that’s all, folks. it’s over and done. the once-stately East Wing of the White House has been completely reduced to a pile of rubble.

here’s another thing that’s now a pile of rubble: our Constitution. masked ICE thugs trample over it every day on the streets of our cities.

want more rubble? just look at our tariff and trade policies, and our relationships with our allies. they can’t trust us to be honest — or even coherent — about anything.

does any sane person believe any of the fairy tales our government has been spewing about the fishing boats they’ve been blowing up, without providing one scrap of evidence? our credibility is also a pile of rubble.

hey, you know what else is a pile of rubble? Preznit Fuckwit’s poll numbers — because everything fucking sucks right now, and none of this shit is popular.

Harry Enten: “Donald Trump’s doing absolutely awful in the minds of the American people. what are we talking about? we’re talking about new lows for Donald Trump. he’s hit new lows for himself. Trump’s economic net approval rating hits lows with these pollsters. CNBC, look at this: down now minus 13 points in the net approval rating on the economy. you come to this side of the screen, it’s minus 19 points among Quinnipiac, and keep in mind, we’re talking about hitting record lows for Donald Trump in either his first term or his second term. the bottom line is that Donald Trump is at the lowest point ever in either of his terms…. Donald Trump is beating himself in the way you don’t want to beat yourself: record lows.”

Preznit Fuckwit is the least-popular president since Preznit Fuckwit.

Donny’s been praising himself to high heaven these days, bragging about how the price of everything has gone down by all the percents. thousands, maybe even millions. low prices like no one thought possible. sir! sir! how do you do it?

Donny can lie all he wants, but his pungent mouth-farts only float so far. people still have to go shopping. they know first hand that the price of everything has been skyrocketing lately.

oh, and this just in from The New York Times, as I’m writing this post.

and that doesn’t even factor in health insurance premiums, which are on their way to going through the roof.


we don’t yet have poll numbers on Donny’s desecration of East Wing, but you know that none of what’s going is likely to be popular.

even the White House knows this fuckery is radioactive. yesterday, they sicced their goons on reporters covering the destruction.

“Look away! New: US Secret Service has closed access to the Ellipse park where journalists had been capturing live images of the East Wing demolition. CNN had a photojournalist capturing live images of the demolition at the time. Reuters was also ushered out of the park.”

what a good look for this fascist administration, closing a public park and ejecting the press. they really don’t want We the People to find out what they’ve been doing to our House, do they?

too late, you fuckfaces. the photos are already out there.

gone. just fucking gone. all that beauty, all that history.

destroyed, just so that a broken-inside narcissist can build his tscky dance hall for billionaires.

what a fucking travesty.

our next Democratic president is going to have a lot of cleanup work to do — but one of the many things they must campaign on is a vow to put all this shit back the way it was before Cankles McRottinghand assaulted it. not just the Epstein Ballroom, but also the parking lot where our beloved Rose Garden used to be.


tell me, does Sundowning Grandpa Befuddlepants’ inability to remember who he’s pardoned lately make his ass seem demented?

Kaitlin Collins: “today you pardoned the founded of Binance. can you explain why you chose to pardon him, and did it have anything to do with his involvement in—”

Donny: “who is that?”

Collins: “the founder of Binance. he has an involvement in—”

Donne: “the recent one? yes, the— uh— I believe we’re talking about the same— because I do pardon a lot of people. uh, I don’t know. he was recommended by a lot of people. a lot of people say that— are you talking about the crypto person? uh, a lot of people say that he wasn’t guilty of anything, and he served four months in jail. they say that, uh, he was not guilty of anything. what he did— well, you don’t know much about crypto. you know nothing about— you know nothing about nothing, you fake news.”

Donny’s such a charmer, isn’t he?

come on, media, be fair. Donny’s been springing a shitload of convicted criminals from prison. how can you expect him to keep them all straight?

imagine that a reporter had asked Joe Biden about someone he’d pardoned, and his answer was ‘fuck if I know, I just sign whatever they put in front of me.’

