So it’s finally happened. The Roe overthrow. Trump warned us when he was running in 2016. (I’m so grateful to the people who either didn’t vote, or wasted their votes on um . . . what were their names?) Our country continues its slow regression. Where back next? Contraception? Same sex marriage? Well at least Clarence Thomas won’t vote to outlaw interracial marriage because, well you know, his wife and all. The irony is that all the conservatives who wanted to grow the white population, (because, you know, the nation will be majority brown in twenty years) will be shocked at how the population will swell (pardon the pun) with underprivileged brown people as a consequence of their obsession. (Oh, and minorities tend to vote Democrat.) I’d suggest not having sex in states like Oklahoma, where some gentlemen wouldn’t hesitate to blow the uterus right off you if they thought you might be fertilizing there. And no exceptions for rape or incest in some states? These laws are probably promoted by men who prefer to you know, have sex with . . . okay, I won’t go there. Conservative women aren’t innocent either. It’s myopic not to consider the consequences of unwanted pregnancy. Research has shown that the socioeconomic outcomes for children whose mothers were denied abortions is catastrophic. And what about new mothers who resent their babies, or who feel trapped, or who aren’t automatically maternal? Do they put their children up for adoption? 90% don’t. You’ll definitely need to step in and do something about that. How absurd that the fate of women’s bodies in this vast country lay in the laps of nine people. Six who are woefully out of step with the majority of 21st century Americans. I won’t call them Justices, because there’s nothing just about what happened today. How sad that the Supreme Court is yet another political branch of our government.
My God, the news is so bad—I mean, really exceptionally bad–that the only relief is the TCM or the Halloween channel. Sometimes both. The Halloween channel is unofficially Freeform. Sometimes SyFy. Josh is content to watch something creepy with me, but if it’s really scary, (lots of ghosts, but no blood) I go it alone. Because it’s not scary. At all. Scary is climate change, oil spills, paralyzed government, Covid, violent death, Facebook, blah, blah. Anyway, in honor of my favorite holiday, I’d like to make a few recommendations for your viewing pleasure. And yes, this is subjective. And yes, I left out the animated stuff and probably some of your favorites. I generally prefer Gothic—especially if it was made in the 1960’s. Anyway:
The Haunting (1963 version with Julie Harris) TCM around the end of the month.
The Innocents (Deborah Kerr, based on Henry James short story) Might have to buy.
The Exorcist (Yes, it’s still terrifying) Should be streaming somewhere.
The Changeling (The one with George C. Scott) Prime Video?
Crimson Peak, (Mia Wasikowska and Jessica Chastain. A little bloody) Netflix, Prime Video
If you want a pure Halloween experience—Hocus Pocus, for a good laugh . . . and some good creeps. On Freeform all month. (Record it because there are tons of commercials.)
If you want something that will genuinely scare the shit out of you, (I couldn’t finish it) then watch Anya Taylor-Joy in The Witch. The atmosphere is . . . well, feel it for yourself.
I always thought Governor Abbott was an imbecile, (which automatically makes me smarter than him) and that he couldn’t possibly top his harebrained ban on masks, but I would be wrong. Sending women back into the dark ages with his new abortion law isn’t only asinine and sexist, it’s dangerous. But perhaps I shouldn’t speak up right now because he might be suffering from some bad period cramps . . . oh wait, he doesn’t have a period. Well then maybe he should keep his legislation out of my uterus. I particularly love the bounty on the body thing, but that’s another story. I’m sure you know about this, but I’m going to post portions of these articles anyway:
“MEXICO CITY, Sept 7 (Reuters) – Mexico’s Supreme Court unanimously ruled on Tuesday that penalizing abortion is unconstitutional, a major victory for advocates of women’s health and human rights, just as parts of the United States enact tougher laws against the practice.
The decision in the world’s second-biggest Roman Catholic country means that courts can no longer prosecute abortion cases, and follows the historic legalization of the right in Argentina, which took effect earlier this year.”
And from NPR:
“Now that women in Coahuila, which borders the state of Texas, can choose to terminate their pregnancies through the first trimester, Avila-Guillen suggests some American women may benefit from Mexico’s new law.
She asks: “Could the safest way for Texan women to have access to a safe, legal abortion soon be to make their way to Mexico?”
Who’d a thunk it? I love the irony. Maybe rape and incest victims won’t have to schlep so far away to end their trauma.
As a former Houstonian, born and raised, I’m ashamed about what’s happening to my state. I pray that one day a blue wave will rise up, cover the rot, and send the scoundrels running.
