Look at this motherfucking pussy. One of the saddest things in the world is watching old white racists show everybody what pussies they really are, and thinking everybody secretly agrees with them. You see it with gun humpers who absolutely MUST be allowed to carry their penis guns everywhere they go, because of all the #THREATS. Personally, we see it in our hometown of Memphis (a majority black city) all the time, in the comments section of our local newspaper, where scared rednecks who long ago decamped to the exurbs hick-splain to us how they had to get away from the city (where we live) because you couldn't even go Kroger-ing without having your dick shot off no more. (SPOILER: Faithful Kroger shopper, dick doing just fine thankyew.)
Oh, thank you!! I'm doing OK... uneven is probably a good description. In his obsessive quest to not be a burden, El Dad made the whole business end of this as easy as he possibly could, but there's still an awful lot of calling people and closing accounts and telling them why and promising certified copies of the death certificate to them, which really can wear you down.
I do a few hours of that and I have to go sit quietly in a corner and try not to cry... not always successfully (on the plus side, I have conclusively determined that my beloved really is waterproof). Thankfully, the Syfy channel has made the full series of Battlestar Galactica (the one with Edward James Olmos) available, so I've been binging on that to recover some sanity.
We're all heading down to Florida next week to clean out the condo and, on Saturday, have a memorial service for him and then install his ashes (and the ashes of his cats, who predeceased him) in the vault with his third and best wife.
It's weird - I'm pretty sure I'll feel like a guest there because he basically arranged the memorial service right down to the catering so that we wouldn't have to make too many decisions. The guy was awesome.
I'm glad you're coping. It's hard, and it takes a long time. My dad was a living wrecking ball and a profound failure as a human being, yet when a parent dies-even if he/she was only a parent in the most basic biological sense- everything comes home to roost. Thank God your dad was cut from better cloth. It's amazing how much he thought through this...shit, I can't even organize one day in my life that well. That's remarkably considerate and self-aware. I hope he picked a good caterer!
It's great that you have a good (waterproof) man who's caring and present. Not that a strong type like you wouldn't make it through without him or anything, but an empathetic soul nearby to mop up the spillage and extend loving arms is worth more than gold. Hang in there. Don't be a stranger!
Thanks! I am starting to make my way back to my online life... for a while, it was just too difficult and I was too exhausted emotionally to do more than upfist and retweet stuff on Twitter, but it's getting a little easier now.
He very definitely wanted to make things easier. When my grandmother passed away, her things were in such a muddle that it took him years to sort it out - he was still finding significant stuff like stocks on the NY state unclaimed property listing 20 years after she died. Between that and the emotional difficulty he had making the arrangements when his third-and-best wife passed away, he was adamant that he leave us with the minimum mess and effort possible after he died. All we had to do for his memorial was pick the colors for the flowers and organize the music. His care showed even in the business end - wherever possible, he named us as beneficiaries for accounts and policies, and almost nothing but his condo has to be managed through the probate process. Even his car was a lease that just has to go back to the dealership. For a guy who was a total slob when it came to stuff like housekeeping, it was extraordinary, but the HR lady at his job said that he was incredibly organized and clear when it came to commissions and such, also too. Maybe that was the one way his BS Econ manifested itself.
Fittingly, we'll be at his memorial when his Gators play my lovely LSU Tigers... we loved to watch that game together, long distance, every year, and would spend hours on the phone trash talking and analyzing as it happened. I'm kind of grateful I'll be so busy that day, and won't have to stare that difference in the face until next year.
I totally get what you're saying. One's online presence, as closely as it may hew to who you are in real life, is still something of a persona that we assume. When real life demands our full attention, maintaining that persona seems like one of the least important things on the list. I think it speaks well of you that you are much more firmly engaged in real life-in both the good and the bad of it-than life on the interwebs...which can be fun, but is really just a cheap substitute for the real thing.
I've noticed your Tigers are struggling of late. Being a committed sports fan means guaranteed heartache at some point. The University of Arizona basketball team has become embroiled in scandal; they're huge here, and for some people, it really almost defines their lives. I used to be a fairly rabid fan...I still follow them, but I've backed off in recent years in large part because college basketball at the elite level is SO unutterably corrupt. I'm pretty unsentimental about the current scandal; I'm SO sick of people cheating to win. If any or all of the coaches are guilty, fuck 'em. I hope they go to prison, and if that's the end of the basketball program here, so be it.
Hope the trip to FLA for the memorial is peaceful and brings you a step closer to healing.
Trump was whining about their not concussing each other enough before he got on his National Anthem jag.
I'm against playing the National Anthem, really any national anthem, at any sporting even because it's just a damn sporting event. It's not a WW2 Bond Drive Rally.
It's like playing "My Old Kentucky Home" at the Kentucky Derby.
My husband always gets a reaction from bored retail clerks, who monotonously ask "how are you today?" as they start checking you out, staring down at the items you are purchasing. Spouse smiles big and replies "SUPER-FAAAN-TASTIC!", and it always startles them into looking up, always followed by smiling or chuckling. Their traditional parting "have a nice day" always has a usually-missing sincerity accompanied by a big grin.
Of course they were "respectful" - she probably hardly ever saw one. I was born in 1956 and I didn't actually meet a black person socially, other than the lady who cleaned house for the rich, retired couple across the street, or the disabled man who sat on a corner downtown selling pencils, until they integrated our schools in 1965. Before then African Americans in my town had their own neighborhoods, churches, grocery stores, lawyers, dry cleaners, undertakers, etc. and we didn't mix. Then we started to mix everywhere, and some people really hated that.
But that's true of all sports, isn't it?
Yep, the meat is falling off the bones!
that'll do it
YAY!
