I am reviving my dormant What a Fucking Cunt!  feature for a cunt who richly deserves this honor and really leaves me no choice but to revile him… Elon “I’m a cunt” Musk.

It would be nice to be able to go about my business without my ire being aroused by every little thing, and I’m trying. But how can one ignore the concerted effort by Elon Musk to make everyone hate him? One cannot, even if one rarely uses Twitter and doesn’t give a shit about Tesla.

I am torn between wondering what is wrong with him and wishing he would get some comeuppance for his stupid behavior. There is a three part documentary on BBC that apparently delves into his childhood and family life to try to explain the person he is now. One reviewer called him a big baby who is stuck in the mindset of a vindictive 12 year old. He was bullied relentlessly in school, which might account for his need to bully his employees and everyone who doesn’t genuflect to his Genius.

But just as Trump probably has good reason to be a hateful narcissistic piece of shit, Elon doesn’t get a free pass.

I first heard the name Elon Musk from my kid, many years ago, who said he was a brilliant inventor. I didn’t hear anything else until he started impregnating people, although clearly he was world famous for other things. I sort of admired him when he hosted SNL and announced that he is autistic; what a boon to the community to be associated with a successful CEO instead of Rainman! I thought in my innocence.

But now I worry that people will think Elon is an asshole because of his autism, whereas there is no connection. Kanye himself is now trying to assert his self-diagnosed autism as a reason for his “outspokenness” as though being a Neo-Nazi is a feather in his cap.

Let’s be clear: people with autism can be assholes just like people without autism. Narcissistic assholes and bullies must be judged on the basis of their behavior unless they are in the midst of a psychotic breakdown.

If you’re not up to date on Elon’s shenanigans, he has just kicked a bunch of reporters off of Twitter, accusing them of doxing him and endangering his safety. Then, Linette Lopez, a journalist who tweeted about the time Elon was sued for doxing and harassing one of his critics, was summarily suspended too. So instead of being a worldwide space for public discussion, Twitter is now a toy where a troubled billionaire can air his grievances and punish detractors, while tweeting shit like “Wow, Twitter is on fire today!”emoji emoji. YES, bitch, because you’re beefing with everybody, that’s why.

So in short, Elon has turned out to be a whiny fascist whose ego can never be satisfied, who seems to revel in being hated.

Why do people think it’s an accomplishment to be hated?? Kanye’s stans are thrilled by his current status as provocateur-in-chief of pop culture, but here’s what I think. Unless he’s willing to shit onstage like GG Allin, he’s nothing special. Same with Elon Musk.

You think you’re a badass, Elon? Shit onstage or get off the pot!

Don’t be mad at me for being consumed with Amber and Johnny; Tik Tok videos with the hashtag #JusticForJohnny have been viewed 8.3 billion times! Americans have googled Amber Heard four times more than google searches for abortion or the Supreme Court.

It could be serving as a needed escape from the reality of our politics, Covid, inflation, and bla bla bla. But I think it’s just a universal drama that most of us can relate to. Most of us have had at least one destructive relationship under out belts. Most of us have wanted to have sex with Johnny Depp at one time or another. Most of us love courtroom conflicts. And most of us pride ourselves on our ability to spot a liar.

And Amber is lying her head off, right??

Yesterday I read a preachy essay about how the backlash against Amber is misogynistic. There are a few of these essays making the rounds. If you don’t believe Amber Heard, you are dooming abuse victims to silence or worse.

But I disagree. I think it’s because this particular woman seems so awful and nuts. My favorite quote of all time is the former friend who described her as a sociopathic show pony. Try saying it out loud. It’s just a wonderful phrase! I could not love it more. And I feel it is apt, after watching her antics in court. The continual head bobbing and barrage of theatrical expressions are truly bonkers.

Further, I’ve decided that her “lip cut” is a cold sore, and her bruises are the result of botox injections. Don’t ask me about my research or you’ll know how immersed I am in this crap.

If you listen to their taped arguments – and who tapes arguments besides my sister??- you can hear her goading him, using weird baby voices or laughing demonically. Johnny seems to maintain a tired and pissed off tone, even though his acting skills are a million times superior, while she tries everything under the sun to manipulate him.

