After witnessing almost half my country (including perhaps most evangelicals) embrace lies from a false prophet so easily, I find myself wondering if all orthodox religions might be a holdover from primitive mythologies. Is the Christian trinity but a remnant from an ancient pantheon of gods? Some want to unite church and state. I guess that’s what the crusades were all about: power. As for me, I’m glad if you have a god you can trust. I’m happy for you. Hang onto him/her/them/it.
My current readings in evolution keep me wondering.
Is a sense of humor catching or just comes with the genes? When did you start laughing, and did you ever stop? Do you ever laugh out loud reading or when you’ve made a blooming mess? In seccret do you find dark humor funny or leave a meeting due to giggles? Have you felt the laughter healing, reassured in the belly that you’re onto a good thing: you!
Do blacks laugh more than whites? Seems they maybe do–black women, solid underneath. I remember Georgia, black sitter for us kids, who laughed at Arthur Godfrey and all the little Godfreys, Warm and cheery, she laughed until her husband died and left us because she cold not repay my father’s loan. I hope she’s out there somewhere a laughing up a storm with humor deeper than tears.
If humor’s a defense, Hail Mary! All my bases are covered.
For most of my life I was an enabler. Still have to fight it. We have enabled Donald Trump (the “real” Trump?) Ho. We have enabled his pretend presidency. He has raised gullible children.
I haven’t been alone. Cared for his feelings while he defecates on the American Dream. Impeach him one day and enable his leaving on a red carpet and a military gun salute “not to make him mad?” Present him with a list of those who voted for impeachment? Come on! I trust he will not be allowed a flyover on inauguration day, as I earlier protested.
Good parenting is called “natural consequences.” How dare him play nasty on the American Dre
Trump announced he is going to leave the the white house by plane the morning of the inauguration. He has requested a fancy ceremony including a flyover Washington. NO NO NO! A bomb might deliver him back in control, coup achieved. As we’ve seen, there are a few dissidents in our armed services.
(I tried to post this on the LIFE Issues Page–no luck)
DRAGON PARENTS — Author Emily Rapp came up with this term after her baby was diagnosed with Tay-Sachs disease. She knew then and there that Ronan would never walk or talk and he would likely die before the age of 4.
“My firstborn son was born with a condition that prevents the intestine from absorbing nutrients or water for the body. It affects only 1 in 5 million babies, and it’s so rare that one doctor felt confident telling us that we would be screwed if that’s what our baby had. He was also the one who had to break the news to us later.
“Dragon parents have a lot to say about parenting, even if they know their children will die young or even if we have no idea whether our babies will live.
“We will not launch our children into a bright and promising future, but see them into early graves … This requires a new ferocity, a new way of thinking, a new animal. We are dragon parents, fierce and loyal and loving as hell. Our experiences have taught us how to parent for the here and now, for the sake of parenting, for the humanity implicit in the act itself … Parenting, I’ve come to understand, is about loving my child today. Now. In fact, for any parent anywhere, that’s all there is.”
“I had thought that my expertise in child development would help prepare me for becoming a parent. Instead, becoming a parent helped me see the science in a whole new light.
“… Appreciate how powerful your moments with them can be because of what they mean for you and your child right now — not because of what they mean for your child long-term, which you cannot know.
I’m going to quit writing awhile, if I can. Too much going on and I’m too revved up for sensible conversation. You know that story I was pretending to write about the 2020 election? I don’t need to write any more in order to discover what kind of story it turned out to be. It is/was a horror story.
Somehow Bob Woodward’s book FEAR came into my hands without seeking, and I feel nauseated to find how stagecrafted Trump’s election was, how encouraged and how others modeled him like clay into being elected. He switched from being pro choice to pro life among other positions just for the pleasure of what would become his base. From the beginning his behavior was guideded and shaped by skillful goal oriented individuals who exercised their skills at manipulation in a behind the scenes dishonest game. He doesn’t seem to believe in anything except winning at the role adopted for him by behind the scenes despicables. All were surprised their games worked (backfired? farted?) and they succeeded in presenting the United States with a pretend president who had to be watched cafrefully. Letters were surreptitiously removed from his desk before signing in order to protect our country from him, etc., after he became the first president with unpredictable temper tantrums and irrational proposed actions.
So, I’m aggravated with news media for calling the “leaks” unpatriotic for trying to keep him from irreparable international harm, when they’re not only risking their jobs but trying to offset Trump’s rampant impulsive tantrums and elevator basement morality. By the way, anyone heard from the evangelicals recently?
And I do turn the tv off when the young “miracle worker” sells his gadget that will mechanically tell you that the best is yet to come for you, you are blessed with unanticipated good things in your future–sight unseen, of course. That one’s a money maker, all right, maybe run for president in 2024. Anyone heard from other evangelicals recently?
Sorry, hate to leave you with discouraging thoughts. I’ve set my card table up in my bedroom to facilitate drawing, collage making and poetry writing. I’m going to try and let my blog writing cool off a bit. Peace.
When I woke this morning I was trying to write a poem. I kept negating my attempts because I didn’t want to discourage anyone with my unhappiness. I thought about the blogging enterprise and how I’ve pretty much been shielding readers from my pain part. I’ve been less than real to protect others from me!??? (Not great unhappiness, just griping.)
So, I thought about starting a brand new blog, maybe called TALKING TO MYSELF. I thought maybe I could alter one of my pages, instead. I set about looking to see what would be the best page. I had forgotten I have one called DIARY, and read it and liked it. I wouldn’t have to change anything, just start using it. The thing is, with pages new entries are at the bottom, and one has to go past earlier stuff to get there, unless one takes the time to change that each time. I think I’d be willing to do that to avoid the non-understood charges associated with a blog.
Then I visited the page where I gave away my best book on a PDF, to see if anyone had read or copied it. Since I’d put in no counter, I only saw that Sound Eagle had “liked” it. Sound Eagle was the only “Like” for the Diary page, too. And I (ahem) likew it and had forgotten the good stuff. My best page is the fun page [relaxation? Pleasure?] I forget what it’s called. I haven’t got the hang of how to post on a page and let folks know. Anyone else solved this problem? I think I need a wet nurse technician. I seem to have been halted in posting images by WP. Wish I could return to wiping out G Guggenheim (that’s not the right name) forever and not let it get into the act at all! Often I don’t see the words “Classic editor.”
Something’s in my WP “cart” and I’m afraid to find out what. I don’t understand what costts and what doesn’t. I thought once I had a computer and name for my blog I was pretty much paid up. It seems some of the offerings on my computer come with price tags. I’ll bite the bullet and find out what’s unpaid in my cart…maybe tonight…Maybe that’s why I can’t post images any more….Have an interesting day watching tv! Goodness. I watched it yesterday on my computer/PBS live. Goodness…