Jake Tapper would have spontaneously orgasmed right then and there, and started writing ten new books. but have you heard a peep out of him now?

let’s refresh Dear Leader’s memory. here’s why you pardoned the founder of Binance, you thieving old kleptocrat.

The pardon of Zhao, widely known as CZ, came two months after The Wall Street Journal reported that the Trump family’s own crypto venture, which has generated about $4.5 billion since the 2024 election, has been helped by “a partnership with an under-the-radar trading platform quietly administered by Binance.”

oh, was that wrong?

because Donny has to plead ignorance on this thing. because if anyone had said anything at all to him when he first started here that that sort of thing was frowned upon…

I’m so old, I remember when Tricky Dick’s veep, Spiro Agnew, resigned after he got caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

Spiro’s crime was bribery and tax evasion, to the tune of twenty nine thousand dollars. seriously, that’s all? twenty-nine large? that’s chicken feed. Tom Homan won’t even pick up the phone for less than fifty.

but Spiro’s real crime was being born fifty years too soon. if he was around today, Donny would pardon him in a heartbeat — and then completely forget who Spiro was, and get pissy with the first reporter to ask him about it.

twenty-nine grand. what a laughably minuscule sum. Donny’s ripping us off for billions — and he’s pardoning all of his accomplices.


what is even going on in this next clip? is Donny claiming credit for popularizing the f-word?

“they’ve even now started imitating me, of all people. the want to imitate me, and they start using foul language. but they use too much of it. you can’t use the f-word seven times in one sentence. it doesn’t work. it might work once every seven news conferences, but you can’t do it— you can’t do it seven times in one sentence.”

fuck you, you fucking fuck. don’t you fucking tell me how fucking often I can fucking say fuck.

dude, am I right?


here’s your hero of the day: Polka Dot Lady.

a couple of days ago, masked ICE thugs showed up in lower Manhattan to round up Chinese street vendors who were guilty of the dastardly crime of selling cheap knock-offs — and our anonymous hero was having none of it. apparently out for a lunch-hour stroll, she saw what was going on, and she was all this fuckery ends now.

here she is, giving a New York welcome to an armored military vehicle.

look at her mix it up with law enforcement, while wearing business clothing. talk about being dressed for success.

Polka Dot Lady is fearless.

we have no idea who this brave woman is, and we have no idea if she was one of the five people arrested for assaulting officers.

Polka Dot Lady, whoever you are, wherever you are — we salute you.


this is going to be my closing message for the foreseeable future:

practice self-care. do what you need to do to keep sane. if that means you need to disengage with my daily posts for a while, I get it. this community of ours will still be here when you return.

to all the people who have signed on in the days since the election, welcome aboard. settle in as we all try to deal with the shitfuckery that’s ahead of us.

we are all in this together, and we are all here for each other.

0 comments

Tiedrich Wednesday

as a team of backhoes reduces the White House’s East Wing to rubble, a second set of much tinier backhoes is at work inside Preznit Fuckwit’s head, reducing the east wing of his brain to rubble.

as a team of backhoes reduces the White House’s East Wing to rubble, a second set of much tinier backhoes is at work inside Preznit Fuckwit’s head, reducing the east wing of his brain to rubble.

“and I will say this, we have Darth Vader. you know Darth Vader, right? Darth Vader is a man who, uh, I think he’s sitting, right? is that Darth? stand up please, Darth Va— stand up. does everybody know— this is— they call him Darth Vader, I call him a fine man. but he’s cutting Democrat priorities and they’re never gonna get them back.”

