If it’s Friday, it must mean leftovers . . .

Friday evening, partly cloudy and very cold (especially when you’re out of firewood), 36 degrees.

For the last three nights, a stabbing migraine has arrived around 3 a.m. I would say that I woke up with a migraine, but I was still awake at 3 a.m.  It’s a long story involving dogs, puppies, goats, a revolving open door, and Corey’s snoring . . . I’m saving my pennies to buy a used copy of A Very Stable Genius for some soothing, nighttime reading to combat my insomnia . . .

Today’s leftovers are brought to you pretty much exclusively by the site called Liberal Memes. Hey, I’m cold and lazy, but I wanted a leftovers post. Whatever.

Enjoy. Or not, as the case may be.


Orwell has been proven right time and time again:

Our national health and survival in the face of a worldwide pandemic depends on an educated, informed, efficacious response and approach by an administration filled with people whose only talent required for employment is the enduring ability to kiss ass:

Just saying . . .

Talking to you, Susan Collins . . .

Corey has never gotten over Bloomberg trying to regulate soda size in NYC . . .

It’s all a liberal plot:

And finally, let me close with these:

SOCIALISM! IT’S SOCIALISM!

Who cares what the evidence shows. We don’t want socialism. The U.S. isn’t a socialist country . . . Just don’t take away existing benefits/programs like Social Security, Medicare, fire and police departments, public libraries, military defense, the USPS, garbage collection, public schools, the VA, public parks, the GI bill, SSDI, school lunch programs, WIC, and many, many others, including the CDC, which we really need right now. All of these products and services rely on taxpayer funds to benefit our society as a whole. You know . . .

SOCIALISM………………………………..

If it’s Friday, it must mean leftovers . . .

Major computer problems continue, as does the insomnia. Vertigo is a bit better. All in all, more of the same. I haven’t done one of these in a while:

If it’s Friday, it must mean leftovers . . .


“For we all of us, grave or light, get our thoughts entangled in metaphors, and act fatally on the strength of them.” ~ George Eliot, from Middlemarch

Friday afternoon, drizzle, 48 degrees.

Another week without much production on my part. I’ve spent over a week trying to coordinate the delivery of my next Aimovig shot, and the entire process has been unnecessarily tedious and difficult, talking with different reps each day, being told different things each day, being told delivery was scheduled only to find that it has not been scheduled.

As I’m getting this medication free, I probably should not complain, but what bothers me the most is that I have been unable to introduce this medicine into my system uninterrupted; it’s one of those things that needs consistency to work best, so because of the hiccup in delivery, I’m starting over.

Things like this tend to consume my attention, which means that everything else falls by the wayside, which, most especially, means posting (or not posting, as it were) with any regularity. Add to this the stress resulting from the omnipresent impeachment hearings, and my daily allotment of brain cells burns up far too quickly.

I know. I could not pay attention to the politics, and I could ignore the incompetence of the people giving me incorrect information, but you and I both know that I won’t.

Oh well . . . . . . Have some leftovers . . . . . . . . .

Today is the birthday of British writer George Eliot, pen name for Mary Ann Evans (November 22, 1819–December 22, 1880). You can read about her here.


Need this:

Yep.

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This explains Japan’s love affair with all things Kit Kat related:

It never fails to happen . . .

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Too true, that . . .

Took me a second . . .

Do I detect a bit of sarcasm?

The memes are vicious today:

And finally:

“All things came close and harmless first thing this morning, a new trick of light. Let’s learn that trick. If we can, it will mean we live in this world” ~ Richard Hugo, from “Distances”

The Bystander, England, August 15, 1928

If it’s Friday, it must mean leftovers . . .

Friday afternoon, sunny, 44 degrees.

Pain management appointment at 8:30 am yesterday. I am not awake at 8:30 am; I am not even human yet at 8:30 am. Got a bunch of trigger point injections and talked about pros and cons of imbedded stimulator to treat pain. Still mulling it over. After finally getting home after some run around, I fell asleep fast and hard, woke up for dinner and a few episodes of Bosh, and then went back to sleep. Never fit in a post.

Oh well . . .

So I opened my laptop this morning only to see a headline about another school shooting, this one in southern California: 2 dead, 3 injured. One of the injured students sought refuge in the music teacher’s classroom, and fortunately, the teacher had a trauma kit handy. Let’s just stop for a second to take that in: her classroom was stocked with a trauma kit.

