tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-185022052024-03-06T22:51:40.249-06:00Desperate Irish HousewifeSuehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11424788718174976797noreply@blogger.comBlogger1212125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18502205.post-61603675212311343432021-02-26T18:15:00.002-06:002021-02-26T18:15:55.012-06:00Springsteen Sprung, Cuomo Cornered, Frenchies Filched!<p> What a week it has been.</p><p>Bruce Springsteen. Arrested for DWI in November, in January made big bucks doing a Super Bowl ad for Jeep. (Note to Jeep: not exactly sending a stellar message there, guys.)</p><p>But not to worry. Yesterday all charges against Bruce were dropped. Good thing, too, since he had to get to a taping ofhis new podcast.</p><p>Has anyone listened to it yet? It's called "Renegades Born In The USA." It co-stars Barack Obama. Who makes a big point of reminding us he was born in Hawaii. I wonder why?</p><p>Other news this week: New York Governor Andrew Cuomo, AKA the Angel of Death, has a two-pronged attack coming at him. One, it is alleged that he covered up the numbers of nursing home deaths during the early days of the Covid crisis. By a lot. Like, by half. Insiders say he was afraid if the Feds found out how many people he'd let die, then the Feds might investigate. Now, of course, they're investigating.</p><p>Two: former female staffers are coming out of the woodwork to accuse him of sexual harassment. And you'd have to listen pretty hard to hear a single voice defending the guy.</p><p>But of course the news that interests Desperate most is the news out of New York that</p><p><span> </span><span> </span><b>Someone has dognapped Lady Gaga's French Bulldogs! </b> </p><p>Oh, and the perps shot her dog-walker too.</p><p>The FBI is on the case. No, really, they're on the case. The theory is that Gaga sang at Biden's inauguration so this could be </p><p><span> </span><span> </span><b>A Politically Motivated Dognapping!</b> </p><p>Honestly, there's no telling what those Bernie Sanders supporters will get up to.</p><p>But most importantly of all,</p><p><span> </span><span> </span><b>Lady Gaga Has Offered A $500,000 Award For The Return Of Her Frenchies!</b> </p><p>No, not for info on who shot her dog walker. Come on, be serious! The half mil is for the dogs.</p><p>So, Desperate announces her atest career move:</p><p><span> </span><b><span> </span>To Move To New York And Find The Frenchies!</b> </p><p>I mean, for half a mil? Wouldn't you?<br /></p>Suehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11424788718174976797noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18502205.post-63981045536652013902021-02-17T17:00:00.004-06:002021-02-17T17:00:36.433-06:00Rush Limbaugh<p> Conservative radio pioneer Rush Limbaugh died today at age 70. He had lung cancer.</p><p>For those of you who may never have lost a friend or a relative friend die of cancer, thank your lucky stars. Cancer is one of the most hideous, vicious, and out and out cruel diseases ever to strike mankind.</p><p>I hate cancer. If cancer were a human being and I met him on the street, I'd kill him on the spot and never regret it, not for one second.</p><p>At least Desperate can take some comfort in the fact that the long, dreadful suffering of another cancer victim is finally over.</p><p>Rest in peace, Rush.<br /></p>Suehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11424788718174976797noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18502205.post-68527360002211523222021-02-15T10:32:00.001-06:002021-02-15T14:18:26.512-06:00No Woman's Land<p>Here we are, at a point of historic convergence. In 2021, Valentine's Day and Mardi Gras are separated by only 24 hours.</p><p>And we all know what that means. The cheapo supermarket chocolates you pretended to be thrilled by yesterday are now sharing the kitchen with the makings of your Fat Tuesday feast.</p><p>I figure it's all good for at least five pounds.</p><p>Ah, Mardis Gras. Carnevale. Farewell to the flesh. Time to finally thaw those steaks you ordered online last December, because it'll be awhile before you can make them for a relaxing, end-of-the-week Friday dinner again. Actually it's a good time to clear out the whole freezer- I bet there are a few mail-order Chocolate Volcano Cakes in there somewhere. Get rid of 'em before Lent, people!<br /></p><p>Lent used to be so much tougher. Fasting every Friday, no food between meals. "Did you just do that? DID YOU JUST PUT A JELLYBEAN IN YOUR MOUTH? Get over here! Spit that out!"</p><p>And when dinner time finally did roll around, well, sometimes you got lucky with plain cheese pizza, or shrimp chow mein. Not too often, though. Pizza was way too much fun for Lent.<br /></p><p>Living in the Midwest as I do, I have been introduced to the concept of a "casserole" (or "hot dish," as we say in Minnesota). As far as I know it's usually made with ground beef, but there are canned tuna varieties. One protein, lots of noodles, some kind of creamy soup from a can and a topping of something crushed, like potato chips or cornflakes. </p><p>Or Tater Tots.</p><p>My first week in Minnesota a couple of teenagers came rushing up to me
in the freezer ailse of the local grocery store. It was around 5 o'clock, also known as last-minute dinner
shopping time. "Excuse me ma'am can you tell us what we need for tater
tot hot dish?" What? Tater Tot Hot Dish? What thehell was that? I was completely weirded out. When I told them I didn't
know what TTHD was, they were weirded out. It was a mutual weirding out.