Donny has no idea that Darth Vader is the bad guy, does he?

apparently Star Wars is some kind of Shakespearean tragedy for Donny, where the awesomest hombre in the galaxy keeps getting defeated.

anyway, the ‘Darth Vader’ who Donny was encouraging to ‘stand up,’ is, of course, Russ Vought, the architect of Project 2025 who is now Director of the Office of Management and Budget. Russ has been hard at work hollowing out government to the point where it no longer functions. he’s also been, as Donny was proud to point out, ‘cutting Democrat priorities.’

you know, ‘Democrat’ priorities, like ‘healthcare should be affordable,’ and ‘food and drugs should be inspected.’ just wait until the cultists discover that cutting all that shit affects them, too.

hey — speaking of Donny and his relationship with Russ the Impaler, here’s a fun story that’s not at all creepy or vomit-inducing.

apparently, after Vought’s wife left him in 2023, America’s Poon-Hound-in-Chief made it his mission in life to get Russ laid. ‘come down to Motel-a-Lago,’ Donny urged him, ‘you’ll be drowning in snatch.’

apparently, after Vought’s wife left him in 2023, America’s Poon-Hound-in-Chief made it his mission in life to get Russ laid. ‘come down to Motel-a-Lago,’ Donny urged him, ‘you’ll be drowning in snatch.’

“Trump spoke to Vought, a self-described Christian nationalist who’s now one of the president’s most hardline enforcers, about the ‘gorgeous’ and ‘beautiful ladies’ who roam Trump’s club, Mar-a-Lago, so often that it ‘weirded out’ some of his advisers,” sources told Zeteo.

“And Trump spoke crudely of all the ‘pussy’ that Vought would surely get as the president’s favorite ‘bachelor.’”

yes, I know. I just had the same reaction you did.

come on, Russ — how could you resist the Sirens of Motel-a-Lago?

but I digress. we need to get back to Donny, because he’s been getting all shouty at his TV again.

“the great George Washington, all the way to— [pauses as his mind goes blank] well, I think we have to rate him above me. so, less than great. less than George. as somebody went up the other day, they say, ‘you’re the third-best president of the Uni—’ this was on television, ‘third best.’ and they said who are the first two? ‘George Washington and Abraham Lincoln,’ and I got extremely angry at this man, heh heh, you know? you can’t— it’s— it’s gonna be— it’s gonna be tough to beat [gestures] Mister Senator, it’s gonna be— John, it’s gonna be very tough to beat Washington and Lincoln, but we’re gonna give it a try, right? hey, they didn’t put out eight wars, nine coming. all right, we put out eight wars, and the ninth is coming, believe it or not.”

let’s set aside this fever swamp hallucination, where Donny actually believes he deserves the Nobel Bestest President Ever Prize for “putting out” eight (now nine) wars. (fact check: fuck off.)

instead, let’s focus on how Donny’s brain has gone fuckity-bye. listen to him ramble incoherently, and struggle to finish a single sentence without losing his train of thought.

this is the clownish figurehead they put in front of the camera to distract us all with his dog-and-pony show, while Stephen Miller and Russ Vought and all the other sewer clowns run around in the background and do the actual work of fucking our country into oblivion.

everyone knows this. it’s the worst-kept secret in Washington.

meanwhile, every Republican Senator present at Donny’s Parking Lot Club luncheon, and every reporter watching from the wings, sits there with a grin frozen on their face, and pretends that all of this is normal, and acts like nothing’s wrong.

hey, why should they complain? when the whole thing was over, they all got cool swag bags full of Trump-branded merch as a parting gift.

I shit you not.

what did We the People get? fucked, that’s what. and not in the Russ-Vought-at-Motel-a-Lago way.

lucky us.


it’s Day Two of the desecration of the East Wing. remember how Donny swore that construction of his vulgar dance hall wouldn’t affect the East Wing at all?

well, here’s the latest photo from yesterday, and it sure looks like they’re going to demolish the whole fucking thing.

these photos we’re getting are coming from people inside the Treasury Building, which is right next door to the East Wing. Treasury employees have a front-row seat to the travesty going on.

naturally, when Donny found out that these photos were going viral and horrifying the shit out of everyone, he reacted in the most Donny way possible: by screaming off with their heads!’

WASHINGTON—The Treasury Department instructed employees not to share photos of the demolition of parts of the White House’s East Wing after images of construction equipment dismantling the facade of the building went viral online.