I don’t believe the bottle incident because whose pum pum can accommodate a fucking whiskey bottle for fucksake? Without having to go to the hospital for surgery afterwards? Her crazy email after this pretend incident says she wants to rip him apart and devour him. Which cannot follow a rape by a whiskey bottle, in my world or anyone else’s.

And also, what about her hairdos? Jesus Christ with those hairdos. The farm-girl braiding, the fluffy loose buns, the fake disheveledness. I’ll admit I’m jealous of her tailored designer suits and the way she buttons her shirt collars. But the fucking water bottle…no.

Her intake of mushrooms and MDMA do not reflect the anti-drug stance she insists on having, and her use of Elon Musk suggests a fetish for powerful men. There is nothing sympathetic about this woman, no matter how you regard Johnny Depp. I kind of want to kick her myself.

Worst of all is her flagrant lie about donating the $7 million divorce settlement, which I knew was a lie back when she first announced it. Because I can spot a liar a mile off. It is one of my superpowers, like finding thrift store treasures and critiquing bad writing.

Okay then. Thoughts?

I ordered a perfume sample and got the wrong one. A journey into the dark heart of a Mad Tea-party ensued:

 

Hi Joanne,

I’m the founder and creative director of Sigil and I wanted to say thank you for your purchase from us. At Sigil, we are committed to bringing you the highest-quality, gender-fluid, natural fine fragrances and beauty essentials. We also believe in doing business for good. Our social mission sees us giving back to nonprofits who directly reflect our vision and values.

We appreciate your business, and are excited to have you in our community. If you have any feedback, or want to say hi, reply to this email. As a special treat, use the code MODERNALCHEMY at checkout to shop with 15% off your next purchase.

We’d love to hear from you. Be sure to follow along with us on Instagram for all the latest, too.

With love,
Patrick Kelly
Sigil founder

To: Sigil <info@sigilscent.com>
Thank you for your nice welcome. Here is my problem: I wanted to order a sample of Amor Fati, which sounds like something I would love.

But on the Amor Fati page, when you click on “sample”, it brings you to the Individual Sample page. There, I clicked on “add to cart” without realizing that there was a drop down menu where I had to scroll down to Amore Fati.

So, instead of Amore FAti, I was sent Aqua Viridi (the first item in the drop down menu.) And it is truly awful to my nose!!!!

I can’t take the time to go to the post office to send this sample back to you. I would like a sample of Amore Fati, though. I think it should be complimentary, due to the confusing mechanism of ordering a sample.

I expect to love Amor Fati, and would be more than happy to leave an enthusiastic review!

Best,
Joanne Wolf

Sigil Scent <info@sigilscent.com> Tue, Oct 26, 2021 at 3:01 PM
To: Joanne Wolf
Hi Joanne,

Thank you for your email. The product you’re purchasing is also available for confirmation twice at checkout to be sure there are no questions. You can use the checkout code SIGILFRIEND for a very generous discount at checkout.

Enjoy,
Sigil

[the generous discount was $5]

Joanne Wolf    Tue, Oct 26, 2021 at 3:21 PM
To: Sigil Scent <info@sigilscent.com>
The sample link on the Amor Fati page defaults to a different product! Maybe you could clarify this to your customers.

Here’s what I would like to happen to resolve this: Please send me what I wanted and paid for in the first place, a sample of Amor Fati.

I look forward to resolving this matter.

Thanks,
Joanne Wolf

info@sigilscent.com <info@sigilscent.com> Tue, Oct 26, 2021 at 3:27 PM
To: Joanne Wolf
Hi Joanne,

Thank you for your response.

As you mentioned previously, there is only one sample product detail page with a drop down to select the sample you would like. I’ll send a note to our developer to see if there’s any way to try to have the dropdown force select based on the referring URL that came before the product page. But it’s the customer’s responsibility to confirm cart contents reflect their intended purchase. You are served an itemized list at the cart summary page before entering your card or payment info, where it lists the name of the sample(s) and any other items in your cart.

We don’t accept returns or exchanges and do not offer refunds.

If you’d like to cover the cost of shipping from our warehouse I can try to get the cost of a new order for an Amor Fati sample covered, without shipping. Let me know.

