Category Archives: snark

Goodbye, Little Macho

Saturday was a year since my mom died from COVID. My sister and I got Macho in the car, and we drove to the cemetery for the first time since her burial. We didn’t consider that she is in an Orthodox Jewish cemetery (though she was anything but Orthodox), and it is closed on Shabbos. We thought that maybe it was better that we weren’t able go to her grave, because the grief would be overwhelming. We went back to my house. I made corned beef and cabbage in her honor. We ate and talked and cried a little and laughed a lot. I’m not sure if my mom would have been happy or sad about that. She loved us and wanted us to be happy, but she was also a bit of a drama queen and wouldn’t have minded a little rending of garments in grief.

Sunday started like any other. I woke up, and Machie was a little lump under the comforter as usual. I went to wash my face and brush my teeth, and when I went back to my room, Machie had dug his way out from under the cover and was looking at me in anticipation. He went deaf about a year or so ago, so we had our own sign language. I signed “Hungry?” His answer was always yes. He jumped off the bed and ran to the glass door in the dining room. I let him out to pee and went to the kitchen to prepare his breakfast. He gobbled it up like always. Then I made my breakfast. I cut 5 slices of sausage, 4 to go with my eggs and 1 to cut up to feed to Machie while I was cooking. I always made sure that some egg would stick to the bottom of the pan. I would spoon the eggs onto my plate, and then I’d put the pan under a little water, and the stuck egg would magically release from the pan. That went into Machie’s bowl for his second breakfast after I was done eating.

The day went on with nothing out of the ordinary. Macho whined so I would give him his favorite doggie cookies. I would throw them from my desk to his bed on the floor of my room, and he would search for them when they fell behind the bed. He took several naps, on his bed in my room, his bed in the living room and on the La-Z-Boy recliner/rocker he claimed as his very own the day he came to live with me. He was always exhausted when my sister came to visit, so it wasn’t unusual for him to be tired the next day. He had his dinner and then came to stare at me with his big brown puggle eyes to demand something for dessert. I told him he would have to wait.

Later on, he kept going to the back door, and I kept letting him out. Back in February or March, after noticing that he had to pee much more often than usual, I took him to the vet. They did a urinalysis, and the doctor prescribed some antibiotics. I didn’t see any more blood after that, but he still had to pee frequently. In April, I saw blood again, and I took him back to the vet. They did an ultrasound, and the doctor said there was a mass at the neck of his bladder. He said that it was probably cancer, but they couldn’t tell until they did a litany of tests. I asked what they could do if it was cancer, and the vet said there really wasn’t anything. I asked what they could do if it wasn’t cancer, and the answer was the same. I decided that I wouldn’t put him through all of that for nothing, and I would take Machie home and let him live his best life. The doctor game him some anti-inflammatories to see if that would help. They did help some, so I scoured the internets and found that turmeric was an natural anti-inflammatory, and I ordered some for him. Life went on. Machie still had to pee often, but he was happy and healthy otherwise. Just three days ago, this was him on the couch after I put boxes on the cushions so he couldn’t jump up.

Macho never thought the rules applied to him, and he couldn’t even fake remorse.

Back to last night. After dinner, he constantly went to the back door, and I kept letting him out. This went on and on, and either I couldn’t figure out what was going on, or I was in denial. When he came inside and stood over his little bed in my bedroom and looked like he was trying to pee, I finally realized what was going on. I felt like my heart had dropped to my knees. I got his collar and leash and took him for what would be our last walk together. I realized that, no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t pee at all. I knew what that meant. By then, it was after 3 in the morning. I called my sister, praying that she would hear the phone. It took 3 tries, but she finally woke up and texted me. I told her what was going on, but when she heard the phone, she more or less knew. She met me at the vet’s office, and by a few minutes after 4, it was all over. He was usually afraid to go to the vet, but this time, he was a very brave boy. Here he is during our last time together with the blanket they brought in for him.

It was so peaceful. He just went to sleep. I kept my hands on him, and I could feel when his lungs stopped expanding. When it was over, I covered him, because he always loved to sleep under the blanky.