“As construction proceeds on the White House grounds, employees should refrain from taking and sharing photographs of the grounds, to include the East Wing, without prior approval from the Office of Public Affairs,” a Treasury official wrote on Monday evening in an email to department employees viewed by The Wall Street Journal.

sure, why not? let’s just cover everything up.

you want to see Donny’s medical records? go fuck yourself. ok, how about the Epstein Files? go fuck yourself.

and now, a new one for the list. you want to track the wanton destruction of the House that belongs not to Donny, but to We the People?

go fuck yourself.


meanwhile, it’s been 29 days since Arizona’s Adelita Grijalva was elected to Congress — and the limpest dick in Washington, Holy Mike Johnson, is still refusing to swear her in.

everyone knows why, of course: she’s the 218th and deciding ‘yes’ vote on Tom Massie’s discharge petition that would force the release of the Donny’s Dead Pedo Bestie files.

Holy Mike’s getting super fucking pissed off, because this obvious farce has reached the point where every time he goes out in public. it’s the first thing reporters pester him about.

what are you hiding, bro? what’s in those files that you’re so hot to keep under wraps?

“suddenly now, they’ve somehow convinced themselves that the [makes air-quotes] Epstein files will be damaging to President Trump and Republicans in some way that they’ve imagined, and so they feign outrage.”

you gotta love Holy’s Mike’s air quotes around ‘Epstein files.’ what’s your implication here, Mike, that we’re making the whole thing up?

you know why we’re so convinced that the Epstein files are damaging to Donny? it’s because Republicans are trying so hard to keep them covered up. fucking duh, man. this isn’t rocket science.

every time Holy Mike opens his weaselly lying mouth, he just digs himself deeper. what are you hiding, bro?

hold on — Comer Fudd, the rake-steppingest shitwit in Congress, wants a turn at the mic. for some ungodly reason, he’s super hot to embarrass himself in public again.

“let’s be clear, Democrats don’t care about transparency or accountability in this matter. the evidence we’ve gathered does not implicate President Trump in any way. public reporting, survivor testimony, and official documents show that Bill Clinton had far closer ties to Epstein. we’re working to bring former President Clinton in for a deposition, but the Democrats aren’t helping one bit.”

oh, bull fucking shit.

if the dead pedo bestie files truly exonerate Donny, then release them. show the whole world just how innocent he is.

oh, you won’t? then you must be covering something up, fuck-o.

you gotta love how Republicans imagine that ‘Bill Clinton is in the files’ is some kind of ‘game over, man’ gotcha.

you goddamn well know that if there were juicy dirt on Bill Clinton, Bill Barr would have released all of it five years ago, and Hannity would still be reading it out loud on Fox News every single night.

but let’s say the farts coming out of Comer’s mouth are true, and that Bill Clinton is implicated in the Epstein Files.

fine. bring him in. depose him. put him on trial.

if Bill Clinton committed crimes, lock him the fuck up. he and Donny can be cellmates, for all we care.

‘blah blah blah blah Bill Clinton’ means nothing to us. investigate the shit out of him.

here’s what Comer and all these Republican puke-weasels can’t understand: we’re not in a cult.

we don’t worship a Dear Leader who must be protected at all times. everyone who got up to sick shit on Epstein Island needs to be held accountable. release the files, and let the chips fall where they may.

release the full, unedited Epstein files, you fucking fucks.


this is going to be my closing message for the foreseeable future:

practice self-care. do what you need to do to keep sane. if that means you need to disengage with my daily posts for a while, I get it. this community of ours will still be here when you return.

to all the people who have signed on in the days since the election, welcome aboard. settle in as we all try to deal with the shitfuckery that’s ahead of us.

we are all in this together, and we are all here for each other.

 

0 comments

Why Didn’t I Buy This When I Had The Chance?

[pdf-embedder url=”https://voenixrising.com/wp-content/uploads/2025/10/hfe_nakamichi_bx-100e_150e_brochure-1-2.pdf”]

 

Picture it: Tucson 1986. Jerry’s Audio. A $2000 credit line.

