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Posts Tagged ‘Chickens’

Dear Satan,

Well, you’ve outdone yourself: Getting “Christians” to criticize someone espousing the teachings of the Bible AND to accept two Nazi salutes in one day?

Impressive.

I would have said Hell would have frozen over before I saw these two things.

It did snow in Florida, so I guess that’s close enough.

Here’s Dominic in the snow in Pensacola, Florida. Florida = Hell for me as long as DeSantis is in charge.

Trump sold his soul to you, didn’t he? That is really the only way to explain his rise to power and the loyalty to and love for him.

Trump fans: “Back the blue! We are the party of law and order!”
Trump pardons people who killed and injured police officers.
Trump fans:I didn’t see it.” “Are we making a big deal about the pardons that Biden put in place? That’d be worse.”

Trump fans: “Gas is too expensive. I can’t afford eggs! Trump is going to help the regular folks.”
Trump nominates billionaires to cabinet positions and invites others to his inauguration while — quite literally — leaving regular folks out in the cold.
Trump fans: “Sounds great! They will put America first.”

Trump fans: “Trump knows what he is doing. Musk is intelligent. He’s innovative.”
Musk gives what appears to be the Nazi salute not once, but twice.
Trump fans: “Oh, he’s autistic.” “It was just awkward.” But also from the actual Nazis: “We are so back.”

Musk is really smart but not smart enough not to do what looks just like a Nazi salute? And I know many autistic people who don’t run around doing that gesture. Make it make sense. Satan, is this your idea of Hell on Earth for me outside of Florida?

Succeed in what, Leon? SUCCEED IN WHAT?

There’s an excuse for every damn thing. No one ever says, “Yep. That was wrong. I don’t agree with it.” It’s always, “But Biden did this thing … “ or “I work for Trump.” No, you work for the American people.

Trump signed 42 executive orders and 115 personnel actions on the first day (many of which sound a whole heck of a lot like Project 2025 — not that Trump had any knowledge of that at all, of course).

Among them are these winners:

  • Requiring all federal workers to return to in-person work, as well as a directive to address the cost-of-living crisis. I’m sure that order is going over well with workers. And I’m no genius like Musk, but I’m thinking that the cost of living is much lower in rural areas instead of cities where federal workers might have to be in the office. If they could work from home from these areas, it might kill two birds with one stone. But what do I know?
  • Ending birthright citizenship protected by the 14th Amendment. Nice try, but Trump can’t change the U.S. Constitution with an Executive Order. Both chambers of Congress would have to pass the amendment with a two-thirds majority, plus at least 38 states would have to approve. Not so easy peasy. Fun fact: People have said that four of his five kids won’t be citizens anymore, but that isn’t true: One parent had to be a U.S. citizen at the time of the child’s birth. But guess who WOULDN’T be considered a citizen anymore? Kamala Harris (probably why petty Mr. Trump is so keen on getting rid of the protection). You know who else? Vivek Ramaswamy. Oh, and new Secretary of State Marco Rubio. C’est la vie!
  • Withdrawing from the Paris Agreement. Why? Because it doesn’t hold everyone accountable like it should? Ooookkkayyy. The reality is that climate change is fast making this planet unbearable. I’m not understanding how people can say that humans can control the weather and are responsible for the L.A. wildfires but NOT for climate change in general.
  • Withdrawing from the World Health Organization. Why? Because they hurt Trump’s fee fees during the COVID pandemic for how he handled it? If the United States is out, it’s likely China will step up. That would give them more worldwide influence. Is that a good idea?
  • Renaming Gulf of Mexico and Denali to Gulf of America and Mount McKinley respectively. Regarding the first, GTFO. ARE YOU SERIOUS? I mean, fine. I guess Trump can make the United States do what he wants, but he can’t make the world call it that. Regarding the second, there is some ridiculousness at play here. Just look at this from the White House website:
Denali already is named to honor our nation’s history — Native American history as it comes from Alaska’s Koyukon Athabascan people, translating roughly to “The Great One.” A prospector named Dickey started calling it Mount McKinley in 1897; the federal government officially named it McKinley in 1917. Alaska reps started trying to get the name changed back to Denali beginning in 1975 and finally succeeded in 2015, over the protests of the reps in McKinley’s home state of Ohio. OHIO. By the way, McKinley never even set foot in Alaska. So which history is Trump honoring? A president who only served for four years (1897-1901) or, you know, an entire people and country that existed before white folks showed up? That’s a rhetorical question. I know whom Trump likes.

I genuinely think Trump does and says crazy things every day so that he keeps the focus and also so that no one has time to really give any of these things full attention. Nothing gets even one full news cycle. Not that the national news is doing any kind of real news reporting. (And I say that as someone who was an actual news reporter.)

Anyway, back to the beginning.

“But mah eggs!”