Those poor kids, I wonder if they ever got dinner that night.</p><p>In heavily ethnic New York / Long Island , we didn't do casseroles.. On meatless Fridays Italian kids had soups made with pasta and beans, and Irish moms like mine attempted to copy them. Spinach and bean soup is cheap, filling and delicious, if you use the right amount of garlic and maybe a sprinkling of parm. There was never a mention of "casserole." For years I thought "casserole" sounded exotic. Possibly French.</p><p>Which gives me an idea. I'm going to haul out the old Julia Child books and see if she has anything to say about "casseroles." Who knows, maybe she was a fan.<br /></p><p><br /></p>Suehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11424788718174976797noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18502205.post-51481280159621104402021-02-08T11:15:00.001-06:002021-02-08T11:15:25.949-06:00Let's Get This Over With<p> All right. Brady routed Mahomes.</p><p>Now let us never speak of it again.<br /></p>Suehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11424788718174976797noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18502205.post-64693686610814405922021-02-07T09:22:00.000-06:002021-02-07T09:22:09.450-06:00Deep Freeze!<p>So yesterday we had a wind chill of 33 below zero. </p><p>I know what you're thinking: Desperate, how to you keep your sunny personality alive at times like these?</p><p>I'm glad you asked. Here are a few of Desperate's "Top Tips to Avoid Dying in a Frozen Wasteland."</p><p>1. Stay inside. Yesterday- I kid you not- a couple walked by my home pushing their baby in a plastic-covered stroller. Now for all I know they were a nice Inuit family visiting friends in my neighborhood, but still. I'd be worried my kid would have flashbacks. "And then I saw white! Just white, everywhere!" Parents, before you treat your young children to a fun day in the tundra, remember one thing: psychotherapy costs a bundle.</p><p>2. Make sure you do your shopping for cold-weather essentials before the freeze hits. With modern weather technology you almost always have a few days' advance notice.</p><p>3. Those cold-weather essentials include milk, eggs, M&Ms, at least one case of good wine, vodka in several flavors, Oreos and salt-and-vinegar kettle chips. In fact forget "include," those are the essentials. Stock up.</p><p>4. For my fellow Catholics, it's time to give your parish's video mass a look-see. The down side is watching the mass on your laptop it can feel a little weird. The up side is you can skip past the music.</p><p>5. Keep your feet happy by wearing stylish yet practical woolly socks to bed. You won't believe the difference it makes.</p><p>6. If you see anyone jogging out there in full winter jogging gear, do not let that make you feel guilty about spending most of your time on the sofa swathed in soft, fluffy throws while watching Netflix and chowing down on those Oreos. Yes, those jogging folks must be in great physical shape. You, on the other hand, are mentally stable. Cherish your choice.</p><p>7. Those pesky face masks actually make wonderful nose warmers. Always keep one handy.<br /></p><p>I'm told this deep freeze is going to last a while, so I'll be keeping everyone updated. In the mean time, mull some of that wine and crank up the old IZ cds. You'll get through this. Hopefully without getting frostbite.<br /></p>Suehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11424788718174976797noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18502205.post-88142874986894473812021-02-02T08:58:00.006-06:002021-02-02T12:13:06.303-06:00Kamala, The Gift That Keeps On Giving<p> </p><header class="entry-header">
<h2 class="entry-title">
<a href="https://thefederalist.com/2021/02/01/confused-kamala-harris-warns-of-west-virginias-abandoned-land-mines/" title="Confused Kamala Harris Warns Of West Virginia’s ‘Abandoned Land Mines’">Confused Kamala Harris Warns Of West Virginia’s ‘Abandoned Land Mines’</a>
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<span class="byline-month">February</span> 1, 2021 By <a href="https://thefederalist.com/author/jmetzgar/" rel="author" title="Posts by Jayme Metzgar">Jayme Metzgar</a> </div>
<p>Last week, Vice President Kamala Harris gave an <a href="https://www.wsaz.com/2021/01/28/vice-president-kamala-harris-speaks-exclusively-with-wsaz-about-challenges-facing-our-region/">exclusive interview</a> to a local television news station in West Virginia.</p>
<p>In the interview, Harris was asked about the state’s coal industry.
She reassured West Virginia coal miners that even if their jobs
disappear under the Biden administration — and the implication was clear
that they <i>would</i> disappear — mine workers could transfer their
skills to new industries. She then listed several exciting new careers
coal miners could consider. The first of these was, and I quote:
“reclaiming abandoned land mines.”</p><p>According to <a href="https://www.politico.com/newsletters/playbook/2021/01/31/the-other-joe-with-veto-power-491579?fbclid=IwAR0sT_pK9-JYAqgYmB-p8g8LYOoJWJe-5TKCbKv8O_BCT4X5mzmf2OGhGv8">Politico</a><i>,</i> she meant to say “abandoned <i>mine lands</i>,”
not “abandoned land mines.” Well, okay. We all make mistakes. It’s just
that someone familiar with mining terminology, or military terminology —
and, you know, a lot of West Virginians are familiar with both — would
probably not make that particular mistake.
</p><p>This matters because of the reason Vice President Harris was on television in West Virginia to begin with."</p><p>-The Federalist, Feb. 1.2021 </p><p><br /></p><p>Unemployed coal miners are flocking to firms that will hire them to hunt for abandoned land mines in their home state.</p><p>"I don't know what took everybody so long," said Harrison "Boom Boom" Bunter of Beckley. "Landmine hunting is a great career. Thanks to land-mining, this lifelong southpaw is now completely right-handed. Necessity is the mother of invention, or something. Right?"</p><p>Walter Horn of Huntington agreed. "There are lots of advantages to mine-hunting," he said. "For one thing, you develop a heck of a sense for little things. Ticking, for example. I can hear a clock ticking from fifty paces. Oh, and I've really improved my time on the 50-yard dash. Great way to keep in shape!"</p><p>James "Sky High" Retton of Point Pleasant credits landmine hunting with showing him the way to his new career. "I've never flown in an airplane," he said. "I know, hard to believe, right? But after just a few months of mine-hunting, suddenly I had the opportunity to see the majestic Ohio River from a vantage point I never dreamed I'd have. It was so inspiring! Now I paint pictures of the Ohio and sell them at craft fairs. I admit there's not a ton of money in it, but it's so relaxing. And my doctor says I need to learn how to relax again, so- win-win!"</p><p>Anyone interested in building a new career as a mine-hunter should contact Vice President Kamala Harris at 202-456-6213.<br /></p><p><br /></p><p> </p>Suehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11424788718174976797noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18502205.post-48736182146339577982021-01-31T10:17:00.006-06:002021-01-31T10:17:51.944-06:00IF PETA Didn't Exist, Would We Even Know We're Wrong?<p> </p><p><a href="https://globalnews.ca/tag/peta" rel="noopener" target="_blank">"People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals (PETA)</a> wants humans to stop using animal words as “slurs” in what it says is a “speciesist” and “supremacist” use of language.</p><p>The
