Two Arms! Two Arms!

To honor Dr. Martin Luther King Jr in some way that isn't immediately clear, Boston has just unveiled a 10 million dollar sculpture of a bald man giving oral sex between a woman's spread legs as he grasps her thigh and cradles her big, beautiful bronze butt with his free hand.

Granted, that's not supposed to be what the sculpture depicts, but to paraphrase the old saying: "I may not know art, but I know what the hell that looks like."

In reality, the sculpture is intended to look like the arms - and only the arms - of Dr. King and his wife exchanging a quick hug after he won the Nobel peace prize by making the world safe for preposterously overpriced public art. Art which, regardless of race, creed, culture, national origin, gender orientation, or political affiliation, we can all hate equally. 

"But wait," you say - still apparently unclear about the uselessness of talking back to the printed page, "the sculpture probably looks much better from less salacious angles!" But does it...?

Well, no. 

Seeing millions of dollars wasted like this is always frustrating but, in this case, it also saddens and enrages me because Dr. King's dream deserves better.  Not just symbolically but in practice and policy.

Because somewhere along the way, we've fallen from Dr. King's mountaintop. Or rather, we were pushed by the political and cultural provocateurs who continue to benefit from racial inequity and division. So perhaps it is their arms that this abominable sculpture sadly represents.

BONUS: SOCKS APPEAL

He's only human.

No Superlatives For You!

99% of this post is just me checking in because I haven't posted anything in a week. But as long as I'm here, I might as well mention what I'm pissed off about (as reflected in the cartoon above).

Biden recently presided over a big ceremony in Washington DC in which he gave out medals to the "heroes" who, on January 6th two years ago, saved our democracy by shoving flag-waving AARP members out of public buildings, after which the so-called insurrectionists peacefully went to Cracker Barrel for a nice early dinner.

In keeping with the mythic narrative surrounding the event, officers who were present that day were labeled as "survivors" in much the same way you can call people "survivors" who are disembarking from a jet that didn't crash. 

Of course, not all officers were so lucky, and family members had to claim the medals of the four officers who tragically died fighting the seditionists that day. Well, maybe not that day but within 72 hours or so. And not from injuries sustained that day. One officer died of a stroke. Another of a heart attack. And sadly two died from suicide. But was their despair caused by seeing people in MAGA hats, or did it come from finding themselves on the battlelines against the unarmed, ordinary Americans they had sworn to protect? I don't pretend to know, but I find the lack of curiosity on this point disturbing.

But where was Lt. Michael "Killshot" Byrd during the ceremony? Where was his medal? We're told that the group Byrd was in was the last line of defense and saved dozens if not hundreds of lives that day, not to mention saving Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez from giving birth to a buffalo-horned rape baby. Our own military had turned Ashli Babbitt into a Terminator-style killing machine and it was only Lt. Byrd's quick action that prevented her from spouting potentially deadly slogans within earshot of our sacred legislators.

So again - why no medal for Byrd? Why no proclamation from Joe Biden that our nation was saved by the actions of this one man? And a Black man at that! Unless the story being flogged isn't even remotely true (as evidenced by the countless "we didn't find nuffin" committee hearings staged by the Democrats) and Byrd is simply a trigger-happy embarrassment rather than the bravest American hero who ever lived. 

Still, whatever side of the political aisle you're on, I think we can all agree that January 6th, 2021 was a dark day for America. And hopefully, we'll never see such an unarmed attack again.

Fahrenheit 365

Unsurprisingly, I won't be doing my annual "year in review" for the blog this year. I haven't paid close attention to the news (although you didn't need to pay close attention to be aware of what a colossal fustercluck it was and is) and you sure as heck don't need to hear another recounting of my personal year.

I don't have much in the way of plans for New Year's Eve other than to go to my backyard at midnight, set fire to the 2022 calendar, and then create a cloud of urine-scented steam as I forcefully (and quite personally) extinguish the embers.

But hey, 2023 will be a brand new year! A tabula rasa! A Stayfree-fresh new beginning! And in that spirit, I heartily and sincerely wish you all the Least Painful New Year possible.