Lusting in the Heart vs. The Cult of Personality

The conservative right in this country has officially gone completely to the dark side, abandoning even the pretense of the traditional family values they spent decades preaching. It did not happen overnight, but the evolution from self-righteous moral police to absolute, shameless hypocrisy is undeniable. To understand exactly how deep this rot goes, you only have to look at three specific moments in modern political history that show when and how it all happened.

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.

Auntie Elfi's Fables: The Schoolyard Bully

As the days stretched on, the bright colors of the playground seemed to fade under the shadow of the big kids’ rules. They didn’t just play on the slide; they decided how fast you were allowed to go down, and you had to pay them a polished pebble for the privilege. They set up "sandbox shifts," where anyone from the far side of the woods could only dig for a minute at a time. The seesaw was declared "out of order" indefinitely, though everyone saw the big kids using it as a private bench to plot their next move.

Yet, a strange thing happened. The "lousy babies," as the big kids called them, didn't break. In fact, the harder the bullies pushed, the tighter the others held together. They didn't shout back; they fought with a quiet, polite resistance that drove the big kids toward madness.

When they were told they couldn't use the swings, they simply stood in a long, calm line, waiting with patient smiles that suggested they had all the time in the world. When the sandbox whistle blew, they handed over their shovels with a kindness that felt like a challenge. They weren't looking for a fight; they just wanted to be treated decently. That simple, immovable demand made them impossible to defeat. 

Eventually, the big kids began to wear themselves out with their own anger. They gritted their teeth every day, forced to allow those "lousy babies" to move about the playground without fear. It burned them to see the smaller kids sharing the equipment fairly, ignoring the big kids’ self-appointed authority as if it were nothing more than a passing breeze. And fairly meant that they gave the big kids fair turns at games and swings, because the other kids were Decent human beings who did not commit the sin of "Treating people like things."

The bullies watched from the sidelines, fuming because there was absolutely nothing they could do about it. The more they tried to grab the ball and go home, the more they realized the other kids had learned to play their own games without needing that ball at all. The playground didn't belong to the loudest anymore; it belonged to everyone.

Okay, you've read it. Now swap the words Republican and school yard bully/ies. And Other/Little kids and Liberals/Democrats. Now reread it.

Kinda makes ya think, huh?

RFK Jr's "Weird" relatives

 

“I was standing in front of my parked car on I-684 cutting the penis out of a road killed raccoon, thinking about how weird some of my family members have turned out to be.” RFK Jr

Makes you wonder what kind of stuff he considers weird.

I'm thinking it's stuff like: wearing clothes, sleeping in a bed, and eating regular meals, and not cutting cocks off road kill or beheading whales.

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!

“If This Goes On—”: A Side-by-Side Look at Heinlein’s Warning and the United States Today

I've been working steadily on this article since mid-January. It has been harrowing, absolutely frightening, and just a little bit too close to reality these days for me..

I just reread Robert Heinlein’s “If This Goes On—” for the umpteenth time, and I can’t stop thinking about how quiet it is. Not the writing itself, but the way the collapse happens. No sirens. No big moment where everyone agrees something has gone wrong. Just a series of choices that all seem defensible at the time. That’s what got under my skin.

When Democracy Requires More Than Words

Democracy doesn't collapse in a single moment. It erodes gradually, through delay, complacency, and the comforting illusion that someone else will intervene before lasting damage is done. By the time the threat feels undeniable, the tools meant to stop it are often weakened or already gone.

This is the danger of treating civic engagement as symbolic rather than functional. Voting, representation, and institutional balance are not gestures of identity or expressions of mood. They are mechanisms. When those mechanisms fail to operate as designed, democratic systems lose their ability to correct abuse, enforce accountability, and restrain the concentration of power.

41 Pounds of Irony (And Zero Regrets)

I’ve been dropping weight since November. Just grinding it out, watching the scale tick down from 374. I hit 333 and felt like I was finally getting a handle on my own skin.

Then, a few weeks ago, the doctors decided to drop the other shoe: COPD. They handed me a three to five year sentence like it was a piece of junk mail.

Talk about a cosmic joke. I quit smoking two years ago, and let me tell you, that was harder than fuck. If I’d gotten this diagnosis back then, I probably would’ve gone straight out and bought another pack just to spite the world. But I didn't. I stuck it out because I like not stinking of smoke, and I like not having one hand permanently occupied by a cigarette. Most of all, I like not having to haul my ass outside 40 to 60 times a day just to feed the beast.

I spent two years reclaiming my time and four months shedding 41 pounds of gravity, just to find out my lungs are trying to quit the team anyway.