activist group put out the unusual call on its Twitter account Tuesday,
where it claimed that animal-related insults “degrade animals by
applying negative human traits to certain species.” Global News, 1-28-21</p><p>In a Tweet published on January 26, PETA helpfully offered a list of alternative terms. Instead of "chicken" call someone a "coward." A "rat" should be called a "snitch," a "snake" should be called a "jerk," "pig" should be replaced with "repulsive" and "sloth" with "lazy."</p><p>Now, this opens up all kinds of linguistic possibilities. Most of them not so good.</p><p>Take "chicken," for example. Kids call each other "chicken" all the time. Are they supposed to refer to their more cautious playmates as "cowards" now? That kind of thing could easily lead to pistols at twenty paces.</p><p>What about "snake?" We're asked to say "jerk" now. "That guy's a jerk in the grass." "Man, that gal moves like a jerk!" "The toilet's overflowing. Quick, honey, get me the plumber's jerk!" Which could also lead to trouble, if your brother-in-law the apprentice plumber overhears you.</p><p>And the list is incomplete. </p><p>"I call b-llshit!" Try "I call poopy!" That ought to get you some respect.<br /></p><p>"Son of a b-tch!" Can't we just say "son of a rather harsh female?"</p><p>"I think I'm just gonna wing it." Replace with "I think I'm just gonna ignore complications and sally forth."</p><p>If PETA takes this thing any farther, we may have to resign ourselves to a world without grizzled old seadogs and gym rats.</p><p>And as far as DIH is concerned, that's just plain batty.<br /></p><p><br /></p><p> </p><p><br /></p>Suehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11424788718174976797noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18502205.post-80825749805899258402021-01-25T08:22:00.002-06:002021-01-25T08:22:14.322-06:00Sometimes It's Tough <p> I live in the Midwest, but I am not a Midwesterner. I'm a displaced New Yorker.</p><p>This occasionally makes me feel a tad out of place. </p><p>Like when I first opened a bank account here. A pleasant but slow-talking young banker chatted about the weather-- at length-- while I tapped my fingernails impatiently on his desk, waiting for him to get down to business.</p><p>One time I accidentally (it was very windy) let a door close on the guy coming out of the coffee shop behind me. When I said "So sorry, didn't see you!" he just smiled and said (cue the Minnesota accent), "Oh, that's ok. I made it through!" Naturally I raced to my car, in the sure belief that I had just encountered an axe murderer.</p><p>And once when I was trying to return some damaged floorboards to a store, and encountering some resistance from the manager, the manager said I seemed to be getting "a little heated." "WHAT THE HELL DO YOU MEAN, 'HEATED?'" I responded- quite reasonably, in my view. <br /></p><p>Then there was last Sunday, at church.</p><p>The young assistant pastor's sermon was about hope, and not giving up in the face of discouragement. "I'd like to tell you a story about someone who didn't give up, even though it seemed everything was against him," he began. I'm thinking, great, a sermon about Job.</p><p>But he never mentioned Job. Instead, he went on to tell the story about the Boston Red Sox finally defeating the New York Yankees in the World Series of 2005. "The Yankees wer up by three games. It looked bad for the Red Sox. But did they give up? No they did not!"<br /></p><p>"Now, I know we all hate the Yankees," he went on. "After all, it's fun to hate the Yankees! Am I right?" Smiling nods all around. <br /></p><p>Well. I want to fit in here, but there are limits.</p><p>So after Mass I approached the young priest in the parking lot. </p><p>"Interesting sermon, Father," I said.</p><p>He looked down (he had to, since he's six foot and I'm five two) and, once he recognized me, burst out laughing. "Oh no! You guys were here! Of course!"</p><p>I assured him that all was well- "We understand, Father, some people just don't get it,. They're you know--" I just tapped my forehead.</p><p>Well, I guess it's all right. If I were a Twins fan, I think I'd probably hate everybody.<br /></p>Suehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11424788718174976797noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18502205.post-78459536394003168242021-01-16T16:43:00.003-06:002021-01-16T16:43:41.666-06:00The Last Two Weeks In Review<p> They stunk. Both of 'em.</p><p>And that's my analysis.</p><p>And all I'm going to say today is Go Pack Go.</p><p>And if the boys from Green Bay let me down, well, I just don't see a lot of joy ahead.<br /></p>Suehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11424788718174976797noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18502205.post-54061535031664533112021-01-11T08:45:00.000-06:002021-01-11T08:45:41.878-06:00Pat Loud, RIP<p> A moment of silence, please, for Pat Loud.</p><p>What's that you say? "Who the heck is Pat Loud?"</p><p>Come on, people! Pat Loud! Mother of the Loud family! Remember them? Southern California, five kids, too much money and a pair of adulterous parents? It was all on TV in the 70s. In fact I think it was even on PBS. Educational tv at its finest!</p><p>Ok, ok. For those of you who need a recap:</p><p>"An American Family" was a docu-series about the Loud family. Once a week America could gather around the tube, tune in, and watch the Loud family go down the drain. Ah, those Sunday evenings with the family, us kids in our pjs, watching educational tv together... actually it probably wasn't such a good idea.<br /></p><p>The dad cheated. The mom cheated. The eldest son was gay and years later would contract HIV. (It always makes me shudder to learn about people "coming out" in the 70s, knowing about the terrible virus that was going to hit them with hurricane force a few years later. It's like watching film of people boarding the Titanic.)</p><p>The eldest daughter longed to be a professional dancer. The series treated us to one of the girl's performances. Another disaster in the making. No sense of rhythm and chubby thighs... no, the dance thing was a sad pipe dream. Even I could see that, and I was still young enough then to have ridiculous dreams of my own.<br /></p><p>The night one of the sons wrecked the car on camera and then lied to his mom about how it happened, again on camera, but this time with the son shooting a warning glare at the cameraman.</p><p>And then. of course, the on-camera divorce. What a landmark for television. And by "landmark" I don't mean the Grand Canyon. More like the La Brea Tar Pits. Ugly and, honestly, kind of boring.</p><p>The eldest son died in 1990 from hepatitis. The parents eventually got back together. The dad died in 2018. The mom wrote a book about her life, "Pat Loud, A Woman's Story." You can pick up a paperback on Amazon for $700. and change. </p><p>When their mother died the surviving kids published a loving obituary about how strong and wonderful their mom was. Curiously though- at least in the version I read- there's no mention of the documentary that made her and her family famous. I wonder why?