It’s still incredibly murky. I really don’t know, to this day, May 10, 2021.
No one has “revealed” themselves fully, nor has a reason been disclosed to me, not a scrap of why dropped, though I have my ideas.
Cyber alarms clang for me in February 2019, while I am working on an advocacy project with some close friends.
Our Zoom meetings would flash constantly, crash constantly… we all reported strange goings-on with our debit cards being constantly declined or frozen at our banks, requiring massive headaches to fix…at one point, a week didn’t pass without my card…
The setting and subject was surreal. A high school auditorium at 6:00PM, in the rural countryside of Pennsylvania.
About one hundred people were in attendence.
I sat in front. Four people sat at a table on stage. One of whom was the Lieutenant Governor of Pennsylvania, John Fetterman.
Two microphones set up on either end of the sloping aisles, carpeted in low pile red shag.
Citizens were asked to come to the microphones to say their piece.
The Lt. Governor said, “I am not here to tell you my opinion on the matter, I am here to listen to yours,”…
It’s interesting to consider how few people know what exactly is in the consent form(s) they are asked to sign when they roll into any medical clinic, hospital, laboratory or the like for an appointment.
Do you know? Have you asked?
What I have found even more unique? The professional who is asked for clarification, at least in my personal experiences, has not been able to answer my inquiry right away.
Indeed, the person in each instance has had to rifle through office drawers and files in search for a paper copy of what the exact “consent to treat” is……
The last time, I really could not stand it.
I had just redone the central bathroom, really nicely, too!, and the realtor walks through with his recommendations, which are the “things we were ‘planning all along to do’”.
I feel… semi-wronged.
The brand new screen doors bought for “eye candy” that would create a “great first impression” are the ones I coveted, ones picked out and waited for… for years.
They have elaborate wrought iron decor on the exterior trim. They are heavy, sturdy, and would last decades.
These doors do not look like screen doors.
They are kickass.
· This article talks about sensitive matters. It does not feature sensitive photographs.
Were you aware that the most extreme serial killer in American history was arrested, tried, and convicted just this decade? Assuredly worse than Jeffrey Dahmer.
Most of America has never heard of the gruesome scene found in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania in 2010 or of the man sitting behind bars who created it.
You haven’t heard this sordid story because of the media blackout surrounding their unease about this man.
You haven’t heard about it because it involves minorities, refugees, the poor, infants, and a man who callously mutilated…
Brittany Runs a Marathon is the current “feel good” movie up for consumption.
It is the same old tired premise, with a few nouveau cultural references added in for 2019.
Weight loss makes ALL dreams come true!
… seems the real message, cloaked under the Afterschool Special “serious, self-esteem” message rammed down the audience’s throats.
“A person is special, strong, and capable at any weight when they take control of their life”
Sure. As if that is how society views anyone who self actualizes.
Fit? Couch potato?
We are largely viewed through the lens which society has deemed…
The whole thing starts because my father couldn’t button his work shirts anymore, and my mother thinks he has a pinched nerve.
She forces a man who never, ever even catches a cold, let alone gets physicals, to go to a family doctor.
I find out during my Saturday morning phone call. Itself an interesting thing.
A typical phone call on a weekend goes like this.
I call on Saturday morning, knowing Dad would answer, and Dad answers, knowing it’s me calling.
Dad: Hello, it’s your dime.
Me: What’s the temperature?
Our exchange always…
The notification is usually a tip-off.
Looking it over.
In my experience, it’s always been one of three types. Either:
They never clap. They only respond.
I imagine them sitting on their hands in earnest. No claps for you. You will pay.
I glance at the “response”.
Yep. Multiple paragraphs abound.
Once, my three sentence comment on another writer’s story — I did not…
Oh, come now!
You know who I am!
I am that person who likes all the posts. The ones for and against the issues everyone is arguing about.
I will say nice things to you.
And him and her, too.
No one is left out!!!
Because I don’t want anyone to think I am *gasp* judging them. Heavens, no.
I am an equal opportunity friend to everyone. I will support my friends in their fight against them. The shadowy, mean “them”, who I don’t have to worry about. Who cares about them??
However, in day to day life…