I’m rambling, because I don’t know what’s important to say. I wanted so much for him to be here for his 15th birthday on September 16th, and I really thought he would be. I wanted him to be at home when I had to say goodbye to him, but I knew that I couldn’t allow him to suffer. I tried in the last few months to remember all the funny and cute and quirky things he did, but I knew from experience that that wasn’t possible. One day, I will see another dog do something, and I will suddenly recall that my little Machie used to do that. I will scroll though the hundreds, if not thousands of pictures I have taken of him and will hope I will remember the circumstances. The one thing that I know for sure is that I will love him and miss him for the rest of my life. He was annoying, and he whined, and he had separation anxiety, so I could never leave him alone (during the pandemic, I would have to take him shopping with me and leave him in the car with the emergency brake and the a/c on). He was relentless when he wanted something, and the entire house is covered with his fur. Somehow, I will miss all those things, but most of all I will miss being loved as unconditionally and as fervently as he loved me, and I will miss being able to show him how much I loved him.

Sleep well, my baby.

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Gaetz’s future relies on a wingman and a prayer

From DAILY BEAST:

“Joel Greenberg—the Rep. Matt Gaetz wingman who pleaded guilty and is now helping authorities investigate the congressman’s involvement in an underage sex ring—has so much evidence that he needs more than 44 days to share it.

In a court document filed Tuesday, Greenberg, the disgraced local tax collector, asked a federal judge to push back his sentencing.”

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“The letter describes “ongoing cooperation which will not be completed prior to his current sentencing date.”

In May, Greenberg admitted to engaging in sex trafficking, identity theft, and other crimes on the condition that he would turn over evidence that implicated others who helped him. He was scheduled to be sentenced on Aug. 19.

Greenberg has become a witness in an ongoing probe into Gaetz’s alleged paid sexual relationship with a 17-year-old girl, according to two sources familiar with the investigation who have spoken on condition of anonymity.”

(Don’t forget how chummy Gaetz and Greenberg were with Racist Ronnie DeSantis. And don’t forget that Kevin “Shecky” McCarthy has not stripped Gaetz of any committee assignments. And don’t forget that the GOP stands for Gross Odious Perverts.)

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And Justice for One

From Yahoo! Finance:

When West Virginia Gov. Jim Justice, R, announced his decision last month to cut federal unemployment benefits for his state’s jobless residents, he pointed to what he said was a plethora of openings for those who needed work.

…snip…

Justice didn’t need to look far for examples of companies struggling to hire workers. The storied West Virginia resort he owns, the Greenbrier, has been looking for dozens of new employees in recent weeks and until recently had received far fewer applications than normal. But after Justice announced his decision, that started to change, said Kathy Miller, vice president of human resources at the luxury hotel.

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Justice’s sprawling business empire, which in addition to the Greenbrier includes agricultural companies and coal enterprises, has made him a lightning rod for criticism from ethics watchdogs. A 2019 investigation by the Charleston Gazette-Mail and ProPublica found a thicket of conflicts of interest inherent in his dual roles as business magnate and public servant. Justice’s most recent financial disclosure lists over 100 corporate entities.

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Set those Jewish lasers on STUN

In the latest lunacy, lunatic Marjorie Taylor Greene (R-Crossfit) had this to say about wearing masks to combat COVID-19:

You know, we can look back at a time in history where people were told to wear a gold star, and they were definitely treated like second class citizens, so much so that they were put in trains and taken to gas chambers in Nazi Germany, and this is exactly the type of abuse that Nancy Pelosi is talking about.

In response to the QAnon Jewish Laser-dodging imbecile, Kevin “Shecky” McCarthy had this to say:

” “

Yes, MTG has no business being in Congress, but, IMHO, Shecky McCarthy is far more dangerous, because he allows her and the other whackadoodles to set the agenda while giving them cover. Therefore…

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Cheney Leaves the House of Twitler

From AP News:

No. 3 House Republican Liz Cheney was clinging to her post Wednesday as party leaders lined up behind an heir apparent, signaling that fallout over her clashes with former President Donald Trump was becoming too much for her to overcome.

Unbowed, she implored her GOP colleagues to pry themselves from a Trump “cult of personality,” declaring that the party and even American democracy were at stake. “History is watching,” she said.

Trump issued a statement giving his “COMPLETE and TOTAL Endorsement” to Rep. Elise Stefanik of New York to replace Cheney. Stefanik, a 36-year-old Trump loyalist who’s played an increasingly visible role within the GOP, responded quickly, highlighting his backing to colleagues who will decide her political future.

Original image (Peter Paul Rubens: Hagar Leaves the House of Abraham)

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My 2¢: Listening to talking heads exalting Liz Cheney as the new Joan of Arc turns my stomach. She’s looking down the road. She thinks the GOP will come to its senses and cast Twitler into the bowels of history and move on. She’s not a martyr; she’s politically savvy and making sure she can run for higher office in the future or at least make plenty of money with a book explaining why she is the new Joan of Arc.