<br /></p><p><br /></p>Suehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11424788718174976797noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18502205.post-23934636473116684742021-01-06T08:43:00.001-06:002021-01-25T16:01:12.736-06:00Look On The Bright Side<p> I'm thinking, I'm thinking.</p><p>Here's what I got so far: <br /></p><p>1. It will be fun to hear Joe Biden taking the Oath of Office. "I, Kamala Harris...."</p><p>2. It will be fun to hear Kamala Harris invoke the 25th Amendment.</p><p>3. Maybe Whoopi Goldberg was right, maybe Jill Biden should be named Surgeon General. That will be interesting.</p><p>4. Any bets that Secretary of Transportation Buttigieg will leave his husband for a train, or an airport?</p><p>5. DIH might finally get off her tush and apply for Irish citizenship- this is just the push she needed! <br /></p><p><br /></p>Suehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11424788718174976797noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18502205.post-52281396606208242482020-12-31T17:14:00.001-06:002020-12-31T17:14:28.581-06:00Here It Comes<p> New Year's Eve. A night when, traditionally, people all over the world welcome the New Year.</p><p>But I have the feeling a lot of people are saying, Uh, not so fast.</p><p>One year ago at midnight, we welcomed 2020 into our lives. People wore funny "2020" eyeglasses and poured into Times Square and even made cute jokes about how Barbara Walters should say "Good evening, and this is 2020!" (Get it?)</p><p>And look how 2020 thanked us. Wuhan virus, dreadful deaths. Restaurants and small businesses shut down and driven out of business. A roaring economy tanked. And a certain dementia patient.... oh, I can't even go there.</p><p>Churches shut down. And when they reopened it was with a whole new manual of how to attend mass. Only sit six feet apart, hit the road as soon as you've received Holy Communion, make your thanksgiving in the parking lot, dammit! No holy water at the doors, no paper bulletins, no singing. And don't even talk to me about donut hour. <br /></p><p>Masks and self-appointed mask Nazis. You try to blow your nose and people look at you like you've pulled a knife on them. I could go on and on, but I'm depressing myself.</p><p>So to 2021 I say, sorry, pal, but you're on probation. Show me you can do better than the last loser who headed the calendar and I might consider a warm welcome, or at least a less suspicious one.</p><p>So you'd better be bringing your A game.<br /></p>Suehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11424788718174976797noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18502205.post-20873889415084850002020-12-29T08:54:00.004-06:002021-02-07T09:24:54.078-06:00St Thomas Beckett<p> Today is the Feast of St. Thomas Beckett, bishop and martyr. This the the satement issude by the White House.<br /></p><h1 class="page-header__title">Proclamation on 850th Anniversary of the Martyrdom of Saint Thomas Becket</h1>
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<span class="meta__label">Issued on:</span>
<time>December 28, 2020</time>
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<div class="page-content__content editor"><br /><p>"Today is the 850th anniversary of the martyrdom of Saint Thomas
Becket on December 29, 1170. Thomas Becket was a statesman, a scholar, a
chancellor, a priest, an archbishop, and a lion of religious liberty.</p>
<p>"Before the Magna Carta was drafted, before the right to free exercise
of religion was enshrined as America’s first freedom in our glorious
Constitution, Thomas gave his life so that, as he said, “the Church will
attain liberty and peace.”</p>
<p>"The son of a London sheriff and once described as “a low‑born clerk”
by the King who had him killed, Thomas Becket rose to become the leader
of the church in England. When the crown attempted to encroach upon the
affairs of the house of God through the Constitutions of Clarendon,
Thomas refused to sign the offending document. When the furious King
Henry II threatened to hold him in contempt of royal authority and
questioned why this “poor and humble” priest would dare defy him,
Archbishop Becket responded “God is the supreme ruler, above Kings” and
“we ought to obey God rather than men.”</p>
<p>"Because Thomas would not assent to rendering the church subservient
to the state, he was forced to forfeit all his property and flee his own
country. Years later, after the intervention of the Pope, Becket was
allowed to return — and continued to resist the King’s oppressive
interferences into the life of the church. Finally, the King had enough
of Thomas Becket’s stalwart defense of religious faith and reportedly
exclaimed in consternation: “Will no one rid me of this meddlesome
priest?”</p>
<p>"The King’s knights responded and rode to Canterbury Cathedral to
deliver Thomas Becket an ultimatum: give in to the King’s demands or
die. Thomas’s reply echoes around the world and across the ages. His
last words on this earth were these: “For the name of Jesus and the
protection of the Church, I am ready to embrace death.” Dressed in holy
robes, Thomas was cut down where he stood inside the walls of his own
church.</p>
<p>"Thomas Becket’s martyrdom changed the course of history. It
eventually brought about numerous constitutional limitations on the
power of the state over the Church across the West. In England, Becket’s
murder led to the Magna Carta’s declaration 45 years later that: “[T]he
English church shall be free, and shall have its rights undiminished
and its liberties unimpaired.”</p>
<p>"When the Archbishop refused to allow the King to interfere in the
affairs of the Church, Thomas Becket stood at the intersection of church
and state. That stand, after centuries of state-sponsored religious
oppression and religious wars throughout Europe, eventually led to the
establishment of religious liberty in the New World. It is because of
great men like Thomas Becket that the first American President George
Washington could proclaim more than 600 years later that, in the United
States, “All possess alike liberty of conscience and immunities of
citizenship” and that “it is now no more that toleration is spoken of,
as if it was by the indulgence of one class of people, that another
enjoyed the exercise of their inherent natural rights.”</p>
<p>"Thomas Becket’s death serves as a powerful and timeless reminder to
every American that our freedom from religious persecution is not a mere
luxury or accident of history, but rather an essential element of our
liberty. It is our priceless treasure and inheritance. And it was bought
with the blood of martyrs.</p>
<p>"As Americans, we were first united by our belief that “rebellion to
tyrants is obedience to God” and that defending liberty is more
important than life itself. If we are to continue to be the land of the
free, no government official, no governor, no bureaucrat, no judge, and
no legislator must be allowed to decree what is orthodox in matters of
religion or to require religious believers to violate their consciences.