Listen, kitten, eggs are not going to get cheaper. First, there’s the H5 bird flu — now found in a Georgia commerical poultry plant (fun!).

Second, Trump has rich friends he wants to please (see above).

A 50-page plan from the House Ways and Means Committee outlines exciting ways to give tax breaks to wealthy people and corporations and all the things they can cut to pay for it:

Handouts include removing the estate tax for millionaires, lowering the corporate tax rate to 15 percent, and repealing the corporate profit minimum tax of 15 percent. Cost? $1.2 trillion.

Ways to pay for it? Well, they aren’t going to turn around and tax those same people. Guess who pays? I’ll take “working families” for $100, Alex.**

How? By removing the mortgage interest deduction, raising taxes on single parents, raising taxes on college students, eliminating the tax credit for child care. Oh right, and the tariff on imports, which will be passed along to consumers because THAT IS HOW TARIFFS WORK.

Satan, you have really done a number here. You convinced so many people to vote against their own best interests. Congratulations! Really, good job! During the election, there was one candidate promising $25K toward a down payment for a house. Now the one who won — your buddy! — is taking away a tax credit for people who somehow manage to actually own a house. Delightful!

Really spectacular work. You’ve gone above and beyond.

I’m SO EXCITED to be living in this timeline, Satan. Thanks so much for your machinations.

(Maybe I should have added a trigger warning for extreme sarcasm.)

Sigh.

At least this train wreck can’t go on indefinitely. For you to get a soul, the person has to … expire. No one lives forever.

Not that I’m wishing death on anyone or anything. Of course not.

Maybe good ultimately will win.

Maybe some people in power will discover they have spines.

Maybe you’ll get distracted by a Georgia kid named Johnny or something.

Who knows?!

One can only hope.

Anyway, congrats! You’re winning. #tigerblood
Beth

*It’s only Van Halen if David Lee Roth is singing. Otherwise, it’s Van Hagar.

**Don’t believe me? Read the pdf.

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Dear Yamhill County Fair,

You have everything I would expect in a county fair:

Rides assembled and operated by ex convicts
Parking in a field
Odd signs (“shave ice”)
“Food” in the form of corn dogs and funnel cakes
White people in overalls

You also have some things I didn’t expect:

Hats with fake Trump hair
Goats with unusual pelts
The biggest trough of curly fries I’ve ever seen
A rodeo (photo by Amy)
Me as a chicken (photo by Amy)
Inflatable cattle
Sleepy pigs

And Sir Mix-a-Lot.

Thanks for an interesting time!
Beth

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Dear Readers,

I know I haven’t posted in a while. There’s plenty going on, but I’m not processing it through writing at the moment.

I DID want to share a bit of my day today, though.

A former work friend was in town, and we went to a place I had never been before:

Das Bevo.

Yes, that’s a windmill. In the middle of St. Louis.
With a biergarten.
And taxidermy.
Taxidermy aplenty.
Plus a massive fireplace.
And murals.
And a chandelier in a really strange place upstairs.
Along with a display case of sharp things.
And a vanity?!?
And whatever this horrifying effigy is.

Naturally, I loved it. I’ve been meaning to go, and I finally got the chance.

I’ll be back in writing action again soon, I hope.

Love,
Beth

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Dear Bio Family,

You’ve only known me a short while, but you KNOW me.

Do I want to go?

Does my Senator (Josh Hawley) run from chaos he helped create?

Yes. The answer is yes.

As some readers may remember, I went to this event in Atlanta. Alone. (I’m the “weird” one.)

But yesterday, it was a family affair.

Mom, sister, niece, nephew

Perhaps I’m jaded, but I felt like the offerings were not as varied as the prior event and were more expensive.

Here are some fresh things I saw but did not buy (because expensive).

A gumball machine filled with cow eyes
A creative use for vintage photos
Part of a giraffe
Fun (and horrifying) night lights
The worst item anyone could dream up for me: a clown doll. IT (the character and the doll) haunts me still.
Mothman (To be fair, he wasn’t for sale. Actually, he might have been. I don’t know.)
Whatever scene this is

But I did buy two things. Very cheap. Necessary, I felt.

A snakeskin pendant and a chicken foot. Everyone needs a preserved chicken foot. (Yes, everyone. 😄)

So thanks, Fam, for showing me once again that DNA is remarkable.

Love,
Beth

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Dear Jeff Foxworthy:

Congrats on your new show. It sounds like a lowbrow “Antiques Roadshow.”

Dare I say it’s the redneck version.

That tracks. You made your money by calling out the kind.

I have a terminal degree in my field, work in higher education and wear suits/dresses to work (even in the age of COVID-19).

You’d trust me to teach and mentor your college-aged children, right?

But under the collar of my professional lady clothes, my neck is red.

