Monday, March 15, 2021

An Emotional Cutter's Life - Part II

Perhaps I should start Part II with my definition of "emotional cutter." An emotional cutter and a drama queen share many of the same characteristics, but their motivation for their bizarre behavior is at opposite ends of the spectrum. Whereas a drama queen creates situations in order to call attention to themselves, an emotional cutter may perk along for awhile with everything going well and then BOOM! It happens! An emotional cutter can't stand serenity, so they will rip the scab off the wound just to feel alive. Happiness is a foreign feeling...pain is what we feel comfortable feeling and there's nothing like feeling pain to let yourself know you're still alive. As I teeter on the edge, I poke and prod and make myself miserable and blame myself for all sorts of things. The drama is there like it is with a drama queen, but unlike our "drama queen" cousins, we suffer in silence and many times, not a soul will see our pain.  We're masters at covering it up like a cat working diligently in a litter box.  We skillfully cover that pile of crap we call life and wear a smile while we suffer in silence.

When you're young, you can only hold things in for so long before the pot boils over. And when the pot boiled over in my case, everyone just scratched their heads. Of course, it was much easier to just label me as a "bad kid" at that point, but I wasn't a bad kid! I was never a bad kid. Sure, I always had a bit of a rebel in me, but I wasn't bad. I just always had a mind of my own. Is that a bad thing?  I started doing drugs to dull the pain and I kept doing drugs because being comfortably numb worked. Are you acquainted with being comfortably numb? My comfortably numb almost killed me. My comfortably numb almost tore my heart from my body and locked it in a dark dungeon where no one could hurt me. It was a safe place. I felt nothing. No pain! No fear! No hate! No anger! But no joy or pleasure or love either. Emotional bankruptcy is void of everything and anything, but it's a safe place to hide out until either you're forced back into the land of the living or you perish. 

My mother wasn't what I would say was a warm, nurturing person, She was an only child and I don't think she was equipped to handle difficult situations like raising four children while dealing with an alcoholic husband. I don't think many people are suitably equipped for that task. I think like most people who fall in love, they go into the relationship with unrealistic expectations.  Life is wonderful until reality hits. In my mother's case, I believe when reality hit, it made her angry and bitter. Instead of focusing on what was in front of her, she became encapsulated in a cloud of her own angst. Listening to her talk about life on Walter Street, it was always all about her pain. It was as if my brothers and I didn't exist or our pain was less important than hers. A few times over the years, I'd get frustrated from listening her to her synopsis and I'd remind her as she recounted what we all refer to as "the hornet's nest," that I knew the story too well because I lived it, too. I'd let her rave on about what a son of a bitch my father was and at the end, I'd make her say one nice thing about him. 

She didn't hug me much. I guess she didn't hug any of us very much that I remember. She screamed a lot. Just ask anyone in the neighborhood. Anyone not knowing us would have thought we were the children from Hell. She also loved to whack the bejesus out of all of us, but I remember the last time she tried to do that. I was old enough by then to stick up for myself. When she was about to hit me with something, probably a hairbrush, I grabbed her wrist and I told her not to ever hit me again. The look on her face was priceless. A true Kodak moment! I'm sure if I could ask her about it now, she'd claim she doesn't remember it, but I remember it too well. I think it's when Mildred was born. Mildred is pretty fearless and a force to be reckoned with when needed. From that day on, I did things my way. It seemed to amuse her when she'd tell people that I stopped listening to her when I was about 12 years old. Oh yes! Her attempt to control me was a total failure and that beat of a distant drum she claimed I heard was more like a whole symphony. Her need to control things that were out of control continued, but it no longer affected me until much later in life.

I have to admit that it did my heart good to see her life change when she married my step-father. He treated her well and tried to give her everything she wanted. The struggles she had once faced were behind her and she was finally able to bloom. Yes, her dream of becoming a fashion designer was gone, but instead she became an artist. Living life under totally different circumstances seemed to make all the difference in the world. Yes, she still had those "only child" tendencies, but she didn't scream and wasn't angry all the time. It was nice to see her in a different light. When she and my step-father had first gotten to the point of needing someone to live with them, my adult daughter volunteered. About three weeks after she had moved in, I got a phone call at work from my daughter where she announced to me that she now understood why I did drugs when I was younger. To that lightbulb moment of hers, I first laughed and then, I responded by telling her that her grandmother had mellowed out in her old age and that she wasn't the same person now as she was then. 