No right is more fundamental to a peaceful, prosperous, and virtuous
society than the right to follow one’s religious convictions. As I
declared in Krasiński Square in Warsaw, Poland on July 6, 2017, the
people of America and the people of the world still cry out: “We want
God.”</p>
<p>"On this day, we celebrate and revere Thomas Becket’s courageous stand
for religious liberty and we reaffirm our call to end religious
persecution worldwide. In my historic address to the United Nations last
year, I made clear that America stands with believers in every country
who ask only for the freedom to live according to the faith that is
within their own hearts. I also stated that global bureaucrats have
absolutely no business attacking the sovereignty of nations that wish to
protect innocent life, reflecting the belief held by the United States
and many other countries that every child — born and unborn — is a
sacred gift from God. Earlier this year, I signed an Executive Order to
prioritize religious freedom as a core dimension of United States
foreign policy. We have directed every Ambassador — and the over 13,000
United States Foreign Service officers and specialists — in more than
195 countries to promote, defend, and support religious freedom as a
central pillar of American diplomacy.</p>
<p>"We pray for religious believers everywhere who suffer persecution for
their faith. We especially pray for their brave and inspiring shepherds
— like Cardinal Joseph Zen of Hong Kong and Pastor Wang Yi of Chengdu —
who are tireless witnesses to hope.</p>
<p>"To honor Thomas Becket’s memory, the crimes against people of faith
must stop, prisoners of conscience must be released, laws restricting
freedom of religion and belief must be repealed, and the vulnerable, the
defenseless, and the oppressed must be protected. The tyranny and
murder that shocked the conscience of the Middle Ages must never be
allowed to happen again. As long as America stands, we will always
defend religious liberty.</p>
<p>"A society without religion cannot prosper. A nation without faith
cannot endure — because justice, goodness, and peace cannot prevail
without the grace of God.</p>
<p>"NOW, THEREFORE, I, DONALD J. TRUMP, President of the United States of
America, by virtue of the authority vested in me by the Constitution
and the laws of the United States, do hereby proclaim December 29, 2020,
as the 850th anniversary of the martyrdom of Saint Thomas Becket. I
invite the people of the United States to observe the day in schools and
churches and customary places of meeting with appropriate ceremonies in
commemoration of the life and legacy of Thomas Becket.</p>
<p>IN WITNESS WHEREOF, I have hereunto set my hand this twenty-eighth
day of December, in the year of our Lord two thousand twenty, and of the
Independence of the United States of America the two hundred and
forty-fifth."</p>
<p style="text-align: center;">DONALD J. TRUMP</p>
</div>
</div>
</div>Suehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11424788718174976797noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18502205.post-12095630101878897742020-12-28T16:01:00.004-06:002020-12-28T16:01:52.230-06:00I've Heard of Cultural Appropriation, But This Is Ridiculous<p> So it turns out Alec Baldwin's wife, Hilaria Baldwin, who claims to hail from Mallorca and speaks with a Spanish accent, has some 'splanin' to do.<br /></p><p>From Twitchy:<br /></p><p>"Rachel Dolezal (and Shaun King, for that matter) may still hold the
crown when it comes to appropriation, but Hilaria Baldwin’s no slouch,
either.</p><p>See, it seems that Alec Baldwin’s Spanish wife is actually not Spanish at all. She’s just Hillary Hayward-Thomas, <a href="https://www.thedailybeast.com/alec-baldwins-wife-hilaria-baldwin-has-been-posing-as-a-spanish-person-for-years">American white girl from Boston, a city that is not in Spain."</a></p><p>The accent is fake. The name is fake. I'm not going to comment on those boobs, but...well, you know. Probably. </p><p>I don't know where to start. But here are a few notes.</p><p>1. When, if ever, did Alec figure it out?</p><p>2. Does he care?</p><p>3. How on earth did "Hilaria" keep up the pose for so long?</p><p>4. Will this disqualify her from becoming Room Mother or head of the PTA, when her kids head to a bilingual private school? Or will it increase her chances?</p><p>5. What does she think of Speedy Gonzales's accent? Good, not so good?</p><p>6. Same question for Baba Looey. Also the Frito Bandito.<br /></p><p>Personally if I were shopping for an accent I think I'd go with Italian. Although that would probably make me think about Italian food, and the results could be disastrous. It would probably also make some Italian friends laugh their heads off.</p><p>Well, at least she didn't pretend to be an heiress and bilk her buddies out of millions.</p><p>But ay yi yi, people can be weird sometimes.<br /></p>Suehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11424788718174976797noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18502205.post-49890113623818589642020-12-26T18:07:00.006-06:002021-02-07T09:26:10.621-06:00St Stephen's Day<p> December 26. The day after Christmas, and the feast day of the first martyr. Can Christians box the compass, or what?</p><p>Desperate hopes everyone had a lovely Christmas Day. We certainly did here in Desperateland. It may have been Lord-knows-how-many degrees below zero outside, but it was nice and warm inside. I tell you, there's nothing a hot toddy and a couple of blood orange mimosas can't do.</p><p>On Christmas Eve we observed family tradition by a) going to a vigil Mass, and b) ordering takeout Chinese. We tried to change things up a bit, but it's just not Christmas Eve without fried rice and lo mein.</p><p>We didn't get to see the Star of Bethlehem- too much cloud cover. Also none of us was sure which way south west was. Uptown, downtown, crosstown, no problem. East and West? Who do I look like, Lewis and Clark?</p><p>Of course the array of gifts under the tree was littered with I.O.U.'s, thanks to the USPS and Amazon being a lot slower this year. I guess with the shutdowns a lot of people did a lot of online shopping and things got backed up a bit. But that was okay, too.Something to look forward to in 2021. Besides it just not being 2020 any more.</p><p>Desperate has decided to go for all twelve days of Christmas this year. After 2020 we deserve it this year.<br /></p>Suehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11424788718174976797noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18502205.post-35748978118467106322020-12-24T06:55:00.002-06:002020-12-24T06:55:42.143-06:00Christmas Eve<p> "And when we give each other Christmas gifts in His name, let
