Another weekend, another chamber of news horrors. The sister-in-law of a woman I work with received one of Elon’s justify-your-job emails. The head of the Joint Chiefs of Staff was fired, and replaced by a retiree who once told Trump he could whip ISIS in a week. fElon gets his stupid mug in the news more often than the boss, who every day looks more tired and orange.
Meanwhile, the town-hall pushback has begun.
I have very little news to report, other than this: Kate got outbid on a house she wanted, but! She won a spelling bee at a party on Sunday. I’m so proud. I texted her congratulations, and she said it was no biggie, that she’d won in the third round when she was the only one who could spell “preposterous.” I told her that was the advantage of being a reader in a generation raised with autocorrect and texting. I mean, I’m enough of a tightass on this subject that I winced when Prince did all that “2 U” and “4 U” shit in his song titles. I’m glad some of it got passed down to my offspring.
It reminded me of the time a News-Sentinel copy editor in Fort Wayne entered a spelling bee at Grabill Days or one of those olde tyme country fairs out in the region. Everyone was given an olde tyme slate and a piece of chalk, and the bee commenced. The pronouncer said, “diphtheria,” and every single person spelled it without the first H, except the editor. They bounced him. He protested. I can’t remember how it ended, whether anyone had thought to toss a dictionary into the judge’s kit or what, but I gather the organizers wanted Scott to vamoose and for the alternative-spelling olde tyme fun to continue. Chaos at Grabill Days! BURN DOWN THE SPELLING BEE.
Next we’ll do ophthalmologist and jodhpurs.
I used to have a great memory for phone numbers; I could recall numbers that friends had in 1969. No more. I can’t even remember area codes. I hope I retain my spelling prowess, however. Almost all of my spelling errors nowadays are due to autocorrect.
The last week of February is here, and I feel like a person climbing a mountain with spikes in my hands. We have a mini-break coming up at the end of the week, and it cannot get here soon enough.
FDChief said on February 23, 2025 at 11:07 pm
So far I’ve seen two terrific clapbacks at the idiotic “five things” MuskRat email.
One is simple; in response to “what did you do last week” the person responded: “Not as much ketamine as you did, fuckwad.”
The other is a photocopy of a letter sent by Art Modell’s counsel (for the Cleveland organization). It reads:
“Dear Mr. Cox;
Attached is a letter we received on November 19, 1974. I think you should be aware that some asshole is signing your name to stupid letters.
Very truly yours, James N. Bailey, General Counsel.”
Which is choice, since Modell, well…it takes one to know one.
I stand by my original response; King Trump needs to get a very close shave from what in revolutionary France was known as the “National Razor”. Then his buddy Elmo the Afrikaaner Asshole can get next.
If We the People have the sack to do that I’ll even learn to fucking knit just to join in the celebration.
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Deborah said on February 24, 2025 at 1:45 am
Ditto on remembering numbers, it’s slipping away, but I’ve never been a good speller and it’s getting worse.
I’ve been reading Bluesky posters 5 things lists all day, some are quite clever. What an asshole Musk is, I tell you.
Our CA trip is almost over, we fly to ABQ tomorrow and then Tuesday I have my hearing aid appointment at Costco. I’ve been looking forward to that since October. Not the Costco part but getting the aids finally.
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