Cheers,
Sigil

Joanne Wolf      Tue, Oct 26, 2021 at 3:41 PM
To: Sigil <info@sigilscent.com>
I’m disappointed by your response. Shipping is around 7$ and I’ve already spent $24 for something I don’t want, due to your problematic coding.

I buy things online all the time! And this has NEVER happened to me.

I will leave an honest review of Aqua Viridi, and I can also mention your rude customer service on Instagram and on my own website, https://godammit.com/

with sadness,
Joanne

info@sigilscent.com <info@sigilscent.com> Tue, Oct 26, 2021 at 4:02 PM
To: Joanne Wolf
Hi Joanne,

Sorry to hear offering you a free sample after shipping costs won’t be agreeable.

We understand your frustration, and for others’ sake will see if there’s any other way we can make it more clear that what’s in your cart is what you’ll receive after checkout.

Also very sorry to hear you found our service rude as we strive to listen for understanding.

Let us know if you change your mind on our offer to send you a free sample.

Sigil
An experiment in modern alchemy®

Joanne Wolf      Wed, Oct 27, 2021 at 1:25 PM
To: Sigil <info@sigilscent.com>
Well, so many things to digest!

First, you sent me a reply to my review of Aqua Viridi, but did not publish the review. Why is that? Only positive reviews published or what?

Second, returning to your website, I see that when you put a product in your cart, ANOTHER PRODUCT IS ADDED that you have to manually uncheck in order not to buy it! Who are you guys, Donald Trump?? This is one of the dodgy practices that have been reported on the Trump donation page! How terrible! Again, I buy things online all the time and have NEVER encountered this! You guys should be ashamed. It is clearly deliberate and not a coding bug.

Third, I order fragrance samples from Smallflower.com on occasion, and they are usually $5 I have subsequently purchased the full size products.

Fourth, I just purchased some lingerie from a small niche company whose policy is: if it doesn’t fit, you may have one FREE exchange, with no charge for return or new shipping. I love my item that I received in the exchange and will be back to buy more.

So, here is a serious question: What’s wrong with you?? You are happy to lose a customer over $7?? Is it the principle that bothers you or does $7 mean that much to your profit report? If I had liked the fragrance I wanted to try, I would have notified all my fragrance-junkie friends, and I would have eagerly purchased the full size bottle. What a win for you, and a great return on a seven dollar investment!

Please think this over and explain your customer service philosophy. I am documenting this conversation and look forward to your response.

Sigil Scent <info@sigilscent.com> Wed, Oct 27, 2021 at 2:51 PM
To: Joanne Wolf
HI Joanne,

I hope you’re having a great afternoon.

I’ll answer your questions below in-line. Please let us know if there’s anything else we can do for you.

Have a great rest of your week.

Sigil

Joanne Wolf    Wed, Oct 27, 2021 at 3:09 PM
To: Sigil Scent <info@sigilscent.com>
I am having a super great afternoon! So nice of you to mention it. I won’t take a screenshot for you. Simply order a sample and watch what happens. A full bottle is added with a total of $140 or something. You need to uncheck the full bottle that you did not ask for! May we not be honest here?

regarding my negative review: it is sincere and not the result of a threat. I see that you don’t show a single negative review…dishonest and no help to the consumer.

I do think that others should be warned about your hostile and deceitful practices and will do my best to get the word out. Not a threat but merely an honest effort to spare others this unpleasant experience.

You have a blessed day, okay?

love,
Joanne

Sigil Scent <info@sigilscent.com> Wed, Oct 27, 2021 at 5:34 PM
To: Joanne Wolf
Thank you, Joanne.

I’ve tried to replicate the issue but am unable to do so. My guess is you did have a full size in your cart. Nothing can be added there without the customer choosing to add to cart.

You’re our first review below 3 stars! We just launched reviews on October 1.

We’ve been very thorough in our explanations and answers to all your concerns about our policies, your checkout experience, etc. Let us know if we can do anything else for you. Have a great week and weekend ahead.

Cheers,
Sigil

Joanne Wolf    Wed, Oct 27, 2021 at 6:52 PM
To: Sigil Scent <info@sigilscent.com>
I do have one more concern re your policies: given the length of this correspondence, I’m wondering if it’s the principle, or the seven dollars that motivates you? Surely the time you’ve put in today was worth far more than $7, unless you’re a volunteer.

