The Curse It Is Cast

“. . . history and even corruption itself have a way of normalizing the unbearable.” —Naomi Wolf 

via the Clusterfuck Nation 

"So, the Party of Victims has “won” the midterm election super-bigly. They crushed it. They are supreme. Everybody and his uncle voted for them overwhelmingly, in record numbers so stupefying they seem. . . a little supernatural. Yes, like they got an assist from somewhere, from someone — and probably not from the better angels of our nature, if you know what I mean. Somehow an extra 20-million ballots were cast this midterm over the previous midterm in 2022. But they were strangely distributed.

The Party of Victims has flat-out said it wants to see the president drawn, quartered, beheaded, pissed-on, and stuffed into an unmarked hole in the ground. Plus, anyone who ever worked for him or voted for him to be hurled into prison. There’s your casus belli. The curse it is cast.

The Party of Victims has also announced its intentions to shred the Constitution via legal legerdemain for the purpose of making the USA a one-party state and, as such, subservient to governing entities outside the USA. Those entities reside mainly in and around the European Union, including the EU itself, the financial elites that it serves, and an international NGO galaxy of aggrieved “activists.”

Discount any prattle coming out of the Party of Victims and their ancillaries in the news media about “our democracy.” The phrase is a ruse, aimed at malware they have already installed in your brain, straight out of Rachel Maddow’s pretty mouth. “Our democracy” is a phantom concept to disguise a political apparatus that only works for the Party of Victims. Also note: the Party of Victims wants to make victims of everybody outside their party. “Our democracy” actually means: we get to push you around and do our bidding. . . or else go off and die...." 

-  James Howard Kunstler

A Good Monday Morning

Coffee's Ready

Sunday Soothingness

Just for you, because your Blog Editrix loves each and every one of you, a bit of Soothingness for your auditory nerves.  Another choice morsel drawn from your Beloved Editrix's personal digs, a beautiful Bossa nova vibe track from Blues Guitarists Kal David featuring the vocals of Lauri Bono titled "I Idolize You" from his excellent 2010 album "Crossroads Of My Life" 

 Take a Deep Breath and Enjoy your Sunday.

 

Your Official Almost Semi-World Famous Irredeemable Big Ass Open Thread!

Since there's not been much happening this week, let's hope y'all don't struggle to find something to say. But Your Beloved Blog Editrix, Who Loves Each and Everyone of You will leave the floor open just in case your cat has puppies or something pisses you off and you want to vent. As for your Blog Editrix, she will hit the road this evening to be in her the 30 yard line seat for the 91st meeting of LSU and Alabama.  I will be the one in purple. 

And we are just tickled shitless to announce the addition of the newest Big Ass Open Thread Moderator, our old friend, Roachclip Johnson!

Roachclip Johnson is an Award Winning Herbal Cultivation Reporter formerly of The Maui Wowie Free Press, and when free on bond, a contributor to Middle Finger News Service International. Roach has a masters degree in Arts & Crafts and is renowned far and wide for his Custom Bongs and Personalized Roach Clips for the beautiful people. Roach is also recognized for his charity work as founder of the legendary "Lost Bikini Top Retrieval and Rescue Team" of Maui Beach. 

Y'all give Roach some love in the comments.

So dawn the blogger thongs and let it rip!

Meet Your Future Speaker of the House of Representatives.

Hakeem Jeffries elaborates on the entire “democrat” platform in succinct fashion. https://t.co/kOPoDPeqCN

— FO𝕏 YOU (@F0XYOU) August 25, 2026

Hackeem is going to be a wealth of material!

I'll Attempt to Explain......

I have recently received email from different regular readers of this blog about the apparent turn to a more serious tone instead of the light hearted satire and snark it's known for. For this I apologize, and I will attempt in as short a way as possible to explain.

Every year I write a letter to my mother, a letter that will not be sent. She did not live long enough to see me grow to be a woman.  The letter is cathartic for me, gives me time to reflect and ask myself "would she be proud of who I've become?" 

For those who do not know, I am a product of a wonderful Scottish musician father many of you over 40 might recognize the name, and birthed by an American mother.  My father's work kept them in Europe most of the time and they chose to settled in a small quiet Belgian town for privacy. I was born in Brussels. 

My earliest memories of childhood are of walking with my mother in the gently rolling hills above a WW1 Military Cemetery near where we lived. These grassy hills and shade trees became our favorite picnic spot, and where she taught me the things a mother teaches her daughter; why the sky is blue, how to braid your hair, and in my case, why those white crosses in the distance were in perfect rows. 

She never let me forget the fact she was American, and so was I to be. She taught me the Pledge of Allegiance. She taught me and my friends the game of soft baseball.  We had hamburgers and strawberry shortcake on 4th of July. 

In the summer she would take my sister and I to the open air markets to buy fresh fruit and flowers she loved to filled the house with. I also remember many times dark haired, dark eyed men in the market, men who dressed and spoke differently than my father, watching me and sometime felt them touching my hair.  One day, as a young teenager shopping with my mother, two of these dark haired men touched my sister inappropriately. My mother turned and slapped one of the men in the face. I heard yelling and  words I did not understand, and my mother get pushed to the ground. It was while recuperating from that incident that doctors found the cancer that would eventually take her from us a little over a year later. 

What I saw in those men’s faces that hurt my mother was evil rage that I had never seen and did not understand. 

They were muslims. Immigrants from a nearby enclave. 

The election here and events in Europe these past months have brought feelings to the surface I thought had passed and did not expect to return. I'm not proud of those feelings.  The last letter to my mother has made my mood somber, yet angry.  I have tried to write of lighter things here but find it difficult. That will pass. I have been somewhat  consumed at times by the memory of what was done to my mother, and the growing concern for my childhood friends and their now young children I left behind.

I have seen many angry men. None like I saw that day. I was raised by my parents to be compassionate, and later by my aunt to be the proper Southern Belle I believe I've become. But when I see scenes of muslims men in the news, I recognize the same soulless evil I saw that day in the market.

I have a deep affinity for the European people that most Americans will not understand. I lived among them and was one of them as a child. I don’t expect anyone to understand. What we see happening in Europe now is no one's fault but their own. It's self inflicted. It is now up to us to make sure we don't place ourselves in evil’s way as they have. 

It hurts me deeply to see it happening, and to put it into words to my mother……

A Good Monday Morning

Coffee Is Ready