A Richer Kind of Time - A Poem

When you are slowly dying

You spend a lot of time

Thinking about quality.

Quality of life

Of medical care

Of relationships.

Quality of your time.

You try to fill your days

With constructive

And positive

And useful things to do

You concentrate on the good

And try like hell

To fix the bad

And push it away

When you can't.

And it's okay

To cry

When your life clock

Stands at 3 minutes

To midnight

And you don't want to go yet.

Me, I don't fear it

I also don't seek it

I know it's coming

And I realized

It could happen tomorrow

In a car wreck

Or a Walmart shooter's spree

Or I could defy

My multiple diagnoses

And live another 25 years.

Nobody knows for sure

When the Reaper

Decides to show up.

So I live for the day,

I make them count

I love on my family

I love on my friends

My dogs

And really most importantly

I love on myself.

I am not living

On borrowed time

I merely live

On shortened time.

And when 

You make it good

That is enough.

Copyright Jennifer Thomas, 2026

Rules for Thee, Freedom for Me: The Deep Hypocrisy of the Modern Right

There is a distinct psychological mechanism running the modern American hard right, and it is a textbook case of psychological projection. The formula is as predictable as it is shameless: whatever structural corruption, ethical rot, or lawless behavior ultra-conservative leaders are actively committing—or planning to commit—they immediately accuse their political opponents of doing first. It creates a chaotic smoke screen, ensuring that by the time their own scandals come to light, the public is too exhausted by the non-stop noise to notice. But when you strip away the flags, the slogans, and the manufactured outrage, the reality becomes undeniable. The MAGA movement has systemically transformed the very grievances they spent a decade fundraising on into their actual policy blueprint.

Welcome to Trumpland USA

If there were a chance it would be published, I would send this letter to the New York Times, the Christian Science Monitor, the WaPo, and every other major paper. But it would not be published.

To the Editor,

I am looking at the absolute state of this country, and I want to know when the hell people are going to wake up to what that orange fool is doing in the White House. This lunatic is literally building a bunker inside the fucking ballroom, and the spineless bastards around him are just letting it happen. 

Mean Girls, You've Got To Be Kind!

I was at Walmart one day and there was a guy sitting on a bench at the front near the registers. He was very obviously profoundly developmentally disabled, completely in his own world, and just having an absolute blast. I can't remember exactly what he was doing, but he was making a fair bit of noise, maybe listening to music because he was singing and chair dancing right there. 

Then these three teenage girls walked by. They were about 16, really pretty, fashionably dressed, the total cheerleader popular mean girl types. They noticed him and immediately started laughing and pointing, mimicking him and just being incredibly mean about it. 

The Windy City and Me

The roots of Chicago stay with you, no matter how many miles or years pile up. For me, that footprint started when I was eleven years old, living for four unforgettable months on South Kedzie Avenue with my Gramma Mary. Down on the Southwest Side, near Gage Park and Chicago Lawn, the city had a distinct, working-class grit. At eleven, that stretch of Kedzie was my entire universe. It was a world of brick two-flats, corner stores, and the constant, lively hum of the neighborhood. It was an eye-opening introduction to the real heart of the city. 

Years later, I returned to Chicago as an adult, but this time, the city showed us a completely different side of its character. 

Root and Branch: A Union of Faith and Tradition

According to Judaism, non-Jews are expected to follow the Seven Laws of Noah (often called the Noahide Laws).

Jewish tradition teaches that these are ancient, universal moral commandments given by God to Noah and his family after the flood, making them binding for all of humanity.

Here is the list of the seven laws:

1) Do not worship idols: Believe in the one true God and do not pray to statues or false deities. (When I'm in a belief phase, I am a Catholic. I do not PRAY to statues, but I DO talk to them. And even as an atheist I talk to my statue of the Blessed Virgin Mother.)

2) Do not blaspheme: Do not curse God or use His name profanely. (I am working on that because a few of my friends absolutely wince when I say God Damn It.)

