Sometimes people are dicks, and you say, “Universe, am I a dick?”

Sometimes the Universe says, “yes,” with proper punctuation, and you know you’re screwed, and maybe you need to try harder.

Sometimes, the Universe sends a gentle breeze, a New York style Cheesecake, or a furry Canadian beastie your way, and you give yourself a little hug and send some good energy back out there to everyone.

It’s easy to get discouraged. Then your husband walks through the door and you aren’t anymore.

These are hard times.

People can be disappointing.

We forget that hurricanes and wildfires and pandemics don’t care about our best-laid plans.

All we can do is our best.

All we can be is our best.

To all people, in all circumstances.

Regardless of our faith, that is what we owe each other, even if we are different colors or don’t like each other’s politics.

Beyond the well-being of those I love, the only thing I pray for is to be worthy, and not a dick.

So you all know how I feel about the current president. I’m not going to go into it, except to say, right now, I’m tired, I’m scared, I don’t know when things are going to get better, and I’m worried about what life is going to be like once the immediate threat is over. Young, healthy people are dying from a virus we were told was no worse than a serious flu. It now turns out that, several weeks ago, we should have been observing protocols we were repeatedly told were unnecessary, and it appears that if the entire country had adopted social distancing and mask protocols a month ago, well…

Hindsight is 20/20. We will learn what we did wrong – those of us who respect science, anyway.

But this is unchartered territory, and while so many have shown unprecedented humanity, compassion, and heroism – AND THANK YOU – I don’t think I’m the only person who is white-knuckling it and really, really, REALLY wishing that the person in the Oval Office cared more about his people than himself.

Over the last several weeks, he has shown himself to be exclusively focused on what is good for Donald Trump, displaying the misogyny (“don’t be a cutie pie”) and contempt (“you are a terrible reporter”) we have come to know so well. He has had a million chances to comfort and unite his people. He has squandered every single one of them.

And some people who support Trump have even issued death threats against Anthony Fauci, M.D. because he has dared to speak science to Trump’s nonsense. Others continue to insist that his administration’s response was perfect, that he has done everything right, and that he is ever beyond reproach.

Over 7,000 Americans dead as of today. The first death was on February 29, 2020. That’s over 200 people every day since. It’s expected to get worse. Even if you believe Trump is perfection itself, and that every decision he has made has been the best possible alternative to contain and prevent further infection, the fact remains that over 275,000 Americans are sick, with many more surely to come.

And so, it might be nice for them, and for their families and loved ones, for their president to provide words of solace – even if it’s not his fault (some of it is), even if his response has been “perfect” (far from it), because that’s what leaders do. You know. To give comfort to those who are struggling. It’s called “empathy.” Doesn’t cost a dime.

It might be nice also for the caregivers on the frontline – the ones who are working endless shifts without proper PPE or sufficient equipment, the ones at risk for getting sick themselves, the ones who are self-quarantining in a basement or a garage to keep their families safe – for their president to issue a heartfelt, humble, “thank you.” It’s called “gratitude.” Also free of cost.

Haven’t seen either. Don’t expect to.

Donald Trump is a horrible, horrible human being. If you didn’t know it before, now you do.

So, in the United States, you can kill a bunch of 5 and 6 year olds…

And nothing will change. #sandyhook

By the way…have you ever had a conversation with a 5 or 6 year old?

You should. It’s fun.

But in this country, you can kill an entire classroom of children…which maybe included a future…teacher? Activist? Scientist?

Or maybe just a normal mom, or dad, or person?

You can shoot them down. Babies.

You would think that someone, somewhere, would say, “that’s not cool. Does our country maybe have an issue with guns?”

But what happens instead is that people say…

He had mental health issues.

Guns don’t kill people. People kill people.

And then we feel better.

A few days go by without a school shooting.

We breathe out.

We go back to normal. And we hope it’s the last time we have to see kids running from a school. In terror. As their parents watch from a distance and wonder, “is my baby still alive?”

Maybe.

So here’s a story from my polling station…whilst filling out my super cool paper ballot (what’s up with that???) I could not help but overhear the election officials discussing how disgusting it is that parents allow their transgendered children to express their true selves (“They’re kids!! They don’t know what they are!!!) followed by a take down of Elizabeth Warren for defending the rights of those seeking asylum in our country (“Can you believe it? They’re ALL criminals!”)

I was so astonished I almost voted for a Republican for dog catcher, and as anyone with a brain knows, the only candidate this year is Boone.

Once I finished filling out my ballot, I walked up to the group and said, “You guys are election officials, right?”

They nodded.

I said, “I think it is inappropriate…SO INAPPROPRIATE…that you are standing here talking politics AT THE POLLING PLACE.”

Unbelievable.

I continue to be utterly flummoxed and nonplussed by the GOP members of Congress who, apparently, are more concerned about losing the next election than about the implications of their blind loyalty to the president and the legacy they have memorialized on social media and elsewhere.