us remember that He has given us the sun and the moon and the stars,
and the earth with its forests and mountains and oceans--and all that
lives and move upon them. He has given us all green things and
everything that blossoms and bears fruit and all that we quarrel about
and all that we have misused--and to save us from our foolishness, from
all our sins, He came down to earth and gave us Himself.”<u> Sigrid Undset</u></p>
Suehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11424788718174976797noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18502205.post-70645957371135566682020-12-21T10:33:00.005-06:002020-12-21T10:33:52.117-06:00Four More Days<p> Four days until Christmas. Am I the only one running low on Christmas cheer?</p><p>We all know it's been a long, dreary year, what with lockdowns and elections and one more round of Mariah Carey hitting us square in the kisser. But I never dreamed the dreariness would seep into Christmas.</p><p>The other day the spouse, the kid and I were sitting in front of the fire, discussing our Christmas wish lists.</p><p>It turned out none of us had any.</p><p>"Let's face it, Mom," the kid said. "The only thing I need is clothes, and, well, no offense but you don't really pick the right ones for me. I'd just like a gift card. A Visa."</p><p>Fair enough.</p><p>"Let's face it, guys," the souse said. "I'm not ready to buy any clothes until I lose another ten pounds. And, no offense, but we all know I lose everything you give me. Remember that engraved money clip I ketp begginf for? It's gone, like the gloves, and the scarf, and the gadgets, and ...."</p><p>Even fairer enough, I thought.</p><p>And me?</p><p>In the immortal words of Miss Piggy, "My needs are few. My wants are extremely expensive." And heaven knows 2020 is not the year for "extremely expensive."</p><p>Conversations like that tend to put a real damper on gift-shopping.</p><p>So what to do? Ideas:</p><p>1. Bake Christmas cookies! (Spouse; "Don't do that. I'm on a no-carb diet.")</p><p>2. Sent Christmas cards! ("Mom. Nobody does that any more. Just send an email.")</p><p>3. String festive lights on the deck! (Then find out the exterior outlet doesn't work.)</p><p>Wait- I got it-</p><p>4. See the Christmas Star in the sky tonight! A once-in-800-years opportunity! ("The forecast for tonight is heavy cloud cover with a 100% chance of ha ha ha on your big plan.")</p><p>Maybe it's because we had to cancel our annual Gaudete Sunday party. It is, if I say so myself, absolutely the best holiday party for miles. Everyone loves it. And we had to cal it off this year because of the stupid Chinese flu.</p><p>Or maybe it was the sight of the monstrosity that is this year's Vatican Nativity Scene. That was traumatizing.</p><p>So what to do? Suck it up and power through?</p><p>Now there's a nice holiday attitude.</p><p><br /></p>Suehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11424788718174976797noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18502205.post-37081111690240542832020-12-15T17:39:00.000-06:002020-12-15T17:39:04.452-06:00Christmas List<p> Dear Santa,</p><p>I have been good this year. Sort of. Yeah, I'm still lazy but you knew that. We both know I could be a lot worse, am I right?</p><p>I wanted to tell you that I have finally decided what I want for Christmas this year. Santa, this year I want a great big case of nitreous oxide.</p><p>I went to the dentist this morning and they clamped this dome on my nose and told me to breathe in. It was a little weird at first- the nose dome definitely tickled a little- but once I got used to it I was as happy as it is possible to be when you're trapped in a dentist's chair.<br /></p><p>Have you tried that stuff? It's the best! I'm telling you, Santa, you should get some for yourself! Nothing bothers you when you're hoovering up the nitreous oxide. Not even the awful cable news shows that you're watching on the dentist's ceiling. (By the way, Santa, my dentist could use an upgrade to his cable subscription. I'm letting you know just in case he forgets to ask for it himself. You know me, I'm all about helping others.) </p><p>If you brought me my own supply of nitreous oxide I promise you I would become a much better person overnight. No more yelling at the radio when it's playing NPR. No more sarcastic comments when certain people leave their (pick one) shoes, pants, books, computers, car keys all over the house and then expect me to find it for them. I would be cool as a cucumber, 24/7.</p><p>So that's my Christmas list for this year, Santa. Just one item. (See how I try to make things easy for you?) I hope your elves can make it in time!</p><p>I will leave out the usual cookies and <strike>bourbon </strike>milk for you in the usual spot. Hope you enjoy it!</p><p></p><p>Your friend, </p><p>Desperate<br /><span></span></p><a name='more'></a><br /><p></p>Suehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11424788718174976797noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18502205.post-49686748240177765142020-12-14T08:14:00.001-06:002020-12-14T08:14:37.120-06:00Whaletown<p> "A humpback whale was caught on video cavorting Monday in the Hudson River near Midtown Manhattan. The massive mammal was spotted around 4:15 p.m. around Pier 84 near the Intrepid Sea, Air and Space Museum, according to a <a href="https://twitter.com/AndresJavierNYC/status/1336134526356090883" rel="noreferrer noopener" target="_blank">clip posted to Twitter</a>." NY Post, December 8.</p><p> Anyone know what a humpback whale in the Hudson River is supposed to be a sign of? Not the Apocalypse, right? That's four horsemen. And not impending death, either- that's crows. Also owls.</p><p>So what could Mother Nature possibly be trying to tell us with this obviously confused mega-mammal? I'm really stumped by this one. I mean, sure, whales have been known to take a wrong turn at Montauk before. There was one in New York Harbor a few years ago. Checking out the skyline, no doubt. Taking in the Big Apple. Maybe shoe shopping.</p><p>I wonder how far up the river the whale got? I have a sister in Croton, I'm sure she'd like the kids to see it.</p><p>Well whatever she was doing I hope she got out of there all right. New York is a lot more dangerous now than it was when Giuliani was mayor. I'm not sure even a whale is safe.<br /></p>Suehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11424788718174976797noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18502205.post-60861067585744372912020-12-14T08:07:00.000-06:002020-12-14T08:07:06.649-06:00Pink Week<p> I remember a time when the season of Advent just seemed to crawl by. Maybe it was when I was a kid, you know, when I still looked forward to Christmas. Ah, those were the days.