3) Do not commit murder: Respect the value of human life. (And any rabbi will tell you: The most important thing to know about Jewish law is that a fetus is not considered a full legal person until the moment of birth. Because of this, Jewish law actually mandates abortion if the pregnancy poses a threat to your physical or mental life. The life of the person carrying the pregnancy always takes absolute priority. So abortion is not murder.)

4) Do not commit sexual immorality: Practice moral sexual behavior, which traditionally prohibits acts like adultery and incest. (I would say that it's not adultery if everybody involved consents to such things as polyamory or even swinging, only when it's secret and sly.)

5) Do not steal: Do not take what belongs to others, whether through theft, fraud, or kidnapping. (This one really needs no commentary!)

6) Do not eat meat torn from a living animal: Practice humanity toward animals, which means not causing them unnecessary cruelty or eating flesh taken from an animal while it is still alive. (I like this one, because it teaches to be kind with creatures.)

7) Establish courts of justice: Set up a fair legal system and government to enforce these laws and ensure a just society. (Wish this one worked these days, but holy COW are SCOTUS and other courts a disaster. They've all been packed by the Orange Atrocity and are destroying the Constitution.)

In my opinion these are the most sensible rules I've ever heard, though I'm not sure about the God stuff, since I'm in a non-believing phase in my life. However, I am starting to lean back toward Catholicism. 

I make this promise now:

If I DO end up in a belief phase again (my faith flows and ebbs, and I just ride with it) I swear, will not shove Jesus down your throats. I will occasionally mention things like if I ever get confirmed or if I make a rosary or have a profound thought. But I won't do daily religion.

A Catholic who follows Jewish Law for Gentiles. Interesting. And reasonable. There is room for both. 

Timothy Busfield and Being A Predator

This may or may not be an unpopular opinion.

But I believed Timothy Busfield at first. I don't know why, I just did.

Then more and more allegations came out. And we all know predation is a pattern of behavior, it's not generally a one-time thing, and he is KNOWN to have settled at least one accusation case for an undisclosed amount.

The only weird thing is that the other accusers were all women, all close to or over than 18. These new ones are twin boys, who were apparently age seven at the beginning. 

I am not going to convict anybody without hearing all the evidence, but it sure doesn't look good.

I feel awful for his poor heartbroken wife.  But if the evidence proves he did it, he needs to go to prison.

Big Yellow Taxi of Life

I have no life, am bedridden by chronic illness and mobility impairment, so I have all the time in the world to read and do my hobbies.

But, I miss being busy

"Don't it always seem to go that you don't know what you've got til its gone?" Man, if I'd known how much i would miss those insanely busy days!

I used to wish i could stay in bed all day. the reality is, doing that sucks. It's insanely boring and repetitive, each day is the same as the one before, the only differences are what you're reading, what you're watching, which hobby you're engaging in.

I'm glad to be alive, though.

8647 For Fuck's Sake!

 

The man:

• Wants to be on a US stamp.
• Wants to replace FDR on the dime.
• Wants a Triumphal Arch overlooking Arlington Cemetery.
• Wants a Nobel Peace Prize
• Wants the reflecting pool to be country club pool blue 
• Wants a fucking ballroom
• Wants to suck Putin's cock.
• Has added himself to our passports
• Is on a 24K plated commemrative coin that the US mint sells for approx$50.
• Has his cabinet praise him one person at a time before meetings
• Persecutes (and prosecutes) his political enemies
• The Kennedy Center. 'Nuff said.
• Considers himself on a par with Jesus H Crucified Christ
• He illegally invaded a sovereign nation and kidnapped its president
• Wants to pave Palestine and turn it into a fucking casino or summat

He spends most of his time bitching and griping about these non-issues, like a toddler throwing a tantrum to get what it wants. Meanwhile, there's a war, there's a big blockade, there's no affordable gas, soon there will be no gas at all, and then the food and other commodity shortages start. 

He's more interested in his orange face being on a stamp than in pulling our troops out of Iran or any real issue on this planet and in this country.