A Scorched Earth Wake Up Call - Impeach Trump Now

There comes a point where outrage stops being a reaction and becomes a survival instinct. We passed that point years ago. We're living under a man who treats war like a toy. Iran, Venezuela, anywhere he can point a finger and pretend he's a strongman. It's reckless. It's cruel. It's the behavior of someone who should never have been allowed near power.

And here's what breaks me. Here's what turns anger into something volcanic. The deaths of girls in US bombings. My claim is simple. One hundred seventy five girls. Gone. Wiped out by the kind of military action Trump treats like a flex. Children who never had a chance. Families who will never recover. Futures erased because someone in Washington wanted to look tough on television.

The Midterm Mirage: America’s First Tyrant and the End of the Experiment

 

I’ve been listening to the "cancellation" rumors swirling around the White House this week; let’s be real; when this man hints at something, he’s usually already got the matches lit. The talk of "suspending" the 2026 midterms for "national security" or "election integrity" is the final boss of his authoritarian fever dream. We are staring down the barrel of a permanent presidency; the big question isn't just if he’ll try it, but what the hell happens when he does.

The Cravings Never Really End

Nicotine Is Insidious.

I just spent five stupid minutes going full tornado, ripping through my desk like I was searching for state secrets. Lifting papers, opening drawers, rifling like a woman possessed.

Looking for my fucking cigarettes.

My cigarettes.

I quit smoking two years and five weeks ago.  

There is no nicotine in this house.  

There has not been for a long damn time.

And yet my brain still tried to run the old script:  

"Quick! Check under that pile of junk mail! Maybe Past You stashed a pack for Future You, like some deranged nicotine Easter Bunny!"

D'OH.

Nicotine is a sneaky little bastard. It shows up at the weirdest moments, taps you on the shoulder, and whispers, "Hey... remember how good we were together?" 

And I swear, for about ten seconds, or ten minutes depending on how stressed I am, I would absolutely throw hands for a smoke.

But here is the thing:  

I am not losing this fight.  

Not today, not ever.
Never fucking EVER!

Cigarettes are banned from this house like cursed artifacts. My brother, who still smokes, has to keep his pack in the car and trek a hundred feet to the designated exile chair. That is the rule. That is the boundary. That is how I keep myself safe.

I am stealing a line from my friend and webqueen, Maggie:  

I am not an ex smoker.  

I am a smoker in recovery.

And recovery is a permanent condition, but so is my stubbornness.

Nicotine can try me, but it is not getting back in. Fuck that.

FUCK Cancer! Fuck It In The EAR! I’m DONE Watching This Monster Hurt People I Love

Cancer is the one motherfucker that never clocks out. It doesn’t care how good you are, how careful you’ve been, how much you’ve already survived. It just shows up like a goddam wrecking ball and dares you to pretend this is normal. I’m fucking sick of it. I’m sick of watching people I love get blindsided by a piece of shit disease that feels like it’s everywhere, all the time, creeping into every family like some kind of outrageous cosmic joke.

We talk about cancer like it’s a statistic, like it’s a chart, like it’s a ribbon color. But when it hits your circle, it’s not a number, it’s a gut punch. It’s fear. It’s rage. It’s the helplessness of knowing that even with all our medical advances of the last motherfucking century, all our research, all our awareness campaigns, this thing still keeps taking swings at the people who deserve it the least.

And I’m tired. Tired of pretending to be calm. Tired of acting like this is just part of life. Tired of watching strong, brilliant, irreplaceable people get dragged into a fight they never fucking asked for...

Missing and/or Kidnapped - THEY MATTER TOO!

Look, I feel awful about Nancy Guthrie, I really do. No 84 year old woman (or anybody else for that matter) should be abducted.

But let's get real. Hundreds of women and men and children get abducted or go missing every single year in this country, and for the most part, we don't hear dick about them.

Here's a few missing just this year alone, and it's only mid-February:

• Virginia Parker (Reno, Nevada): 17-year-old missing since January 23, 2026.
• Cherell Brooks (New Castle, Delaware): 32-year-old missing since February 5, 2026.
• Ianna Geniyah Mondesir (Virginia): Missing since February 9, 2026, also 17 years old.
• Kara Hynd (Ohio):  Missing as of February 8, 2026.
• Sophia Barajas (California): 15 years old, missing as of January 11, 2026.
• Mara Minott: (Michigan): Missing since November 2025.

The thing MOST of these missing women and girls have in common? All but one of them is Black or Latina. And none of them are the mother or daughter of a celebrity.

Don't they matter?

Don't they?

This Body Is Scaring Me, But I’m Not Done Fighting

There’s a particular kind of fear that comes when your own body starts slipping out from under you. Not the dramatic kind, just the slow, creeping kind that shows up in hospital monitors, new diagnoses, and the way your breath catches wrong or your heart decides to improvise without permission. It’s the kind that makes you realize you’re not invincible, not even close.

