Bobservations

I sing all the time around the house, often driving Carlos insane … like the other morning when I did my full rendition of ‘America’ from West Side Story as I came out of the shower. But … Carlos, too, will sing a showtune every so often, like the other morning when he gave me a version of ‘Climb Every Mountain,’ with special lyrics interpreted, and an overdone vibrato, by …. Carlos:

Climb every mountain
Search everywhe-e-e-e-e-ere
Follow every highway
Everywhere you go-o-o-o-o-o

Climb every mountain
Follow every stre-e-e-e-e-eam
Follow every rainbow
'Till you find your dre-e-e-e-e-am

A dream that will need
All the love in your hea-a-a-art
Every day of your life
For your whole life lo-o-o-o-ng

Climb every mounta-a-a-a-in
Follow every stream
Look for the rainbow
'Till you find your pla-a-a-a-ce

He only stopped when  Tuxedo and Consuelo abandoned their breakfast and fled to a spot under the guestroom bed.

And of course I believe him because he’s never once lied to anyone, anywhere, ever, right? Right?

Rudy Giuliani doesn’t want to appear before a judge in that Georgia case of election interference and now says he cannot fly because of doctor’s orders, so Fulton County Deputy District Attorney Will Wooten called his bluff, and said:

“We expect to see your client before the grand jury … here in Atlanta. We will provide alternate transportation including bus or train if your client maintains that he is unable to fly.”

Rudy on a bus!!! I’m dying! Cuz there's no Bar Car!

Minor league pitcher Solomon Bates has come out as gay, making him the second minor league baseball player to publicly come out, after David Denson did so in 2015.

“I haven’t been out as my complete self because I’ve been hiding myself. I’m a masculine man who loves the sport of baseball, and now I want to open up doors for gay athletes like me.”

Bates has been out to his teammates since 2019, but Welcome Out Solomon, and please accept as our gift the Official Coming out Toaster Oven and a copy of The Gay Agenda.

Welcome out.

The white man—I won’t say his name—who murdered Ahmaud Arbery after chasing him down the street because he was running says he fears he will be killed by fellow inmates if he's sent to a state prison to serve a life sentence for murder.

Maybe you should have thought about that before you grabbed a couple of friends and some shotguns and went out to kill someone.

Remember when Donald J. Traitor said, “only the mob pleads the Fifth”? Well, that’s exactly what he did when questioned by the New York state attorney general yesterday … cuz he’s a criminal.

In Australia, Victoria Premier Daniel Andrews turned several Melbourne landmarks—including Flinders Street Station, Melbourne Cricket Ground and the Arts Centre –pink as an acknowledgement of Olivia Newton-John’s “enormous contribution” to the state:

“Tonight, landmarks across our city will be lit up pink to remember Olivia Newton-John, and her enormous contribution to cancer awareness, research and treatment. She took her cancer journey and used that to save lives and change lives, and that’s just a deeply impressive thing.”

RIP ONJ

Y’all know I’m a slave to fashion ::::cough:::: but I ain’t no slave to ridiculous. Amirite, Balenciaga?

You may remember that Balenciaga has done some weird shiz before, like the … clutch your pearls, Maddie … Croc stilettos or the bootleg Ikea bag and then charged thousands of dollars for them. Well, now they have made a calfskin handbag that looks like a trash bag, and they call the “Trash Pouch” and charge $1790.00 for it!

And don’t tell me that your brain, like mine, right after it processed “Balenciaga” and “Trash Pouch,” didn’t instantly head to Kim Kardastrophe, because that fashion victim already owns the nearly $2000.00 trash bag.

Jokes on her because I buy mine in bulk …

Beyoncé has new music out and, as usual, to me, it’s the same crap sung in a newer sequined onesie and with more fans in the weave.

I heard one song, don’t ask the name because I didn’t pay attention as the lyrics were so mind-numbingly insipid, where she sings a line, then repeats it four times; she sings another line, and repeats it four times; she then sings two lines, and starts over with the first line, repeated four times … and so on.

I got ♫♪Wheels on the bus go round and round ♪♫ from it.

PS Yes, that’s ugly Beyoncé up there, but it’s also the face I make when I have to hear her sing or see her perform.