Sunday, March 14, 2021

An Emotional Cutter's Life - Part I


My mother used to tell me that I was so shy when I was a little girl that I would cry if a stranger would look at me. I really can't imagine living a life where I felt like that, but lucky for me, I have no conscious memories of being that way or feeling that way. I eventually blossomed when I started school. I discovered I had a mouth. The gift of gab was magically bestowed upon me and I transformed into a storyteller and the class clown all rolled into one lanky-legged little girl. 

My safe place growing up was never at "home."  My safe place was in an imaginary world I had created in my bedroom where I could transport myself to other realms and be other people or things. It was easy! I'd just open the door to my pink wooden closet on wheels, carefully push the buttons I had drawn on the inside of the wooden door, climb inside the closet, shut the door and transport myself somewhere else. Then, instantly off I'd go on my merry way. It was like reading a book, but only better until my mother would holler for me or at me...and out of the pink closet on wheels I would come. Blasted back to reality with a thud, I would jump out of the closet with a half-glazed look on my face. Undoubtedly, I had done something wrong...yet again! I would sigh and trudge my way downstairs to find out what I had done wrong this time and suffer the consequences.

I can't say I really know what love is because it's not something I've ever received in abundance. That's not being said from a place of self-pity, but it's a statement of fact pure and simple. My childhood was no better or worse than many girls or boys who grow up in alcoholic families. I struggled from having a distorted self-image that continually convinced me how ugly I was coupled with the negativity that was always shouting at me telling me I wasn't worthy of being loved. I was awkward. I felt stupid and I just wanted to be one of those pretty girls. My self-image was reinforced by how I was treated by my family. My mother never took me under her wing and molded me into a "girlie girl."  Isn't that what a mother should do with her only daughter? For Christ sake, my daughter is a princess. She's beautiful in every way and has always been since the day she was born. When I was growing up, my mother wouldn't dream of leaving the house unless she was dressed to the nines. Me? Not so much! I was the rebel. Go figure! I became a hippie. No make-up. No frills. I was tall and skinny. A pair of jeans and bare feet were great in my eyes. I always told people I had natural beauty and didn't need anything to enhance myself. Some people actually bought that bullshit! Now, whenever I pull into a handicapped parking spot and I have someone with me, I jokingly tell them it's a handicap to be beautiful. I think perhaps, that may be the truth.

I've always wondered what it would feel like to be able to look in the mirror and like what you see or at least be okay with what you see. I've never been okay what what I see. Don't get me wrong...I'm not saying I'm completely fugly, but what I see and what other people see are two entirely different things. AND then there's the matter of what's on the inside. OMG! That shit is scary! That's the kind of shit that makes people nutty. "We" have to keep that shit in a locked drawer NEVER to see the light of day. 

One of the worst things my mother ever did to me was when she got it in her head how darling I would look with a Twiggy haircut and she made me get my hair cut like that. I was 11. Puberty hadn't quite hit yet.  I already was shaped like a boy.  What she did gave me the kiss of death. It was horrible and I had no say in the matter. I was so traumatized. It was truly awful. I know! I know! Suck it up! Right? But when you're young stuff like that matters. Stuff like not being listened to matters. Not having anyone to talk to matters. Looking like a boy when you're a girl MATTERS. I wanted to be cute and I wasn't. If my mother had been kind, she would have featured her tall daughter as a model and made her feel beautiful instead of awkward and homely. She should have slapped some make-up on me and enhanced some of my features and then turned my face towards the mirror and told me that I'm beautiful. That never happened and I often wonder why she never attempted to let me know I wasn't ugly. Did she not know how I felt? Couldn't she see it?  All the while this minor bullshit and pre-teen angst was happening, I was struggling dealing with sexual abuse. So I suffered in silence. The ugly duckling waiting to become a swan suffered in silence. It was my self-imposed prison for which the sentence was indefinite.

