Author: zenzalei

Into birds, music, nature, science, hockey, movies, fitness, books, chocolate, wine, and spooky things.

My Song of the Year

Long day, even though I had most of the afternoon off after the office holiday party. Good food, nice conversations.

Spent a couple of hours reading through the hundreds of comments on the Threads version of what I posted here yesterday. I had to split it into two posts, and between both of them it got more than 16,000 likes and 900 comments, although many of those comments are also Threaders talking to each other. I’m kind of overwhelmed, but in the very best of ways because 99.95% of it is supportive, the conversations are thoughtful and fruitful with ideas and sharing of experiences, and it restored my faith in humanity. I really think that the only way the United States is going to get through the next four years is if we all work locally, individually, in our communities, to help one another. I have a few ideas about that, but really, it just comes down to setting aside the consumerist behaviors we’ve all gotten accustomed to and putting the money toward our communities. This has the bonus of hitting some of these billionaires where it hurts: Their wallets.

It’s going to happen by default, anyway, because once Creamsicle Caligula gets in there and destroys the economy, the middle class isn’t going to be able to afford much other than food and shelter, if that. Remember the last time that happened? Marie Antoinette lost her head.

And so I give you my Song of the Year: “Mea Culpa (Ah! Ça ira!),” as performed by Gojira at the Paris Olympics.

Without all the applause:

“Ah Ça Ira” is a song from the French Revolution. It’s basically about hanging aristocrats from lamp posts.

As for the .05% of comments that weren’t productive, they were about how Elon Musk owes the world nothing, it’s not his fault a woman is homeless, blah, blah, blah, bronyism, blah. I hid, muted, restricted, and blocked them. First, that’s not the point. The point is people who have the power to change the world for the better and don’t are lousy human beings. Second, don’t derail the narrative on my account with your worship of false kings. If you’re going to fall to your knees in submission to the personification of greed, do it on your own page.

Going to see the state trees tomorrow. It will be cold but fun! And no aristocrats allowed.

One Cold Night in December

Tonight on my way home, I saw a woman crying against a building.

“Are you okay?”

“No. It’s another night out here in the cold. I’m sick of it.”

And here’s where I failed.

I should have stayed with her.

Instead I went home. I called two shelters. One was full. The other had a mat and a blanket and was willing to let her sleep on the floor.

I grabbed a bag, threw in an apple, orange, packet of salmon, wrapped take-out fork, a bar of soap, a packet of tissues, and some paper towels. Realized I had no bottled water.

I ran back out.

Ran around the neighborhood.

I failed. She was gone.

Today Elon Musk passed the $400 billion mark.

A broken red Christmas ornament.

December to December

Today Holidailies asks: How is this December different from last year?

Last year I was recovering from a massive heart attack. Yet somehow, I managed to do almost everything I usually like to do—see the state Christmas trees, have brunches with friends. I even put up a tree for the first time in 10 years. The only thing I didn’t do was go out on New Year’s Eve. This year I’m seeing John Oliver at the Kennedy Center, so I’m looking forward to that.

Things are a little more hectic this year, though. Or at least they feel that way. It’s probably because this time last year I wasn’t commuting to the office twice a week. I didn’t have to do that until April, after my cardiac rehab was over. I also have a freelance project this December, whereas last December it was all I could do to get through 40 hours a week at my day job.

Last December felt different, too. Work wasn’t going so well (if you know, you know), and now it’s going well. Last year there were conflicts around the world, but this year there is even more conflict and civil unrest, and now we have Apricot Pol Pot returning to the White House in January. About the only thing I’m looking forward to about that is the inevitable clash he’s going to have with Shut-Me-Up Elmo Muskrat (who I wrote about almost to the day last year). The honeymoon is only going to last so long with those two. Not even D.C., which is loaded to the gills with big egos, has enough room for both of theirs. The falling out will be epic, no doubt, and I’ll be there for it.

Might have to put some Old Bay on my popcorn, as neither of those ghouls are locals. I put a dash of Old Bay on a lot of things. It’s super good on popcorn.

And now I’ll leave you with this little gem:

An "elf on the shelf" pooping a chocolate kiss on a picture of Donald Trump.