I just can’t get excited over a steak

Everyone’s talking about the travesty that is Trumpty Numpty ordering a $54 steak well-done and covering it in ketchup. And sure, that sounds obnoxious, but Kate Harding on Facebook posted a photo of a guy holding up a sign at a protest rally: “HE DOESN’T EVEN HAVE A DOG.”

I mean…that tells you so much more about the SCROTUS’s character than how he eats a steak. Even Nixon had a dog! I have this headcanon where Trumpty Numpty is so gross, even my brother’s dog wouldn’t get close enough to accept a treat from him. He and Melania once got a little pooch for Barron, and that dog was Barron’s best friend whenever his dad was away, but it turned into a little killing machine whenever The Donald showed up, so they had to give it back. Cats are just as bad; they constantly try to escape the penthouse, and they’d rather fall off the top of Trump Tower than stay one more minute in that man’s presence. Cats love Melania (although I don’t let her off the hook), and dogs love Barron, but all companion animals flee at the sight of Commander-in-Cheeto.


I could be Secretary of the Treasury

I was just saying earlier on Facebook and Twitter: I have a bit of teaching experience, so I’m way overqualified to teach stuff like science and math to kids if Betsy DeVos can be Secretary of Education.

And then it occurred to me: I work in Accounting. I do real-world-relevant Accounts Payable work for a living, and I’m good at it. I could put my name in for Secretary of the Treasury, and my resume would be more promising for the position than what we just allowed to take the Sec of Ed job.


A cat is not an old couch.

On Saturday, I adopted a second cat. I call her Lady Lavender, she’s about a year old, and she’s the sweetest, friendliest little kitty you’ve ever seen.

Lavender came to me from a friend of a friend. She was a stray living at a gas station and begging for food at a nearby laundromat. Her foster, Annie, found her at the gas station and asked the employees for permission to take her home, which they granted. By then, the cat was heavily pregnant, and gave birth to five kittens mere hours after Annie brought her home. She was happy to become an indoor kitty and took to eating about eight large cans of wet food per day while nursing her litter. It’s not that she was a big cat and needed all that protein in the long-term, but she was underweight and needed to fill out, in addition to having five babies to feed.

Anyway, Annie found people to adopt the kittens right away, but still had no home for the mama kitty, so she asked for help from her Ravelry friends. My friend Debbie shared her post on Facebook of this gorgeous little young mama tortie in need of a home, and I expressed interest. Annie got her spayed, let her rest for the week, and brought her to my house on Saturday afternoon. For now, I am site-swapping her and Purrion between a bedroom and the house at large until they get acquainted by scent.

You know what pisses me off? This cat was a stray until a few months ago, and she’s the farthest thing from feral. She’s affectionate, gentle and agreeable, which means she had to have been socialized by humans before she ended up on the street. Someone had this sweet little kitten in their home, and someone left her out on the street without first getting her spayed. She was left to beg for scraps for months, and she went through an entire pregnancy, before a nice human decided to take her home. Because she was lucky enough to have a good foster mom, her babies will not join a feral cat colony. Because she was a mostly-adult cat rather than a dainty kitten, it wasn’t easy to find her a permanent home.

For the love of Pete, folks, a cat is not just a thing you leave out on the front stoop when you need to make room for something else. This is a 20-year commitment, and there are options aside from chucking them out and hoping for the best. If you must surrender your cat, make sure it’s spayed/neutered first so it won’t create hundreds more cats with nowhere to go. If you must surrender the cat before you have a chance to get it fixed, surrender it to an animal rescue that’ll make sure it’s fixed and vaccinated and will make an effort to put the cat in a good home. Do not abandon an intact cat to fend for itself.

She’s not even a stopped clock.

I just heard about this “Bowling Green Massacre” this morning.

I’m afraid I’m already past the point where, if someone in this administration accidentally told the truth, I wouldn’t believe it. I actually don’t want to be that person who can no longer believe the sky is blue because I’m so used to Trumpty Numpty and his handlers calling it every color except blue, but the political situation is turning me into that person.


Of course I have room to obsess over multiple questions.

I need someone to discuss this with me.

I was re-reading Jaime’s last couple of chapters in AFFC last night because I need to take detailed notes for the last section of my Jaime essay, and something popped out at me.

The Freys assume Raynald Westerling (Robb Stark’s brother-in-law in book version) died at the Red Wedding, but they can’t verify having seen his body. The last anyone saw of him, he was wounded and hopping into the Green Fork. At the time, Raynald was not aware that his mother was making a deal with Tywin Lannister, so he was fighting for the Starks, not knowing they’d been screwed over with help from his own family. It’s an awkward situation for Lady Westerling, shall we say.

I think Raynald will turn up in TWOW, very much alive. And not loyal to the crown. The first assumption of where he’ll be is with the Brotherhood Without Banners, which means he may have interacted with Brienne off-page, but surely we can some up with some ideas aside from him running around with Lady Stoneheart?

Did anyone else pick up on this? I don’t see anyone else talking about Raynald Westerling, but I’m pretty confident he’s still out and about. Who’ll talk with me about him?

Also: Jaime Lannister would bitchslap Trump until his golden hand broke in half. It is known.


A friendly bit of advice to the new dictatorship, I mean administration

First: do not do anything that will make the DC Metro system run any worse than it does already. If I cannot use the Metro, then I will have no choice but to find a new job closer to home, and if I no longer have to spend 2.5 hours per day in transit between work and home, I will have more time to get together with the other lefty pinkos around here and figure out how to fuck shit up. I live in Greenbelt; you can’t throw a rock around here without hitting a weirdo. Don’t give us more time to collude and collaborate. You have plenty of opponents already living in the District, and when we suburbanites want to get downtown for protests, we’ll find ways to get there. Might as well be on the Metro.

Second: do not fuck with our Internet access. You wanna censor the information we can access? Whatever, I’ll find it anyway, but if we cannot use high-speed wifi at home, then we cannot stream TV shows, and if we cannot watch the new season of Game of Thrones next summer, that’s ten weeks we’ll spend fucking shit up.

Third: do not fuck with my electricity. If I can’t use mass transit, that’s bad enough, but I can still entertain myself at home. If I can’t access the Internet, that’s even worse, but I’ll still find things to do. If I cannot charge my laptop, then I’ll have no choice but to go outside and fuck shit up. I live within spitting distance of USDA property, I’m good with animals, and you’d be surprised at how far I can walk. If I were y’all, I’d be legalizing weed and handing out free Netflix accounts like candy at a parade.

In which he demands the rope to hang himself

If I were in DJ Rump’s position, I wouldn’t be calling attention to the legality of an election that I, ultimately, won.

Especially if there were lots of people already suggesting there was some funny business involving the Russian government involved in some of the battleground states where I won.

I get that he’s sore about losing the popular vote by literally millions, but he still won the Presidency, Seven help us all.

But, sure, President Pussygrabber, go on and put even more scrutiny on the election that put you in the White House! Let’s see what other fun and colorful things we learn about the validity of your victory. Here’s some rope. The gallows are other there.