Dude.  You’re earning a damned fine living.

23) We got a fucking SUV on Mars. Yeah, Bitch, MARS.

24) It is written into the Constitution that the sins of the father will not be held against the offspring (Madoffs, Mansons, Bushes). It’s also written into the Constitution that nobody foreign born will be President (and that was specifically to screw over Alexander Hamilton, the guy on the $10 bill, born in Jamaica). Hey birthers: He proved it. Shut the fuck up.

25) I can write a list like this without interference. 

The Viral Post

The first clue that I was coming down with something should have been the iced tea craving.

Never mind that I had felt like there was a golf ball under my jaw. In the past, I have been the queen of over-reaction (I have a zit. LEPROSY!!!!!!AAAAAUUUUUGGGGHHHHHH!!!!!). However, I like to think I’m much cooler now. Okay. Swollen lymph node. No sweat. It’ll pass. A couple of friends that I’d talked to ON THE PHONE were ill with some kind of upper respiratory infection  and  I had just seen the tail end of “Mr. Skeffington” (Bette Davis. Claude Rains. ‘Nuff said) and Fanny Skeffington is “ravaged” by diphtheria.

Fanny Skeffington before

Fanny Skeffington After. Ew.

Not knowing the effects, I had looked it up on Wikipedia and the golf ball in the jaw materialized hours later. I told my brain not to be such an idiotic wuss and knock it off, for God’s sake. I ain’t catchin’ nuthin’ from nobody. Because I said so.

Okay, so the iced tea was the second clue. Denial is powerful.

I found myself waking up in the middle of the night covered in sweat (not unusual: it’s in the mid-90s here and not cooling off at night, I’m in menopause) with a raw throat and a uvula that felt like Muhammed Ali had used it for a speed bag. Okay, I was probably snoring. Again. And the golf ball was gone, but every lymph node I owned was screaming “Red Alert.”

Nah. I’m not sick. I haven’t been exposed. I don’t think. It’s just from the way I’ve been sleeping.

Still craving the iced tea…and water…it's HOT out, I am NOT sick...and avgolemono soup (Greek chicken soup).

I can’t get sick, I thought. I’m protected by a flu shot. They always boost my immunity. Colds? Flu? Pshaw. I am mighty.

The germs are mightier. Little fuckers.

I rummaged in my purse and found Advil Cold and Sinus. Apparently, I needed Advil Cold, Sinus and Black Death. No good: I heard teeny tiny laughter (think Horton hearing a Who. A nasty, vicious cheerleading bitch Who)

Time for the heavy artillery. Time for NyQuil.

Denis Leary referred to NyQuil’s flavor as “Green Death.” Mucinex has an equal number that while it’s not green, it tastes every bit as filthy as NyQuil. And it is a shade of blue not found in Nature (Merry Berry, my ass). However, they work.  I don’t want to know how.

As previously mentioned,  we have a heat wave here in Southern California (go ahead and gloat, rest of US. We got ours. We also had 2 moderate earthquakes within 12 hours of each other. Shake N Bake! Oh shut up: you’re jealous because I got there first). I found myself lying in bed the other night, after downing the Blue Death (sorry, Denis) and thinking, “I have a fever and the land has a fever. When I am ill, the land is ill…I AM MOTHER EARTH!”

New theory: Jim Morrison thought he was the Lizard King. I don’t think he was into mushrooms, LCD, heroin or anything like that. Mr. Mojo Rising must been into the NyQuil. Did anyone check the Lizard King for a green tongue?

Of course, there is always the Overprotective Parent at work. One sneeze and he/she is demanding that your desk be moved so that your bourgeois germs are not carried home to Versailles to infect precious little Disney, his/her daughter (Conceived in vitro with twin brother Walter. Couldn’t you just vomit?) After all, little Disney is just getting over the sniffles herself.

I’ve got news: little Disney is a biological warfare weapon, as is her runny-nosed brother. They’re in daycare, a veritable critical mass of microbes. You, OP, are immune because you are a carrier monkey.  You are Typhoid Douchebag.