Because I’m old-fashioned, (meaning I’m tech-stupid) I’ve mainly used my blog in a cathartic way. (To bitch.) It’s been another “a while” since I’ve posted. I swear I’m not going to discuss politics. Really. It’s not good for my blood pressure, and I’m already too upset about everything else that’s destroying our country, world, and planet. I’m looking forward to Halloween, (my favorite holiday) so I’ll probably post one of my favorite ghost stories. But for now I’ll just share a few things that have transpired lately. Just a few links because I don’t know how to do anything else. That’s my Halloween resolution. To transform and invigorate my blog so my posts, (rants) aren’t so scary. I’ll reach out for viewers, add photos, jokes, (I really do have a sense of humor) my music, and anything I else I can think of to impress. Or connect, (which is what I need). I’ve been overwhelmed lately, (but it’s been artistic stuff so it’s okay). So here are a few links to some recent successes. You’ll know when I’ve figured out how to do anything else. I’m just an old-fashioned girl for now.
My latest play, The Harmonica In Your Closet, was just published in Stage It! 5: 20 Ten-Minute Plays. It’s about cultural appropriation, and it includes kippahs and dashikis. The info is on my Amazon page below. (And no, you don’t have to buy it.)
My latest monologue, Cheating Schmeating, which is about—you guessed it—was just named as a finalist in Paradox Theatre’s New Works Festival. I’d love to go to Chicago to see it but I’m Delta-variant shy.
You know what? I can’t do this anymore. It feels kind of . . . boastful. I’ll list a few of my misses in my next post. For now I’m going to hop and spend some time with Josh. I hope you have a great weekend. And don’t forget to get your jab. Be well!
No, I haven’t written in over seven months. I penned something just before the impeachment, which now seems like a ridiculous exercise from a bygone era. It’s the usual problem. I become so outraged by the latest travesty that I have exorcise my demons on the keypad. But when I finally get to my computer to unload, the insult has gone into hiding. You know, it’s vanished to make room for the next insult, and the next one, and the next one, until I’m too demoralized and disoriented to remember which travesty I was upset about. I’ll tell you what else is disorienting. The migraine that tortured my head for five days. The one that started pulsating after RBG’s death. Three days over the right eyebrow, one day over the left, and then a vestibular plant right in the middle of the head. I had to hold on to the bed so it would stop spinning. The bed, I mean.
Yes, I grieved this remarkable woman’s death, but I grieved her legacy even more. And then I grieved over the predictable shit show to come. It’s been much worse than I expected. I anticipated maniacal glee from Trump, McConnell, Barr, and the sycophants, but the rest of the lot? Complete senatorial acquiescence? (With the exception of Murkowski and Collins, whose gestures are empty at this point.) I was foolish to cling to any notion of honor. But yada, yada, I could go on for days about the ugliness of the Supreme Court and election battles, etc. Our democracy is at stake, the American experiment is failing, blah, blah. I’ve been paralyzed over the power grabs and the prospect of a Trumpian future for days–despite the vertigo.
So I’ve discussed/disgust/snarled about all this ramming of the nominees, and the voter suppression ahead, with my husband, who is accustomed to my histrionics. But I haven’t been histrionic. I predicted how all of this mess was going to play out almost a week ago. I’ve managed my expectations too much to wig out. Any hysteria over this nightmare has morphed into a calm paranoia. And I don’t care what he says, or the Wall Street Journal, or even Nate Silver. We do have something to fear.
And no, it’s not Trump, the autocrat baby, refusing to leave. He’ll be forced out kicking and screaming if he’s shown the door. We have the military for that. And Bill Maher. No, what keeps me up at night are the ballots. It won’t matter if Biden wins in a landslide if the landslide can’t be counted. And I’m not being simplistic. We received a letter from Florida the other day that took over five weeks to arrive. Five weeks. (Hats off to DeJoy, he knew what he was doing.) I don’t care what the cut-off is, if people start mailing their ballots this very second, what guarantees they’ll arrive in time to be processed? “Ballots that are postmarked by Election Day will count, if received within six and nine days of the election.” (NPR) Nine days? What about within three weeks of the election? Or five weeks like our letter?
CNN reports, “But beyond Trump’s rhetoric, his campaign and Republicans at the state and local level are moving to make it more difficult for voters to cast a ballot, more difficult for states to count votes and more likely that tallies will be challenged in the courts — with a particular focus on mail-in voting.”
Every vote must be counted—no matter how delayed–if we’re going to be beat this man. God knows he’s pulling every dirty trick he can to win. I don’t want the ballots, like the insults, to go into hiding.