I’d just bought a new system that included the sweet Yamaha A-700 amp that I’ve written about at length, a Yamaha T-700 tuner, a pair of Phase Tech PC-60 loudspeakers and a Sony D-10 portable CD Walkman. My old silver Sony cassette deck that I’d never been completely happy with stood out like a sore thumb in this stack of black anodized aluminum, so I went shopping.

I’d always wanted a Nak. At the time (near the height of the cassette era) Nakamichi was the undisputed king of the hill and prior to the widespread adoption of CDs, the recordings made on their decks were about as perfect copies of the original source material as you were likely to get. Like so many of my peers, I was big into cassettes (at one point having a couple hundred; all but a handful now long gone) that were perfect companions for my daily commutes.

And yet, standing there in Jerry’s, I was torn between the Nak 100 (in black, of course) and the Yamaha K-540 (also in black). The Nak had an edge as far as the specs were concerned, but I also knew I’d probably never hear the difference. They were approximately the same price.

Ultimately, I ended up going with the K-540 for the stupidest of reasons: I liked the physical design better. I stood there staring at the Nak, thinking there was just something off-putting about it—despite the company’s reputation for excellence—that 1986 me just couldn’t get over. The Yamaha seemed much more user-friendly—and it also had a LED tape counter.

Am I on the verge of getting back into cassettes? Oh hell no, Mary! As a teenager of the 70s, they always seemed magical, but oh, such a pain in the ass! Remember the BIC pen trick? Pulling a cassette out of a car stereo that had spilled its guts into the mechanism? (To this day I remember pulling a copy of Elton John’s Blue Moves that I’d recorded onto a C-120 blank—blanks you shouldn’t use for anything because the tape was so damn thinbecause it wouldn’t fit on a C-90 out of my Mom’s car one afternoon.) Yeah, good times. Still, when I was at the height of using them on the daily—at the dawn of the (then) skip-prone portable CD revolution, they were still the best solution for popping in a Walkman and throwing in your bag for music on the go.

In 2025, MiniDisc remains my recording medium of choice, and at least for me it fulfilled Sony’s vision of replacing cassettes.

What led me down this rabbit hole today was stumbling across a repair video on YouTube of a guy diagnosing an inoperative Nakamichi 100 and I thought, those weren’t bad looking at all! You were a fool, Mark!

0 comments

I Didn’t Say I Wasn’t Going To Post Anything

let’s start off with a bang. ladies and gents, I give you the winner of the Nobel Best Sign At No Kings Day Prize.

it’s Wonkette’s own Rebecca Schoenkopf — because once you’ve said what Rebecca’s said, what else is left?

folks, we did it.

an estimated seven million of us gathered peacefully coast to coast, to rise up as one and convey a singular message: fuck you, you fucking fuck — you’re not our king.

wait, did I say coast to coast? no, it was the entire world telling Donny Convict to fuck straight off.

folks showed up in South Korea.

and Geneva.

also in London.

holy shit, there was even one homey who parked himself in front of the US embassy in Tallinn, the capital of Estonia.

dude, you fucking rule.


meanwhile, back here in the US of A, the crowds were ginormous. check out Boston.

of course, Boston is in the major leagues when it comes to protesting. they’ve been perfecting this shit since 1773.

here’s Chicago.

and here’s Los Angeles

n Washington DC, folks carried a gigantic copy of the US Constitution down Pennsylvania Ave.

Times Square in New York City.

holy shit, look at Pittsburgh.

and look at Charlotte, North Carolina.

it wasn’t just blue states. check out Salt Lake City, in deeply-red Utah.

and it wasn’t just big cities. Highlands, North Carolina, is a tiny town of only a thousand people. an estimated six hundred of them showed up to give Donny a well-earned finger.


the worst people in the world were so horny to paint No Kings Day as some kind of mass terror event, organized by some imaginary ‘pro-Hamas wing of the Democrat™ Party,’ whatever the fuck that is, and paid for everyone’s favorite wealthy Jew.

check out the full-time podcast bro Fidel Cancun.

