|I am judging you|
I know it's been a long while since I posted anything here. It's not for lack of time or interest, but a failure to focus which kept me away.
|I am judging you|
Note: I posted this to my Facebook timeline earlier today, & enough people asked permission to share it that I've brought it here to my cobwebby blog, as well.
To all the people who were so desperate to see Hillary win: please stop apologizing to the rest of the world for the election of Donald Trump. You helped it happen. You chose the worst possible candidate to lead your party (outside, possibly, Harry Reid and Nancy Pelosi), meanwhile looking the other way while evidence stacked up as to how she and her boss destabilized the world with their inept and/or crooked policies.
The POTUS you gleefully elected these last two cycles enabled both the expansion of corruption in our federal government and the escalation of racial mistrust and rage throughout our cities, culminating in riots and murder.
You looked the other way when every other racial and social group went out of its way to savage the middle class working white guy.
You supported the passage of laws which stifled free expression of religion (because, you claimed, "intolerance must not be permitted." How tolerant of you to not tolerate somebody's differing beliefs). You forced people to pay out of their hard-earned wages for the products of your own excess.
You encouraged members of your element to menace those who voted against you, even going so far as to publish addresses for the homes of private citizens -- and their children! -- who had expressed differing views, for all the world to harass.
Had you been capable of the same tolerance you demanded of others, you might, today, have no cause for trepidation from a backlash.
Had you supported a percievably honest-ish candidate, such as Bernie Sanders, you might not be crying in your trendy little vintner's cabernet, tonight.
No exalted platform awaits you for your sactimony. You helped build this house. You get to live in it with the rest of us.
|Click any image to embiggen|
I've been scanning some of The Bat's favorite recipe pages -- as well as my own -- from our rather extensive library of cookbooks. It's a fairly daunting task, considering how much we both like to cook and bake. But it just got a little more challenging, this afternoon, when my spiffy high-speed scanner decided to roll over and play dead.
Oh, don't worry. I do have another scanner. It's part of an all-in-one device I bought for an indecently low price at auction a few years ago. The part where I cry "Alas! Woe am i!" is when I consider the clock.
The backup unit is about as speedy at scanning as I am at walking. Sure, we get there, but having plenty of patience is necessary. With my good scanner, I was easily getting 140 pages scanned and filed in a single day. With the backup, I'll be lucky to get 40, because the scanner itself drags along, but also because each page file needs to be renamed before adding it to its proper folder. My poor dainty fingers cry out at this abuse it has not seen since...oh, four or five years ago.
I'd take the good scanner to the repair professionals first thing tomorrow morning, except my chariot and my accountant are both a thousand miles away (and I am not being figurative in stating that...well, not about the distance, anyway. The Bat is my accountant, and the chariot is a relatively late-model muscle car).
But I digress.
The scanner quit. It will not be repaired or replaced this month. I am going to continue to work on this family project, but will take better than double the expected time to do it.
I can tell your heart just breaks from my tragic circumstances.