This was in a time when NO ONE talked about stuff like that. Yes, sexual abuse happened back then. It's always happened and unfortunately, will continue to happen. On some level, I instinctively knew I needed to just keep it to myself and "protect" the person. I sacrificed myself to protect someone else who didn't deserve protection or my loyalty. But why did I do that? If this makes any sense...although I feared and hated what the person was doing to me and yes, I also hated the person, on the other hand, I also loved that person. I was just a child and I was torn.  My loyalties were torn. I was so confused.  I didn't have anyone to talk to and even if I did, what exactly do you say? How do you slip something like that into a conversation when you don't really understand what's happening or why it's happening. OMG! That child inside me still cries at times! Sometimes, I lay awake at night and I get flashes of old memories and feelings. That little girl still lives and she has lived a war-torn life. The battle scars may not be visible to the naked eye, but they do exist. When I look in the mirror I see the scars. When I look in the mirror I feel the scars and when I close my eyes I feel the fear.

Tuesday, February 23, 2021

Forever

Yesterday, while I was sitting here I suddenly got inspired to write a poem. I know! Poetry! YUCK! Hey, you have to run with inspiration when it strikes, no matter what direction it takes you in, right? So, humor me by holding your nose and reading my heart-felt words. Mildred is really trying to heal and come home...

It's a good thing I was by myself when I wrote this poem because I cried the whole time I was writing it. Yes, I actually wrote it and didn't type it. There's something about holding a pencil that seems to stir something in me, but it's difficult to stay inspired with a snotty nose and tears dripping all over the place. Somehow, I managed to find the "right" words and finish the poem. My first draft I emailed to my "bestie" and of course, she thought it was lovely. But, I'm wondering if she thought it sucked if she would have told me to go back to the drawing board and keep working. That thought brought a smile to my face... 


Forever


 One moment she was breathing

And then nothing filled her eyes.

I can’t prevent the ending…

Forever

She gifted me with life and love.

Now, outstretched while growing cold.

And from her death tears erupted…

Forever

 My whole life changed that moment.

And my heart won’t be the same.

Still somehow, I march forward…

Forever

 A crushing grief weights my soul.

While trying to drown the pain

 Prevents this crevice from closing…

Forever

You never thought I listened.

While you showed me who I am

I hope you knew I loved you…

Forever

 As time grew near to free you

My heart was opened wide.

That moment remains eternal…

Forever

 The moments when I need you.

You tell me to reach inside.

I get my strength from you…

Forever

You’re all around me always.

A deafening silence holds you there.

You will live on inside me…

Forever

I know how things must happen.

Reality stares me in the eyes.

Until someday I join you…

Forever

 And while my heart is healing

I still have these tears to cry

But each sunset brings a sunrise…

Forever.

💔

by Mildred Ratched

22 Feb 2021

Friday, January 29, 2021

There's a Traitor In The House!


Lately, my mindless distraction has been doing genealogy research. This isn't something new for me. In fact, I started poking around in my family tree back in the 1990's. Since then, I've found many interesting facts regarding my ancestry and a lot of not so interesting facts. I guess you have to take the good with the bad!

Since my family is all from New England finding out I had ties to the Mayflower and the Salem witches came as no surprise to me. In fact, I'm related to a couple dozen of the witches. Elizabeth "Goody" Proctor is my 9th great grandmother.  She's the one the book, The Crucible was written about so when it's a full moon and I get a yearning to rip my clothes off and dance naked in the backyard now I know why or at least I have a story I can tell the police when they come to get me. Speaking of books and authors...Laura Ingalls Wilder (Little House On The Prairie) is a cousin, also, but I don't think I have that prairie thing going on, but Mildred definitely can rock a witch's hat!

Today wasn't a great day for discovery. Benedict Arnold popped up. I know all families have skeletons and scalawags, but traitors??? Okay! I guess I'll have to own it. It's not a close tie. He's like a 4th cousin 8 times removed. That doesn't even qualify as a kissing cousin, does it? Who of you out there understand the generational relationship when someone says so and so is 2nd cousin 3 times removed or 2 times removed? Anyway, I'll take Benedict Arnold just as long as I don't find out I'm related to Donald Trump. I know there's a fat chance of that happening because all my DNA is planted in the British Isles. I better shut up. He might have a smidgeon of Irish or Scottish tucked up his fat ass somewhere and it really would make me cry.

