Scratchy Glitter

Observations for the easily irritated.

Tag: humor

Donald Trump Is the Antichrist For Our Time

silhouette of statue near trump building at daytime

Photo by Carlos Herrero on

I was watching the news, and they were covering a Trump rally which had not yet started. Music was playing in the background. “Screaming guitar,” Rom noted. “I know that solo–every note of it,” I said, thinking hard, then I realized–“Sympathy for the Devil!” Sympathy for the facking Devil, I thought (thereby taking the Devil’s name in vain). What the hell?!

Turns out this is a regular feature of these rallies. (By the way–campaign rallies right after the election? Need to be stroked much?) According to reporter Ryan Lizza, Trump has put together a mix tape (or whatever we call them these days), and the band most represented is the Stones. Trump is open to suggestions, however–Lizza was told, “The more inappropriate for a political event, the better.” I doubt anyone is going to come up with anything less appropriate than a mission statement from Satan, however.

The thing is, Rom and I had been joking earlier that maybe Trump is the Antichrist. “I expected the Antichrist to be slicker,” Rom said. But maybe we’ve created the Devil in our own image–coarse, crude, and he’s figured out that what’s wrong with lying in politics is that no one’s lied often enough. Plus, for sheer pettiness, you can’t beat going to court to argue that you shouldn’t have to provide people in detention centers with soap. Of course, at least one of his supporters has argued that the solution to the problem is to “Shoot ’em!” (Disclaimer: I am not for “open borders.”)

Of course, someone could always claim that this post is motivated by the fact that I myself am running for President. (By the way, I will not be at the debates tonight, having a polling number of 0%.) I need to get those “I’m the Outsider!” t-shirts printed up. As soon as I finish the ones for the Sour Neon Crawlers.


Dear Diary…

purple leather notebook black pen and brown branches

Photo by Alena Koval on

…I’m not sure what the twigs in this photo would be used for.


From the state Department of Revenue: “We calculate your refund this year as $55, not the $121 you stated on your return. If you wish to dispute this, you may use the enclosed envelope.”

  1. If you already know how much it should be, what are you bothering me for?
  2. No, I do not wish to dispute this. I wish to back away from you slowly. I know a dragon curled on a pile of gold when I see one.


I have been inundated with messages on “How To Be a Better Blogger!” If I was going to become a better blogger, I’d have done it by now.


Febreze ad: “Your house smells musty because it contains soft objects that trap odors, then release them back into the air.” No fair! Why can’t they just trap the odors and keep them? “Febreze can even be used on clothes you want to wear another day!” Yeah, along with your dry shampoo for “the days you don’t wash your hair.” Let’s just live in filth. {Disclaimer: The other day, a Cheerio rolled off the table and into the corner, and I thought, No, I’m not eating that.}

Home decorating ad: “Our flooring will give your home that vacation feeling.” Rom: “That’s a lot to ask from a floor.” {Obviously, my kitchen floor does not give us that feeling–see above.}


In fact, better than some–I can make a public statement without saying anything stupid or abusive! Or get my picture taken without shoving others aside to get to the front of the line! And I know the place for my signature is at the bottom of the page! I have so much to recommend me.


Yesterday, Rom called me from the bike shop and told me his new bike would cost more than twice what we expected. Luckily, there was no one else at the bus stop to hear me cursing. Fiercely brooding about this, I got off the bus and headed for the convenience store, to drown my sorrows in a fountain drink. I obtained same and headed out the door. “Hello!” the clerk said. “Hi,” I answered, wondering why he was saying that as I was leaving. Turns out I’d forgotten the paying-for-it part.


Freedom Day

grayscale photography of waiting shed near open road at night

Photo by Alexander Kovalyov on

I guess everything looks cooler in black and white, Even a bus stop.


Flannery O’Connor was Catholic and wrote weird stories about the South. At any rate, the same woman who had previously announced at the stop that she’d shot a diseased chicken with a shotgun was there today. She wears glasses and has hair dyed pink and red, with dark roots, which reminds me uneasily of something I might have done at her age. AND SHE WAS TELLING US ABOUT HOW HER FAMILY ALWAYS TALKS ALL THE TIME AT THE TOP OF THEIR LUNGS LIKE SHE DOES, AND IF YOU CAN’T KEEP UP, TOO BAD, AND ONCE HER COLLEGE PROFESSOR GAVE HER AN F ON A PAPER AND SAID IT WAS “INCOHERENT RAMBLING.” Meanwhile, her man, a soft-spoken guy with the accent of his native Pennsylvania (according to him, I didn’t think he had any accent) was wearing a t-shirt with an old-timey newscaster, and the words “THIS JUST IN. YOU’RE AN IDIOT.” Actually, I am a very stable genius. I have to tell you, or else you’d never be able to figure it out.


