Politics Plus

Yesterday, hoo boy, did I ever wake up from a strange dream. It startes with my preparing to teach some kids how to adapt and bake an adapted cookie recipe. Tere were actually several dozen kids, 5th-7th grade, in the class, but I was one of many teachers, so no one of us was dealing with more than 5 or 8. I prepared by actually baking different adaptaions, and making printouts of the one I considered the best. No one else had done this, so I ran horribly short of printouts, and all the kids had attitudes. Afterwards, the supervisor of all the teachers asked me to deliver an object for him and i agreed. It was to a place somethng like Chaco Canyon, though I have never actually been there. When I delivered it, the recipient asked me to deliver a different object to someone else. In fact, everywhere I went, everyone to whom I delivered somethng had something else for me to deliver to someone else. Some of these people were children and young adults, but some were much older. Some were lovers separated by circumstance. There were various ethnic and lingual groups represented, and multi talents. Most of the spaces were kind of wilderness, but one thing I was asked to deliver was to a college to which the asker had applied, and that was in a small city. Among the people I delvered to were a little girl who said she wanted to be President when she grew up, and a little boy who said he wanted to be President now. At the very end, the person I was delivering to was not there, and an elderly lady said she would deliver it, so I gave it to her and returned to the supervisor who has started the chain, who picked up a small rifle and shot the person standing behind me, who turned out to be the elderly lady from my last stop, who had been aiming at my back with a bow and arrow. That was when i realized that the stuff I had been delivering was not just stuff, but objects of great spiritual significance and power, and I was returning them to their rightful owners, and I was doing so on behalf of a resistance movement. If I could remember (or reinvent) all the details, it would make a great fantasy novel. I would love it if Margaret Atwood would do so – wry humor was prominent among the wide range of emotions in it. But if anyone wants to tackle it,I would not dream of claiming copyright for a dream (pun intended.) I actually have been working on a cookie recipe IRL – maybe I will have managed to bake something by today.

Talking Points Memo Wednesday morning listed a whole lot of catatrophoc stuff which we wll knew was comng – but there was just so much of it, it’ barely possible to hold it all in mins at one time. So, in case anyone forgot anything, here is it. Yea, I held it a couple of days. Including from myself. I can only take so much.

I realize I am in no danger of being raped by Nick Fuentes, for a large number of reasons (or at least not sexually – financially is another matter). But the mere thought of it is enough to make me start thinking anout mixing a potassium cyanide-grapefruit juice cocktail. I actually anticipate seeing the suicide rate among women of all ages skyrocket in the near future.