On the coast

Well, look who it is. In Dubrovnik.

Why Dubrovnik, you ask. Is it the otters? No, not this time. Actually…

Well, last year, when I rescheduled my trip to France from early October to later, there was a delta in the fare. Naturellement, Air France was not about to refund that delta; I could use it within a year as credit against another AF trip.

So, I booked flights to and from Paris, then cast about for where else I might go.

At first, I thought I’d go to Switzerland to explore the village where a friend’s father was born. She’s never been there and she talks about it right much. However—the Swiss, man.

Back in 2001 I spent a weekend in Geneva. All I had to do was show my passport at immigration and get stamped out again. But evidently things have changed. Now, you need a visa. To get a visa, you have to fill out an application with a bunch of nosy-ass questions (including the address(es) if where you would be staying for each night you’re in country), print out the completed application and make an appointment at the Swiss consulate that serves your domicile for a personal appearance. In my case, that was the Swiss embassy in D.C., but if I lived in North Carolina it would also be the embassy, and if I happened to be in Atlanta for some reason, I wouldn’t have been able to make an appointment at the consulate there because rules is rules.

But, wait; there’s more.

Because when you show up for your personal appearance (first available date two weeks out, and the slot for appointments was precisely two hours per day), you had to bring passport photos, three months of bank statements and proof of insurance coverage of at least $40K. Then, if they find you acceptable, they charge you $80, fingerprint you and graciously condescend to issue a visa for a stay up to 90 days.

Well, as you can imagine, that got right up my nose.

They’re doing that to keep the riffraff out, I know that. But rather than jump through those hoops, I’d opt for the riffraff side every time.

So, Switzerland was right out and I cast about for where else I might travel. And, since I’d not yet been to Croatia, here I am.

The jury’s out on Dubrovnik. Mostly what I’ve seen so far is tourons. 

And there are beaucoup steps. 

On the other hand, people have also been very helpful. We’ll see.

 

 

Playing through

Well, look who I ran into on the third hole of the local golf course.

They didn’t seem interested in their putting, but I’ll tell you—they’re better dressed than most of the folks I see out there.

 

 

Gratitude Monday: October colors

I admit that I’ve been struggling with what’s going on in the world. We have too many fuckwits running around wanting to blow things up and burn things down with no earthly idea of what to do after they achieve that. This wears on my soul.

So I’m going to be grateful for the colors of October.

 

Naked in the silvery moon

Welp, it’s been a bit of a week for Cadet Bonespurs and his minions.

The Orange One himself was given an extremely limited gag order by US District Judge Tanya Chutken in his federal election coup trial because all his willy-waving and whining has a real potential to intimidate witnesses and poison the jury pool.

He immediately whined about how he was told he couldn’t talk about anything and it’s election interference and not fair.

He also got reprimanded by Justice Arthur Engoran in the New York civil fraud case in Manhattan, because he was causing a disturbance while a witness was testifying (against him). I knew he couldn’t go for hours without making a scene.

Then his personal pick for new Speaker of the House, Gym Jordan, face planted in two rounds of voting—even after his allies (in the sense than members of the gang are allies of the capo) literally sent threats to Republicans who weren’t in lock-step. Oh—in the first round, Jordan got 200 votes; it was 199 in the second. That’s not a good direction. (In addition to being an enabler of sexual abuse, Jordan’s only claim to fame is never having proposed legislation that even made it to the House floor in all his 17 years as a Representative. Oh, and he was down with the overturning of the 2020 presidential election, even when insurrectionists were literally in the Capitol looking for colleagues of his to hang. He’s a burn-it-down bully who only gets elected because his district is gerrymandered in the shape of a ruptured duck. You can see why the Kleptocrat likes him.)