A picture of an old-timey 50’s newscaster signals that something ironic is about to be expressed. Similar, but more general in application, to a picture of a smiling old-timey 50’s housewife, which signals something ironically feminist, because all old-timey housewives are assumed to have been repressed and miserable and in a state of desperate denial . Get it?


I need to update these, as 2020 is, well, not fast-approaching, exactly, but you get the idea.

If elected, I will not:

  1. Alienate our allies.
  2. Suck up to dictators. (I will be a dictator unto myself.)
  3. Impose tariffs on everyone even though I don’t understand how they work.
  4. Say that you owe me an additional 2 years on my term for daring to investigate me.
  5. Pay someone to block the release of my tax returns/school grades/SAT scores. My state of stable geniushood should be obvious to all.
  6. Dye my hair an unnatural color.
  7. Have a fake tan. Actually, have any tan at all.

So, if you’re trying to think who to write in on the ballot, keep me in mind. Then they’ll have to go looking for me. It’ll be like John Galt in “Atlas Shrugged.” Except better-written.

Oh, and the title? I retired 2 years ago today.

The Moral of the Story

black bird perching on concrete wall with ocean overview

Photo by Tim Mossholder on

A couple days ago, I missed my bus, for the usual reason of letting Rom show me points of interest in the yard for too long (and, I must admit, prolonging our romantic leave-taking). OK, I thought, I will walk down to St Joe, which takes me 20 minutes or so.

I got to the top of the hill, turned, and felt a warm splat on my face. Ironically, a couple of days previously, I’d thought, It’s surprising, with all the walking I do, that I don’t get pooped on by birds more often.

It got on my face, my hair, my pants, my glasses. Suddenly I lost all appetite for walking to St Joe, especially since I was wearing dark clothing (as I usually do), which made what had happened all too evident. I walked back down the hill, glasses clutched in one hand, and one eye squeezed shut, since the stuff was threatening to drip into it, in spite of my flailing at my face. There actually is a story in the Catholic Bible–you know, the one Protestants didn’t take books out of–about a man who slept out in the open, and birds pooped in his eye, and he went blind. (Yes, there’s a lot of weird stuff in Scripture.) I was fairly sure that, due to being legally blind, I would trip or be hit by a car, but neither occurred.

So I got home, cleaned my face, hair, and eye with makeup-remover wipes, and changed my pants. Rom said he’d never seen so much bird poop on a person, and speculated that it had been a large bird like a crow. Hence the illustration. Also keep in mind that crows are probably the smartest animals other than us and the great apes. (I don’t know about the not-so-great apes.)

But what is the moral of the story, you ask?

Well, Rom said, “It seems like Someone doesn’t want you to go out.” Nevertheless (and ever the more), I went out again anyway, and got on the next bus. At a stop down the way, a couple was waiting, but all they had was a $5 bill. They asked if anyone on the bus had change. And guess who had a wad of $1 bills, thanks to McDonald’s being short of 5’s? Considering one of them had a lunch box, and they were willing to use a $5 bill for a $1.50 fare for the two of them, I bet they got out at Walmart to work, not shop. So maybe Someone wanted me to take that bus, although I question the use of bird excrement to achieve the desired end.


And I know what it’s like to be shat on! And if I get any subpoenas, I’ll just ignore them. Why not?

Disclaimer: The author of this post received 1 or 2 subpoenas in the course of her job, when she had one, and did not ignore them.


Here I Am


–Do not get an alcoholic beverage in your eye.

–Look at your water glass before you drink from it, unless you want an ant in your mouth. Rom’s response was, “Dead or alive?,” as if that made a difference.

WordPress is telling me, “Try the new block editor and level up your layout.” I don’t even know what that means, so I guess I don’t need it.


Are you desperate enough yet?