I hope you’re having a great evening and that every single day henceforth brings you rapture and personal fulfillment. Top that!

yours sincerely,
Joanne

[days pass, during which, Karen-like, I write to the fragrance website where I first encountered Sigil scents, and advised them of my bad experience]

Sigil Scent <info@sigilscent.com> Tue, Nov 2, 2021 at 10:56 AM
To: Joanne Wolf
Hi Joanne,

I hope you’ve been having a great week so far. Happy autumn.

Your concern was escalated to our leadership and we were able to make a small quality of life improvement to our checkout experience. So now the mini-cart more clearly displays the variant name of the sample, not just when you get to the payment processing/cart confirmation view.

Anyway, all this to say we probably wouldn’t have caught this for a while without you mentioning the confusion you experienced.

So we wanted to send along a $50 digital gift card. You’ll receive an email with that info shortly. I hope this helps. Thanks again for being so understanding and thorough in your explanations before.

Cheers,
Sigil

Joanne Wolf    Thu, Nov 4, 2021 at 2:35 PM
To: Sigil Scent <info@sigilscent.com>
What a delightful outcome to this tawdry conflict! My quality of life has definitely risen a notch or two by your timely attention to the website glitch.

I can’t wait to try the fragrance I intended to buy in the first place!

Wishing you an abundant autumn and a joyous Diwali, followed by a bountiful Thanksgiving, a healthy Hanukkah and a magnificent Christmas to celebrate His birth.

Very very sincerely yours,
Joanne Wolf

I already knew that people are nuts, but spending some time in Facebook groups this week has revealed a whole new level of nuts. Maybe it’s The New Nuts. Group members are like piranha, waiting for a newbie to make a comment so they can perform a feeding frenzy.

A few years ago, my sister told me about joining an Opera group on Facebook. According to her, she made an innocent comment, and everyone pounced on her. She was shaken by the experience, because she has an extensive knowledge of opera. I didn’t understand why this happened until now.

Why do FB groups propagate this crazy behavior? Are the people who join groups already crazy? Or does being a group member generate deranged tribal behavior?

I wondered if groups centered on the arts attract irritable snobs. But a friend told me her Laundry Tips group was nuts too. This is kind of exciting, actually, and tempts me to join a million groups, to observe how petty and hostile they are.

I learned this shit the hard way by commenting in a group called “Victorian Images”. I rarely look at it but I did yesterday. There was a sepia photo of a stiff little child standing on a chair, as her mother knelt at her side. Stupidly, I commented that it looked like a postmortem photo. It seemed obvious, in fact, that it was a postmortem photo.

Before I knew it, everyone commented on my ignorance, some angry, some mocking. It was incredible. It was death by a thousand cuts. One person exclaimed that I wouldn’t be “satisfied unless there was a Dead Victorian Baby”. I suggested that they were acting nuts, and conceded that I might have been wrong.

So I posted the image on my own page, and got a unanimous vote that the baby was dead. So I went back to the group and said the baby was totally fucking dead, quoting Monty Python, etc etc.

Now, everyone knows that neighborhood groups are contentious, except for their hatred of the homeless, but I just had no idea about other groups. Why don’t these nutcases take their fury to Twitter, where the action is? Are they pussies, only brave enough to vent in a private FB group?

While I have a deep disregard for trolls, I’ve decided to become one on Facebook. Everyone hates me anyway so why not? At least I can have some fun. I read a thing about losing weight in my Sisters AARP newsletter for Black women. It asked me to list ten things that made me feel good, besides eating. TEN, are they kidding? I could only think of 4. You try it.

Well, now I can add trolling to my list, for a total of five things. Yay, me.

As I continue to literally sit out this pandemic on my couch, I spend more hours scrolling through Instagram than I’m going to admit. It used to be just photographers and African models. Then, I expanded my interests to jewelry, and now to antique jewelry specifically.

I used to be interested in antique jewelry but then I felt I had enough and forgot about it as a category of desire. I was content to wear two rings, my grandma’s and my wedding ring. I have a nice collection of Victorian tiger claw jewelry, which I have bitched about here. But Instagram triggered my lizard brain propensity to hunt-and gather. I wanted more jewelry. I needed more jewelry.