Proof:

  • I’m barefoot even as I write this. When we lived on a lake in Savannah, I could go days without wearing shoes. I never let myself get Jiffy Feet, though. That’s gross.
  • I sincerely miss the annual Dublin Redneck Games.
  • I like taxidermy. Specifically bad taxidermy. Preferably things I stuff myself.
  • I used to drive a crappy Ford pickup truck. Stick shift. So old the shine was gone from the paint. I recarpeted it myself. Sometimes when Eddie drove it, I’d roll down the window and stick those bare feet out of it.
  • Give me a beer over a cocktail any day.
  • I don’t have anything against boxed wine.
  • My favorite summer outfit features a concert T-shirt and cutoff jeans. (Not Daisy Dukes, though. I have kids.)
  • My idea of fun is tubing down a river.
  • I carry hot sauce in my bag.
  • There’s local moonshine on the liquor shelf.
  • I own overalls.
  • I used to have chickens, all named like pets. (Trish still appears as the header on this blog.)

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Dear Lottery God:

My chicken sacrifices to you are getting nowhere. (Granted, they are of the grocery cutlet variety — I’m not a monster — but still.)

So I’m making this public plea.

My family and I need your help.

Our savings have been wiped out as fast as the Dothraki horde in the Battle of Winterfell.

Why? Here’s a short list:

1. A replacement retainer for Dominic. Yes, already. He had the new retainer for exactly a week before throwing it away with his lunch trash at school. [HEAVY SIGH]

2. New shoes for Dominic. He now wears a size 11. 11! At the age of 14. You saw the photos from my last post. Puberty, thou art a bitch to the budget.

3. Income taxes. Effing Pat.

4. Truck-repair expenses. Eddie’s truck is 16 years old. That’s about 112 years in our capitalist, material culture. But I’d rather fix it than take on a car payment and higher ad-valorem taxes. Call me old fashioned.

5. A speeding ticket. Don’t yell at me that this is my own fault. I promise I wasn’t speeding — I was on my way to see some important people perform in Athens but I was driving in heavy traffic! (It’s Atlanta, after all.) I disputed the ticket, but the Chamblee Municipal Court judge was not having it. I shouldn’t have even tried. She tacked on $50 extra to the fine because I had the nerve to go to court instead of paying outright. Harumph.

Those who say “money can’t buy happiness” must already have money. I promise I would do good things with the winnings. I’d send some family and friends on well-deserved vacations, fund important initiatives for others, give money to my four alma maters for student scholarships.

Oh yeah, and buy a villa in Spain on the Mediterranean. You know. As you do.

May the odds be ever in my favor.

Thank you for your consideration in this matter (and for helping me stop wasting broilers),
Beth

 

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Dear Readers:

Occasionally, I am fortunate enough to have a post from a guest blogger. Today is my lucky day (and yours too)!

I present to you the story of goat yoga, a strange phenomenon sweeping the nation. Sounds like something I would try. Alas, Bingo Lisa tried it first. Here is her account (edited slightly for blog voice and flow).

I’ll be back with a Words With Friends dating update later this week.

Love,
Beth

This kind of yoga really got my goat*
Guest post by Lisa W.

I’ll admit I was a bit excited about being invited to a baby shower where there would be goat yoga. I’m not a big fan of women-only baby showers. Unless I’m sure there will be alcohol, I usually avoid them.

My friend Trina, my 6-year-old daughter Cali and I drove out to the sticks in Ridgeland, South Carolina, to celebrate our friend Jessie and her baby boy’s approaching arrival.

I’d seen pictures of goat yoga online and all of it looked happy. People holding poses and nuzzling baby goats or having them on their backs.

Preggo Jessie (left) and a family member pose with four-legged friends.

Dorothy planned this event. She could not be more thrilled.

The yoga was supposed to be outside, which I now know is ideal. However, the weather was misty so the yoga class was moved inside into our host’s sunroom. We unrolled our mats with anticipation for the nearly ceremonial releasing of the goats. Oh, rabbits too. And chickens.
However. These animals are not potty trained. My expected serene yoga event turned into a literal shitshow.

The releasing of the goats quickly led to the goats releasing their bowels.

So much poop.

I attempted child’s pose and lowered my head per the teacher’s instructions. A baby goat then ran full speed at me and tried to head butt me. I realized I couldn’t let my guard down for a second.

Here’s Lisa on high alert.

The actual yoga lasted maybe five minutes because everyone spent the time either holding the goats, picking up their lovely presents, or trying to keep them from eating our mats.
We passed around tiny shower cocktail napkins to pick up nuggets and sop up pee. I joked that this was great training for the mom to be. If only those goats had worn diapers.

The goats show Jessie how she got pregnant, in case she didn’t know.

It seemed like most attendees had a great time.

Sara (left) and Trina appear to be having a blast.

Cali loved it too. Me, not so much.