I’ve been living in that fear lately...

Ukraine Is Still Standing and Russia Is Still Throwing a Tantrum

Russia’s full scale invasion keeps dragging on like the world’s most deranged midlife crisis, and somehow the Kremlin still has not figured out that Ukraine is not going to fucking die just because Moscow thinks it should. Ukraine is fighting for its existence while Russia stomps around like a pissed off toddler who found out the universe does not revolve around its crusty Soviet nostalgia fantasies. Every missile Russia fires is another pathetic attempt to bully a country that has already proven it would rather crawl through hell than surrender a single inch of its land.

Ukraine keeps doing the impossible. Cities get blown to shit and people sweep up the debris and rebuild like it is just another Tuesday. Soldiers rotate out of trenches that look like the inside of a nightmare and go right back because they refuse to let their country be turned into Putin’s personal fucking theme park. Families scatter across continents and still manage to support each other with a level of resilience that makes Russia’s entire propaganda machine look like a clown show. The whole nation is held together by grit, grief, and a collective fuck you aimed directly at Moscow...

THEY WANT YER GUNS, BILLY BOB!

Bill Clinton will take your guns.

Obama will take your guns.

Bernie is coming for the guns.

Hillary is going to take your guns.

Buttigieg, Klobuchar, Gabbard, Biden, Kerry, Gore, they will wrench the gun from your cold dead gripping fingers!

So who wants the guns?

Looks like the entire Trump administration does...

MAGA, motherfuckers! Seig Heil!

 

Now that it could be them, they're speaking out

 

I'm going to say it, and a lot louder for those in the back.

When it was "just" black men and women being shot in the street like rabid dogs by law enforcement, the country just mostly shrugged and went on to the next ex-judicial killing of innocent people. Because obviously, they were nefarious criminals who were outside walking or driving while black with ulterior motives. Can't be having with that.

Then it was a white woman in Minneapolis, and people started getting mad. But it was only a woman, and a Lesbian at that, so only a few people got angry. A wife has been widowed, a child has been orphaned, and Donald Trump says that this woman who was sitting in a vehicle and speaking peacefully was, and I fucking quote, "A professional agitator".

Now it's a white man.

And now shit is getting real to the MAGA 2A ammosexual fuckheads.

Now they're not liking it. Now the NRA is speaking out. 

Because next time, it could be them or the guy they play poker with on Tuesday nights.

NOW the Republicraps are starting to blink an eye.

Not Trump and Miller, of course. Those pieces of shit just want most of us dead.

But they're starting to see what's actually going down.

Maybe THIS will be the spark that fans into a major flame.

Something's got to fucking give.

That closet has several thick oak doors, and it SUCKS!

 I wish my daughter felt safe to be herself, but outside the house, it's rural Texas out there, and it ain't safe. It ain't safe at all in this part of Texas to be visibly trans. If you don't "pass", you best stay presenting what your birth determination says you should dress like. And Lis does not pass. She's beautiful, absolutely beautiful, but even if she dressed as a girl usually dresses, they would spot her and make her life hell. Or make her life... NOT. Texas.

I wish she could afford to move to at least Austin, but on less than $800 a month income (disability) that ain't happening. At least there's liberals there. 😛 But ideally, I would see her in the San Francisco Bay Area, with her unusual sibling, my 34 year old estranged kid. However, I think those two would really be good for each other. And Lis would be a lot safer. Sadly, I can't say "safe". Nowhere seems to be all that safe for trans folks. Some places are better than others, but none of them are wondefully safe.

If you're trans, a lot of the world paints a target on your face and on your heart. And that just sucks so damn hard. If you don't feel safe, then do what you are able to do in order to stay safe. And safe also includes safe within yourself, not hurting yourself by staying hidden, if it's making you absolutely miserable.

It's making Lis miserable, and I want to help her and I don't know what the hell to do. I've told her that if she wants to dress pretty around the house, even if she doesn't want to dress that way in downtown Fort Worth, she is more than welcome to. I've offered to show her ways to braid her long hair. When she came out to me and Sam, I took her to get her ears pierced. I just don't know what the hell to do to be more supportive of her and help her be happier. It hurts, to see her moping and moping and rarely smiling. She was such a happy go lucky kid.

If wishes were fishes, then beggars would ride, as I always told the kids when they wanted the impossible to attain, like the latest most brand new gaming console that can't be had for love nor money, and even if you found one, it would be $750 and you can not spend that on games.

Reblogging Stacie Rose - It's about power

Yesterday, the Supreme Court heard arguments about trans girls in girls’ sports.

Let’s stop pretending this is a good-faith debate.

The political right is openly demanding that two opposite things be true at the same time, and they don’t even care anymore if anyone notices.