Ted Cruz: Follow the money. You look at this No Kings rally—there’s considerable evidence that George Soros is behind funding these rallies which may well turn into riots.

hey, did you know that Ted Cruz has a side hustle as a US Senator? I know, I was shocked when I found out, too. I thought all he did was podcast, and put his unctuous werewolf face on Fox News.

anyway, here’s a fact check for Teddy C: fuck off.

Ted, you odious dumbfuck. do you actually think George Soros is cutting seven million paychecks for the protesters? I have a question: is Soros withholding taxes and issuing 1099s, or do we need to be keeping track of that shit ourselves? is an inflatable frog costume a deductible business expense?

fuck me, did I even remember to save the receipts?

I sure hope Hamas appreciates what these frolicking dinosaurs in Chicagoare doing to further their cause.

here’s an additional fact check for Ted and his claim of ‘widespread rioting’: piss up all the ropes

The majority of the No Kings protests have dispersed at this time and all traffic closures have been lifted. We had more than 100,000 people across all five boroughs peacefully exercising their first amendment rights and the NYPD made zero protest-related arrests.

New York City: zero arrests.

now let’s contrast that to what happened on Yes Kings Day, when a bunch of crybabies went ape-shit because they couldn’t deal with Dear Leader being a loser.

what was it that Ted and his ilk called these cop-beating fuckfaces? oh right: tourists blowing off steam.

let’s see if anyone got arrested closer to Ted Cruz’s home city of Austin.

Thank you to everyone who participated in the No Kings March today. The rally remained peaceful, with no arrests reported. We’re grateful to our community and event organizers for coming together to make sure voices were heard safely and respectfully. Great job ATX!

sorry, Ted. nada.

oh wait, there was one arrest of a protester. a woman in a penis costume got nailed in Fairhope, Alabama, for ‘lewd conduct.’ great use of your time, Fairhope cops. you’re doing the lord’s work.

and some dipshit in a Trump shirt got arrested for pulling out a gun at a protest in Myrtle Beach, FL.

so for those of you keeping score at home, it’s
— ginormous penis, 1
— MAGA asshole, 1
— seven million peaceful protesters, 0


Fox News is cordially invited to go fuck themselves. they spent the day trying to convince their credulous dolt audience that America was burning to the ground.

that’s all they have: lies. they know that the dopes glued to their TVs won’t even bother to look out their windows.

oh wait, America’s self-appointed Bathroom Panty Inspector has something to say.

words, what do they even mean, am I right, Nancy?

what was Nancy Mace even doing, tweeting during a day of widespread chaos and mayhem? she should have stationed herself in front of some porta-potty, so make sure no transgendered dinosaurs committed any crimes against nature.


fuck those fucking fucks. it’s time for some more heroes.

credit: Bill Grueskin on Bluesky

credit: Stacey Lynn King on threads

credit: Bill Grueskin on Bluesky

credit: Stacey Lynn King on threads

credit: Michelangelo Signorile on Bluesky

credit: freemark7 on Bluesky

credit: Betty Bowers on Bluesky

credit: Stephanie J. on Bluesky

credit: Aaron Rupar on Bluesky

credit: Bill Kristol on Bluesky

credit: Subodh Chandra on Threads

it’s funny, but I didn’t see one sign today that said ‘I love Hitler’ — I guess that shit’s only for unfuckable incel Republicans.


check out what the doughiest pantload ever to shit himself in the Oval Office farted out onto his failing app. it’s AI-generated slop of him, wearing a fucking crown, flying a fighter jet over protesters and dumping literal shit on them.

how mature.

fuck off, Donny.

was this dumbfuck video supposed to own libs? it should come with a warning label: no libs were owned by the distribution of this infantile twaddle.

this isn’t even conduct unbecoming of a president — it’s conduct unbecoming of anyone over the age of two.

wasn’t it just a little while ago that this deteriorating fuckwit got flummoxed by an escalator that turned into stairs? keep dreaming your little dreams of fighter-pilot glory, you insignificant, spiteful homunculus. we’re all laughing at you.