He needs to go.

8647 - 25th Amendment NOW! Congress used to have balls. Now it's a bunch of fucking sycophants groveling at his feet and licking his smegma laden uncircumcised schlong and not doing its job. Grow a new set, assholes. 

Come and get me for saying 8647. Here's a fucking history lesson for you:

"The term "86" originated in the 1920s-1930s as American restaurant and soda jerk slang for running out of an item, likely evolving as rhyming slang for "nix". It expanded to mean kicking out customers or refusing service, with popular, though unverified, theories linking it to [Chumley’s Speakeasy] at 86 Bedford St. or Prohibition-era police tactics. [1, 2, 3, 4, 5]

Most Likely Origins:

• Soda Jerk/Diner Code: In the 1930s, staff used numerical codes (e.g., 81 was water). "86" meant an item was sold out.
• Rhyming Slang: It is often considered a direct, witty rhyme for "nix" (to cancel or reject). [1, 2, 3]

Common Origin Myths & Theories:

• Chumley’s Speakeasy: Located at 86 Bedford St. in New York, police would allegedly tell the bartender to "86" patrons out the back door before a raid.
• Prohibition Era: Bartenders would serve a rowdy customer 86-proof liquor to get them drunk faster so they would leave.
• Supplies/Space: Early diners only held 85 items, or in soup kitchens, the 86th person got nothing.
• Military Code: Reference to the F-86 fighter jet shooting down an enemy, or Article 86 (AWOL) of the Uniform Code of Military Justice. [1, 2]

Today, it is commonly used in hospitality to mean an item is gone, or that a customer is no longer allowed on the premises. [1]" (History.Com and Wikipedia)

NOWHERE does it mention it as a term for icing somebody. Nowhere.

When somebody is egomaniacal and utterly fucking deranged, he sues everybody who so much as looks at him strangely. He orders his subordinates to investigate and prosecute his enemies as a revenge tactic for having the sheer effontery to stand against him.And when somebody is delusional and incredibly stupid, he tilts at windmills and sits around on his ass.

86 fucking 47. The world cannot wait. World War 3 is starting, because of his insane policies. There is unrest here at home, and a growing global disgust for the US due to Donald Trump's hubris. 

He has got to be stopped by any LEGAL means necessary. While he's #2 on my Dead Pool List, I do not advocate violence against anybody.25th Amendment, Impeachment and Conviction, something else non-violent and legal, but it's got to stop. It's really got to stop. 

I cannot believe that there are people in this country, a LOT of people, who think he's the best thing that ever happened to the US and the world. Who believe every word out of his mouth. Who consider all liberals to be traitors to the US. Who cannot see that this man embodies the biblical description of the Antichrist they believe in.  That he is craven, childish, and creepy. He is a danger to the entire planet and he has control of "the football".

Get me the fuck out of here and 8647. Last week.

Prose Writing from the past

Back in the 90s, I started an IRC channel called #Bards, where a group of us would get together every week and share/recite the poems and stories we had written for an appreciative audience. Here are some of the stories I wrote.



Once there were mountains that no longer exist on this planet today, canyons that have long since been filled with dust and earth, and become part of the prairies, and people the likes of which will never be seen on this earth again..

Assorted Poetry

This post holds a lot of poems I wrote back in the 80s and 90s, in no particular order. Enjoy!

I Cried

 

July 1 1961 - August 31 1997

As soon as I heard of Princess Diana's death, the chorus of an old song began running through my mind. I think it is apropos to the moment..

Why I Write

Ever since penmanship stopped being a burden and became something that I could do well (around the age of 12, I was a late penmanship bloomer), I have been an avid writer. It did not come easily, though.

I remember suffering over "Creative Writing" exercises in 4th, 5th, and 6th grades. Being told that I was not writing poetry correctly because my poems had neither rhyme nor meter, being told that my choice of subject matter was uninteresting, being told that my stories lacked (pick something)..

The Hands

Early morning memory...

