Bobservations

Recently Carlos hooked up with some people who do equine therapy—psychotherapy that incorporates horses into the therapeutic process through activities such as grooming, feeding, and leading a horse while being supervised by a mental health professional.

Carlos was helping them to develop programs for visually impaired people, and since he grew up around horses, and even owned a couple as a young man, he was eager to help.

Last month an article was posted in The Camden Equestrian and there was Carlos in a photo taken the day we went out to the horse farm.

He loved that day, being around the horses, and we’ve been back several times just to ride and, gosh, he just looks so darn cute.

This Tuxedo memory is from August 2019 after I spent five weeks in Oregon helping my father after ankle replacement surgery; it is entitled Ruminations On A Month Away ... I’ll spare you the entire post and focus on Carlos and, of course, Tuxedo:

“Finally, Carlos. I don’t think I’ve ever missed someone so much in my life. We’ve taken time away from each other, whether for work, or family business and the other couldn’t get away, but  31 days was quite the long stretch. And we had a very nice reunion, steamy, you might say, and spent about five days together, just us; perfection. 

I’ve never been so happy to see someone in my life, well, except for maybe Tuxedo who came running to the door when we got home and leaped to the back of a chair so I could pick him up and give him smooches. As is his way, Carlos didn't want his picture up, so you'll have to make do with Tucky.”

Ruminations on a Month Away

Oh yeah, The Debate … Demented DonOLD lost it the moment Kamala Harris talked rallies and crowd size; she owned him from then on, and he was so rattled as to be incoherent in a performance his personal lapdog, Miss Lindsey, called a “disaster.”

The Felon rambled about Haitians eating dogs and cats in Ohio to January 6th being just another day and not his fault to tariffs being the answer to everything and nothing to doubling down that the Central Park 5 should have been executed even if they were exonerated to aborting babies after birth to that old chestnut, “I won in 2020.”

The Buffoonery was off the charts. And maybe, slowly, in some circles, the tide is changing as House Republicans bemoan his performance with one saying, privately lest he hear her, that she was sad, and another, requesting anonymity so as not to become a target, being “disappointed” 

The Felon could not stay on message—hard to do when you don’t have an actual message—and then, the next morning, as even Fox “News” and Xwitter proclaimed Harris the winner a woman posted her support of Kamala Harris as president to Instagram, signing her post:

Taylor Swift

Childless Cat Lady.

With even The Felon distancing himself from the Project 2025 manifesto, Heritage Foundation president Kevin Roberts doubled down on the idea saying that if Kamala Harris wins the election, “we’re going to have a press conference outside the White House announcing Project 2028.”

You can put lipstick on a pig, Kev, but in 2028 it’ll still be a pig.

Jennifer Lopez had a moment of self-reflection while chatting with “Unstoppable” co-star Bobby Cannavale at the Toronto International Film Festival and was overheard—and by that I mean her people put the story out—telling him:

“I’m a bad picker.”

And her people then put out the story that she is a Revenge Dress she wore to show Ben what he was missing, when the real message was that his soon-to-be ex-wife is a thirsty famewhore and he dodged a bullet of a lifetime of her need to be noticed.

And then … that face? What the hell kind of alien-looking expression is that?

I mean, come on, what’s the use of having such nice cakes if no one is going to eat them?

At work the other day we had several clients come in at once and one new girl, I’ll call her Kat because that’s her name, asked if she could be partnered with a different client because the man she was set to speak with she had, um, er, fornicated with last year after getting blind drunk in a bar; small town stuff, you know.

I told her that I’d handle the guy and she could take the next client appointment. Later in the day, two older men were in to set up an event and she sighed because she was up to take care of them, and I couldn’t help myself:

“Did you fuck them too?”

Apparently she didn’t and will never be telling me personal stories again.

Whatever.

Anthony Willen is a Brazilian model who currently lives in London, so you know the drill: Would You Hit It?