And just to make it official, we have the “productive cough.” Bronchial phlegm, thick and salty. My favorite.
And Tiggers the Cat has been hanging close. Buffett, Vicki, Samba, Cookie, George and Toulouse (not all at once) would stay with me when I was sick. If I was in bed, there would always be at least one furry body with me (they took turns). If I was just being lazy, there were sunbeams to absorb and birds to watch; I was on my own.

I admit it. I’ve been invaded and occupied. Call me Afghanistan.

This shall pass. I’m not going to the gym and that’s making me antsy (good sign). I made my soup, but it’s too hot to temper eggs, so rather than a traditional avgolemono, it was a think chicken stock, breast meat, rice (yes, it’s acceptable Primal. Ask Mark Sisson. www.marksdailyapple.com) and lemon. I juiced two lemons into the pot and another one into my bowl (I like lemon flavor that punches you in the nose). Protein, Vitamin C…that’s a combo that would fuck up any germ.

And  I give you Ogden Nash’s whimsical, “The Germ”

A mighty creature is the germ,
Though smaller than the pachyderm.
His customary dwelling place
Is deep within the human race.
His childish pride he often pleases
By giving people strange diseases.
Do you, my poppet, feel infirm?
You probably contain a germ.


You little fuckers don't scare me: I've beaten your kind before; the minuscule bodies of your ancestors and cousins rot at my feet. I laugh at your fevers, your nausea, your...

God, it's time for more Blue Death.

What is Joy?

The scale is still in its box. However, I have been eating a helluva lot better than I was 2 years ago. Back off.

What is joy?

Yes, I know it’s a dish washing detergent. Or one of my favorite perfumes (expensive stuff, but it loves me and I love it). But those things got their name from the emotion. I think we have a severe shortage of it right now, so I’m asking the question:

What is joy? How often do you feel it? Do you things to generate it? Do you postpone it? What is your relationship to joy?

Think about it for a minute. Can you answer  those questions?

Joy is necessary, really. It’s like sleep or a nutritious meal. It recharges the batteries, refuels the tank. I ask again: what’s your relationship to joy?


I am blessed/lucky enough to live in a nice house (now) with an easy-going roommate, an adorable little dog and a cat who knows a sucker when he sees one. The backyard is a source of joy and enjoyment:

  Lavender that I added. It's a great landscaping plant.

  A mix including something called "super bells." The lady in the Home Depot Garden Center told me it was a   hummingbird candy store. I didn't get a picture, but the local buzz bombs are already checking it out.

Plumeria. When the breeze swirls around the backyard, you can get a whiff of the lavender or the plumeria.

It's peaceful back there. It's a great way to downshift from a hard day.

This is joy. And Tiggers. If a cat feels at ease enough to sleep, it's a peaceful spot, indeed.

Joy can be a quiet, meditative thing.

Or, it can be as Douglas Adams defined it:
'... on the planet Earth, man had always assumed that he was more intelligent than dolphins because he had achieved so much—the wheel, New York, wars and so on—whilst all the dolphins had ever done was muck about in the water having a good time. But conversely, the dolphins had always believed that they were far more intelligent than man—for precisely the same reasons."

 I don't have the best camera, but yes that is a BABY dolphin swimming with Mom. And they're surfing on the bow wake of the whale watching boat. For them, it's fun. For the people watching them play in the water, that's fun, too.

 And again. What you don't see is the 8 year old girl going out of her mind because this is the first time she's ever seen real live dolphins and we were in a pod of about 200 common dolphins with lots and lots of dolphin calves.

 Unfortunately, I couldn't get pictures of the two blue whales  Of course, I was too busy WATCHING the biggest animals that have EVER existed on Earth? T Rex can suck it.

Now, if animals, whose lives are spent hunting and eating (and sleeping and making little dolphins,(EXTREMELY CUTE little dolphins) can find the time to just play, that says something about the importance of joy and play.

I'm still smiling over 3 hours spent on a boat over a week ago. And I sat in the backyard watching the hummingbird snack at a feeder. Picture? No. I lifted the camera and she took off. However, I understand there's a whole family hanging out back there. I get joy from spoiling hummingbirds.

What's your joy?