This might be...a little slammy... but I wanted to finish Artifacts and Archives in style...

 (sadly, I might end up with plenty of time to perfect one.)

Electoral Dysfunction

(for JD)

See your doctor if you have these effects from ED medication:

Effects that last more than four hours

Hearing changes

Vision loss

(source: Healthnet. Org)

Guys like you,

Can’t see me,

My gender, my disability

Obsessed with my lack of utility

To cover for your missing virility

(the real “tale as old as time…sorry, Disney)

Planning to punish through austerity,
America’s frustrated, tightwad daddy.

Who never listens.

By habit, or chemically?

Think it’s all the same to me.

You can’t adopt me

It's Just Not 1994...It's not you

 

So far, I think my main stumbling block to watching “The Fundamentals of Caring” in the proper spirit is that it’s not 1994. Both because democracy was not on artificial life support, and because I’m not a foolishly optimistic college student carrying an extra ten pounds but still wearing my pink sweaters too big. I still believed in meritocracy and the truth winning out. In a good way. It’s not really my former fake husband Paul Rudd, though he’s not at his best here, playing a guy that is in an emotional holding pattern. It’s not even the cute little abled newcomer that wouldn’t really want me to remember him for this.  It’s just…I’ve seen it. The overprotective mother, the abled character with the heart that gets opened after wading into shit that he knows nothing about. Probably a quick, quietly cinematic death.  (I mean, I guess that’s how every story ends, but this? Besides maybe true-crime, might be the one genre where I never get to escape that knowledge. )Does that make me deep, or impoverish my hope and imagination…all questions I can ponder while not being fascinated by this acutely pedestrian(ha!) flick during what a tabloid of my youth might call  My Brave Final Days. At least, sometimes they feel like that. Even though I’m not really brave and have probably never been it. I wish I had.

And maybe I’m sick of being represented by kid stuff. By some sickly kid getting one big gulp of life but then going quietly, but holding the hope that my own life would be different like some secret fucking after-dinner mint. That’s not the fault of anyone on this movie, but I swear to god I wish it were.  (And besides, I got my big gulp over fifty years, so, ha, life, I win. Even if it would make me evil enough to have a reason to hate Selena Gomez.)

The end was more open…a little dickish.   And, does anyone believe Mom would let go that long? But I guess it was a surprise, so, half-credit.

I don't mean this in the full, literal sense...

 But, I'm angry, I'm working-class...where's *my* insurrection?

(I'm disabled.  I just get gratitude urged on me like the fifth food group. Sometimes I can't decide if that's our *problem*, in that whole "Lean in! Take up space!" kind of sense, or if the young guys' problems come from being rapacious and not learning to accept things. It depends on the day.) Maybe if we, as a group, could actually get more out of life, then our culture could stop being Mom at your first group birthday party. "Sweetie, don't forget to say "Thank you for having us!" etc. Also, my college education was kind of the least glamourous thing to happen to a woman ever...could we be careful about our use of the word  "elitism" please?  All right, maybe I kind of *wanted* a bite at a fancier apple--that doesn't mean I really got it, and I suspect I'm not alone.

The only thing I need to see less than Cheeto Benito's gloating mug is Joe Biden being  Gracious and Unbowed In The Face Of Tragedy(again) as he tells That Fucking Guy how to jiggle the toilets in the residence.

Meanwhile, if Trump doesn't, say, whip it out or moon someone during that little confab, one of those so-smart-they're-kind-of-stupid scribes like Milbank or Cilizza will write some bullshit like:

In The Second Term, Opening With A New Gravitas.(God, spare me)

There's More I Could Say...

 and, maybe, I will, though I don't think anyone reads me thinking "Ooh, hot takes!"
But I just don't believe we have to do this shit again...(Boy, have I thought that a lot of times in ten years.)

I'm disgusted, and kind of find the much-vaunted Soul of America...well, gross, at this particular instant.

Finished Streaming...

UnReal  and I loved it. (Not only because I don't especially love reality shows, although I don't,at least not the competitive ones) The characterizations and performances are really good...a terrific balance between  that "tragic inevitability" thing beloved by tragedians and little glimpses of possibility where you could imagine the crew of Everlasting making better decisions. It's interesting to see some critiques of the whole #ladyboss mindset that don't try to turn the clock back and send women all the way back home.  Rachel(and Quinn, the devil on Dana Gordon's shoulder, (now that it isn't Ari Gold, I should say,played with a kind of jaded relish by Constance Zimmer,) may find their playful sides or peace of mind(could almost write "piece"---there's lots of sexual situations on this show) in the arms of their guy of the moment, but the show never implies that they are any kind of permanent rescue or solace. It's plainly a story about women and mentoring, and the damage the wrong kind of examples and cultural messages can do.While the on-screen contestants play out the bright fairy tale onscreen, the "Everlasting" production team wanders through the creepy forest. I had seen Shiri Appleby either as a teen, or at twenty playing teenaged on some show about a foster child that was trying to gather "Party of Five's" sloppy seconds at one point, but she was the best thing about the show, even after her character slept with her math teacher.  Rachel is a very multifaceted character who makes you root for her even if she is being a shit. She might count as mental-health disability representation, too but I'm not quite sure about that.

Although I am impressed that the writers did manage, as the seasons went on, to make loutish producer Chet(played with multiple layers by Craig Bierko) at least occasionally sympathetic.. Many a feminist might start out hating Chet, but I came to find him at least as confused and manipulated as Rachel. 

Editor's note:
I made some changes to this.  Spotted a typo and finished some thoughts that didn't fully make it to the page yesterday...if it's just a little, I don't say anything, but mentioning it seemed like a thing to do this time.

Somehow, I have to invest...

 in *my* work, because being the wind beneath somebody else's wings is a mixed bag at best. But I don't really do things that people can *watch* in a stretch-goal sense.

I Can Shoot A Three If I Want...

 Promoting something for work...if the spirit moves you, vote or share.(Vote and Share, if you're in Cali)

California Leavin'(Yes on 33)