Rom’s phone rang. He was napping, so I answered it. The India-accented caller seemed surprised at hearing my voice, but then said, “Do you want Cialis erection medicine–for your husband?” To buy time while I gathered my wits, I said, “Excuse me?” (a tactic I learned at 911–911 builds character!) He hurried on, “Or Oxycontin or Fentanyl–we have very good prices!” You know, something tells me that reputable pharmacies do not call you out of the blue and offer you opioids.

macro photo of black carpenter ant on green leaf

Photo by Egor Kamelev on



Greetings from Cobra Rose

nature red love romantic

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.comS

Sorry I haven’t been around much, but it seems that retirement has robbed me of material. For instance, today I was remembering the time a 911 caller made an obscene suggestion, and I responded, “Only if you like big butts and you cannot lie” and hung up. He must not have liked them, since he didn’t call back.

The above blue rose caught my attention, because during my 1st abortive attempt at college (there have been 3 in all, all abortive), my friend Rick hypnotized me, and gave me “blue rose” as my snap-out-of-it word (kind of like a safe word). Yes, I am easily hypnotizable, but I tend to freak out. If I ever founded a company (but why would I?), I would call it Blue Rose Enterprises.

Today is my birthday. At the time and place I was born, it was 54 degrees, wind 16mph out of the NNE. So I was born in a cross-fire hurricane.

THIS POST IS AN EXPERIMENT OF SITTING DOWN WITH NOTHING IN MIND AND SEEING WHAT HAPPENS. What happens is that I don’t put this disclaimer at the start, as I should have.  I will sue Redd’s for this.








My Resolve To Remain Unpopular

blur breakfast close up dairy product

Photo by Tookapic on

I have been reading a site called The Art of Blogging They said that bloggers who want many readers should remember that strangers don’t care about what you had for lunch or how you tripped over a paving stone yesterday, and that even those who know you only pretend to care out of politeness. Now, I am not taking issue with this advice–it makes perfect sense. I only ask that you keep on pretending to care, because I warned you what to expect at the outset. And how did they know I tripped over a paving stone, hmm?

Rather than tell you what I had for lunch today, let me tell you about–


–Next to me in the window well of the bus–2 Q-Tips. WITH EARWAX ON THEM. “This bus ride is boring. Think I’ll clean my ears.” Suppose the bus went into a pothole and you ended up puncturing your eardrum? You’d probably try suing the city. BECAUSE YOU’RE OBVIOUSLY NOT THE SORT TO TAKE RESPONSIBILITY FOR YOUR OWN ACTIONS, OR  YOU’D HAVE THROWN AWAY YOUR GROSS Q-TIPS. (Disclaimer: I have no way of knowing if the cotton swabs in question were actually Q-Tips. Perhaps they were some generic brand.)

–On a bus stop bench on the way (not mine, because EW EW EW)–a to-go plate of pancakes, partially eaten. IN THE RAIN. Just wring those out, they’ll be fine. They did inspire me to have pancakes at McDonald’s. (See, I worked my lunch menu in there after all.)

–In the gutter on N. St Joe Ave.–a stick of deodorant, with the cap off. “Oh no, I forgot deodorant, better put some on in the car and throw it out the window!” It was Suave Powder Fresh, so at least the offender was powder-fresh. Maybe the police could identify the culprit by scent.

And remember–VOTE FOR ME FOR PRESIDENT, I’M THE OUTSIDER! (I’m getting a head start on making you sick of me.)



Me in 2020!

white house

Photo by Aaron Kittredge on

I am announcing my candidacy for President in 2020. Why? Well, why not?! The bar has never been lower! Sure, I have no experience or aptitude, but that means I’m not a Washington insider! In fact, I’m not any kind of insider. If elected, I’ll revoke security clearances right and left! I’ll give people security clearances just so I can revoke them! But I promise to retain the red button on the desk in the Oval Office that summons Diet Coke. I will also install a perfume fountain in the Rose Garden. Roses Rom won’t have to take care of!

There will be no White House dog, but only White House cats. (Esmerelda has already told me no photographers will be allowed, and she will lurk under the desk in the Oval Office.) (I’ll probably be doing a lot of that myself.)

2020 is still a long way away, so I won’t be campaigning on here very often, although I’ll ramp up the intensity as the day approaches, until you are as sick of me as you are of all the others. This will give me the time I need to decide on a running mate, for instance. I already know inauguration music will be provided by the Sour Neon Crawlers. Sure, that means I’ll be doing the singing, but I can do it all! All or nothing! That’s why you elected me! Or the Electoral College did. That’s almost as good.

So keep me in mind, and VOTE FOR ME IN 2020! I’M THE OUTSIDER!

My apologies to anyone who came here looking for perfume reviews and found themselves in an alternate reality.

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