</p><p>But now, Advent is passing in one big purple blur. What? We're lighting the pink candle already? Are you kidding me? I haven't even put the tree up yet!</p><p>That last bit is not one hundred per cent true. I did get my artificial tree out of the storage room in the basement. It is now lying on the living room, all three big bushy parts of it, looking like a sad little mess of shrubbery.</p><p>This year's tree is a subject of much controversy in the Desperate household. Everyone seems to have a Good Reason why they can't ehlp put the tree up. I have a bum shoulder; daughter can't understand why I don't just call her boyfriend and ask him to do it; and husband just looks at me with that "Excuse me, are you asking me to do physical household labor?" look in his eyes.</p><p>So naturally, yours truly had to get the ball rolling. I dragged the two top segments of the tree up the stairs by myself (and yes, my shoulder does still hurt, thanks for asking). A day or two later the spouse hauled the last bit up the stairs. </p><p>That was the last bit of progress we made.</p><p>It got to the point where I actually did contemplate a treeless Christmas this year. I mean, was I the only one who cared about this thing? And if so, why? Putting up a tree only means having to put it away again , and we all know who will get that job. Why make more work for myself?</p><p>I mean, I've already decorated the mantle over the fireplace. (And did a very nice job of it, too, if I saw so myself.) I put out he Nativity set, the Spode Santa statue and the nearly complete "A Christmas Story" village. I topped the china cabinet with a regular forest of Hobby Lobby brush trees. And who do you supposed got the string of colorful lights on the lawn to flash? I'll let you guess. </p><p>So here I am, on the Monday of the Third Week of Advent, looking at the poor disjointed Christmas tree lying on the floor, taking up three times the space it would if it were assembled.</p><p>Maybe it's a metaphor for 2020. "We tried, but we just couldn't do it."</p><p>But no. This is no time to lose heart. I will get that tree up by hook or by crook. Desperate will not back down in the face of 2020, not this time. That pink candle stands for Gaudete, damn it- "rejoice." You want another piece of me, 2020? Watch me rejoice the hell out of you.<br /></p><p>This house is going to be full of Christmas cheer whether it wants it or not.</p><p> </p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>Suehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11424788718174976797noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18502205.post-43001523213281473662020-12-07T09:53:00.004-06:002020-12-07T09:53:55.008-06:00December 7<p> Today is Pearl Harbor Remembrance Day. Seventy-nine years ago today the Imperial Japanese Navy Air Service bombed the American naval base at Pearl Harbor, in Honolulu, Hawaii. It was eight o'clock on a Sunday morning. Over 2,400 Americans were killed, battleships were damaged or sunk. The next day, the United States formally entered World War II.</p><p>In a year like this it is easy to forget that we Americans have faced far greater challenges than Covid and botched elections. But we overcame them. In fact, we beat the pants off them.<br /></p><p>Watch your back, 2020. We'll take care of you yet.<br /></p>Suehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11424788718174976797noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18502205.post-36749738006740489302020-12-04T15:46:00.004-06:002021-01-31T16:24:23.180-06:00Joe Spills on the Ankle<p>"President-elect Joe Biden on Thursday revealed that he <a href="https://nypost.com/2020/12/01/joe-biden-shows-off-booted-broken-foot-for-first-time/">broke his foot</a> tripping on a rug after a shower as he chased one of his dogs and grabbed its tail.</p>
<p>Biden’s campaign previously explained the <a href="https://nypost.com/2020/11/29/joe-biden-twists-ankle-while-playing-with-his-dog/">hairline fracture</a> by saying Biden fell while playing with the dog, but did not mention the shower or tugging the animal’s tail. </p>
<p>'What happened was I got out of the shower. I got a dog and anybody
who’s been around my house knows — dropped, little pup dropped a ball in
front of me. And for me to grab the ball,” Biden told CNN journalist
Jake Tapper.
“And I grabbed the ball like this and he ran. And I’m joking, running
after him and grab his tail. And what happened was that he slid on a
throw rug. And I tripped on the rug he slid on. That’s what happened.' (NY Post, 12-3-20)<br /></p><p> </p><p>Hey everyone. Major again. Oh man. I think I may be done with the "good dog" gig for good.</p><p>OK, so I told you the cover story about how Joe, my "master" (that's a good one, btw), broke his foot the other day. Did I mention naked old guy getting out of the shower? No. Did I say anything about a throw rug? No. And I sure as hell didn't rat the man out for pulling my tail.</p><p>And believe me, keeping that last bit a secret was tough. There is no greater indignity in the Canine World than having one's tail pulled. Oh, sure, maybe you'll let a baby do it, or a toddler. But a grown man? Them's bitin' words, pardner.</p><p>And I am not kidding about biting. A lesser dog than myself would have sank his teeth right into the man's forearm. Or, since it was fully exposed, his thigh. I suppose I'll regret missing my chance to do that 'til my dying day.</p><p>I wonder if PETA will investigate. I guess the odds are long on that one.</p><p>I tell you, it's getting harder and harder to stay with this guy. I don't see how anyone else does it.<br /></p><p> <br /></p><p> </p>Suehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11424788718174976797noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18502205.post-50480594622217410592020-12-02T07:53:00.004-06:002020-12-02T07:53:43.540-06:00About That Ankle<p> The name's Major. Call me Maj.</p><p> Me and my kind, we've been called a lot of things over the years. Doggos. Puppers. Mailman chasers. Ankle-biters. </p><p>But ankle breakers? That's a new one.</p><p>So I'm writing this to set the record straight: what happened to Joe's ankle was <i>not</i> my fault. </p><p>It was supposed to be a friendly game of fetch. But as usual with my "Big Guy," it didn't go according to plan.</p><p>For years now I've been trying to train him. "Look, Joe, this is how it works. You throw the ball. I fetch it. See? Simple."</p><p><i>Yeahyeahyeahyeahyeah</i>, he says. <i>Got it. Got it</i>.</p><p>Got it, he says. What a laugh.