you’re not our king. you’re a very naughty boy. now go away.

and could our media please stop failing us?

no, it wasn’t ‘brown liquid’ — it was shit. just come out and say it.

oh, and New York Times: it wasn’t ‘thousands of protesters’try MILLIONS.

what the fuck is wrong with you?


let’s wrap this up with a palate cleanser. here’s Rebecca Schoenkopf again — because hers is a sign so nice, I’m using it twice.

have a great Sunday, everyone. you’ve earned it.


this is going to be my closing message for the foreseeable future:

practice self-care. do what you need to do to keep sane. if that means you need to disengage with my daily posts for a while, I get it. this community of ours will still be here when you return.

to all the people who have signed on in the days since the election, welcome aboard. settle in as we all try to deal with the shitfuckery that’s ahead of us.

we are all in this together, and we are all here for each other.

1 comments

BE AWARE

Tomorrow is another No Kings protest. Don’t give ICE or Guardsmen any excuse to rile things up. Then urge your local organizers to plan the next one for protesting the Congressional Cowards who are allowing the Regime to get away with all the unconstitutional bullshit.

1 comments

Fascinating!

Other than not using metal hurricane tie downs and other common US construction techniques, why isn’t this used here? Looks extremely sturdy…

 

1 comments

There Is No Literature Or Poetry In This White House

There is no literature or poetry in this White House.

No music.

No Kennedy Center award celebrations.

There are no pets in this White House.

No loyal man’s best friend. No Socks the family cat.

No kids’ science fairs.

No times when this president takes off his blue suit-red tie uniform and becomes human, except when he puts on his white shirt-khaki pants uniform and hides from Americans to play golf.

There are no images of the first family enjoying themselves together in a moment of relaxation.

No Obamas on the beach in Hawaii moments, or Bushes fishing in Kennebunkport, no Reagans on horseback, no Kennedys playing touch football on the Cape.

I was thinking the other day of the summer when George H couldn’t catch a fish and all the grandkids made signs and counted the fish-less days.

And somehow, even if you didn’t even like GHB, you got caught up in the joy of a family that loved each other and had fun.

Where did that country go?

Where did all of the fun and joy and expressions of love and happiness go?

We used to be a country that did the ice bucket challenge and raised millions for charity.

We used to have a president that calmed and soothed the nation instead dividing it.

And a First Lady that planted a garden instead of ripping one out.

We are rudderless and joyless.

We have lost the cultural aspects of society that make America great.

We have lost our mojo, our fun, our happiness.

The cheering on of others. Gone.

The shared experiences of humanity that makes it all worth it. Gone.

The challenges AND the triumphs that we shared and celebrated.

The unique can-do spirit Americans have always been known for. Gone.

We have lost so much in so short a time.

~Elayne Griffin Baker

[Thanks, Rick!}

1 comments

In Memoriam

Of all the friends and lovers who have passed in my life, this one still stings the most.

It’s now been five years and I still think about him often…and despite that sting, I find myself smiling uncontrollably.  I know we’ll cross paths again in some other guise one day.

I’m reposting this from 2020 because I don’t think I could write anything better than I did then:

Floyd Meeks, 1958-2020

2020 just needs fuck right off.

Now.

Seriously.

Traditional wisdom says that you should be able to sense when a loved one has died.

I’m here to say that’s a lie.

I found out this evening that my dear friend Floyd passed last October. And before you ask, no, it wasn’t COVID. It was his heart, and he went in his sleep.

Floyd left behind his husband Ron, with whom he’d shared his life for the last 40 years and many grieving friends, myself among them.

Floyd and I met January 28, 1983. Despite it being a Friday night I wasn’t planning on going out. As I recall it had been an exhausting week and I wanted nothing more than to simply stay home and unwind.

But I stepped outside that evening, saw the most incredible full moon rising above the Rincon Mountains east of Tucson, and something told me in no uncertain terms to go out. There was, as they say, magic afoot.