The “process” argument that appears to be the sole talking point of GOP Congressional members is a flimsy, easily discredited “defense,” and when that argument is shown to be severely flawed (process in place was enacted by the GOP, lots of precedent for closed-door depositions, GOP members present and actively participating in same), they…and I still can’t even believe this…attack the patriotism and integrity of decorated military officers and career diplomats with no demonstrated political ideology. It doesn’t get much more craven and desperate than that.

Many of these members have done good work during their years of public service and have much to be proud of, but in 30 years, they will be remembered only for their unconditional support of a president whom history will recognize as the most corrupt, incompetent, and dishonest person ever to hold the title of commander in Chief.

To those who would apparently follow this president anywhere, no matter what he says or does, no questions asked, please ask yourself whether this is the person for whom you are willing to sacrifice your legacy. And if the answer is, “yes,” well, in the immortal words of the knight in “Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade,” “[you] chose…poorly.”

So I’m a pretty liberal, let’s-talk-about-it girl…and I am all about optimal health and wellness…but…I just watched a commercial directed at guys whose erections look funny and bend in the wrong direction.

Whaaaaat???

Okay. Okay. So, bendy weird erections are, apparently, a condition that causes a lot of angst and shpilkes (I have to cop to the cultural appropriation of Yiddish terminology, except it’s such a great and expressive word) and as such merits lots of medical research and lots of big pharma dollars and probably has a Medicare diagnosis code.

Bendy wing-wang erection. That’s a condition that needs fixing.

Because of course it does.

I mean, what better deserves our attention and awareness and medical research funding and hand-wringing than the MAN WITH A BENDY ERECTION???

#certainlynotkidswithcancer

#certainlynotdiabetesorsicklecellanemia

#certainlynotmultiplesclerosis

Oh, the humanity.

I’m gonna need a donut.

Okay.

Not to be a dick here, but, perhaps some perspective? Yeah? Okay.

Once upon a time, many years ago Glamour Magazine (remember Glamour Magazine? No? Well, it was a women’s magazine that was big in the 1980’s, and Kim Alexis was on almost every cover) ran a Q & A column entitled “Your Health,” and sometime back in 1985 a woman wrote in seeking advice because…wait for it…her clitoris was too big.

I know! Too big? Really? Yikes!

I don’t remember how big it was. Maybe it was huge. Maybe it wasn’t. Who knows?

#nojudgment #dontbehatingonthebigclitoris

It had never occurred to me that my clitoris might be “too big.” (For what? For whom? Is that even a thing?)

But, I do recall thinking, “If your clitoris is THAT big, probably you should be talking to a DOCTOR, NOT GLAMOUR MAGAZINE!!!

Oh, science. In the words of Rodney Dangerfield…

Maybe she did. Maybe she went to a doctor and got herself sorted and now she’s happy with her clitoris, which, one hopes, receives lots of attention, to many huzzahs and orgasms.

Or maybe she’s been living every day since with her XXL clitoris, lonely and ashamed for her weird anatomical abnormality. Who can say?

That was, like, 30 years ago. Before we had climate change and identity theft and Donald Trump to worry about.

But.

There’s been a lot of time, over those 30 years or so, for the medical community to consider the plight of those with overly large clitori, and to do something about it.

And so I ask you:

In the last 30 years…

HAVE YOU EVER SEEN A COMMERCIAL FOR A PHARMACEUTICAL PRODUCT THAT SEEKS TO TREAT WOMEN WITH OVERLY LARGE CLITORI???

NOOOOOO! YOU HAVEN’T!!!

Maybe because women with large clitori are having great sex, and it’s not an issue.

Maybe it’s because women are now so okay with where and who they are that they never thought to consider whether their clitori were too big (cuz, like, how would you know???)

Or maybe it’s because, even though millions of women went to their doctors screaming, “OMG, MY CLITORIS IS TOO BIG!!!” it never occurred to anyone to ACTUALLY DO SOMETHING ABOUT IT.

#whocaresifwomenarehavinggoodsex

#whocaresaboutwomenshealth

Who knows.

Which brings me back to Mr. Bendy Erection.

That sounds uncomfortable and potentially unsightly. And, guy, I’m sorry.

I really am.

But here’s the thing:

Before I get worried about bendy functioning erections, I’m probably gonna be more interested in working to eradicate:

Breast cancer
Ovarian cancer
Heart Disease
Stroke
MS
Macular Degeneration
Lung cancer
Melanoma
Myeloma

…and many, many more life-threatening diseases.

So if you want to raise awareness and dollars about weird-looking erections (and, Dude? Hate to break it to you, but they look weird even when they aren’t bendy), maybe hold an event at a really great private golf club (Pebble Beach/Oakmont/Bethpage Black)…18 holes followed by steak and potato, wedge salad, and lots of whiskey. There are probably lots of white dudes worried about their weird wing-wangs who would be happy to attend and donate.

Still, I am sorry if your wing-wang don’t schwing-zam the way you’d like.

That probably sucks, Bra.

Thoughts and prayers, guys. Maybe someone will have a telethon on your behalf.

But until we all agree that women’s reproductive healthcare should be directed by women, after consultation with their doctors, and covered by universal health insurance, please forgive me if I’m not worried about a bendy erection, or an erection of any kind.