Speaking of crying, yesterday while sitting at a traffic light I had my one of my "moments." There was a lone bird sitting on a wire and as I watched it, I started crying. Now, as I type this I'm starting to cry again. My mother used to tell me that all birds sit on wires in the same direction. I used to tell her she's crazy. Every time I'd see birds, I'd always look and they'd never be sitting the same way. Where she got that idea I never knew, but it became a standard joke my kids and I would tease her about. Yesterday, there was just one little bird sitting alone and it made me cry. The flood gates opened and I cried all the way to the doctor's office.


I went there because I haven't been feeling well. That was an ordeal! No one there knew my mother had passed away. No, I don't want anything to help me to sleep! No, I don't want an anti-depressant. I just want my stomach to feel better (I have serious digestive issues) and I want my blood pressure to behave itself. She changed my blood pressure med and decided to let my gastro doc handle the other issues since I had an appointment with her today. Maybe I'll be able to sleep better and actually eat food once in awhile. That'll certainly improve my whole outlook or at least make my digestive system do a happy dance. Does anyone remember what it felt like when you were a kid and you just felt good? Well, that's my goal! I want to remember what good feels like. Not great, but good. I know there's going to be days when I hurt, but I'm tired of this "golden years" bullshit that we get fed and then we get here and it's a bunch of lies. 

My goal tomorrow is to do some more work on the bedroom so I can work towards getting it ready to move into it EVENTUALLY. My son is worried that it will bother me to move into my mother's old bedroom, but I think I'm okay with it and of course, my dogs are okay with wherever I am...

Wednesday, January 13, 2021

HELP!


I'm drowning in grief and my "g" keeps sticking on my keyboard. That's probably some kind of prophetic sign. Maybe it's time for a new laptop, but honestly I haven't been this broke since...well, I don't remember how long it's been. Times are hard for everyone. I sit here alone day after day. I don't even go outside anymore. My backyard is no longer my sanctuary. The birds must hate me because I no longer feed them. My dogs are my only solace...and my adult children, but they work and well, I just don't want them to worry about me. My stomach hurts and I have trouble sleeping. The fucking G is starting to piss me off! Too many things piss me off like the roof leaking and all the repairs that need to be done. I keep looking at everything that needs to be done, but I honestly don't have the energy or the motivation to do anything about anything and even if I did have the motivation, it wouldn't matter because I don't have the money. I just feel so overwhelmed because for the last twenty years I've spent takin (oh, fuck that "g") care of my parents and now, I have no purpose or direction. I feel totally lost and I don't know what to do. It scares me to feel this way.

I can't go out to my mother's art studio without crying. I don't know what I'm going to do with all her artwork. There's probably at least thousand paintings out there. Her bedroom needs to be cleaned out and I can't seem to even do that. And then there's the matter of business stuff I need to do...the will, getting the deed to the house transferred to my name, checking on why the life insurance has been so slow in paying the claim, etc. I just can't seem to do anything. All I do is sit here and watch the news and oh boy, that's going to cheer me up! 

I don't even have any words for the depths of the despair I feel towards what has happened to this country lately. For a moment I had a glimmer of hope and then it was all snuffed out. I never thought I'd see a sitting president damage our great nation in the ways that Donald Trump has damaged it. 

I stopped going on Facebook...I guess loneliness has lured back to stay in touch with my friends and family. Desperation will make a person do strange things. So I hold my nose and I log on to that cesspool of hate and discontent. Usually, I don't post anything, but yesterday I couldn't help myself. Afterwards, I felt like I needed to take a shower! Below is what posted:

It really disheartens me by the amount of hate and division people seem willing to spread instead of trying to start to mend this great divide we have in our country. Why do people keep posting inflammatory things on their Facebook pages and then act wounded when someone challenges what they post? Look, if you don’t want controversy then don’t post controversy. Yes, you have a right to your opinion, but if you post something, don’t whine like a little girl if someone disagrees with you because everyone is entitled to their opinion and opinions vary. They always will!
Unfortunately, in these times people are going to lose friends because let’s face it...politics and religion are two controversial subjects and unless we learn to listen to one another with empathy and without bloodshed this country is in real jeopardy. I think each of us needs to give that some serious thought. We aren’t enemies. We’re Americans and we need to start acting like Americans. We need to come together and heal this country. Remember united we stand, divided we fall...and we WILL fall if we don’t get our act together. The solution to the problem will not be accomplished through violence!

