Slow Go for Co-Joe

Okay, the cartoon above isn't that funny since it reminds us that the "vaccines" aren't, and that as miracle drugs go, Paxlovid is about as impressive as a birthday magician pulling a quarter from behind a 5-year-old's ear. Although in fairness, the magician once did that trick in the Oval Office and Joe Biden is still regularly checking his ears for more change.

Mostly, I'm just posting because it's been about a week since I put anything up and I want people to know that Daughter J and I are still chugging along, albeit without a lot of momentum yet. I think I've mentioned that I thought of a minor writing project to distract myself with, right? Well, I have - but the artist I've hired for the job has been out sick lately. Covid? I don't know that it is, but why in Heaven's name wouldn't it be? Anyway, when the project is completed you'll read about it here first - and you'll be able to get your own copy, probably free, at the same time. 

I'm currently drinking huge quantities of water (sans Clan MacGregor) in order to hydrate for a possible blood donation on Monday. I say "possible" because so far I've only been able to produce blood once in four visits.  Seriously, the staff at the blood bank were high-fiving a turnip for giving more blood than me. Oh, I show up all pink, willing, and sloshy but my veins just skedaddle in the presence of needles or petulantly shut down after giving a single drop of blood. Which is frankly hard on me emotionally. I thought my grand purpose in life at this point would be to bleed extravagantly for those who need it and instead my role just seems to be to keep the chair warm for the next donor. But if at first you suck at bleeding, try, try again.

My weight loss program has been an abject failure to date although I haven't seen any increase in weight because I'm not stepping on a scale again except at gunpoint. It turns out that the funny thing about coping behaviors is that you need them to cope. But I'm working on healthier coping. In fact, I just got a book on living joyfully which was co-authored by the Dalai Lama and Desmond Tutu - and I've never seen a picture of either of them scarfing down a big bag of barbecue chips so I figure they have a lot of useful advice for me.

I also now own every conceivable book about Grief and Grieving, which sounds like the title of a really depressing Jane Austen novel. Which isn't the writing project I referred to earlier, but it's definitely going on my idea list.

Kamala Heiress

Will you ever forget where you were and what you were doing the moment you found out that Joe Biden, alleged president of the United States, has Covid? Because I've already forgotten, no doubt because I filed the information in the ever-expanding drawer in my brain that's labeled "Who Gives A Crap."

Although that's not quite accurate with Kamala Harris lurking in the wings, only a heartbeat away from being the most idiotic dunce to ever hold high office. And in making that assessment, I'm including a lot of inbred royals over the centuries whose major accomplishments were developing hemophilia, growing webbed fingers and toes, having single-digit IQs and a thousand-yard stare, and farting in the bathtub and snapping at the bubbles while slapping their hands together and barking like a seal.

But by some madness, we may be only days away from Kamala Harris becoming President of the United States. Which raises the terrifying question of who she would choose as the new Vice President? After all, the Vice President's most important job is to make the actual President look less like a moron by comparison, and Kamala Harris was already on a list of only one who could fulfill that role for Joe "Where Am I?" Biden. So who or what could make Harris look good by comparison?

According to our inside sources, this is the short list of candidates being urgently vetted by Democrats...

And so the nation holds its breath, waiting to see if Joe Biden will recover. Although doctors assure us that there's very little chance of Mr. Biden developing "long" Covid, as he can't possibly be long for this world whatever happens.

(Too Much) Food For Thought

A routine visit to the doctor today confirmed what my pants were already telling me; my weight is way out of control. In the four months since I lost Kathy, I've gained 40 pounds. Apparently my metabolism is under the delusion that I can personally build a new Kathy out of 100 pounds of grease, sugar, and other carbohydrates and so far there have been no supply-chain issues to slow down the stockpiling of raw materials. 

As people try to find coping mechanisms for extreme emotional stress, they frequently resort to the kind of vices that can give a quick (albeit fleeting) shot of relief to the brain. Drugs, gambling, alcohol, and sex are all high on the list and have few downsides other than having your teeth rot out, thugs beating the crap out of you in dark alleys, high-speed auto accidents, and contracting monkeypox from a hooker named "Candi" who, somewhat suspiciously, takes payment in bananas.

My personal vice has been food, which is less exciting than those other things but potentially just as deadly if I don't rein things in...and fast. I've been absorbing massive quantities of fried foods, Barbecue chips, entire pumpkin pies with Cool Whip, whole boxes of snack cakes, pints of ice cream, cans of french-fried onions, and so very much more. Not that I only rely on junk food - I also eat healthy things like hot dogs, sausage, tater tots, and pizza which, occasionally, has some flecks of vegetables on top.

And writing just the paragraphs above, I've eaten two large slices of red velvet cake, and have now switched to a bowl of cheese slices and oyster crackers. So I'm overdue to start cleaning up my ways.

According to my therapist, the only way I can actually start dieting again is by finding some other mechanism to relax or distract me during these times of tribulation. Writing seems like an obvious choice, but I've been very hard put to think of anything to write about (as you've likely noticed). 

Happily, I recently had an idea for a silly little writing project which I'm putting into motion. This would be a humorous self-published book (and ebook), copiously illustrated by a guy I found on Fiverr, and probably only about 60 pages long. It will not be a great work of art or literature, but it will be an entertainment that I will sell dirt cheap (and likely give away free as an ebook, at least initially for the folks here). 

I'd say more, but I've learned that it's a bad idea to share too much during the early enthusiastic stage of having a new idea; you use up your creative energy explaining the concept to others, and when they say "meh," it sucks the air out of your muse - who then takes up drugs, gambling, alcohol, and monkey-bumpin'.

But the project is something for me to work on which will hopefully kindle enough distraction and/or creative satisfaction to help me lay off the calories for the next few weeks. And if any of you have great weight loss tips (or hints about simian safe-sex) please leave them in the comments section!