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!

So I have finished all minor tasks and AY 2025-26 is totally done. Later in the summer, I will do a deep dive and extensively revise my foundations class. It really needs it! I had planned to wait a year but after this spring I am deeply aware it has to change.

 Except for a couple of minor tasks, the spring semester is over! Much to write but it will keep.

 May 1. One more class next week and then it's grading fun!

 Happy birthday Daddy. Today you would be 99.😭

There are 3.5 weeks of classes left and then two weeks for grading and Spring semester 2026 will be done. I am looking forward to late spring and summer.

I have a cold! 😑

Many things I want to write! They will keep, I guess.

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. 😪 

 My mother is doing better than anyone could have imagined. She was kind of pissy the day after she got there, but since then, she's been in a very good mood.

Today my mother moved into assisted living. She seems to be doing OK. I'm a pretty stoic person, but I'd be lying if I said this is easy.

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.😭

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.

I don't want to let any more time pass before noting that March 1 was the eighth anniversary of Uncle Bud's death (hard to believe) and the 24th anniversary of the founding of Gully Brook Press.

So much to write about life in autocratic idiocracy and no time or I suppose, inclination. More important news, little Bindi hurt her leg 😭

In my prior post, I said I was going to write about something, included an article link, and then wrote nothing more. The article was about something in the news -- at that moment, the latest deplorable social media posting from our scumbag president. I know it's ridiculous to have expected to write more, because Trump says or does several disgusting things per day, then makes no apology or lies about it, and last week is ancient news. I don't care about the lack of apology because famous people are insincere, but the lies are psychotic. 

The dumb "Trump Derangement Syndrome" label demonstrates how pathetic he, his administration and their supporters are. My view of Trump was formed over 40 years ago, when I worked in NYC. It isn't that I followed his antics. I don't waste time on celebrities. Still, it was impossible to not know who he was because the media has always covered him with alternating praise and revulsion. I will never forget that moment in 1984 or '85, when I learned what a horrible person he is. Some buildings he had bought were being gentrified, either slated to be torn down or renovated. On the sidewalk in front of one of the brownstones, an elderly couple was sitting at a kitchen table. Their dog was curled up in a basket under the table. They had all been evicted. That heartbreaking image is seared into my mind.

 I am going to write about this soon!

I should be writing here more. I don't make the time, and recently Harry has been sick and that takes priority. He had surgery for a hernia last week and is doing very well. :-)

My classes started the day of Harry's surgery, and so far, so good.

Nationally, everyday is more outrageous than the day before. The fascist regime has a masked, armed gestapo trampling people's rights. Trampling is too mild a word. The regime and its enablers snivel and tell lies. Supporters dwindle, but those who remain are hardcore. Scary. Sick. Stupid.

How strange it is too live in a combination of 1984 and Idiocracy.

With so many contenders for the top prize (Leavitt; McMahon; Hegseth; Bondi; Miller; Vance and Trump himself, to name just a handful), it's hard to choose the winner, but Noem has to be at or close to at the top of most appalling, ridiculous and despicable creatures to ever walk the Earth. Being an animal abusing cretin says it all, but her phony appearance, pathetic costumes and Nazi rhetoric reveal a core that's more depraved than Dorian Gray. Ugh. Makes me want to puke. What a loser.

 When I was growing up in West Shokan, we got one television station: CBS from Hartford CT. It took a major roof antenna to bring it in. I was not a television addict, but did watch shows that my father chose, such as the news, 60 Minutes and All in the Family, on our B&W set in the living room. This led to a lifelong preference for the network, and shows like Murder She Wrote and Everybody Loves Raymond remain my all-time favorites.

We don't have cable TV. Instead we have online subscriptions and a digital antenna. I canceled my Paramount+ subscription the day after seeing Tony Docoupil's introduction as he prepared to take over the evening news. The gradual yet rapid transformation of the network into state propaganda is alarming to say the least. Farewell CBS. You will have to boot-lick the unethical fascist grifters without me. Next target for my advocacy will be your advertisers.