Sunday, December 06, 2020

Rosalie


The focus of my last few decades has been primarily towards caring for my elderly parents. My father (actually my step-father, but he was the father I never had growing up, so he got a promotion a long time ago to being referred to as my "father") passed away in 2008 leaving a huge crater in many people's lives. Around that time was when the aliens came and abducted my mother and she began what I called her Empty Pod Stage (EPS). 

The doctors said she had Alzheimer's. I disagreed. I was right. They were wrong, but it took many years to coax her back into the land of the living. She obviously had some kind of breakdown. So many things happened in rapid succession that I think it overloaded her brain. It all started with her having breast cancer. She never reacted like anyone else being told they had cancer. She reacted more like she was told she had a fart crosswise and all she had to do is take a double dose of Gas-X to get some relief. Her reaction was almost eerie. Then there was the Category 4...almost a 5 hurricane that hit us directly. She totally lost it and wanted to be taken to the hospital. I'm sorry, but ambulances don't run in 150 mph winds. In fact, nothing runs in that kind of wind storm. 

She also had her driving privileges taken away from her and that hit her hard. In fact, that hit her harder than having cancer. That made her mad, but having cancer didn't! I never understood that one. I was relieved when they took her license because my mother had to be one of the worst driver's on the road. For 25 years before they took her license, I wouldn't ride with her if she was behind the wheel. If we went anywhere, I drove. In all honesty, she really was an accident waiting to happen. It probably was a blessing she didn't learn to drive until she was 30 something years old. 

Then there was decline of my father's health (cardiac and kidneys) which led to his demise. I suppose a person can only take so much before their mind goes into survival mode. That's when the aliens came and rescued my mother leaving behind just an empty pod that looked like her. I took good care of that pod for almost 10 years and then one day, the aliens returned. My mother came home. She started painting again and reading again and doing all the things she used to love to do just like it was only yesterday. She really didn't have any memories of that time period that stood out in her mind when I questioned her about it. 

What was almost 10 years to me and the rest of the family was at most a few days for her. In all that time she never mentioned my father or his dying. In fact, she did little talking about anything unless I really prodded her into it. Trust me, I tried everything....doctors, therapists, drugs, taking trips "home" to Maine, etc, etc. and NOTHING worked. Time was what she needed, so time was what I gave her. She even fell and broke her hip during the EPS. Now, that was a tricky situation to get her through physical therapy and up walking again, but with determination on my side, she did it and returned home from having surgery and then a 6 week stay in rehab. I know I'm luckier than most people. My mother has been around a very long time. She turned 92 on her last birthday in February.  

On October 24th my mother fell and broke her other hip. 

While she was in the hospital, I kept most people updated about her progress via text or on Facebook. It was easier than to having to repeat the same things 50 times in a row. The only people I actually talked to during this time period other than my children and a few friends were my brothers.

My final update about my mother was written and posted on December 3rd:

This afternoon my mother passed away. While I have to admit that I am relieved that her pain and suffering is finally over, my heart is broken. The sorrow that consumed both my daughter and I as we looked down upon my mother was overwhelming and as I finally walked down that long hallway away from Covenant Care Hospice at West Florida Hospital it took every ounce of strength I had to put one foot in front of the other and leave my mother behind forever.

I can't begin to express the sorrow I feel and how my heart is broken in a million pieces after watching my mother develop pneumonia and A-fib, have a pulmonary embolism, get sepsis from an UTI and lose the ability to swallow and have to have a feeding tube surgical placed in her stomach for nutrition. Basically, she went from being a healthy 92 year old on October 24th to being placed in hospice on December 2nd to dying on December 3rd. 

