Could Thelma and Louise Run Our Country?

If you ask most people, they would say personality traits and interests are the ties that cement relationships. I believe it’s the opposite.

I’d be bored to death if I had to spend time with someone who is just like me. I have proof of my theory.

One of my most cherished buds is nothing like me; and as far as I can tell she enjoys my company.

She is the voice of reason and measured responses.

In my case, the filter on my mouth comes loose and takes off on its own.

She has a Master’s degree but doesn’t flaunt it.

I have some college; am a lifelong smart aleck and occasionally embarrass myself.

We enjoy the same books and some of the same movies. She is a romantic with a bent toward nostalgia. I prefer HBO— off the wall drama. Nostalgia rarely visits me.

She is a social whirling dervish. I can be happy at home for days on end.

I’ve come to believe she is the angel that sits on my shoulder and I am the devil that occupies real estate on hers.

Most people would never suspect that my devil tugs on her ear at times. On rare occasions, her angel holds her nose and performs a quick fly-over to me.

Someone referred to us as Thelma and Louise. They nailed it—that’s us.   I’m Louise. My bud is nowhere as meek as Thelma. So far, as I know, she has never visited a bar.

I haven’t visited a bar recently, but if I did; and if she happened to tag along and some man tried to assault her, I wouldn’t kill him, but I’d make sure he wished he was dead.

I’m too much of a coward to drive off a cliff and my friend would never agree to that. We might consider putting the assailant in the car and letting him take a ride off a cliff, but I don’t think we’d follow through.  For all our differences the thing my friend and I have in common is a similar value system; caring and compassion.

The current division in our country isn’t as much about our differences as it is about the trickle-down, low-down, break-down of values demonstrated by the current occupant of the white house.

A Thelma and Louise paradigm shift could be an improvement

Are Scary Dystopian Tales Women’s New Reality?

I wish I had never watched “The Family” on Netflix and “The Handmaid’s Tale” on Hulu.

For those who haven’t viewed “The Family” it is a documentary about a conservative Christian group of men’s influence and power in government. A cult-like fraternity —the embodiment of misogyny — Duck Dynasty after a GQ makeover. The stable genius isn’t mentioned as a member; surprising considering the low threshold for admission.

Several current elected officials are members of this group. These fellows make political capital during the day by legislating restriction on lady parts and– ahem–take a different position after the sun goes down.

Watching all three seasons of “The Handmaid’s Tale,” left me in a state of panic. The government places more restrictions on my body than on assault weapons. Given the current attitude of the male senate, they’d fully support a Gilead like state. Mike Pence is a shoo-in for a commander slot.

At my age, I’d end up a Martha working in the kitchen or an Unwoman cleaning up nuclear waste. Either of those choices would be better than the handmaid’s job description. Aside from her obvious function, trudging around in a long red dress and ugly boots in the Texas heat would be akin to hell.

“The Handmaid’s Tale”, described as an American dystopian novel, isn’t a novel concept these days.

I’ll be watching all the old Frazier re-runs in the foreseeable future.

Emojis No More

I don’t like emojis. They are just a tad too precious for my taste, especially the ones with hearts. As a rule, I do not send emojis with text messages. 

Adding an emoji to a tweet would be proof positive that I am not cool. (Does anyone other than weather forecasters still use “cool” as a synonym?)

I never know which emoji to send as a response.

When I am having the crazies while texting do I add the one with crossed eyes or the grimacing one? Life is hard enough. I should not have to ponder this issue.

The tears of joy face confuses me; it could also mean laughing until I cry. I never know if I should send the yellow face sideways or the scrunchy face. To complicate matters, there are also cats who laugh, cry and do everything human emojis do.

How should I interpret the one with the blue face? Is the sender telling me I have committed an unforgivable blunder? I thought the red angry face emoji was for reprimands.

The human emojis really throw me for a loop. They are gender-specific, but without my glasses I can’t tell if it is a female or a male with a bad mullet.

They have an emoji for everything, even poo. Except for responding to political messages from those who lean to the hard right, I can’t think of an instance where they are appropriate. Note to self: Don’t even think about using the hand gesture emojis.

An offspring, who I will not identify, but she knows who she is, noted I am emoji deficient and sent me a link to a site on the web called emojipedia. The choices made my head spin.

I will remain uncool. There is no way I am going to spend time emoji searching.

I am declaring myself emoji free. I’ll just stick to four-letter expletives. They have served me well and eliminate confusion for everyone.

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