This is model, dancer, and out gay man from London, Sam Salter. He starred in Matthew Bourne’s all-male production of Swan Lake, and is quite bendy, but the question is: Would You Hit It?

This Bitch: Marjorie Taylor ... Crazy

Well, well, well, Georgia QAnon loon Representative, Marjorie Taylor Greene, has once again proven what an utter morn she is, and how the last place she needs to be is Congress.

This week she once more attacked COVID-19 restrictions and safety measures, like masks and vaccines, by … wait for it, it’s real … stupid … comparing COVID-19 deaths to those deaths caused by cancer:

“Every single year more than 600,000 people in the US die from cancer. The country has never once shut down. Not a single school has closed. And every year, over 600,000 people, of all ages and all races will continue to die from cancer.”

Oh Marge, you clinking clanking clacking collection of caliginous junk, while those Cancer death numbers are astonishing, Cancer is not contagious.

Again, if you have Cancer you cannot infect another person with it, but, sadly, Marjorie Taylor Greene’s ignorance is infectious.

And dangerous, because people are dying of COVID-19 every single day because politician like Greene continue to downplay masks and vaccines and mandate’s that could keep all of us safe.

Americans Suffer So _____ Can Keep Kids In Cages

Of all the cluster-f**ks associated with _____ and his so-called presidency, the one that kind of galls me the most is Kids in Cages.

I mean, I get wanting to secure the borders, but taking children from their parents and then basically putting those kids in prison is so un-American, at least in terms of what most people think about America. And yet here we are …with Kids in Cages; and it just got worse.

The Department of Health and Human Services [HHS] has diverted millions of dollars in funding from a number of programs, including the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention and the National Institutes of Health, to pay for housing cages prison for the growing population of detained immigrant children.

HHS Secretary Alex Azar has a plan to reallocate up to $266 million in funding for the current fiscal year, which ends on Sept. 30, to the Unaccompanied Alien Children [UAC] program in the Office of Refugee Resettlement [ORR].

To be fair, some $80 million of that money will come from other refugee support programs within ORR, which have seen their needs diminish as the _____ administration cuts the numbers, ever so slightly, of Kids in Cages.

But the rest of that money, money used to take children away from their families and put them in internment camps will come from other programs, including $16.7 million from Head Start, a program provides  early childhood education, health, nutrition, and parent involvement services to low-income children and their families; $5.7 million from the Ryan White HIV/AIDS program, which provides primary medical care and essential support services for people living with HIV who are uninsured or underinsured; and $13.3 million from the National Cancer Institute, which conducts and supports research, training, health information dissemination, and other activities related to the causes, prevention, diagnosis, and treatment of cancer. Money is also being diverted from programs dedicated to mental and maternal health, women’s shelters and substance abuse. 

Let me get this queer …we’re taking money away from poor American families to pay for internment camps for children taken from their parents because those parents have sought refuge in this country; we’re screwing people with HIV/AIDS to pay for camps. Cancer? Mental health? Women’s shelters?

No money for you because we have to keep children in prison because their parents wanted a better life.

As of today, there are 13,312 immigrant children in federal custody in internment camps that are at 92% capacity. And low-income families, people with AIDS, cancer parents, pregnant women, women in general, and people in need of mental health care are paying for that.

Ain’t that America … under _____ and the GOP?

Yahoo News

On This Date In ISBL History: Random Musings

As Carlos and I are in sunny Miami for business and pleasure, I thought I’d do something I’ll call “On This Date In ISBL History” and repost some things from back when the blog was new, and newish … this was originally published January 9, 2014:

Random Musings

Congrats to icon Lily Tomlin, who married her long, longtime partner, Jane Wagner on New Year’s Eve in New York.

The two women have been a couple since meeting in 1971, and now some forty-two years later they are a happily, legally married couple.

Congratulations!

They are still happily married ... still funny ... still fabulous!

As many of you know, my sister, undergoing chemo for lung cancer, had seen most of her tumors shrink, which is good news right? Well, not exactly, because as anyone who’s gone through any kind of cancer treatment, or known someone in treatment, knows that while tumors shrink, the cancer cells run and hide in new places throughout the body.