I'm a grown woman, yet I feel like an orphaned child. I walk around my house and feel her presence everywhere, yet she's gone. I'm okay one minute and I'm crying like a baby the next. I don't even know if that's what I'm suppose to do. I keep asking myself, "What am I suppose to do with myself now?"  I never gave this day any thought. I never thought about me in the grand scheme of things. My focus was always on other people...always on my step-father and on my mother. Thinking about myself now feels so foreign. I'm overwhelmed. I'm sad and I just want to feel like I have a purpose. I just want to feel  something other than feeling this horrible sadness.













This photo was taken not long after my mother was first admitted to the hospital. It's nice to see that she was still capable of smiling here.

At this point I think I had accepted my mother's fate...

When she was moved to hospice, I covered her with the afghan her mother had made for her. I wanted her to feel close to her mother. For some reason, I felt that was important. She always kept this afghan folded at the end of her bed. Her mother, my grandmother passed away in 1974. 

Wednesday, November 04, 2020

I Feel Sick!

 I'm trying hard to be patient, but...

I really don't think I can take four more years of Donald Trump. I really don't think this country can take four more years of Donald Trump. I have sat here and wept until I just can't cry anymore.  What's wrong with people that they can't see that he's one most vile human beings walking on the face of this Earth? What is it about his defects and slimy, corrupt ways that people find so endearing? Why can't people see how divisive  he has been for this country? Dysfunction is now the norm! Dictators are our friends! Democracy will no longer exist and people seem okay with that. This is not the country I grew up loving. I just don't understand it and I really wish someone would enlighten me. 

I'm scared and I really do feel alone...

Saturday, October 31, 2020

Thank You, Madame Tussauds

Wax on! Wax off!  (This article truly made my day.)

Hopefully, we'll follow Berlin's lead and do the same thing to the real McCoy on Tuesday...









DUMP TRUMP!

VOTE BIDEN/HARRIS!

[I'll post an update regarding all the Mildred happenings soon.  So much has gone on that my head is still spinning...]

Monday, October 05, 2020

Surgery on the 9th

Instead of remaining MIA, I felt a short explanation was appropriate.  This surgery is something I've been putting off for quite awhile and I'll post more details about it after I have it done on the 9th.  Right now, I've been trying to finish up all the hurricane clean-up, etc. and to prepare myself mentally for having more surgery.  




Sunday, September 20, 2020

Hurricane Blues

My power went out at 8:05pm on the 15th.  Periodic trips to my car to charge my cellphone has kept me partially sane and connected to the rest of the world.  Eventually, I’ll be back if anyone is wondering what happened to me.  No, I didn’t blow away!  I been through much worse storms than Hurricane Sally, but I do have to admit she surprised most everyone around here.  I’ll post pictures, etc when I have electricity and internet again.  Until then, let’s hope the Gulf of Mexico remains peaceful.

Tuesday, September 08, 2020

Ratched




Netflix describes the series as:
In 1947, Mildred Ratched begins working as a nurse at a leading psychiatric hospital. But beneath her stylish exterior lurks a growing darkness.
Netflix tags the series:
Ominous, Psychological, Dark, Supernatural, Horror, Thriller, LGBTQ
Season 1 is starting on September 18th

Tuesday, August 25, 2020

Barracuda

I decided to forego this God awful endeavor. I'm bored! I'm depressed! Frankly, my dear, I don't give a fancy, flying, fiddling, flat-footed fuck. Trump can ram a barracuda up his ass sideways and whistle Dixie while he rallies all the racists in the country world. I hope Trumpville and all its lovely devotees has a cataclysmic chlamydia-filled cakewalk event like a nice meteor to incinerate his heinous orange ass. Yes, I'm feeling quite generous today if you must know! So moving right along to end this merriment with the right left twang...here's Ann and Nancy giving you some B-A-R-R-A-C-U-D-A...


71. Heart (and last on my Countdown) 
Oh by the way, The Beatles were Number #1...

Heart -- fronted by sisters Ann and Nancy Wilson -- has had an album chart on the Billboard 200 in every decade since the release of their debut album "Dreamboat Annie" in 1976, which peaked at No. 7. The Seattle rock group that had its roots in Vancouver, Canada, whose guitar-heavy hits include "Barracuda" and "Crazy On You," has sold more than 25 million albums in the U.S. alone and was inducted into the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame in 2013.