Oh, thank you!! I'm doing OK... uneven is probably a good description. In his obsessive quest to not be a burden, El Dad made the whole business end of this as easy as he possibly could, but there's still an awful lot of calling people and closing accounts and telling them why and promising certified copies of the death certificate to them, which really can wear you down.
I do a few hours of that and I have to go sit quietly in a corner and try not to cry... not always successfully (on the plus side, I have conclusively determined that my beloved really is waterproof). Thankfully, the Syfy channel has made the full series of Battlestar Galactica (the one with Edward James Olmos) available, so I've been binging on that to recover some sanity.
We're all heading down to Florida next week to clean out the condo and, on Saturday, have a memorial service for him and then install his ashes (and the ashes of his cats, who predeceased him) in the vault with his third and best wife.
It's weird - I'm pretty sure I'll feel like a guest there because he basically arranged the memorial service right down to the catering so that we wouldn't have to make too many decisions. The guy was awesome.
I'm glad you're coping. It's hard, and it takes a long time. My dad was a living wrecking ball and a profound failure as a human being, yet when a parent dies-even if he/she was only a parent in the most basic biological sense- everything comes home to roost. Thank God your dad was cut from better cloth. It's amazing how much he thought through this...shit, I can't even organize one day in my life that well. That's remarkably considerate and self-aware. I hope he picked a good caterer!
It's great that you have a good (waterproof) man who's caring and present. Not that a strong type like you wouldn't make it through without him or anything, but an empathetic soul nearby to mop up the spillage and extend loving arms is worth more than gold. Hang in there. Don't be a stranger!
Thanks! I am starting to make my way back to my online life... for a while, it was just too difficult and I was too exhausted emotionally to do more than upfist and retweet stuff on Twitter, but it's getting a little easier now.
He very definitely wanted to make things easier. When my grandmother passed away, her things were in such a muddle that it took him years to sort it out - he was still finding significant stuff like stocks on the NY state unclaimed property listing 20 years after she died. Between that and the emotional difficulty he had making the arrangements when his third-and-best wife passed away, he was adamant that he leave us with the minimum mess and effort possible after he died. All we had to do for his memorial was pick the colors for the flowers and organize the music. His care showed even in the business end - wherever possible, he named us as beneficiaries for accounts and policies, and almost nothing but his condo has to be managed through the probate process. Even his car was a lease that just has to go back to the dealership. For a guy who was a total slob when it came to stuff like housekeeping, it was extraordinary, but the HR lady at his job said that he was incredibly organized and clear when it came to commissions and such, also too. Maybe that was the one way his BS Econ manifested itself.
Fittingly, we'll be at his memorial when his Gators play my lovely LSU Tigers... we loved to watch that game together, long distance, every year, and would spend hours on the phone trash talking and analyzing as it happened. I'm kind of grateful I'll be so busy that day, and won't have to stare that difference in the face until next year.
I totally get what you're saying. One's online presence, as closely as it may hew to who you are in real life, is still something of a persona that we assume. When real life demands our full attention, maintaining that persona seems like one of the least important things on the list. I think it speaks well of you that you are much more firmly engaged in real life-in both the good and the bad of it-than life on the interwebs...which can be fun, but is really just a cheap substitute for the real thing.
I've noticed your Tigers are struggling of late. Being a committed sports fan means guaranteed heartache at some point. The University of Arizona basketball team has become embroiled in scandal; they're huge here, and for some people, it really almost defines their lives. I used to be a fairly rabid fan...I still follow them, but I've backed off in recent years in large part because college basketball at the elite level is SO unutterably corrupt. I'm pretty unsentimental about the current scandal; I'm SO sick of people cheating to win. If any or all of the coaches are guilty, fuck 'em. I hope they go to prison, and if that's the end of the basketball program here, so be it.
Hope the trip to FLA for the memorial is peaceful and brings you a step closer to healing.
8-year-olds libelz!
You misspelled "cousin" as "butt". ;)
Trump was whining about their not concussing each other enough before he got on his National Anthem jag.
I'm against playing the National Anthem, really any national anthem, at any sporting even because it's just a damn sporting event. It's not a WW2 Bond Drive Rally.
It's like playing "My Old Kentucky Home" at the Kentucky Derby.
Is that supposed to encourage the horses?
And so deprived his fellow owners/suckers of a dime or two off their multi-million dollar losses?
How typically Donald.
My husband always gets a reaction from bored retail clerks, who monotonously ask "how are you today?" as they start checking you out, staring down at the items you are purchasing. Spouse smiles big and replies "SUPER-FAAAN-TASTIC!", and it always startles them into looking up, always followed by smiling or chuckling. Their traditional parting "have a nice day" always has a usually-missing sincerity accompanied by a big grin.
True fact: No NFL owner is even remotely a friend of Donald Trump.
Example, even Jerry Jones is not remotely a friend of Donald Trump.
Some of the owners are among the biggest assholes in the universe and they still despise Donald Trump.
Even owners who supported Trump are jumping this ship, having realized that he is festering, spiraling boil of hatred and failure.
They especially despise his attempt to dragoon their successful businesses into oblivion just because Putin thinks it would be a good idea.
I'm not saying they are angels on the face of the earth but it is no wonder they are supporting their players and coaches.
They are in business. And not with Russia.
I suspect for a lot of them football is the way to get into university. Sports scholarship or nothing, with the amount of money required.
Of course they were "respectful" - she probably hardly ever saw one. I was born in 1956 and I didn't actually meet a black person socially, other than the lady who cleaned house for the rich, retired couple across the street, or the disabled man who sat on a corner downtown selling pencils, until they integrated our schools in 1965. Before then African Americans in my town had their own neighborhoods, churches, grocery stores, lawyers, dry cleaners, undertakers, etc. and we didn't mix. Then we started to mix everywhere, and some people really hated that.