I discovered a whole bunch of antique jewelry vendors who showcased the stuff they sold on Etsy or Ruby Lane. Then I discovered vendors who only sold their pieces on Instagram, which meant a hectic competition to DM your interest. All these people called their rings “she.” This is sickening, obviously, but not enough to put me off my new obsession.

I realized that these people, mostly women, formed a community and knew each other by their first names. So a compliment from Something Something Jewels brought a reply of “Thank you Judy!” or in the case of a ring, “Yes, isn’t she a nice one?”

Then I found the worst kind of Instagram Jewelry Woman in existence: The collector (i.e., hoarder) who is just there to show off her stuff, which tends toward the dazzling and shockingly expensive. They will photograph their hands festooned with fifty thousand rings, captioning them with casual descriptions like “Saturday stack” or “Can you guess which ones are new?”

One of these collectors posted a literal stack of gold rings, a type I personally love, and remarked giddily, “I just can’t stop buying —–rings!” I restrained my self from commenting, “TRY!” I asked a friend to leave that comment but she has the same reluctance to identify herself as an asshole, and refused.

I came across a woman whose passion is mourning jewelry. She is quite scholarly about it, and has written a book on the subject. She sells the occasional piece but is mostly there to educate. Her account led me to a person who collects and sells mourning jewelry, who captioned one photo with “Love me some sad ladies and urns!” Ew, I thought. I looked at her jewelry with a mixture of envy and irritation. You can go look yourself at @yulianaeternalmourning.

I began to ponder the attraction of mourning jewelry. Victorian regalia is so romantic, let’s face it. And mourning was part of Victorian life

The average lifespan during the Victorian era was 40 to 45 years. Europe was in a near constant state of war, and cholera, typhoid, smallpox, and scarlet fever were common killers. Approximately one in three children died before the age of five, and epidemics sometimes brought that number to one in two.

Simply put, death was a constant companion in the Victorian era. Mourning jewelry brought a little solace to the survivors who had to cope with frequent losses.*

Without thinking about any of this, years ago I put some of Max’s hair into an old gold locket, and I wear it wherever I go, just to keep him with me. It was and remains “a little solace.” I’ve actually become superstitious about it…a whole other story.

So I began to feel upset about the procuring and flaunting of mourning jewelry. Yuliana was the worst of the worst, I felt. I looked at her stacked fingers and read her smug captions and decided to comment.

Naturally, she blocked me! I wish I could remember my exact comment, which was actually a stern lecture. It was something like, “Do you realize that each ring is a token of someone’s grief and loss?? Do you think the owners of those rings ever imagined that they would adorn the fingers of a stranger showing off on Istagram? I wear a piece of my son’s hair in a locket, and I’ll be damned if it ends up with a bunch of other lockets around the neck of a gloating stranger.

Oops, I pissed her off. Nobody likes a sore loser, I guess. Nobody likes real mourning, or real pain and bitterness. But when people are awful, I have to let them know. It’s my calling. That and hideous denim.

After watching a million hours of MSNBC News the other day, I decided to look for something else to watch. Lawrence of Arabia had just begun on Turner Classic Movies and since I’ve never seen it all the way through I decided to give it a shot.

Peter O’Toole was such a babe, duh, but I mean truly gorgeous. His black eyeliner was subtle but gorgeously queeny. I’m not a fan of blond men but in this case, I get it!

Since it’s a slow movie, I had the time to reflect on Peter O’Toole’s finely chiseled nose and wondered if he’d had a nosejob. Lots of actors did this back in the day, far more than actresses for some reason. So I googled it.

Google has removed all mystery from everything, a double-edged sword if ever there were one, right? I am constantly looking up everyone’s age to make sure I look better than them or at least less wrinkly. I particularly love before and after pictures of celebrities, who keep morphing before our eyes.

So anyway, yes, Peter O’Toole got his nosejob before he became a star but after he’d had some notable success. It came out much better than Harrison Ford’s or Jeremy Sisto’s. It works with his patrician facial structure and I’m okay with it not being natural.

