The RNC and BIrthdays

I tried to watch it, knowing full well I'd last only minutes at a time. We'd find ourselves screaming at the screen after 30 or 40 seconds before TBG hit last on the remote and took us to large men throwing a small ball through a hoop. 

At commercials, we'd click back over to see how the Republicans were doing.  Nikki Haley being a brown girl in a black and white world confused us.  Tim Scott trying to be rational amused us.  There were freed hostages looking like they hadn't changed clothes since they got off the plane, there were indicted gun toting rich people, and there was Don, Jr with his perfectly coiffed beard, showing just enough grey to add gravitas to his screeching.  

He looked at the camera as if it were dinner.  He scared theshit out of me.

I put off writing this post, because I wanted to celebrate two birthdays.  But every time I tried to put thoughts together, I got swept up into the trampling of norms, once again.  I mourned the loss of Jackie O's Rose Garden trees before I knew that Melania was going to speak there, using only campaign staff, I'm sure, to set up and clean up and run the event.  

The Hatch Act doesn't have much in the way of penalties going for it, but the idea is a nice one, don't you think?

I spent some time stewing over that while considering the fact that an alarming number of Americans think 180,000 dead fellow citizens is an acceptable number.  I tried to figure out how the emergency use blather about plasma as a therapeutic is any different than what has been going on since the start of the Pandemic.  

And in the midst of it all were the clips of Jacob Blake getting into his car .... getting shot as he was getting into his car.... all 110 pounds soaking wet of him followed by a gun wielding police officer who decided it was a good idea to shoot into his back .... with kids in the car.... and I cried.

We ended up watching George Raft movies until late.  Then the smoke detector in the bedroom decided to scream FIRE! FIRE! CARBON MONOXIDE! FIRE! while bleeping that high pitched you will not sleep through this tone.  It took TBG 5 times up the ladder before Dr. Google suggested a fix that worked.  

Why don't these beeps happen at 2 in the afternoon?  Are they deviously programmed to annoy at night?  I spent many minutes thanking TBG for being tall enough to reach the ceiling from the top of the ladder; he spent those minutes reassuring himself that his knee had, in fact, held him up the whole time.  It was an interesting confluence of emotions - anniversary love and beeping hell and Republicans and bad cops all roiling around in my head.

It was then, crawling into bed for the 3rd or 4th or 7th time, that I remembered the posts I was going to write.  For the 17 of you who read my short apology, thanks for coming back to see this.  I am sorry.  Life got in my way.