Charlottesville Blues

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Charlottesville Blues

blue crazy 

I’m pleading with the Laziest Gal in Town to give me just one good blog post.

“I’m working on Charlottesville Blues but I can not do it alone.” I tell her.
“Ain’t in the mood,” she says. “Plenty of other words going on, you don’t need mine.”

Problem with Memphis Earlene is that unlike the rest of the gang I didn’t make her up.
She came to me. 

The Blues are terse.
The Blues are true.
The Blues are personal, not political.
For political you need another kind of energy all together–I’m thinking of Nina Simone’s Mississippi Goddamn, which is pure Righteous Rage but also music.

Memphis Earlene doesn’t have that kind of mojo.
What she has is a long memory and the experience, way back, of a proper upbringing, for a few months at least.
That’s why she never calls anyone a Fucking Asshole.
Ignorant on Purpose is how she’d put it.

She’s also not up for differentiating between Anti-Semitism and Racism.

“Iif the Klan is coming at you with Tiki Torches makes no never mind why.”


Before there were Nazis there were Pogroms and Cossacks. Who were like the Klan except better dressed and on horseback.
Also they could dance.


I’m the one who finds the Anti-Semitism worth paying attention to.I get this nice tingle of Schadenfreude every time I think of Jared Kushner and Ivanka.
Mendacity tying itself in knots.

Any Jewish person who suggests in public that Israel could benefit from a little Constructive Criticism gets regularly accused of Jewish Self- Hatred, I’ve noticed.
What could be more Jewish Self-Hating than being on the Nazi side, you’d think.

It’s not the Blues. It’s something else.

Posted in Anti-Semitism, Banality of Evil, Blues, Charlottesville, Jews | Tagged , , | 1 Comment

70th Birthday Blues

Most Blues begin Woke Up This Morning. Sometimes just getting out of bed and not crawling back in is a Feat of Courage and Gesture of Faith towards the Universe.

Chronic depression is like being saddled with an irritating younger sibling for which one is responsible, or an extra ten pound back pack. That is to say manageable and something that can even build character, but not one’s first choice of companions.

Sometime you need the right drugs. Sometimes, though, the right music can save your soul. The Blues, for example. LIfe is hard, it’s not just you. Life is hard, but you’ve got company–that’s the word from First Church of the Blues.

Memphis Earlene says I’m  finally old enough and have paid sufficient dues so I could call myself a Blues woman even though I haven’t lived the traditional Blues Lifestyle .

“But don’t go bragging about it, “ she adds. “Bragging ain’t cool if it’s not a life or death situation.”

You can grow old with the Blues, at least if they don’t kill you first, and Blues Old Age is something I count on enjoying.

blue crazy





Posted in Blues, Depression, Existentialism, Religion | 3 Comments

Master/Servant Blues

Source: Master/Servant Blues

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Master/Servant Blues

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Post Inauguration Blues

Woke up this morning with the Blues.  The Women’s March was outstanding, twice the size of  Littlefinger’s  Inauguration festivities and much more festive. But that was three days ago.

I need a better name for the Unmentionable One.

The man  next to me in the Metro Elevator was talking on his cellphone in Russian. “Horror show, horror show”, he kept saying.  Horror Show  means “good” in Russian.  I flunked Russian in high school but still remember a few words.   Do Russian hackers control the Internet, or is it only a matter of time?

The Dumpster?  Not quite.

Out on the Virtual Verandah  this morning Memphis Earlene and Latte Woman drink White Russians,  and speak in broken English with fake Russian accents . Boris and Natasha English.

Make America Great Again.  Get rid of Moose and Squirrel.   Report to Fearless Leader.

“In a cage fight,  bet on the Russian,” says Latte Woman. “Agent Orange is a shameless liar and a natural born bully  but Fearless Leader has steel teeth and KGB training.”

Agent Orange?  Perfect.

“Can’t bet against America. Wouldn’t be right,” says Memphis Earlene.

“America’s a Fascist Dictatorship .  All bets are off, ” I say.

” At least we have a Fascist  Dictator who doesn’t read books,” says Latte Woman, who can always find a bright side.

Osip Mandelstam, 1891 – 1938

Our lives no longer feel ground under them.
At ten paces you can’t hear our words.

But whenever there’s a snatch of talk
it turns to the Kremlin mountaineer,

the ten thick worms his fingers,

his words like measures of weight,

the huge laughing cockroaches on his top lip,
the glitter of his boot-rims.

Ringed with a scum of chicken-necked bosses
he toys with the tributes of half-men.

One whistles, another meows, a third snivels.
He pokes out his finger and he alone goes boom.

He forges decrees in a line like horseshoes,
One for the groin, one the forehead, temple, eye.

He rolls the executions on his tongue like berries.
He wishes he could hug them like big friends from home.