I also read a review of a biography that catalogued his bad behavior on set and in his long marriage to Sian Somebody. His drinking is legendary and part of his persona, but I was disturbed by the account of his divorce. After his wife could no longer endure his affairs, she moved out of their house. He never let her return and refused to let her have her famed collection of antique jewelry. He banned her from visiting her children and a messy court battle went in his favor.

Here the story rung a sinister bell for me: A friend described him as “a man who prided himself on his resolutely unforgiving nature.” I’ll repeat it for emphasis:

a man who prided himself on his resolutely unforgiving nature.

Do you know anyone who might be described like this? I do.

In fact, I used to cherish a self-image that could be described as “You don’t know who you’re fucking with!” I enjoyed feeling like the embodiment of never giving an inch. I scoffed at people who gave up grudges and felt it was proof of how shallow they were; a person of substance should take their grudges to the grave.  If you’re a longtime reader, you know this as deeply as my family and former friends.

Both of my children admired this posture. But Max was nothing like me in this respect. He forgave people right and left…including me. He never even hesitated when someone wanted to patch things up.

I’m trying hard to be different. I’m trying hard to be the shepherd, you might say. I’ve learned to say “I’m sorry, I was a jerk” and “Please forgive me!” In fact, I say it all the time these days.

Life is so hard, so full of calamity and tragedy and unexpected turns. It takes effort to be compassionate, like Morrissey says, but eventually it comes naturally. Empathy is sometimes all we can offer each other, but what are human relations without it?

So I’m trying and I’ll keep trying. There’s nothing noble about being stubborn and hardhearted.

Lawrence of Arabia also reminded me of the disastrous date I had with Michael Shamberg, who bought the movie for us to watch on his gigantic home movie screen and then got huffy when I said I enjoyed the homoerotic energy between the co-stars. So I was going to write about the part where we had terrible sex because he was so ignorant of female anatomy…but I decided not to.

That’s how nice I am now.

Dear stupid cunt from Texas,

Will you get a fucking grip on yourself and stop harassing me after almost ten fucking years?

What will it take to shut you up? Why don’t you have anything better to do? Do you read my blog when you’re feeling bad about your life? I understand those feelings, but not the depths of your malice toward a stranger.

HOW CAN YOU BRING UP THE LOSS OF MY SON??? WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?

Your other comments about what a piece of garbage I am, how much you hate middle-aged married white woman, all that crap is fine. Even though I’m actually an elderly jew, close enough.

But my son is off limits. My grief is too. I want you to own up to triggering my god damn fucking PTSD. I’m talking to you, Ariella C. Villa or Monique L. Roberts of Texas.

Both of you have tormented me enough. Whichever one of you fucking lunatics is responsible for this latest, just be the big Beyonce-loving piece of shit you are and admit it.

Thanks, you fat dumbass coward.

Love, Sister Wolf.

I’m not one to look for old friends on Facebook and I usually ignore those fake requests from LinkedIn. I don’t care about my ancestry and I’m not interested in friends from high school because for one thing, I didn’t go to high school. Mostly I’m content to just keep tabs on the Ex-wife, as I’ve mentioned before. If I need to feel smarter than somebody, she always delivers.

But a few weeks ago, I clicked on a LinkedIn notice, and while there, it occurred to me to look for the Tragedy. Something must have triggered this. Maybe something I watched on TV. So I typed in his name and there he was! No photo, and only one job listed, one that had ended. I sent a request to join his network and then returned to my regular programming.

It was a surprise when he responded with a long reply. It was great to hear from me! He had found my blog a few years ago, and had read the archives. He was so sorry about Max. He had thought of writing to me a thousand times. My writing was so good! He even read my stuff at Miista! As for him, he’d moved back to his hometown. He had never married.

My predominant feeling, my only feeling, was outrage.

WHAT?!? You read about the loss of my son and didn’t have the decency to express your condolences? How hard would that be? There’s the risk that I’d be annoyed, but please. I personally have written to strangers after reading about their loss. A senator, a governor, a regular person. I just want to offer sympathy and if possible, some words of comfort.

Then there’s the general feeling of being stalked. Stalked in the sense of reading all about my life and my thoughts without making a peep. It feels invasive. Even though I write for the entire world, I don’t expect the people I know to pore over my blog. It’s not a group letter about my vacation in Paris, France. I write from a need to express myself, to send a message in a bottle to someone who might relate or understand.