Cali pats the bunny. Meanwhile, Lisa reports that her face looked like this the whole time.

I just couldn’t. I was counting the seconds till the end of goat yoga.
Bye Felicia.
When I got home, my husband Rob and I had this convo:
Rob: How was goat yoga?
Me: There are three yoga mats in the bed of your truck that belong in your work dumpster.
Rob: That fun, huh?
Never again. Thankfully, I needed a new yoga mat anyway.
Lisa

*Don’t blame Lisa for that headline. It’s all Beth.

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Dear Trish the Chicken (RIP):

A former graduate student of mine (now friend) sent me a link to this article today, and I immediately thought of you. And missed you, of course.

You would have made a great gang leader. You had a strong personality and did not suffer fools. You were never too chicken (har har) to go anywhere. You also were very loyal to me alone, much to Eddie’s chagrin.

I feel sorry for the little fox in the story, but the idea of a chicken gang is hilarious.

Anyway, I hope you are having a ball tearing up the landscaping and pooping everywhere in the great coop in the sky.

Yours always,
Beth

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Dear Trish the Chicken,

It’s been eight years since your untimely death. I miss you on the reg, but never more so than yesterday.

I went to the Northwest Georgia Poultry Club show in Calhoun, Georgia — an hour northish of where we live now.

By myself.

For no reason beyond curiosity.

I did feel out of place, though. For example, I drive a Volkswagen, not something like this:

 

Also, I wasn’t wearing camouflage. (An oversight, really. I do own plenty of camo and a general affinity for rednecks.)

The show made me miss you so much, and also miss having a house where we could have chickens. Look at your beautiful brethren!

This looks like some kind of dog!

I thought the sign said “bitchen” at first, and I thought, “Yes, that is a bitchen’ chicken.”

Look at this handsome specimen!

She’s got legs, and knows how to use them.

What a beautiful bird.

This face!

As I am mostly a “city girl,” it’s hard for me to understand some customs. For example, why is one of the judges wearing a Clinique consultant coat and the other is wearing an apron?

Let’s review your skin care regimen.

The apron on the guy on the left says, “Judge.” It makes me fear for the losers of the competition.

The contestants were vying for these trophies. And perhaps the hand sanitizer as well.

And the title of Champion Cock.

These were the sights. You can imagine the smells. Here are the sounds:

Finally, thanks to the onsite Tabernacle of Praise, I was able to say a little prayer for you.

Anyway, it was an interesting Saturday morning.

And I still miss you.

Love always,
Beth

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So … it is now Jan. 19, well past the time when many people abandon their new year’s resolutions. It seemed like a good time to check in with mine.

  • try noodling. I still haven’t found a guide.
  • wear skirts more often.So far, I’m sporting a skirt once a week. That’s a huge increase from about twice in all of last year.
  • go to Lacoste again (or, at the very least, drink more French wine). Check “yes” on the second part.
  • speak more Spanish at home and keep practicing French. Not so much, unless cursing counts.
  • acquire more chickens. I’ll start looking for chicks in March.
  • clean out my pantry. I got rid of a couple of items. OK, so they were expired. It’s a start.
  • stop letting my son’s superhero noises bother me. That’s an uphill battle, but I’m working on it.
  • see Adam Ant in concert.I bought tickets for the Feb. 11 show. Then he had to push the tour back six months. (He’s not in rehab again.) (OK, that’s what his people say.)
  • see Van Halen reunited with David Lee Roth in concert. They will be in the Southeast in April.
  • visit the Brannens in Abu Dhabi. Hmmm … March or June.
  • go camping at least once. Too cold right now.
  • see my friend Tina’s new place and finally talk her into visiting us. Hasn’t happened.
  • stop pretending I like to listen to NPR in my car. I outed myself during a class yesterday. Liberation!
  • audition for a play or musical. I hear there are auditions for “Rent” in March.
  • actually go out for drinks/dinner with my friends Matt, Pam, Kathy, Lee, etc., instead of just talking about it. Hasn’t happened yet.
  • either part ways with my padding or to stop talking about it. I’ve been to the gym twice a week since Jan. 1 AND I made money because of it, thanks to GymPact.
  • make homemade pasta more often. I made shrimp and mushroom ravioli last week.
  • take a cooking class to improve my knife skills. Signed up for a class next month.
  • go to more of the interesting festivals I like so much (such as the Redneck Games). The Redneck Expo and Golf Cart Rally will be held April 6-7 in Bainbridge. That sounds like a winner!
  • write more, read more, talk less. I’ve written columns for the local paper, so that’s good. (What’s bad: I let more than two weeks pass between posts on this blog.) I’ve mostly caught up on my magazine reading. And I caught myself being quiet and not chiming into a conversation the other day. Progress!

So there you have it. I’ve also added one more: Learn to do the Running Man and Moonwalk.

How are you doing with yours?

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