This is what happened to my sister. The cancer has metastasized to her brain, causing several large lesions there. She was suffering all kinds of memory issues and lethargy, and, in talking with her doctor, has decided to undergo radiation treatment.

Radiation was something she said she’d never do, but faced with the issue, she changed her mind. First though, steroids were given to reduce the swelling on the brain, so now she is functioning better. Then came the issue of where to have the radiation. The insurance through her employer had ended — she stopped working last year when she began chemo — but as a retired military person, she was entitled to radiation treatments at a VA hospital. Trouble is, one was about an hour from home, and they couldn’t take her, and the next closest one was two hours from home.

Then it was learned that her employer insurance has not ended, and so now she is back home, taking radiation at a hospital just five minutes away.

So, it’s been a mixed bag this week of bad news and good news, but that’s the way things happen, I guess.

My sister passed away a month later, February 15, 2014.

I still miss her something awful.

So, Hostages is over and if it ever comes back to TV again I’ll stop watching CBS altogether. What a ludicrous show, so badly written and so badly plotted that it was almost laughable; and yet, like a train wreck, I could not look away. But the finale tied every storyline up in a neat little bow with all happy endings — mostly. The doctor didn’t kill the president. The family got back together. The president, who raped a girl eons ago, was now being held accountable. The mastermind of the Kill The President plot got the bone marrow to save his wife and then decided he’d turn himself in. His brother, who aided him, as well as a woman who helped, had fallen in love, and even though the brother murdered an innocent man during the series, he and his girlfriend were able to escape and live happily ever after.

The most disturbing issue? Two of the bad guys were black; one helping with the Kill The President Plot and the other the mastermind behind it. Those two, the only Black men on the show, were killed, meaning, I guess, if you’re white and you commit a crime you live happily ever after but if you’re black, you die?

Bad on you CBS.

Better news for TV? Downton Abby is back; so is House of Lies — featuring the amazing Don Cheadle — and Episodes — with Matt LeBlanc as the anti-Joey.

American Horror Story and Stevie Nicks? Say.No.More.

Also, Josh Holloway has returned from Lost to Intelligence, in which he plays a spy with a microchip that allows his brain to function like a computer or a Smartphone, I guess. Implausibility abounds, but Holloway is nice eye candy.

Plus, be still my hearts, Justified has returned with the oh-so-handsome Timothy Olyphant; good storylines, great writing and a hot leading man!

Hostages never came back. Downton Abby and House of Lies finished their runs. AHS is still, thankfully, a must-see. Josh Holloway didn’t last long on Intelligence, but he is back again, for Season Two, in Colony and is still hot. Worst of all ... Justified ended its run and Timothy Olyphant is not on my TV every week any more. I find that one still hard to take ...

So, if you drop by here regularly, you know I love a good f-bomb. I’m fairly good at containing my usage in public, but in private, in the car, at home, writing for this bloggy thing, I love to drop ‘em.

But apparently Martin Scorsese loves an f-bomb more.

His new film, “The Wolf of Wall Street”, is all about excess, with orgies on a plane to cocaine and cash and everything in between, so it’s no surprise that the film has set the all-time record for the use of the f-word.

According to Wikipedia, the word “f**k” is used 506 times on “Wolf” and the previous record holder was Spike Lee’s 1999 film “Summer of Sam” with 435 instances. But “Wolf” isn’t the first time Scorsese has set the f-mark; Scorsese’s “Casino” dropped the bomb 422 times, while his “Goodfellas” dropped it 300 times.

My hat is off to you Mr. Scorsese, you win!

Still, I used the f-bomb thirty-seven times this morning. I’m so proud.

Seriously? The Washington Blade reports that American Idol contestant and openly gay pop singer Clay Aiken is considering running for the U.S. House from North Carolina.

A source, who spoke on condition of anonymity, says Aiken, a Raleigh native, has taken the initial steps for a run, including consulting with political operatives in Washington, D.C., about a bid for the seat. Aiken made phone calls to gauge support, talked to the Democratic Congressional Campaign Committee and met with figures in Raleigh about a potential bid.

