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“Crucified Man Had Prior Run-in with Authorities”

 

From Alexandra Petri in the Washington Post:

I guess this is how we are writing up the victims of crimes now. I did not realize that when you boarded a plane you gave away the right to have your past remain your past, but a theme of life these days is that only people who have never done anything wrong, or are in some way related to Donald Trump, deserve to go through their lives unmolested. 

In accordance with this new house style I am writing up an incident whose anniversary some people are celebrating this week. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The gentleman arrested Thursday and tried before Pontius Pilate had a troubled background.

 

He had had prior run-ins with local authorities — most notably, an incident of vandalism in a community center when he wrecked the tables of several licensed money-lenders and bird-sellers. He had used violent language, too, claiming that he could destroy a gathering place and rebuild it.

At the time of his arrest, he had not held a fixed residence for years. Instead, he led an itinerant lifestyle, staying at the homes of friends and advocating the redistribution of wealth.

He had come to the attention of the authorities more than once for his unauthorized distribution of food, disruptive public behavior, and participation in farcical aquatic ceremonies.

Some say that his brutal punishment at the hands of the state was out of proportion to and unrelated to any of these incidents in his record.

But after all, he was no angel.

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My New Goal: Ataraxia

I get the Word of the Day in my inbox every day and if this one isn’t emblematic of what I desperately need right now, I don’t know what is.

Ataraxia “impassiveness, calmness” is best known from and associated with the ethics of the Athenian philosopher Epicurus (341–270 b.c.). It is acquired by shunning politics and obnoxious people, by paying no attention to the gods or an afterlife, and by devoting oneself to trustworthy friends and a simple life.  Ataraxia was important to the Stoic philosophers, also, but for them the final goal was apatheia, which means not “apathy” in the modern sense but “calmness,” imperturbability gained from the pursuit of virtue. Ataraxia (spelled atarxie) entered English in the early 17th century.

Image result for stoic

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What’s Your Trumposcope Today?

As a Gemini, I am ashamed to be in the same zodiac sign as Donald Trump. However, my Trumposcope for today is pretty great. And since Boris Johnson, coincidentally, is a Gemini too, we’re all winners!

From The Daily Kos, by Bill in Maine:

Today’s Trumposcopes

Aries The world is your down escalator. Take time to smell the leather throughout the spacious cabin of your luxuriously-appointed private jet. Tonight: throw eggs at George Will’s gazebo. It’s made of sub-par materials and will crumble easily. He paid full price—bad deal!

Taurus Send out an anti-Semitic tweet without consulting your campaign staff because who wears the pants around here, I do! Cancel your cable service because all the news coverage is totally in the bag for Hillary and RIGGED!

Gemini If you’re a Gemini like me you are among the very best people, I can tell you that. You’re very smart, negotiate great deals and you are going to make America great again. Tonight: get a manicure for those big, totally beautiful hands that are not small no matter what George Stephanopoulos says behind your back, and I know he says these things because people have told me.

Cancer Deal with a major world crisis by cutting a grand-opening ribbon at your new golf resort or large, beautiful building with your name on it. Calm fears by sending out a tweet quantifying how things are going to work out so well for you.

Leo A good day to accuse your friends, family and co-workers of being murderers and rapists. But don’t forget to mention that maybe some of them might also be nice people. Order more hats.

Virgo You can have a speaking slot at the Republican convention if you want it. Seriously, there are tons of very beautiful and great slots open. Please indicate if you would like to take the lectern after Scott Baio, Victoria Jackson or Kirk Cameron. Great and very influential patriots!

Libra Build a wall and make your neighbor pay for it! If they complain, waterboard them or worse!  Remember: exclamation points are your friends!!!!!!!!

Scorpio You share your sign with Crooked Hillary, so the only thing to do is turn yourself in to our fine officers in blue and spend the rest of your life in jail. Sad!

Sagittarius You’re such a liar and a fraud and probably a Pisces! Get out! Out! Leave this horoscope now! Security, get ’em out! Out! Use your fists, people! I’ll pay your legal bills!

Capricorn Express your opposition to immigration reform by accusing illegals of smuggling 700 pounds of marijuana across the border in their spleens. If someone voices skepticism, question their patriotism and inform them that the wall just got ten feet higher.

Aquarius A great day to declare bankruptcy…but don’t call it bankruptcy, call it asset reallocation. Get many more amazing tips like this on your way to becoming a millionaire in your spare time by attending advanced Trump University learning opportunities for only $35,000. (Paid in advance to the guy behind the dumpster under the bridge.)

Pisces All pisces are banned from having access to their horoscope until we figure out what’s going on.

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Poor, Gullible Ben Carson. Bless His Heart.

Trump’s former presidential rival, a key surrogate and possible vice presidential pick, told The Hill on Friday that he believes Trump is becoming more spiritual.