Or how about this: One student interviewed said that his parents had been practicing with him what to do in the event of a school shooting, things like holding a text book in front of his chest to help slow down bullets.

This is who we’ve become. This is how our youth goes to school now, armed not only with tablets and books, but also armed with the knowledge on how they might be able to survive a school shooting. Does no one else find this appalling?

Leftovers seem to contradict the solemnity of our current national state of affairs. Then again, perhaps leftovers are one of the only ways of getting through the day amidst all of the assaults on our senses, our beliefs, our psyches.

Enjoy . . . hope you can . . .


An unfortunate truth:

Good advice:

Circular logic, republican style:

I never knew this—our goats and horses seem to get along well:

Way to make a statement, Berlin:

Just consider: It had to be the overweight, bloated Elvis who did this, and still he managed to get them to stop just with his presence:

And finally, food for thought:


Music by Deftones, “Be Quiet and Drive” (acoustic version)

If it’s Friday, it must mean leftovers . . .

Stop the romaine lettuce proliferation in our society. NOW!

“My head is bloody, but unbowed.” ~ William Ernest Henly, from “Invictus

Friday afternoon, cloudy and cooler, more storms, 77 degrees.

Well the appointment yesterday went much better than the first. They’re checking into my request for Aimovig, and if for some reason it doesn’t get approved, I’m going to try Botox again. I had really hoped that I’d outgrow my migraines, you know, like you outgrow acne, but not so much. The heat and humidity always does me in, and the other day I just felt like crawling into a cave somewhere and never coming back out.

Anyway, this is day three of this particular episode, and I still have that lingering tightness around my skull. I’m hoping that’s how it stays and that the intense pain doesn’t decide to rear its ugly head again.

Here’s a weird collection for you—born on August 23:

  • Keith Moon, drummer for The Who (1946-1978)
  • Barbara Eden, American actress, I Dream of Jeannie (1931)
  • Park Chan Wook, South Korean film director, Oldboy (1963)
  • Henry Lee Lucas, serial killer (1936-2001), who was born in Blacksburg, VA (didn’t know this tidbit)
  • River Phoenix, American actor, Stand by Me (1970-1993)
  • William Ernest Henly, British Poet, “Invictus” (1849-1903)

Enjoy. More later. Peace.


You have to appreciate advertising with a sense of humor:

Is it weird that I’d buy this?

The Western Kansan, Leoti, Kansas, December 14, 1893

Speaking of bathing . . . What do you mean you want soap?

I just don’t know what to say . . .

The San Francisco Examiner, California, August 10, 1913

Man, I love Patton Oswalt:

This is just insane:

Yep, I went there:

A forward-thinking little girl:

Vancouver Daily World, British Columbia, June 27, 1921

And finally, there’s this:

 

If it’s Friday, it must mean leftovers . . .

The Atchison Daily Globe, Kansas, May 12, 1904 (From yesterdaysprint.tumblr)

Friday afternoon, partly cloudy and beautiful, 84 degrees.

I’m having problems getting to sleep again; I’m really hoping that this doesn’t turn into another full-blown episode of insomnia. Last night I dreamed I was having a good conversation with Brett’s partner, Dom. I was telling her how much I missed speaking with Brett. She said that she would tell him . . .

I’m hoping that Corey will spray the bugs around the house soon, so that I can venture outside without adding to my huge collection of bites. Oh well.

Hope you like today’s collection. Enjoy.


My nights lately:

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In praise of words:

La Grande Observer, Oregon, April 25, 1930

When you realize . . .

I love this picture. One of my earliest memories of is of my father working on a green car while we were living in Navy housing before going to England.

Love this sign:

To the billionaire owner of SoulCycle, Stephen Ross:


And this one, too:

Another one from isn’t:

Great bumper sticker:

Grooming a steer:

And finally, I love this. I wish that I knew where my old I Read Banned Books button was:


Music by Buffalo Springfield, “For What It’s Worth” (just as relevant today)

If it’s Friday, it must mean leftovers . . .

The Pantagraph, Bloomington, Illinois, May 2, 1949

Friday night, clear, 79 degrees.

Today I had my first appointment with the pain management center in Abingdon. That’s a post all by itself. Actually made it on time, early in fact. Then we did a few errands. By the time we got home, my back was killing me, so not a lot for leftovers today. Sorry.

More later. Peace.


Never say I didn’t teach you anything:

Oh yeah, I go there:

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Music by Long John Baldry, “It Ain’t Easy”