Posted in Banality of Evil, Blues, Feminism, Humor, Literature, mental health, Politics | 4 Comments

Post-Election Blues

pre suicide blonde

Memphis Earlene’s beverage of choice these days is White Russians, which seems so wrong.

Blues Beverages are whiskey and wine.

“Blues women do not drink alcoholic beverages that taste like dessert. It’s a Code violation,” I tell her.

“Blues women make their own rules,” says Memphis Earlene.

A few minutes of silence ensue.

I’m the one who needs a code to live by in these troubled times,  which I expect to last till the end of my life and beyond. Hence the no bourbon before five rule.

In the meantime I drink flat Coke Zero and brood.

Latte Woman drinks coffee 24/7.

“For a chronically depressed person time can move awfully slowly. Caffein picks up the pace,”, she explained once. “Caffein takes the energy of chronic anxiety and turns it into enough tension to support a high wire act, which is what life is when you think about it.”

It can also make you chatty and speedy.

Rapid flow of half-baked ideas may ensue.

Today Latte Woman is exceptionally wired.

“Remember when America really was Great? There was a 1957 Chevy Be-Air in every driveway. Most beautiful car in the world.  Cars had faces then.  Guys could repair their own cars . You didn’t need a degree in computers. Remember Car Talk? ”

The majority of white women voted Republican.

“I still don’t get it,” I say.

“Stockholm Syndrome,” says Latte Woman

“ Hillary could’ve got the white woman vote if only she’d had breast cancer,” says Memphis Earlene.

As if Hillary Clinton hadn’t taken enough punishment?

“That’s cold.  Even for you,” I say.

“Nothing makes a woman relatable like breast cancer,” says Latte Woman. “It’s one of those bonding experiences, like combat or pregnancy. ”

Critical judgment took a vacation the summer I had breast cancer. Hallmark greeting card messages made me cry. Elevator music soothed my spirits, as did the color pink and Martha Stewart Lifestyle Magazine.

For once I was Every Woman.  Not my old weird self, in other words.

Hillary Clinton is no more Every Woman than Michelle Obama. Both are top of the competitive heap, with their Ivy League degrees and Mega Earning power.

I admire them both but can’t relate to them.  I was a C student and bad at sports.   Anyone I can relate to has no business running for President and should pursue a more honorable calling, like Stand-up Comedy.  I wanted to be Aunty Mame and work for Mad Magazine when I grew up.Still do.

odalisque pepto bismalFive o’clock! The clink of ice cubes.

Posted in Banality of Evil, Blues, Existentialism, Feminism, Hillary Clinton, Humor, Politics, Politics 2016, women | 2 Comments

Cassandra on Prozac Blues

Memphis Earlene’s  drinking  White Russians this afternoon on the Virtual Veranda while I sip Coke Zero.   THree hours and 25 minutes before I can switch to Wild Turkey, but who’s count…

Source: Cassandra on Prozac Blues

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Cassandra on Prozac Blues

Memphis Earlene’s  drinking  White Russians this afternoon on the Virtual Veranda while I sip Coke Zero.   THree hours and 25 minutes before I can switch to Wild Turkey, but who’s counting?

I’ve invited Latte Woman to join us on the Virtual Verandah because we are a-wash in mendacity, overwhelmed in fact.




“I think I’ll be able to get through the next few years ,” I say, “But it will take a heap of drugs and alcohol.”

“Go easy. You don’t want to lose the edge,” says Latte Woman, whose drug of choice is caffein.  She’s drinking a  Grande Triple Mocha from Starbucks, while keeping an eye out for language abuse. ‘

Alt-right’ is the latest example.

“Alt-Right” is one more for Latte Woman’s Banality of Evil file.

“Sounds almost harmless.  LIke maybe it might be a kinder, gentler, hipster  Right instead of  Neo-Nazis without the uniforms.”

Latte Woman is ready to rise to the challenge of  Dumpster Nation., even if I’m not.

“Nothing new under the sun,” says Memphis Earlene.

“It’s all new for me,” I tell her. “Fear and the expectation of living under a state of siege for the rest of my life.  Or maybe Stage 3 cancer….”

Shortness of breath.  A feeling of something squeezing the life out of me.  No escape.  First they came for the Muslims, or was it the immigrants?  I’ve studied too much history and have no faith in human nature. That veneer of civilization is awfully thin.

“Hush now,” says Memphis Earlene,  like she would to a child who’s afraid of the dark.”Boogie man ain’t gonna get you tonight.”




Posted in Banality of Evil, mental health, Politics 2016 | 1 Comment

Civil Rights in the Bathroom Blues

I dreamed I was trapped in a Women’s Bathroom at a rest stop on I-95 with Caitlyn Jenner.  We’re washing up at adjoining sinks, our faces reflected in the mirror. Bright and chatty, reveling …

Source: Civil Rights in the Bathroom Blues

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