Week one of the semester is done!
The sad news this week was that Dolly Parton died! How can this be? 😥
i was assigned a new child to sponsor: Akshay, an 8 year old boy from India.
Life in Idiocracy continues with the asinine "renaming" of Lake Ontario. What a collection of losers in the administration, headed by stunad.
One week until my classes begin. Still a lot to do, but i will manage...
I'm sad because recently I learned that my sponsored child, Esteyvin has left school and so that means he's out of the program. He's 16 and finished 9th grade. He has to work of course. He's from Guatemala. I hope he can pursue education again someday, because I know what a difference it makes in creating opportunity, but I'm not unrealistic.
This is my second sponsored child with basically the same result. The last one, Myra, stayed in school longer, but she too eventually had to drop out to work. She was from the Philippines. May God watch over them both always. I can pick a new child to sponsor, but I don't want to choose, so Unbound will assign someone new to me.
I was 14 during the summer of 1976. It's a memorable year for me. I was not crazy about ninth grade in 1975-76 (mostly because my best friend moved away at the end of eighth grade). I started tenth grade and turned 15 in September 1976 and had a much better year in school. A brilliant nephew was born in November. And of course, it was the country's bicentennial. Flag themes, red,white and blue, colonial decor and minutemen statues were everywhere. It was all so exciting.
Fast forward 50 years. I see no signs of patriotism or pride. Perhaps the cost of living has erased consumer's ability to buy luxuries like white petunias and red geranium hanging baskets? The garden centers seem overflowing, when they should be sold out. Bob purposely chose yellow flowers for our yard. The malevolent president, his vile administration and the incompetents in congress have crushed all enthusiasm. What a shame.
The Electric Chair (Draft) -- I really need to post this today even though it will be extensively revised and a photo added
By Gina Giuliano (2026)
My mother has been gradually shedding possessions since 2022, when my father died. Recently she moved from an apartment to assisted living. One beloved item that remains in her apartment is the electric chair. This sturdy chair was an important piece of furniture when she was a child, growing up at the Axinn Farm in West Shokan. Mimmie, my grandmother was always interested in True Crime. The biggest story in the 1930s was the kidnapping and murder of Charles Lindbergh's baby. A man named Bruno Hauptmann was arrested and put on trial for the horrible crime. Mimmie never skipped listeneing to the case on the radio, and so my mother and her slightly younger brother Bud heard the details as well. In the evening they would act out the trial. Eventually, he was convicted and sentenced to die by electrocution. In the living room of their house at the Axinn Farm was a solid wooden chair, painted green in Mimmie fashion. My mother and Uncle Buddy would take turns sitting in the wooden chair, tying each other to it with a rope, dramatically pretending to be executed, while the jailer would pantomime pulling a big lever that sent juice through the body. The unfortunate imitation Hauptmann would jerk and flail while tied to the chair, eventually slumping forward, limp. Several years later my grandparents moved from that house where these antics took place and the electric chair was stored in my grandfather's sister’s barn. It stayed there over 60 years, long after my great aunt sold the little bungalow and barn, and incredibly, no-one disturbed it. One day many years later, Uncle Bud explored the old dilapidated barn and was surprised and delighted to discover the electric chair. Remarkably, it was not at all damaged by the leaking roof. On my mother's birthday, Uncle Bud visited her. He went inside and said, “I have something in my truck for you.” She followed him outside, wondering what it could be. He opened the back of his truck cap and there it was: the electric chair!
I wish I could write. Not just here, though I'm happy to be doing something, anything. I mean really write. I wish I could pour it out and wonder where it came from afterwards. I know it would help me. I blame it on limited time, but that seems like a cop-out. If I wanted to write, wouldn't I make the time? The same thing is true of drawing cartoons. I have an idea, but don't get my pencils (Tyrant Racist Uneducated Misogynist Pedophile is the idea; I dream of creating a design and silk screening tee-shirts).
I am feeling profoundly sad. I am mourning my mother, and she's still here. I am thinking of my father as Spring, Easter and his 99th birthday approach. I think of myself, and others perceive me, as above average in brain power. It's not as if I'm naive, I mean I've always known how life is...but still, I feel profoundly sad about my parents, about this cruel march of time.
The horrible political leadership and the various immoral policies they are pushing don't help.
March 30 was the 5th anniversary of little Rosie's death. 😪
For the first time in my life, I am ashamed to be from the United States. This is a heartbreaking admission. Me, with my perennial pride for my geography, for my roots, for history. It was unthinkable until recently. But now that evil disgusting cretins run the show, there is no other option except shame.ðŸ˜
So I saw a clip of Karen, I mean Karoline Leavitt whining that the media tries to make Trump look bad. Let me begin by stating that I don't seek out video clips of any member of the administration. Their lies, appearance and even the sounds of their voices can induce vomiting. Unfortunately, seeing clips is unavoidable because some idiot in the administration, especially Karen errr Karoline is running its (gasp) mouth on television constantly. Then, she can't be this obtuse. The media doesn't have to try to make him look bad. Everything he says, types and does is bad.