And that’s all I have to say about that.

I freaking HATE fake National (Insert Something Here) Days, because it’s ridiculous and disingenuous and self-serving.

If you are lucky enough to have a child of either gender, consider yourself blessed. You don’t need to be celebrated. You already were. #morningprincess

If you want to celebrate your daughters, how about you work to reduce the incidence of rape of college campuses, or to increase reproductive health options, or to demand universal paid maternity leave and preschool and health care? That seems like something worth celebrating.

Oh, wait… I get it…It’s not really about celebrating our daughters, or the issues that face them.

It’s about posting cute photos on FB so everyone you went to high school with knows you have a daughter.

That’s nice. It’s sort of like Yankee Candles or Thomas Kinkeade prints. #goodtimes

If you want to celebrate daughters, make sure they inherit a world in which men don’t grope them with impunity and where they make the same pay as their male colleagues.

I have daughters. I love them. They’re lovely, and potty-trained.

And so, in honor of (drum roll, please) “National Daughter Day!” (Barf vomit watery diarrhea), this is my post.

#mydaughtersknowwhattheymeantome #stupidfakeholidays #preciousme #godosomethingrighteous

Greta Thunberg is 16 years old. She’s on the Spectrum.

She became alarmed by the issue of climate change which – hold onto your hats – is actually recognized as a fact in some parts, as opposed to something you either do, or do not, “believe in.”

As in, do you believe in gravity? In a round world? In the power of antibiotics to fight infection?

Uh huh.

So Greta. She’s responsible, in part, for the increased awareness of the climate crisis. She’s formidable enough to have sparked last week’s Climate Strike, and was invited to speak at the United Nations, where she blasted world leaders for the world they have left her.

Some try to discount her based upon the fact that her appearance is similar to Hitler youth. Yeah, that’s true. Just ask that POS Dinesh D’Souza.

Others have pegged her as “mentally ill.” Yeah, that’s also true. Just ask Fox News (always the pinnacle of subtlety and nuance). I wonder if it’s because, as a person on the Spectrum, she may lack certain interpersonal skills. God forbid we who DO have those skills strain ourselves listening for the deeper message.

To those who say, “she’s a child.” Well, hey? What were you doing when you were 16? Were you making headlines? Were you the spokesperson for perhaps the most important issue facing the world? Tell me about the disabilities you were dealing with at the time, and please fill me in onhow many people you got to sit up and listen?

If you have children, you should be screaming your support of Greta Thunberg, because you’ll be dead before your kids will, and if you’d like them to have anything like the life you did, guess what?

If something doesn’t change, they won’t.

Some people always get nervous when strong young women stand up against the patriarchy. Those people are cowards.

Thank you, Greta Thunberg.

George Conway (Mr. Kelly Anne Conway) spends a lot of time trolling Trump on Twitter, and mostly I agree with the sentiments he expresses.

Here’s the problem, though:

In all other respects, Conway is an arch conservative who supported Brett Kavanaugh’s nomination to the Supreme Court and generally walks in lock step with all things McConnell.

He just hates Donald Trump. Not his policies, necessarily…he hates the man.

And while there may be plenty to dislike, one has to wonder whether this normally media-shy man is truly bothered by what he perceives to be the fundamental unfitness of our current commander in chief or whether it had more to do with the fact that said commander in chief happens to be his wife’s boss…or that his wife appears to be one of the few people who has any influence over him?

Which, if you were an unremarkable-looking, camera shy, wonkish, kinda nerdy attorney, and your wife was a sassy, powerful woman who some might find attractive and who clearly doesn’t need YOU to pay the bills, might feel kind of threatening.

Especially if your wife seemed to genuinely like and believe in her boss who, many are saying, is kind of rapey and handsy and gross.

So one has to wonder how much George would have to say about Trump if his wife didn’t work for him, which then suggests that George’s tweets calling into question Trump’s mental health may have more to do with jealousy and male ego than a genuine concern about whether Donald Trump is or is not the worst thing that has ever happened to our country.

Which is pretty backward, George, because while she’s a good soldier, your wife isn’t sleeping with her boss, and you need to get over the fact that while some may find her role as Chief Apologist maddening and absurd, others think she’s all that and love her spunk. Which may also have something to do with why you’re so angry.

Here’s my point: If your hatred of Trump is based upon solid conservative principals and an insistence that leadership be ethical and in furtherance of solid conservative principles, then you need to be tweeting at a lot of other people, too.

If, instead, you’re angry that your wife is on a big stage getting lots of (platonic) love from a dwindling base and a big, sloppy orangutan, you need to do the following:

1. Put down your phone and stop tweeting;
2. Walk to the closest mirror, look into it, and slap yourself; and
3. Talk to your wife, and work it out, because this one-sides marital spat is unseemly and makes us feel very uncomfortable.

Bottom Line: Trump is not the problem (well, he is for many, but he’s not YOUR problem). Your problem is with your wife (and it’s your problem, not hers). Go to the gym, lose some weight, take up knitting or maybe fencing or the bagpipes. It’ll make everyone feel better.