Say "No" to Rapists and Racists

If you're not outraged at the mess the Pedo President and his cabal have created not only in this country, but throughout the world, you haven't been paying attention. 

Now the US Treasury is going to put his signature on our paper currency, but even if it's on every bill printed for the next three years, it will still have appeared more often in the Epstein Files. 

Wake up and act up. 

The greedheads who are looting our nation and corrupting everything they touch, as well as the red ballcapped gomers who go along hoping to get along, aren't going to go away unless and until we make them.

As a nation, we were the hope of the world. We can be that again. Together.
-bill kenny 

Lafayette, We Are Here (kind of)

The state of the union, in my opinion, is such that sometimes English fails to capture the frustration, confusion, and anger of any given moment. 

Steve Martin once noted the French have a different word for everything, and in this case, it's a whole sentence, courtesy of retired French Army General Nicolas Richoux. It's spot-on.

‘qu’il aille se faire foutre.’

Merci beaucoup. 'Et je vous remercie de votre attention à ce sujet.'
-bill kenny

By the Dawn's Early Light

I am not a big fan of experimentation (I used to be a huge fan of things created through fermentation but that was another lifetime, one of toil and blood, and I make it a rule to not go there anymore) and plod along for the most part with one foot in front of the other in travel and travail from Point A to something like Point B. It fills up the day and makes the time go fast.

For many years, when I worked (actually for multiple decades when I worked), I would have a bowl of Cheerios for breakfast at my work desk. Cheerios at work were my decompression food, I suspect. When I sleep, I cannot recall if I dream, though my wife has told me there are nights (and early mornings) when I shout out and/or talk or get up, and for which I have no explanation because I have no recollection. My dream world is just black. I use the whole going to work and getting used to being there for the next twelve hours part of the day as the Re-entry to Earth part of the program. And the fuel for this is Cheerios.

I knew someone who called them bagel seeds-suspect the Big G folks wouldn't have been too happy about that, but it makes me smile, and I repeated it to myself every morning and cracked myself up. If I had but a million or so folks with my delightful sense of humor (someone had to say it, and it didn't look like you were about to), I could have my own cable news show or podcast-and oh, how we'd all laugh then. 

I ate my at-work Cheerios in the next-to-last of the red plastic bowls we had when we lived in Germany and used for cereal there. Years ago, Sigrid found very nice and (actually) quite pretty replacement bowls, and the red plastic ones went to the land of their ancestors. As the oldest thing remaining in our house, I get VERY nervous when anything is pitched out 'because it's really old, since' You don't need a weatherman to know which way the wind blows,' on that equation.

I always ate my Cheerios without sugar or milk. Actually, and I don't eat a lot of cereals, I NEVER eat dry cereal with anything other than a spoon and my mouth. Why do you think they call it DRY cereal? Besides, what am I supposed to do with the milk? Drop little tiny people in the bowl, so they can be rescued? Perhaps I should get a recording of "Nearer My God to Thee" and use sugar cubes to construct a fake iceberg, then reenact the sinking of the Titanic. 

I used to eat Wheaties, back when Bob Richards was on the cover.  I guess if you had a box with Michael Phelps, using milk would make sense, but for that collector's edition on eBay (I'm assuming with contents), you'd probably have to use the ultra-high temperature stuff that looks like white water. I've never understood how they get the cows to stand still while they heat 'em up, but I suspect they catch them early in the morning.....
-bill kenny

Beat the Drum

The older I am, the better I was, in just about every way imaginable. 

In a few years, I'll be regaling passers-by with tales of my youth from when I was a Cy Young Award-winning pitcher, an astronaut, all while also serving as the President of the United States. But today, you're in luck because my calendar doesn't stretch that far. 

I have waited for this day since about half an hour after the last out of last year's World Series was recorded, and it arrived NOT a moment too soon. Today is the day that whoever you root for starts out in first place in the standings, just like my team, even if we root against one another. 

How can this be? Because today is Major League Baseball's 2026 Opening Day, this is the day Abner Doubleday (historians be damned) has made. Let us be glad and rejoice in it. Play Ball!
-bill kenny

HBD, Larry

Lawrence Ferlinghetti, an American poet, painter, social activist, and co-founder of City Lights Booksellers & Publishers in San Francisco, was born on this date in 1919 in Bronxville, New York. 

Decades before 'fake news' and 'alternative facts' were espoused by amoral, talentless, narcissistic, lying demagogues and their self-serving enablers, he wept for what was to come. 

And now that it's here, it's even worse than imagined.

PITY THE NATION

Pity the nation whose people are sheep
And whose shepherds mislead them

Pity the nation whose leaders are liars
Whose sages are silenced
And whose bigots haunt the airwaves

Pity the nation that raises not its voice
Except to praise conquerors
And acclaim the bully as hero
And aims to rule the world
By force and by torture

Pity the nation that knows
No other language but its own
And no other culture but its own

Pity the nation whose breath is money
And sleeps the sleep of the too well fed

Pity the nation, oh, pity the people
who allow their rights to erode
and their freedoms to be washed away

My country, tears of thee
Sweet land of liberty!

– Lawrence Ferlinghetti (after Khalil Gibran) 

-bill kenny

The Man in the Yellow Hat Has Some 'Splainin' To Do

When our children were small, they had fish for pets. When I was small, I had a cocker spaniel who hated me and bit me all the time. No, you can't see photos (I'm so old, pictures hadn't been invented yet). 

As adults, both of our children and their spouses have pets, dogs, cats, and fish. In answer to a question that (so far) no one has asked, if you are a resident of The Nutmeg State, you are not allowed to own a pet monkey (unless you had one a very long time ago). 

Of course, it's true! Why would I make that up?
-bill kenny

Art or Something Like it

The internet is so often a grim place. War, pestilence, disease, crooked politicians, and far too many unhappy endings. 

And then you find something like this. 

Actually, another Bill Kenny, a Facebook friend I will in all likelihood never meet, found it and shared it.   

Angina Pectoris, indeed.
-bill kenny