ALL HAIL, WARRIOR MOMS

My Mother once lent me her Volkswagen Beetle for a whole year so that I could commute from my apartment to classes during my senior year at college. 

 

A few years before that, circa 1971, she also let me and my siblings decorate our family car (also a Beetle) with so many large flower decals that looked like the whole clan was heading straight to Woodstock, but that’s another story.

 

The point is, Mothers are and have always been awesome and self-sacrificing (even when their offspring don’t fully recognize the magnitude of their giving hearts until many, many decades later).

And nowhere is maternal fortitude more apparent than in the midst of the Corona pandemic.

True, it has been brutal for all of us.

And, yes, it has been devastating for many and deadly for thousands.

But among all the devastation, what stands out in this ongoing battle are the Mothers who for months now have continued nonstop entertaining kids, feeding kids, trying to educate kids and enveloping kids in a blanket of love.

The rest of us can semi-cope with the challenges of quarantine by binging on shows, reading People magazine and Zooming with friends.

But Moms get no coffee break in the best of times, let alone when social distancing and isolation from babysitters or grandparents are added to the mix. Moms can’t regroup for a few minutes on the couch, they are too busy rallying the troops and maintaining family sanity.

Therefore let’s give Moms everywhere, particularly those with little kids, some extra praise this Mother’s Day.

Making sacrifices is what Moms do, even when it means they’ll be stranded without a car for an entire goddamn year.  

So thanks, Mom, and Thanks, Moms.

Someday years from now, may your children recall your Warrior Spirit that guided them through the pandemic, no matter how exhausted, depleted or woefully bad at math you were. 

Now more than ever, Moms, YOU RULE! 

TAKE CHIP, INSERT ON PRESIDENTIAL SHOULDER

Presidents ask the darndest things.

Like our current President, who likes to identify pesky reporters who dare to ruffle his orange feathers at any Coronavirus/reelection campaign press briefings.

“Who are you with?” he asked a female reporter just this weekend.

When she continued with her questioning instead of responding to him instantaneously, he persisted.

“Who-who are you with?”

Doggedly, she tried to finish her question, but Big Bad Trump is not one to give up when a little lady defies him.

“Who are you with?” he asked again, until she finally told him “CBS.”

Satisfied, Trump allowed her to continue, but he didn’t like the direction her inquiry took, so he looked at her straight on and cautioned, “Nice and easy,” following that with another short but chilling directive: “Just relax.”

Now, to all you big strong fellas out there, that might sound like no big deal – hey, you’ve been told a lot worse, am I right, guys? – but to women, that’s like advising us to gather up our petticoats and run along now, let the menfolk take care of big, bad government details.

It’s the kind of phrase men say to women when they want to control them. And Trump definitely wants to control every reporter in the room, especially the women.  

But he can throw a pouty-lipped hissy fit no matter who is involved.   

When he didn’t like a male CNN reporter’s line of questioning on Sunday, he responded: “…you people are so pathetic at CNN… That’s why your ratings are so bad, because you’re pathetic…Your ratings are terrible…You got to get back to real news.”

Wait, he’s discussing television ratings? How unpresidential can you get?

The low point (so many choices, so little time) of Sunday’s press conference was when he compared himself with one of our greatest presidents.

“I got here with the worst, most unfair treatment, they say, in the history of the United States for a President. They did say Abraham Lincoln had very bad treatment, too.”

While this statement may seem like an exaggeration, there’s a White House website that publishes of all the Corona Task Force Press briefing transcripts, so take a look if you can bear it: https://www.whitehouse.gov/briefings-statements/remarks-president-trump-vice-president-pence-members-coronavirus-task-force-press-briefing-28/

And if you are under the impression that Donald Trump is a swell leader, full of vim and vigor, then read it line-by-line to see exactly how he treats people. I’m not talking about how many false statements he makes (remember the mantra Roger Stone taught him: admit nothing and deny everything), but simply how he relates to other human beings.

You know that blustery, rich brat in every teen movie who bullies all the smart, quiet kids and then finally gets his comeuppance at the film’s end?