He has also been working with Betsy Conti, a Raleigh-based political strategist who’s worked for former North Carolina Governor Bev Purdue and Democratic presidential nominee Al Gore.

I hope she recommends he go a bit lighter on the mascara if he wants to be taken seriously.

Clay lost; ‘nuff said.

Don’t ever underestimate the power of a queen; or even the Queen.

Prince Harry has been ordered by the Queen to “sooner rather than later” shave off the bushy polar beard he grew while on his charity trek in Antarctica.

Harry returned to Britain just in time for the festive celebrations at Sandringham and though his brother William and sister-in-law Kate said they loved his “Windsor whiskers” his grandmother was apparently not amused.

Harry maintains that beards are a royal tradition and told a well-wisher watching his family walk to church on Christmas morning that he intended to keep his, and a place insider, probably Princess Anne because what else does she have to do says, “The rest of the family liked it and were taking the mickey, especially his cousin Zara who dubbed him ‘Prince Hairy’.”

Prince Hairy. Prince Hottie, too.

PS Who's that next to him? O M G I’d like to be trapped in an igloo with those two!

I’m still up for a tryst with Prince Hot Ginger and the Unknown Hunk ... don’t tell Carlos.

So, Consuelo Roca-Jones, our youngest feline child.

Carlos goes from calling her Princess one minute to Little Bitch the next, but it has become abundantly clear who is in charge around here.

See, Miss Jones likes to sit in an open window and watch the birds and smell the yard and such. And Carlos, who obviously kowtows to the Little Bitch Princess, has taken to opening a window just so she can perch in it. Trouble is, the heater in the house is running and it’s 30-degrees outside but he doesn’t want to, and I quote, “Make her mad.”

Consuelo 1, Carlos 0.

And this battle of egos still wages on in our house, and Consuelo is up by over a hundred points by now!

So, the Polar Vortex brought out all the scarves and hats and gloves and coats, but in Illinois, at one move theater, it brought out the funny.

Take a look at that marquee …

Luckily we are in Miami during the South Carolina cold snap!

Liz Cheney is still a moron. But that isn’t really surprising really, is it?

Monday Fun Day: Senhor Testiculo ... It's A Real Thing

As someone who has watched loved ones dies from cancer, I am all about treatment and awareness. Knowledge is power. Lung cancer, Liver cancer, Breast cancer. Testicular cancer.

Hundreds of men die from testicular cancer every year and the American Cancer Society said recently that occurrences of testicular cancer are on the rise around the world.

So, yeah, knowledge … in the form, at least in Brazil, of Mister Balls.

Now, for those who find that rather descriptive title offensive, the scrotum-shaped character also answers to "Senhor Testiculo" and is Brazil’s spokesman, er –person, er –thing, for the Association of Personal Assistance for Cancer, a group seeking to raise awareness of testicular cancer research.

They send Mister Balls, er, Senhor Testiculo, out to schools and other venues where, according to the group’s website, “both children and adults loved taking pictures with the mascot, a friendly snowman in the shape of testicle."

"Honey? Get close to that nut-sack, I wanna post a picture to Facebook of you with the giant balls."

I’m all for cancer awareness, like I said, but I think I’d rather not see Mister Balls lolling about in front of the Piggly-Wiggly.

But, hey, it got me posting about testicular cancer so … yeah, there’s that.

NY Daily News

Mom

February, especially right here in the middle of the month, is not a good month for me, or my family; my sister died February 15, 2014; my Aunt Pam died, February 14, 2008; my mother passed away February 17, 2007.

I kinda loathe February. But, I’ll keep that in check and remember the good days, the good times, the good things about my Mom …

I learned a lot from my Mom, and my Dad, too. I learned that roles people play aren't defined by gender; that what you do in a relationship, the part you play, can change over time. Mom's didn't just bake cookies and be a Room Mother; they weren't just Den Mother's or on the PTA. Mom's went back to school to become nurses so that Dad's could get a teaching degree after retiring from the Air Force.

And Dad's don't just throw baseballs with their sons. This son wasn't the best catch, and to this day, I still throw like a girl. But Dad's can also take their sons on bike rides; they can go to arts-and-crafts shows; they talk to them. Dad's can do the dishes and cook the meals because Mom's working while he goes to school.