Okay, so there I am, fuming. I read the letter to my husband, who says Big deal, what’s so enraging? I read it to my sister, who says, Oh my god, what a fucker! This is one reason to have a sister. A huge reason.

I called a friend who I’d met at the bookstore, who had known the Tragedy and knew the whole story. His reaction was, Aw, how nice, and what a sweet guy. Ha. I reminded him of all the times we would argue about the best candidate to anally penetrate the Tragedy, thereby to teach him a thing or two. It came down to Vince Neil versus Steven Tyler. The debates were fierce, and accompanied by hysterical laughter.

Such was my bitterness at being rejected.

I could have ignored the letter but instead, I chose to reply and be direct. I wrote back:

But you broke my heart! So callously!

The last time we spoke, you looked me right in the eye and said, “I was never in love with you.” Said with no affect.

Would you like to moderate that in any way?

He did want to moderate it, in fact. And the whole affair came rushing back to me, a delirious mixture of bliss and despair.

If only!

“I’m gonna Kill the President” A Federal Offense is the name of a play that was written and produced by a dear friend of mine in 2004. It won an award from the L.A. Weekly and I wish I’d gone to see it. One performance was raided by police, and the audience thought it was part of the show. Chaos ensued. My friend can tell you the details.

Here’s a short news thing about the play:

I’m hoping this delightful piece of guerilla theater returns, because you know, Now More Than Ever!!! And because it feels good to say the words out loud. It’s nice to know that you can make such statements if it’s clear that you aren’t serious. It is protected free speech.

So, just kidding, I really wish that someone would kill the President and get it over with. Kidding again, I wish that Trump and Pence could drown peacefully or peacefully die of food poisoning.

Sticking with humor, I would shoot that corrupt piece of shit myself if I could get close enough, lol.

Here’s a good joke: What if all the republicans – and democrats – who have enabled this administration to dismantle everything helpful to the citizens and future citizens of the US, could be sent to Siberia or at least lose their jobs and their pensions???

Just kidding around, I would also like to know why all the press, and I mean ALL, have agreed among themselves to exclude any mention of Baron Trump from their reporting on the White House. No other child of a sitting President has enjoyed such a scrupulous hands-off policy. If it’s because Barron is autistic, we the people can handle that information. I believe we are entitled to it. Many of us have autism ourselves or in our families. It should not be up to the press to decide what we should know! How paternalistic! What else have they decided to protect us from knowing? The silence surrounding Barron Trump implies that his condition is too awful to mention, and somehow shameful. What services is he getting? Which of them are available to families with limited finances?

I’m just kidding when I say, look at this poor miserable child whose dad had chosen to both put him in the spotlight and to hide him away like Mrs. Rochester in the attic!

Just kidding when I say that Donald Trump is an abomination who should spend the rest of his life in a cage at the Southern border. Because we’re not monsters, we could give him some lego to build a wall. And if he’s molested by employees of his detention center, we’ll say “Fake News!” Get it?

When I’m feeling particularly miserable and powerless, I check to see if the Ex-Wife has written a new column in her neighborhood paper.  It never makes me feel better, but I am often rewarded by my favorite tropes, like references to Shakespeare or her bikinis and mini-skirts of yore.

“Of yore” is the type of expression that makes her writing such a joy. Reading the latest offering, a Proustian recollection of her childhood summers, I wonder why I can’t write like this. I mean, I had an Ice Cream truck, too. I went to summer camp, just like she did. But in my memories, I just bought the ice cream and ate it. At camp, it felt like I was being tortured by mean strangers and bees. It was a nightmare.

Anyway, take a look for yourself.

No bikini or mini-skirt but at least we get crop tops and “peddel pushers.”

Try thinking about your childhood for a minute, just as a mental exercise. Was it a diaphanous reverie filled with running and laughing and blue ribbons? Maybe that’s why I hate her.

My childhood was like a black and white horror movie. I don’t enjoy dredging up memories. One memory I do like is making snail hospitals. I loved putting the snails on cotton balls, their hospital beds, in a ward made from one of my mom’s shoe-boxes. They never got better, because they weren’t sick until I started fucking with them.

The snails probably had better childhoods than mine, and you know what? I’ll bet they were better writers than the Ex.