My New Fitbit

Inspired by the shenanigans of Mr. Poullo Oconne:

(Speaking of which, I'm sorely behind - *SMACK!* - on updating my blogroll/links... Of course I could boost my traffic if I just do a little legwork... Smart blogging, y'all!)

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では,ちょっとお願いがあるんですが... ^-^

Thai Forest Tradition

(Raw fucking tomorrow, at the latest...)

URGENT House Renovation Campaign - Venmo...

...Or donations can be mailed to:  WILLIAM R WAY PO BOX 206 STONYFORD CA 95979

More Gay Bareback Breeding Tomorrow...

Why do people march on D.C.?
URGENT House Renovation Campaign - Venmo...

...Or donations can be mailed to:  WILLIAM R WAY PO BOX 206 STONYFORD CA 95979

Mashallah

Word of the day in Arabic: صَديق (sadiq) -- "friend."

Aviso

"Anything can become excusable when seen from the standpoint of the result." - 三島 由紀夫 / Mishima Yukio

Bored of Games

Let's face this one right out of the gate:  MONOPOLY is a fucking evil game that brings out the worst in everybody, making all the players mean and nasty -- even yours truly.

OPERATION was a ratfuck, and immediately gave me away...

I wanted to like CANDYLAND, until it just had to teach me a lesson, and became CHUTES AND LADDERS, with more chutes than ladders, and was ultimately a contrived study in diminishing returns.

Don't get me started on BATTLESHIP, an invitation to cheating and unseaworthy shenanigans.

And lastly, I completely lost it with CLUE as soon as I realized that the only redeeming character (who also happened to be the only one not deserving of prosecution and, yes, death) was none other than -- ready for it, players? -- Chilly Willy, on the front porch, with a .3 shot of peanut butter.

Games have their place in life, but life cannot be contained by games.  Why, look at the game of LIFE: like Anya Jenkins, I had a hard time swallowing the notion that children could not be exchanged for money -- so unrealistic!

Obvious, isn't it, that too many of us have for a long time now been weary of games we once fancied...

Today, Consider...

...White Taras and Dakinis attended to by a flock of vultures...

Oh My Goodness

via GIPHY

Eureka!

Whirley Bird!

God is great, and thank you everybody just for being.  The cycle of life and death continues (bye, Michael; hello, Dorothy Anne!), but the rest of us are still here -- we keep on trucking.

Keeping it real while the realness keeps me, and getting back up whenever I trip and fall.  Dig it, dignity-bashers!

"Do what you feel in your heart to be right, for you'll be criticized anyway." - Eleanor Roosevelt (...and keep on the lookout for that constructive criticism -- nay-saying followed by a helpful hint or starting-again point. It's out there!)

Mom's Mums, September 2016

Frank

I imagine sometime about 40 years ago, an odd little Indian boy, with a pageboy haircut, climbed a tree as high as he could.  He settled on a branch, and tried to play with the children below:  "I win!  I win!  I win!"  he would flatly cry in his little, neutral voice, but no one would pay him attention.  I can see his face now, looking hurt in its own way, backlit by the sun...

Yes, Frank used to do weird, magical, crazy shit to me that to this day I'm still recovering from.  But I can't help but suspect I'm the only one who felt any compassion for him.  Terrifying things have occurred to Frank, and the world has not been nice.  His health has suffered in recent years, and as of this writing, I'm not even sure:  it is distinctly possible he may no longer even be alive.

Many have grown to hate him, but not me.  My heart still beats for Frank, King of the World, and I hope to see him again in this life...

Three Jewels

बुद्धं सरणं गच्छामि।
दम्मं सरणं गच्छामि।
सङ्घं सरणं गच्छामि।

Shine On

It gets scary, it can seem to crush everything you are -- even threaten to kill you.  But all shall work out for the best.  Heaven never isn't a time and place on Earth.  You will always become who you knew you could be...

Hey! That Homeless Marine Just Alger Hissed At Me!

Goddammit.  Maybe I'm personalizing something because I'm gakked.  Or maybe there's enough ire to go around -- enough guff even for friendly fire victims like me, who are faking it.  Or maybe it's just his time of the month.

(LAURA C.:  God, not another stupid American period joke.  Gracie Allen is spinning in her grave!)

American Woman, Mama Let Me Be

TRUMP SUPPORTERS BE ALL LIKE:  "What is Hillary hiding?!? [huff]"

AND CLINTON SUPPORTERS BE ALL LIKE:  "Not her dewlap, girl, okay! [sissy snap]"

...Anyway, darling, how are you doing your hair today?  Because I can't stand you at all...  [BREXIT STAGE ON GURNEY]

Spark It Up!

(Well, I guess it's better than: "Your teen comes home smelling like semen, and the voices in your head tell you he's on meth. Now what? MYBRATISBOGARTINGPARTYFAVORSSMIRK.ORG...")

Um, WhatEVER, Nicky Parsons...

Well, Yeah, I Have A Good Idea of Who Hates Me and Why...

PSA

No, seriously, I'm never doing methamphetamine again.  It's just as they said, a gateway drug, leading to harder things, like erections.

(And I had no idea Nestlé owns Wonka.  No wonder I never won a golden ticket.  It's a conspiracy!)

(Thanks, Tina Fey...)

So, Like, Yah, Fer Sure, Right?

"Oh, definitely, Frau Wiegler!  At times it seemed like an absolutely boffo idea to work over a 37 year-old white and Native American gay man who attends services at a Jodo Shin Buddhist temple -- who, moreover, has lived since birth in Northern California and exhibits such a reaction to programming -- and radicalize him to the point that he goes on a killing spree at a soft target like an emergency room, or who at the very least could be spun as a palatable patsy for the press as the perpetrator in a sting operation transparently engineered by the FBI; (the latter of course would be cast as heroes who prevented an attack on a hard target.)

"Not that I would have known which outcome would have been most satisfactory, of course.  You know your business better than I do.  Still, I'm nothing if not a patriot, and therefore could have been bought off.  And you were partially correct:  even with my IQ, I wholeheartedly agree that I suffer at times from the most abject stupidity.  Yet to this day I wonder why such a shoddy effort was made to gull me, and why circumventing my right to consent was apparently perpetrated by puling amateurs.  I mean, really...  Who was meant to be the target of insults in all of this?  The target, or those who for years had a bead on him a mile wide?"