Seasonal Defective Disorder
We need a little Christmas. Right this very minute.
I trust you had a happy thanksgiving last week and didn’t engage any unsuspecting relatives in politics over dinner or ask anyone who voted for Trump to stand up and then get out. But leave the pie.
My family had a quiet thanksgiving as I didn’t want to interact with any woman who claimed they actually voted for Kamala but lied to their Trumper husband about it because Julia Roberts said they could. But you know and I know that you went in that polling booth and voted for Trump and you’re a LYING LIAR and I would throw my pinot in your face if it wasn’t a reserve.
(So basically that’s why my husband didn’t want anyone coming over.)
The day after thanksgiving I started getting ready for Christmas by unpacking ornaments, sticking reindeer ears on my pug, caroling at my neighbor’s, and eating a pound of peppermint bark. I even forced my daughter to write her Christmas list and two of the items were “weapons” and “cold hard cash.” As you can imagine, I am very proud to be raising the next Bonnie Parker.
Clearly I’m trying to make merry in a time of complete and utter non-merriment. Technically I’ve been avoiding all media except for the whimsical neighborhood newsletter that talks about ordinances and potlucks and free range chickens running amok. But realistically I still read the headlines and sometimes, God help me, an op-ed column or two.
It’s like I can’t help myself. It’s my football. It’s like trying cauliflower again and again even though I know I hate it. Nope, still tastes like broccoli gone horribly wrong.
I read Gail Collins’ recent column in the NYT about how we shouldn’t give up hope of seeing a woman president. Please. You know who’s going to be president before a woman besides just about anyone? A brain worm. That’s who. And he’ll win the popular vote.
The state of women leaders in this country is grim. Do you know how many female governors we have? 13. If my calculations are correct, that means that 37 states have male governors. That’s, like, triple. And the Republican women governors include a puppy killer, a Huckabee, an octogenarian who once wore blackface, and a drunk driver pork aficionado. So, yay for us.
Lately I’ve been so stressed about 2025 that I’ve found myself grinding my teeth, which means that I’ve now swallowed all the mercury that was once contained in my fillings while experiencing a distinct metallic taste in my mouth. I’m sure it’s nothing.
Let’s pivot for a moment to Pete Hegseth, Trump’s beleaguered pick for Defense Secretary. By now you’ve heard about the many allegations of sexual misconduct and public drunkenness but what you may have missed is this: He has promised to stop drinking if confirmed. So kind of like Dry January.
It’s important to point out that he hasn’t promised to put his predatory sexual behavior on hold but, you know, one step at a time.
Speaking of national security, keep an eye on Tulsi Gabbard, who’s nominated for director of national intelligence. She’s currently suspected of being a Russian asset. However, she has promised to stop drunkenly selling U.S. secrets to Putin if confirmed.
She was raised and still is a prominent member of a money laundering cult but how bad can that be? 🤷♀️. https://open.substack.com/pub/spytalk/p/my-battle-with-tulsi-gabbards-cult?r=13f6hs&utm_medium=ios
The woman simply looks evil and I judge people entirely on looks.
Does Crosby have a conceal carry permit? I read somewhere that there’s only one qualification in Texas—the applicant must be verifiably potty trained. That requirement can be waived.
Ms Claus