My destination was The Fineline, a relatively new dance club on Drachman Street. I’d been there with my partner Dennis, numerous times, but since we’d split up a two months earlier and he took off for Austin, this was one of the first times I’d gone there by myself.

And hell, I was young and in a state of perpetual hormonal arousal, so why not?

I’d been working out (believe it or not) since Dennis left and I was feeling good about my body and the way I looked. I radiated a certain amount of confidence and it didn’t take long for Floyd and I to gravitate to one another. He was there with his partner, Ron, putting a damper on any thoughts of immediately scampering off to get nasty. But Floyd assured me they had an open relationship and while nothing would be happening between us that night, he was definitely interested in getting together. We exchanged phone numbers.

Later that same night I met Lee, a friend whom I’ve written about before, thus cementing the magic of that night in my life.

Floyd called me the next morning. We had phone sex. Floyd was a dirty, dirty boy and I loved it. We hung out a lot in the weeks that followed. As we discovered our shared taste in music and culture, a genuine friendship and affection bloomed between us. That’s not to say the physical attraction waned; if anything it remained constant, and over the years we became infrequent fuck buddies, all—somewhat surprisingly—with Ron’s blessing. Even during my San Francisco years we remained in touch, with Floyd traveling to The City numerous times on business.

Floyd and your host, Marin Headlands, 1993

After I returned to Phoenix and made it through the cancer ordeal, I started driving to Tucson to visit the guys on a semi-regular basis. I had a new car and if for no other reason I needed to reconnect with the friends who knew me best while putting my life back together.

Floyd and I called each other Dolly (from our shared love of Personal Services.)  I’d call him up and say, “Dolly, I need to get out of town for a while. Are you and Ron free?” and depending on the answer, I’d hop in Anderson and make the 90 minute drive south. I remember one insane Saturday when I drove down to help with some computer issues, brought his PC back home to repair, and then returned it later that day.

Floyd did the same sort of spontaneous trips north, and one of my favorite memories were the two separate times he (and a few weeks later with Ron) came up to Phoenix and we shot photos at Arizona Falls.


Floyd and Ron, Arizona Falls 2008

Shortly before Ben and I left for Denver, Floyd and Ron fell on some very hard times. They both lost their longtime jobs, were unable to find work, lost everything they’d built together, and were forced to move in with Ron’s sister.  Through it all we stayed in touch, they stayed together, and when they’d gotten back on their feet and Ben and I moved back from Denver, talked of a weekend visit but it seemed life was continually getting in the way and one thing or another always prevented it.

When it finally seemed we were going to be able to coordinate a visit, COVID hit, killing our plans again. I last spoke with Floyd in September, when he called to tell me that Abe, a mutual friend from our University of Arizona days, had passed.

Floyd, Ron, Abe and I used to joke that when we got old and retired we’d buy a big house together and disgracefully spend our twilight years like the Golden Girls.

The best laid plans of mice, men, and queens…

Though we went through periods when we didn’t see each other, or even talk much other than an occasional text or email, Floyd was one of those people in my life I just knew would always be there…and now he’s not. I think that’s why this has hit me so hard. His impish grin, that devilish twinkle in his eye, and his extensive…vocabulary…will be so sorely missed. More than with any other death that’s hit my life (and yes, sadly that includes my parents and my first partner, Dennis), I feel like a part of me has been ripped out and there’s nothing but an empty hole remaining.

As I get older, it’s becoming more and more apparent to me that you need to tell the people you love that you love them every damn day, because they can be taken from you at any moment.

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Quote Of The Day

I want to check in with Trump voters. I have one very genuine question: it’s been 250 days. Now that immigrants have been violently torn from their families and communities have been destroyed, now that trans people have been blamed for virtually everything and live in fear, now that free speech is on the brink of collapse for us all—has your life gotten better? Have your groceries gotten cheaper? Has your health insurance premium gone done? Has your work/life balance improved? Can you take a vacation yet? Are you happier? Has the widespread suffering of others paid off for you in the way he promised it would or are you still waiting?” ~ Ariana Grande

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