As of yesterday afternoon, Jordan had backed down from his “I’ll do whatever it takes to get this job”; he instead was mulling making the Speaker-pro-tempore some kind of shadow Speaker, presumably in the expectation that he can pull the strings on the marionette. (Although he might have to duke it out with Kevin McCarthy for that honor. The interim Speaker is Patrick McHenry, who holds the position solely because he was first on a secret list McCarthy made when he finally got elected after 15 ballots in January. Also, McHenry’s only act as “speaker” was to turf out Nancy Pelosi (minority leader) and Steny Hoyer (minority whip) from their offices, because McCarthy ordered it in an entirely unsurprising act of petty vengeance.)

Let me just say that “temporary-speaker-because-we-can’t-elect-a-real-one isn’t a thing, but with this band of loonies, anything could happen. Jordan may try again.

Oh, and then in the Fulton County, Georgia, RICO case against Bonespurs and 18 co-conspirators, the Kraken lawyer, Sidney Powell, has taken a plea deal and presumably will flip on the ex-president and everyone else. TBH, she is truly such a nutjob that it’s not clear to me how seriously she could be taken as a witness (and remember—she is a licensed lawyer), but 16 of her fellow indictees (the bail bondsman already flipped) may worry about not what she might say but about what documentation she might have, and therefore they could be putting out feelers to DA Fani T. Willis about what kind of deal they might get if they, too, turn on the Kleptocrat.

Remember—the early flippers get the best deals.

Well, anyway—in honor of all this anti-winning, today’s earworm is Rod Stewart’s “I’m a Loser”. Think about Jordan and his idol as you crank up the volume and revel in all the grossness of the lyrics.

Fun fact: I went to a Rod Stewart concert in the 90s with a friend. We got to talking about how when you have sex with someone, you’re really having sex with all the people they’ve ever stupped. We felt really concerned for Rachel Hunter.

 

Campaigning

I received this postcard last week.

At first I was a little weirded out because there are right-wing organizations targeting Virginia voters by riling up fears about losing benefits if they don’t vote. (The “losing benefits” part turns out to be if they vote for candidates who want to end programs like SNAP, Medicaid and Social Security—which would be entirely Republican candidates, but that part isn’t mentioned in their materials. The Virginia Attorney General, actually a Republican, has told one group to cut it out.)

But in the end, I decided it was just regular get-out-the-vote outreach, probably from Democrats, since in the Old Dominion you have to state your party preference.

The card may have been left over from last year, but I approve of repurposing and recycling.

And in any event, I received it after I’d already cast my ballot.

 

 

 

Growing season

I noticed yesterday that my car has lichen growing on it.

Perhaps it’s time I gave it a good wash?

 

Vanities

Right—time for another collection of vanity plates.

This one seems seasonal:

This one a little redundant:

I’m thinking the owner here is either an Annie fan, or going through some things:

Little play on symbols here (if - = “line”):

Well, okay, fine; I just hope not while driving:

Clever, except for the NRA crap

Whatever (do you also vote for school bonds and public health?):

Also note the license plate frame:

And this is perfect:

 

 

Gratitude Monday: seeking the beauty

While we’re waiting for Armageddon in Gaza, I’m just going to be grateful that Autumn is appearing here in the District They Call Columbia, global warming to the contrary notwithstanding.

It’s good to be reminded that beauty exists around us—if we’ll only look for it. Rather like things to be thankful for.

 

 

 

 

Whoa, woe is me

Given the utterly pathetic performance by everyone in the Republican party—from their inability to get to a nominee for Speaker even in a secret vote, to the superseding indictment of George Santos on 23 federal felony counts, to Ron DeSantis’ loser campaign, to the incessant whining by Cadet Bonespurs in and out of the courts—I think today’s earworm just has to be Warren Zevon’s “Poor, Poor, Pitiful Me.”

Crank up the volume.

 

 

 

Prepping

Got my annual flu shot yesterday. Last week it was the COVID booster, which clearly will also become an annual affair.

And on Monday the heating guy came to check out the furnace.

I am ready for Winter.