The last two verses of this song especially remind me of what election night 2020 and the Orange Barracuda will be like:
All that night and all the next
Swam without looking back
Made for the western pools, silly, silly fools
If the real thing don't do the trick, no
You better make up something quick
You gonna burn, burn, burn, burn, burn it to the wick
Oooo, barra-barracuda


VOTE BIDEN HARRIS 2020
DUMP TRUMP

Monday, August 24, 2020

Here Kitty Kitty

Using data from Spotify, Facebook, Ranker, and the Billboard 200 albums chart, 24/7 Tempo determined the 100 most popular rock bands of all time. From those 100 most popular rock bands of all time, I'm going to feature one each day until the election on November 3rd which is 72 days away.

72. The Offspring

Pop punk band The Offspring have sold nearly 17 million albums in the U.S. alone. Among their releases are eight albums that appeared on the Billboard 200 albums chart. The band's most popular release in the U.S. is "Smash," which has been certified six-time platinum. At the time of its release, the record was the top-selling album ever to be released on an independent label.

This by far has got to be one of the best 2020 quarantine music videos made this year. I virtually knew nothing about The Offspring until I started listening to their music. They've been around for awhile.  I just never listened to them. My first selection was a tune called Gone Away. It wasn't slow and sad. It was in my face and the imagery was bleak and bare. It spoke to me and made me really sad. The song was written as an emotional response to the lead singer's girlfriend's death in an auto accident. But when I heard and watched the video Here Kitty Kitty, I knew I had found the one! LOOK NO FURTHER, MILDRED! Here Kitty Kitty is a riot and these guys are insane. I imagined this as Trump's version of "The dog ate my homework." THE PERFECT LIE! The song is about a woman who murdered her husband and fed him to a tiger.  Trump always boasted he could kill someone on Fifth avenue and nobody would do anything to him. Melania probably should start worrying if Trump gets a pet tiger. HERE KITTY KITTY!!! Warning: This is definitely NOT a country band!





VOTE BIDEN/HARRIS 2020
DUMP TRUMP

Sunday, August 23, 2020

Hunger

Using data from Spotify, Facebook, Ranker, and the Billboard 200 albums chart, 24/7 Tempo determined the 100 most popular rock bands of all time. From those 100 most popular rock bands of all time, I'm going to feature one each day until the election on November 3rd which is 73 days away.

73. Florence and the Machine

Florence and the Machine is a British group from London formed by Florence Welch and Isabella Summers in 2007 synthesizing pop, English folk, and alternative rock. The six-time Grammy nominees broke through with their single "Dog Days Are Over," the second single from their 2009 debut album, "Lungs." The song rose to No. 21 on the Billboard Hot 100 and was heard on the TV shows such as "Gossip Girl" and "Glee." The group has had three Top 10 albums on Billboard, including their lone No. 1 "How Big How Blue How Beautiful" in 2015.

Here's another group I'm not familiar with, but this fluid-moving "ginger" is worth watching. Florence Welch wrote this song about her eating disorder. And yes, we all do have a hunger! Most of us have a hunger to be free of this pandemic and to be free of Donald Trump. We need new leadership, so vote like your life depends upon it because it does.



VOTE BIDEN/HARRIS 2020
DUMP TRUMP

Saturday, August 22, 2020

Know Your Rights

Using data from Spotify, Facebook, Ranker, and the Billboard 200 albums chart, 24/7 Tempo determined the 100 most popular rock bands of all time. From those 100 most popular rock bands of all time, I'm going to feature one each day until the election on November 3rd which is 74 days away.

74. The Clash

Once dubbed "The Only Band That Mattered," the Marxism-espousing British band helped legitimize punk music in the late 1970s. "London Calling," their breakthrough album in the United States, went to No. 27 on the Billboard 200. The album also went platinum and is considered one of the most influential records in rock history. The Grammy winners' biggest album was "Combat Rock," which rose to No. 7 in 1983.


No! Whatever you do, NEVER get off the streets! Stay the course! STAY THE COURSE!!!

Do not go gentle into that good night
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light...
~Dylan Thomas~



BIDEN/HARRIS 2020
DUMP TRUMP