What The Fucking Fuck Can We Do To End This Madness?

Blossom number two after a rain. I found a grasshopper on it this morning. It had already gnawed a whole in one petal and had its way with the edge of the one next to it. I flicked the dang bug off but the picture above was taken just a few minutes ago and I see no more signs of insect damage. What I did see, however, was a cardinal swoop in on the plant this morning and I think he may have been going after another grasshopper. Now wouldn't it be perfect if the reddest bird saved the reddest flower from the mandibles of grasshoppers? 

I've had a good day except for the horrible news of Trump's bill and then of course...the concentration camp in the Everglades. I'm not sure which one makes me sicker. Perhaps I feel equally sick about both, just in different ways. 
The bill is going to kill people and the camp is going to kill precious natural resources and well, yes, people will die there. There is no way around it. 

How have we let this man and his puppet-masters get this far? Is there not one Republican law maker who has not only balls but a heart? They do not care about people, they do not care about our planet, they do not care about safety or arts or education or science. They only care about Dear Leader and I have no idea why because after a few years of living under this new bill, a whole lot of people are not going to be feeling that positive about their Republican representatives. 

It all makes my stomach roil and my brain feel like it's exploding. 

I had thought for one second that perhaps the ridiculous wedding of Jeff Bezos and his plastic Barbie bride might be such an example of how billionaires have so much money to waste that they can take over Venice and put on an incredibly insane and tacky production that has nothing to do with a marriage or love or affection but everything to do with a gross and sickening display of wealth, would upset enough people to give them some perspective on why billionaires do not need tax cuts.  
Every fucking guest who attended that vulgar display of wealth should damn well be publicly shamed and condemned. I'm not kidding. I believe that. 
I doubt there has ever been a larger gathering of humans proudly presenting fake body parts, including breasts, asses, and surgically created faces in the history of the universe. All, of course, draped in obscenely expensive clothing, designed to show off the work of the surgeons. 
And I am sure that many of the guests did not support Trump but that didn't stop them from stepping into those gondolas and gliding to the wedding of one of Trump's biggest supporters, money-wise, at least. 
How the hell do they sleep at night? 
On satin sheets with the aid of designer sleep aids prescribed by their Beverly Hills doctors, I would imagine, dreaming of the tax relief they're about to get. 

I wonder what the odds are in Vegas for this marriage to last as long as five years. 

All of this shit is a travesty and a horror and the Republican party has become the party of the inhumane, the soulless, the evil. There is no way around it. 

So yeah, like I said, it's been a good day except for all of that. 

I went to the dump and I washed rugs and I went to town and I saw Brenda and hugged her hard. 
I came home and made pickles and Lis came by and we commiserated about the terrors. We talked about other things, too. It is such a goodness having her right down the road, able to stop by. 

Glen called me when he was about four hours away from where he was picking up the boat. I know there's a time difference but he may or may not have done the deal already. And then he will turn around and come home. 
I will be so glad when he's back, safe and sound. 

I was feeling so low last night that I brought Dorothy Anne out of her sleeping place beneath my vanity and brought her to bed with me. I am not kidding you. Unlike Maurice, she allows me to hug her to me and does not complain if I turn over and I can't imagine her ever drawing blood. 
We all do stupid shit. I do a lot of it. But at least sleeping with a very old and very well-worn doll is not harmful in any way. And over her heart, someone has written, "I love you."
I needed that.

******************

The web that the golden orb weaver wove overnight. The rain and the light made it visible. 

Tiny new leaves growing on a plant Ellen sent me that I just stuck into the dirt a few days ago. 

Dorothy Anne, just in case I need her again tonight. Don't you laugh at my baby. She is sensitive and older than all of us and as such, deserves respect.

But laugh at me if you want. I really do not care. 

Love...Ms. Moon