You know, the last couple of days have been sort of rough. So we’re going to take it easy tonight and just have some fun.
The Sleep is playing silly buggers with me, and I did not sleep a week last night despite taking both the Trazadone and some melatonin. I finally crashed about 9 a.m. and pretty much slept the rest of the day. On the upside, most of the soreness from Tuesday is gone, but on the other hand, I think I’m developing a cold. In any event, I have not been inclined to acknowledge the existence of the rest of the world today.
For the most part, admittedly, very little drastic happened today. Impeachment and all that entails is moving along and President Crybaby is throwing the expected fits. One thing that is noteworthy is a New York judge ruled that Trump is on the hook for $2 million in damages due to mishandling money intend for charitable work via his Trump Foundation.
Back in 2016, a televised fundraiser for veterans held by Trump raised almost $3 million that wound up going into his campaign fund and employees’ (read: his kids) pockets rather than being distributed to charities. The Foundation is being liquidated and what’s left is going to various charities, but of course Trump can’t get through getting caught doing dirty deeds – and earned a Pulitzer for a Washington Post reporter, which has to chaff him – without going into his usual “poor, pitiful me” routine.
Okay, what else. Well, yesterday was Doug Sahm’s birthday and since I’m such a huge Doug Sahm mark, I spent a good part of yesterday evening posting video links and writing about just why the original Texas Tornado is so damn good at the Tumblr site. Do go check it out if you too have superior taste and appreciate quality music.
In stray kitten news, my friend Jessica from the good ol’ days at The Grill in Athens, GA, has offered to take him. I told her I’d asked a few folks before she offered and haven’t heard back, but she’s a busy lady and I’m in no hurry. I’ve taken to calling him “B.C.” for “backup cat” and if Jessica don’t get a wiggle on, I am going to be far too much in love to give him up. Bounce is starting to be less skittish around him, and B.C. seems to love him. He keeps trying to eat out of Bounce’s dish, which freaks out, so he moves to B.C.’s dish, which starts the process all over again and Bounce gives me a look like “WTF dude?” It is incredibly adorably all the way around.
Otis has rubbed a hole in his nose trying to get to B.C. Otis will go into his fit, and while Bounce will mess with him for a bit before getting bored, B.C. just sits and watches him, which drives Otis even more nuts. I’ve been putting antibiotic cream on the cuts and hopefully they won’t get infected, but it is not an easy thing to take care of a dog who blasts his way through everything. Fuzzy, of course, doesn’t give a shit.
Oh, wait, I forgot about Bill Gates shitting his pants over Elizabeth Warren’s tax plan. It is hilarious, he implies he might be forced to vote for Trump if, horror upon horrors, he might have to loosen up his belt and give a few of his billions to help hoi palloi. One, why it’s so funny, is that this nerd and his bootlickers really expect me to be sympathetic to a man who runs a company known for caching hell over intellectual rights and treatment of employees is suffering because even if he’s taxed to a billion dollars, he’ll still have billions left.
Two, those self-same bootlickers point to Gates admittedly not-insignificant charitable donations as reason why he should exempt from paying his due. If you really think he isn’t getting all sorts of tax incentives for what is comparatively little of his fortune means he’s saving the world, well… I guess there’s nothing to be done for you. Bill Gates needs to unloosen his belt, stop being such a greedy bastard and think whatever dark god he worships that we’re not busting out the guillotines.
Yes, threatening to go all Emma Goldman on the billionaire class is fun, but let’s move on. I finished a pair of anthologies compiled and edited by Ron Shiflet, who wrote the very enjoyable Looking For Darla: Stories of Mythos Noir. Unfortunately, the collections – of all different authors, mind – were less so. They are Damned In Dixie: Southern Horror and Hell’s Hangmen: Horror In The Old West. The latter, while spotty, had some really good stories – such as a ranch foreman fighting off a zombie apocalypse or a Lovecraftian hunting party with a twist – the former is pretty tedious.
I swear, I don’t think most of the authors knew much about the South or even spent much time there, and instead relied on poorly thought out and rather threadbare cliches. There was good in there, particularly a lynching story that takes a Lovecraftian turn and a couple of dark, voodoo-tinged slave revolts. But the bad really dragged it down. Hell’s Hangmen had some dull stories while Damned In Dixie had flat out bad ones, and the percentage was not helpful. I really can’t recommend Damned In Dixie, but Hell’s Hangmen might have some fun for fans of Weird Westerns.
Okay, that’s good for tonight. The weekend’s almost on us and I’m wondering what sort of foul goofiness awaits us for the Friday News Dump. My hillbilly sense is tingling on that one. Pay attention, we walk on gilded splinters.