“I know that he has prayed. I have eyewitness,” Carson said in a Facebook Live interview.

Asked whether he had personally seen Trump pray, the retired neurosurgeon, who is a man of deep Christian faith, conceded he had only heard about Trump praying.

“I have not seen him [pray] but I have eyewitnesses who have,” Carson said. “And I think he’s starting to move more in that direction. I think that’s a good thing.

“I think he’s starting to recognize that there’s a greater power. And I tell him, just last week, that I believe God is using him.”

Yeah. God is using him like he did that plague of locusts.

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Things That Go Bump…

Halloween is fast approaching, and even though it can’t begin to compare with the sheer bowel-wrenching scariness of the current government shutdown/debt ceiling debacle we have Ted Cruz to thank for, I thought I’d give it a nod with a ghost story from my past.

About seventeen years ago we moved into an old house in Texas which was built in the late 1800s.  It was constructed partly of limestone blocks that had been hand-quarried and featured an upstairs room running the length of the house.  This had served as a sort of dormitory for the boys in the family.  The house is quite small, but it held two families of ten kids each over the years.  When we moved in, it was just the two of us and we marveled how those early folks had managed to thrive in such small quarters.  By the time we bought the place, all the modern conveniences were there, but outside there was a remnant of an old outhouse.

A reminder that we had it pretty good, so no complaining allowed.

Eight months prior to our move to Texas from California, we had to have our 16-year-old long-haired Chihuahua, Lolita, put to sleep.  We had one other Chihuahua, Pepe, and a mini-Dachshund, Rudy, who made the trip with us, along with four big Collie-mix dogs.  All six of them and the two of us traveled together in our Econoline van.  When we stopped at rest stops it was like the clown car at the circus.  We opened the back doors and the dogs just kept on a’coming.

About a month after moving into our new (old) house, we’d turned in for the night in the bedroom downstairs.  Not long after turning out the light, we heard the sound of a little dog running across the wood floor.  It came from the adjoining dining room and ran toward the door to the porch, which was at the foot of the bed.  It stopped there, scratched the door two or three times, and then ran back across the room.  This happened several times over the course of the next hour.

Pepe and Rudy were soundly asleep under the covers.  It wasn’t them running through the room.  The big dogs were outside.  The hair on the back of my neck stood on end.  What the…?

Just about every night thereafter the same routine occurred.  Sometimes it started right after lights out, and sometimes it wasn’t until one in the morning.  A couple of times, soon after turning out the light, I would hear the “ghost dog” (as we’d started to call it) get up from the sofa near the bed, shake its ears enough so I could hear them flap and then jump down to the floor.

We had become friends with one of the “kids,” now in his late 70s, who’d grown up in the house and we nonchalantly inquired if the family had a little dog at any time in the past.  He said no, they hadn’t.

Then it dawned on us that when we moved we’d brought along Lolita’s old dog bed.  Why, I can’t say.  And then we realized that we’d stuck it in the dining room which was serving as a catch-all until we could get everything sorted out after the move.  That’s where the activity seemed to be emanating from.

So we took the dog bed and put it upstairs in the dormitory room.  It wasn’t long before we would hear ghost dog come clicking down the stairs on her nightly run.  She also was heard rustling in the wastebasket next to the desk upstairs while my husband was working there.

I took to sleeping with a little flashlight I called my “ghost buster.”  Whenever the activity started, I would take the flashlight from the table next to the bed and scan the room on the off chance I’d finally see something.  All it did was stop the activity—for a bit.  Some nights I would hear her drop what sounded like one of our other dogs’ Nylabone chew toys on the hardwood floor.  When I lit up the room, there was nothing there.

Other nights, Lolita (by this time we figured it had to be her) would bonk around under the bed like she used to do when she slept in her dog bed under our bed back in California.  We would even hear her tripping over the extension cord on the floor.  Sometimes Rudy and Pepe would look up after hearing her, but they never growled or seemed disturbed by any of it.

This went on for almost a year until the terrible day that Pepe was bitten by a rattlesnake and died hours later on my bed.  We were grief stricken.

Maybe a week or so later, we heard two little dogs running around upstairs, like they were chasing each other.  There was more rustling in the trash and just double the activity in general.

Then, the noises gradually subsided and finally stopped altogether.

I’d had a dream (or visitation?) from Pepe the morning after he died.  He used to wake me up by standing on my chest and licking my face.  That’s what I awoke to—or dreamt I was waking to.  He was backlit by white light and I was crying, I was so happy to see him.

Then he faded away and I realized I was awake and he was gone.

But maybe he wasn’t.  Maybe he hung around with Lolita for a while before they both went off to doggie heaven together.  Maybe…

Happy Halloween

Lolita swami

LOLITA SEES ALL…KNOWS ALL…