That’s what I envision when I see Trump trying to mortify reporters - someday, we will no longer have to witness his venom and pettiness.

Until then, say a prayer for the poor soul who transcribes his unintelligible ramblings and hope that he or she is sheltering in place/working peacefully from home and not – God Forbid – anywhere near you-know-who in the Oval Office.

WRITING OFF WHATSHISNAME

Step away from the pen!

That’s what I was screaming to the puppets who clustered around his royal majesty, Donald J. Trump.

The Prez had just signed the Coronavirus stimulus bill and was jubilantly handing out pens as souvenirs to his adoring onlookers.

First of all, why are the Washington insiders crowding together when the national mantra is “STAY SIX *%!* FEET APART.”

And second, why would they accept a pen that others had touched without wiping it off first?

And thirdly – of yeah, these days, practically BEG for a third comment – this isn’t Coney Island, where you bring home a stuffed bear or a T-shirt to commemorate your super-fun outing. COVID-19 is a damn pandemic, so enough with the tchotchke keepsakes. Step up and deal with the changes or step down.

Believe me, I know it’s not easy. I have to convince myself to buck up. I have a cartoon of Rosie the Nurse saying "We can do it" and another of Rosie the Riveter saying “We can slow it” for inspiration. And the truth is, I have absolutely NOTHING to complain about compared to a whole lot of people in the world, so no excuses, sister.

Except I keep torturing myself by watching daily episodes of “How the Imbecile Turns.” At press briefings designed to update everyone about the virus, Trump tries to humiliate reporters who ask questions, such as “What would you say to Americans who are frightened by this pandemic?” He calls inquiries like that “nasty” and “negative” and instructs the media to be “nice” and “a little more positive.” You wanna see nasty and negative, Donald? Read some of your pitiful tweets, with vicious name-calling that only a middle-school mean girl could appreciate. 

Recently, Trump rattled on and on about how Internet companies are faring in the midst of this crisis and here’s what he said, verbatim: “They’re having tremendous problems, other countries are having problems, other continents are having problems, but with business at a level that nobody’s seen it before, on the Internet, it’s holding up incredibly well and they expect that to continue no matter what happened, and no matter how much more it gains, which if it can gain more than it already is, I don’t know, cause they’re setting records.”

I think back to 8^th grade when the nuns taught us in painstaking detail how to properly diagram a sentence – they’d have a hellava time deciphering that gem.  

For now, I’m vowing to listen to the Presidential speeches only sparingly. And then I’m going to continue cheering myself on. My fellow Boomers and I survived the AIDS crisis, 9/11, and those Real Housewives series, so we can handle the Corona virus.

All you have to do is wash your hands, maintain a safe distance, and for the love of God, keep your freakin’ pen to yourself.    

I'm Gonna Sit Right Down and Write Herself a Letter

Dear Melania,

I insist that you stop corresponding with my husband, like, IMMEDIATELY.

This week marked the second time that I’ve caught him opening a letter from you, you Slovenian hussy. (Or, as the nuns in my high school used to say, “you bold, brazen article.”)

        What galls me is that you don’t even have the decency to disguise your communications, with your name boldly printed on the return label but NO RETURN ADDRESS, as if, OF COURSE he knows where to find you, you’re MELANIA.

        I get it, you’re trapped in a loveless, mindless, please-God-sexless separate-bedrooms marriage, so you try to grab some attention from my man just because, at some dark period in his life, his name was on some politically-affiliated list. (FYI, Mel, he’s registered Independent now – I don’t think they even HAVE lists.)

        Funny thing is, even though you're reaching out to MY hubby, you keep talking about YOUR hubby. How gauche! You even brag about him, starting with this gem: “Decisions made by the President of the United States impact countless lives across our nation, and throughout the world.”

You got THAT right, sister.

You also sound a lot like your hubby in your letters, for example “…the Democrats, the mainstream media, and the Left-leaning special interest groups are doing everything they possibly can to discredit him by pursuing their relentless attacks – spreading their fake news and making it appear that he does not have the support of America’s voters.”