Prophets, Profits, and Predatory Pyramids

TL;DR: MLMs are a predatory plague that feast on women's insecurities and social lives. Utah is the giant, culty heart of this scam, where missionary tactics are repurposed to sell overpriced essential oils and ugly leggings.

More Inside...

This is who I am

I’m a proud, raging liberal democrat and a fierce LGBT+ ally who raised three amazing fucking kids while navigating a world that usually needs to get its shit together.

I’m elfi, and along with being a 61-year-old artist with a house full of animals, I’m a proud, raging liberal democrat. I’ve lived through enough history to know that standing up for people matters, so being a dedicated LGBT+ ally isn't a choice; it’s just who I am.

I spend my time designing Zentangle patterns like Infinite Eights and putting together The Eclectic Freak Manifesto because I’m a fucking artist, not some hobbyist.

I’m also the mother of three amazing fucking kids (Lis, Ian, and Ava). They’re the best things I’ve ever done, even if the rest of the world is a goddamn mess. I spent my time moving from Boston to San Francisco to Texas, and honestly, only finishing the 8th grade gave me more common sense than most people with a PhD.

The elfi Essentials:

The Music: I worship at the "Holy Trinity" (James Taylor, Joni Mitchell, and Carole King). But don't get it twisted; I’ve got enough punk in me to run a Ramones fanzine.

The Diet: Get those goddamn fries away from me. I want the burger, an Arby’s gyro, and a white birch beer. That’s it.

The Vibe: I watch Bob Ross to stay "relaxed," which is a miracle considering I’m currently stuck using a laptop while waiting for a friend to send me a new computer.

I’m one step at a time, simple solutions only, and for the love of god, stop assuming you know what I’m thinking. 

Penny for your thoughts

When I was ten, I made my artist grandmother a cross for her wall by cutting a couple of chopsticks into shorter pieces with a steak knife, using a leather bootlace to bind them together, and then I used Elmer's glue to attach pennies up and down the stake and the crosspiece.

I remember having to prop the pennies so they would stay still and let the glue dry properly.

Gramma Mary hung that cross on her wall in Chicago, and then took it to California when she moved there when I was about 20. It was still hanging on her wall when she passed away, about twenty years after I made it for her.

It was kind of gimpy, but she loved it, and loved that I had spent time and effort making it for her.

I miss you, Gramma.

Godforsaken Bastards and Why They Suck Ass

The Opening: A Season in the Shade

We have entered the era of the Godforsaken Bastard. It is a time defined not by leadership, but by the violent curation of chaos. A period where the traditional guardrails of decency haven't just been ignored, they’ve been sold for scrap. This is the portrait of a collective that thrives on the friction of a world in collapse, a rogue’s gallery of the high-born and the low-lived who have mistaken their cruelty for courage and their greed for a mandate. They move through our culture like a virus in a designer suit, insulated by billions and emboldened by a mob that has been taught to love the sound of breaking glass. This zine is the shadow to the saints; it is a jagged, unwashed look at the architects of our current misery, the enforcers of our fear, and the loud-mouthed parasites who provide the soundtrack to the demolition of the common good. Welcome to the wreckage.

The Unwilling Statistic - OR - Fuck That!

I’ve got a list of diagnoses a mile long, including diabetes, afib, and sleep apnea; however, it’s the COPD (which is just a pretty way of saying emphysema) that’s trying to put a timestamp on my life. They say three to five years. That’s the math. The worst part of that math is knowing I wrote the equation myself. Forty-five years of heavy smoking has caught up to me, and now my lungs are paying the debt I racked up. I have nobody to blame but the person in the mirror.

But here’s the thing: I’m not willing to die this young. I’m not done yet. Fuck that!

No, Jesse Welles is NOT pro-Charlie fucking Kirk

Yes, Jesse Welles wrote a song about the killing of Charlie Kirk. NO, it was NOT a pro-gung ho-Charlie is a martyr song.

It was a song about gun violence and freedom of speech...