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Tossed Salad Friday

~~ In Dementia-ville this week, the profanity is hard to hear sometimes, what with it being drowned out by religiosity. Bible-thumping, divine-praising, salvation’s coming evangelization. In at least two languages.

~~ I’m certainly not concerned about the patient converting, and I’m actually not sure the aide’s savior is looking for a demented octogenarian whose three favorite words are shit. What does bother the heck out of me is trying to write over and around the the aide's cellphone blaring “Sinners, sit up! Sinners, stand up! Sinners, look up! See the way to salvation!” and “'Lord, speak to me. Lord, I want to experience you! I have given up my sinful ways and cast off my demons, praise be to you!”

~~ I turn on the white noise generator, but the sounds of thunderstorm and Everglades don’t have a chance over sermonizing about worms — “The worms cover thee. How art thou fallen from heaven, O Lucifer!” and more and more in that vein. Then I hit on ocean roar and eureka, the haranguing is heard no more!

~~ So now, I eat lunch and work to Whooooooooosh, RRRRRRRRRRRRRR, Whooooooooosh, just as if I was at the shore. If said shore smelled like burnt rice and urine, and you had to get up every 90 minutes to activate the ocean’s waves with a remote.

~~Overheard: “I used to think that way before I turned 25.”

~~ Overheard: “She’s not that easy to get along with. She needs medication. Or I do.”

~~ Overheard:  “I tell him that I deserve a vacation. He tells me we can spend the WHOLE DAY at Jones Beach.” The three woman surrounding the speaker all hissed.

~~ A friend makes absolutely awesome hummus. I did her a favor, and she kindly repaid it with a container of said garlic-y, garbanzo-y goodness. It soon being lunchtime (yes, praise be and hallelujah Whooooooooosh) I sat down and had a great meal. Nice story? Only up to a point, because I forgot that I had an eye doctor’s appointment two hours later. The poor woman didn’t flinch, but I’m fairly certain she felt about my eau d'ail just as I feel about the patient’s perfume de estiércol. (I apologize for switching languages — I don’t want to come across as highbrow, but stinky words sound better in French and Spanish.)

~~ In a week of dismay and disarray, the sight of blame-free Durham residents lining up at the jail to turn themselves in for toppling a confederate statue was uplifting.
As were conversations I had with friends who refuse to be intimidated by hate. But I have zero use for coddlers, side-lookers, justifiers, explainers, and supporters of hatred, bigotry, and ignorance — starting with the man in the Oval Office and ending up with you, Ms. All Politicians Are the Same and you, Mr. He’s a Smart Businessman Who’ll Cut My Taxes. I tried to listen to your point of view and respect your vote, but you know what? It’s bullshit that you empowered the son of a Klansman and known race violator who in turn encourages cretins who think they are genetically superior and pre-ordained to kill me and those people over there. My father didn’t serve in the US Navy during WWII just so you could look through Pinterest while the Nazis take charge.


Dasvidaniya. Have a great weekend. (Yes, no Jets yet. Mets are bad enough.)
LET’S GO METS!

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