Ya THINK?

After thoroughly reviewing your letters, I’ve also noticed that you’re a repeater. You ask for a contribution for your husband’s reelection fund of “$25, $50, $100, $250, $500, $1,000 or even $5,000” (way to spell it out for us, girl) not once, not twice, but three times. Sheesh, we all get your point already, no need for a trifecta.

The kicker is that I don’t even think you pay for the delivery of your letter, because the stamp on the envelope doesn’t look like the stamps that I buy at the Post Office. Yours have “nonprofit org” on them. Since when are your hubby’s shenanigans considered nonprofit? I know there are rumblings that he once lost money than any other individual in America, but I don’t think that qualifies him as a nonprofit. If it does, there are a few years when I shoulda been getting free postage, believe you me.

        It also annoys me that the heading on your letter doesn’t have a proper date, just a random “Wednesday Morning.” That kind of informal breeziness will lead to the downfall of American civilization. It's as maddening as the notation at the bottom of the first page of your letter. It says “Next page, please.” Do you think my husband is so clueless that he wouldn’t know to turn to the second page of a two-page letter? Just because your spouse needs directions to function at the most basic level, don’t assume that everyone's does.

        So enough already with the written messages to my man, Melania.

        I know he might get some correspondence from Jill or Chasten or Bruce one of these days, but your former-international-model, hair-blowing-in-the-wind persistence still irks ordinary-looking me. It might also be the vertical, come-hither flourish of your signature that makes me suspicious of your true motives.

My advice is that when you get the urge to write to my husband, you drop a line to your husband.  

But keep it short – I heard your guy is not a big reader ... at least that’s what those fake news folks have been saying.

A Letter to The Whole Damn World...

Dear World,

            Please accept my sincerest apologies regarding Donald J. Trump, “President” of the United States.

            I know I don’t speak for everyone in America – for example, the individuals who stand behind Donald in those Klan meetings… uh, I mean, Trump rallies…  definitely do not share my views, nor my outstandingly chic fashion sense – but nevertheless, I simply must express myself.

            Why? Because, every day, when the latest Trumponian faux pas hits the news, I wonder what the rest of the world is thinking about America.

Do they look at their TV screen, dumbfounded, and repeat the phrase “Oh, how the mighty have fallen” in their native tongue?

             Probably.

I can relate. While I am not a Constitutional scholar nor a political junkie, I have been around the block enough times to trust my gut instincts about people.

I get that from my Mother, a woman of strong opinions and few words. For example, if she thought an actor wasn’t the greatest, she’d sum up his theatrical skills with this succinct but powerful review: “He STINKS!”

              Indeed, if the late great Mommy Bones were around to witness the boorish behavior of DJT, I just know she’d sum up his presidency thusly: “He’s an IDIOT.”

              Oh, the conversations we could have…

              But back to you, world.

               I felt compelled to assure you that many of us in this country cringe every time we absorb the latest presidential headlines. From mocking sexual assault survivors to dismissing female journalists to holding a pity party for young men who are living in “scary times,” whole bunches of American citizens can scarcely believe how inappropriate one human being can be in a single day.

              Thankfully, in this great country of ours, we are free to voice our opinions, so I won’t be incarcerated for letting you know that lotsa folks have a shit fit every time our “leader” opens his big, artificially-tanned pie hole. (Really, who is his makeup person? He or she should definitely hear the infamous words, “YOU’RE FIRED!”)

            In conclusion, world, this is just a quick note to assure you that I am not responsible for/in support of ANYTHING that Trump says or does.

            True, there are still many in our country who actually still applaud Trump. And, in a stroke of marketing genius, you'll notice several dozen of them squished into a pulsating pep squad during his speeches to create the illusion that all of ‘Merica adores him.  

            But as for the rest of us, we have had it up to our eyelashes with this guy.

            And we feel this way, to summarize the immortal words of Mommy Bones, because he’s an idiot.

            Thanks for understanding. In these excruciating times, it means the world to me.

                                                                                                                        Yours Truly,

                                                                                                                         Diane