My Mom and Dad are those kinds of Moms and Dads.

In early 2006, my Mom was diagnosed with lung cancer and my Dad did what he does best. He researched and called doctors and spoke to people; he took care of my mother every day from the time she was diagnosed until the day she died. And that is not the easiest thing to do, but it’s what husbands do; husbands who love their wives with all their hearts; husbands who've been married to their wives for over fifty-one years.

Carlos and I visited my Mom just after her diagnosis. It was all good spirits and a happy visit, but lung cancer casts an ugly shadow over everything. The survival rate is minuscule; surviving even two years with lung cancer is rare, but my Dad and Mom went through all the tests and the chemo; losing her hair, her appetite; the sleeplessness; the forgetfulness.

In January of 2007, my Dad asked that I come out again. It was hard for him being on-call 24/7 and he wanted a helping hand … he wanted an ear … he wanted a visitor. My Mom seemed in good spirits that week. We had fresh crab for dinner one night and she went crazy over hers. We told stories and laughed; we ate, we drank, we talked.

And the clouds grew a bit darker. A couple of weeks later Dad began using hospice to help him care for my Mom. He needed a break; it was a full-time job with no time off. I remember he gave me the name of the woman who handled the hospice care program and asked me to call her. I had been asking if he wanted me to come out and he said it was a decision I needed to make for myself. So I called that woman and she told me my father had been working so hard caring for my Mom; she told me he was reluctant to ask for help. I told her he was stubborn as a mule — a trait the entire family shares — and she said, "I can't say that, but you can." I asked if she thought I should go out there, and she said, "As soon as she can. Your mother really doesn't have much time."

Doesn't have much time. Awful, awful words.

Carlos and I flew out to Oregon. My mother seemed all right, at first. Alert. Awake. Happy to see us, all of us. My sister and brother had come up from California, so we were all together again, for a while. And it seemed as though, once she had her family around, my Mom knew she could go, that we would somehow be okay. The next few days her health began to fail rapidly; she slept most of the time, but when she was awake, she would say the most wonderful things.

My sister told a story of having dinner with our Dad while Mom slept on the couch in the next room. With the idea of death becoming clearer, my sister began talking about religion. We were raised to have our own thoughts and ideas about religion, what's right, wrong, who to believe, what to follow. My sister said something about having so many choices, what do you believe.

Mom woke up for a moment and said, "You take all the best parts of all of them."

Another time, in that week she died, Mom was asleep on the couch, and her legs slid off to the floor. My sister went and asked if she wanted to change positions and Mom said, "I'm just going to lay here and let them all watch me."

I like to think she was talking about the people waiting for her.

After we'd gotten a hospital bed for her, I was sitting by her side, and she looked through the front window and asked, "Who are all those people on the deck?"

There was no one there, but she saw them, waiting for her.

A day later she died quietly and peacefully in her home. I was sitting in the living room, with Mom asleep across the room. I wanted her to go. I wanted her to be peaceful. I didn't want her to hurt, or to worry about us. I wanted her to have her hair back and her smile; and that laugh; and the way she would say, "Oh Bobby!" whenever I said something outrageous — which was, and is, often. My Dad came out of their bedroom and went to stand by her side, and she was gone. That's a sound you don't ever want to hear, or will ever forget; the sound your Dad makes when he realizes his wife has just died.

So, that's my Mom. I was glad to be there when she died; happy to hold her hand on her last day; to send her off with the sounds of her family and her dog, her husband of so many years.

A funny side note: not long after I got home from Oregon, Carlos and I began house-hunting. Nothing seemed right. Too small; too far out; not enough trees. Then the realtor showed me a house, and as I walked in the front door I could see through the empty living room into the empty kitchen and out the window into the backyard. I saw my Mom, in one of her housecoats — she loved a housecoat — sitting at the breakfast table we would buy later that year, in that kitchen with her morning coffee, looking into the trees.

That was the house we bought. And I can still see my Mom every so often, in that kitchen, looking into my yard. I think of her every day. I talk to her every day. I cry a bit, like now, as I remember and relive those last days with her.

I've always said that it gets easier, but it never really gets better.

I miss you, Mom.
I love you.