</p><p>So he throws the ball. I take off after it. And the next thing you know, he's panting at my heels. <i>Ball!</i> he's barking. <i>Ball, ball, ball!</i> </p><p>Well, as usual, I hate to break the guy's heart. I mean, what else does he have? So I slack off, and he gets the ball. He clamps it between his teeth, brings it back, and drop sit at my feet. <i>Again!</i> he pants. <i>Again</i>, <i>again, again!</i> </p><p>This is where I have to take a deep breath. "Joe," I explain, as patiently as I can after doing this a hundred times. "Let's go over this again. You're the one with the opposable thumbs, remember? You have to throw the ball, dude."</p><p><i>Oh yeah! Ohyeahohyeahohyeah!</i> </p><p>So he throws the ball again. But by now he's having so much fun he doesn't even wait until I start running. He bolts after the ball like the FEC is hot on his tail. Only this time, drama queen that he is, he doesn't wait for it to land. He leaps up and tries to catch it mid-air. But no sooner is he airborne than he gets this look on his face I've seen so many times: <i>Whu? Where am I? What am I doing? </i></p><p>Now as every canine knows, there's on rule about ball-chasing: Never lose your focus. That's how disasters happen. Lord knows I've told the Big Guy a hundred times. But he just doesn't seem to get it.</p><p>Well, you can imagine what happens next. Joe comes crashing to the ground and starts howling. <i>Wooo! Wooo! Wooo!</i> </p><p>Luckily the Secret Service guys recognize that howl- shoot, they've heard it a million times- and they stay perfectly calm. "Bring the stretcher, Tim," one of them says into his mike. "It's happened again."</p><p>A minute later they're carrying him into the house. I notice one of the Secret Service guys tucking the ball firmly into his pocket.</p><p>We're a loyal race, we canines.We've been known to stick with our humans through thick and thin, no matter what. But I'm telling you, this guy would try the patience of a St. Bernard.<br /></p>Suehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11424788718174976797noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18502205.post-54530215104578058452020-11-30T09:28:00.001-06:002020-11-30T09:28:04.906-06:00Aaaand It's Advent!<p> Already. Right after Thanksgiving. Barely have time to put the Pilgrim decorations away.</p><p>I think this will be an interesting Advent for me. I'm already sensing opportunities to make sacrifices.</p><p>For instance, on Saturday evening it's a custom in our house to listen to "Radio Deluxe," a wonderful jazz program hosted by jazz guitarist John Pizzarelli and his wife Jessica Molaskey, a lovely vocalist. They play Rosemary Clooney and James Taylor and Peggy Lee and Blossom Dearie and... well, you get the idea. Listening to "Radio Deluxe" always seems to tell us that it's time to relax as a family. We all love it.</p><p>But this past Saturday... </p><p>Okay. How many of you know that dreadful 1970s hymn, "Let There Be Peace On Earth And Let It Begin With Me?" Come on, you remember. Cue the sappy melody:</p><p>"<i>Let there be peace on earth, and let it begin with me/Let there be peace on Earth, the peace that was meant to be/With God as our Father, brothers all are we/Let me walk with my brother in perfect harmony</i>..."</p><p>Blah blah blah. It only goes downhill from there. Remember?</p><p>So there I am, standing in my kitchen, working up a pot pie from Thanksgiving leftovers, sipping a glass of Sauvignon blanc, savoring the Saturday evening feeling of a leisurely supper and catchy jazz tunes, when all of a sudden John Pizzarelli announces, "Now we'd like to play a song called 'Let There Be Peace On Earth, And Let It Begin--" <br /></p><p>"NO!" I howl. "NO NO NO!"</p><p> I mean, really! Here I am, sipping wine and loving life, and all of a sudden something wraps itself around my ankle and drags me back to the desert that was church music in the 1970s! Not to mention the felt banners and the hand-thrown ceramic chalices! Radio Deluxe, how could you do this to me? I thought we were friends!</p><p>That's when my eye fell on my Advent wreath. Three of those four candles are purple. Purple means penance. </p><p> Right. I can handle this. I can, as my mother used to say, "Offer it up." And as anyone who grew up Catholic knows, "offer it up" is a direct translation of "shut up already."</p><p>OK. OK, I thought. I'll zip it. I won't turn the radio off, I'll listen to the song. Besides, maybe it won't be so bad. </p><p>And at first it wasn't. </p><p>But things took a turn for the worse when "With God as our Father" became, and I kid you not:</p><p>"<i>Through some higher power/ Connected all are we</i>..."</p><p>Through some "Higher power?" What is this, an AA meeting? Weren't the '70s bad enough? What's next, "Kumbaya, My Sponsor?" "The Twelve Steps of Christmas?" Quick, where's the nearest church basement! <br /></p><p>Fortunately songs like LTBPOEALIBWM and Kumbaya and the dreaded "Gather Them In" are increasingly rare these days, at least at the masses I attend. And maybe the altered-- oh, excuse me, "updated"-- version of LTBPOEALIBWM was a one-off for Radio Deluxe.</p><p>At least, I hope so. </p><p>I mean I really, <i>really</i> hope so. </p><p>Because if there's a jazz version of "Kumbaya," I don't want to know about it.<br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>Suehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11424788718174976797noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18502205.post-41559645345732270532020-11-26T07:51:00.005-06:002020-11-26T07:51:54.411-06:00Thanksgiving<p> There's no denying that this is a Thanksgiving like no other. Nobody in the airports. Nobody traveling to far-away Mom and Dad's. Zoom dinners. Not even a normal Macy's Parade.</p><p>But it's still our annual day of thanks. So let's count our blessings, shall we? I'll go first.</p><p>Um...give me a second.</p><p>Well, there are the basics. Family; home; friends; faith. All still intact despite anything 2020 could throw at them. Not bad!</p><p>I know there must be more, but I guess I'm just too distracted right now. I thought I'd dress up Thanksgiving dinner by serving shrimp cocktail. I just found out I have to "peel and devein" several pounds of shrimp before I can even get started. I don't mind admitting I'm dreading the task. Do you need long fingernails to peel shrimp? If you do I'm in trouble.</p><p>Oh dear. I better get started. Happy Thanksgiving, everyone. May your turkey be perfect and all your shrimp deveined.</p><p>And your champagne be plentiful and pre-chilled.<br /></p>Suehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11424788718174976797noreply@blogger.com0