2¢ more: Shecky McCarthy is a spineless asshole whom we can only pray will never be Speaker of the House. Elise “The Little Slurmaid” Stefanik is an opportunist and nothing more.

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Dr. Frankenmurdoch, Meet Your Monster

From AXIOS:

President Trump has told friends he wants to start a digital media company to clobber Fox News and undermine the conservative-friendly network, sources tell Axios.

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Continue reading

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Stain Removal

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by | November 8, 2020 · 5:42 am

Corned Beef and Cabbage

My mom and my sister and I had a new tradition. My mom was in a nursing home, and every Sunday, my sister would pick her up and bring her to my house, and I would make dinner. While we were eating and after dinner, I would turn on Game Show Network, and we’d watch America Says and Family Feud. My mom’s hearing wasn’t very good, even with hearing aids, and she’d answer the wrong questions correctly, and my sister and I would laugh. My mom would ask why we were laughing, and we’d tell her, and she would laugh at herself. When it was time for my sister to bring my mom back, I would ask what she wanted the next week. With a twinkle in her eye, she would always answer the same thing, “Corned beef and cabbage.” I don’t know why she was so enamored of my corned beef, but that was her favorite meal. I don’t remember what I made on March 1st, but it wasn’t corned beef. It was the last time I made dinner for my mom and the last time I would ever hug her, kiss her, touch her and make sure her seatbelt was secure before she left. The next week, I wasn’t feeling well, and the coronavirus had just started to rear its ugly head, so I cancelled dinner, because I didn’t want to give it to my mom if I had it. I cancelled the next week as well, because I was still under the weather.

After that, there were the occasional visits to the nursing home, only through my mom’s room’s window, as the lockdown had begun. Once, my sister was able to see her outside, of course at a distance away. However, the rules were quickly changed back, and there were only window visits after that. It would make her so happy when someone visited her, as so many residents didn’t have anyone. We would yell through the window, and she would look out and see the dog, and she would delight in watching him. There would be the exchange of a thousand I love yous and thrown kisses at the end of the visits. I took the dog to the vet on Wednesday. I decided to stop and see my mom. I usually would have my sister call the nurses and tell them to make sure the blinds were open and my mom was in her wheelchair by the window. The dog was antsy, and I was tired, so I just parked the car and walked to her window with the dog. I saw my mom in bed, and she was awake, so I banged on the window. She didn’t hear me. I kept banging for 5 minutes, but she never looked over and no nurses passed by. I was going to go back to the car and call my sister, but I had another stop to make, and reassured that my mom looked okay, I decided to leave and come back up in a couple of days.

That evening, my sister called me at almost midnight. The nursing home had called her and told her that my mom was complaining of some chest pain and shortness of breath. They sent her to the hospital just as a precaution. Now, my mom can be a bit of a drama queen, so my sister and I hoped that it was just a panic attack. Of course, the hospital would not allow us to visit her. The next morning, we learned that she was moved upstairs to a room, and they were watching her just to make sure she was stable. The nurse said that she probably caught a cold, and that’s why she was a little short of breath. All her other vital signs were good. A little later on in the day, my sister called me. They tested my mom for COVID, and it was positive. She was on oxygen, but her levels were still low. They moved her to a room upstairs. My sister, brother and I had to decide over the phone about whether a DNR should be in place. With too many tears and too much heartbreak, we decided that, should worse come to worst, we couldn’t have anyone punishing her body when there would be little hope. My sister, brother and niece Facetimed with her. She was lucid, but it was hard for her to talk. I couldn’t pull myself together enough to Facetime with her, knowing I might soon regret it. Later on, I still struggled with it and almost called my sister to ask how to arrange it. Then the phone rang. It was 8:32 p.m. A very sweet lady said, “This is Lydia from University Hospital…” I don’t remember the rest of what she said, other than her being very kind as she told me my mom didn’t suffer, and a nurse was with her and holding her hand when she stopped breathing. And that was that.

There were the phone calls and the crying and the shock and everything that goes along with someone you love dying. Then there was the profound loneliness of not being able to hug another person, to be comforted. I was glad that a kind nurse cared enough for my mom, a stranger, to hold her hand so she wouldn’t be alone, so she would be comforted as she left this life, but I selfishly wondered who would comfort me. My brother and my son immediately said they were going to call the airlines and book flights here. I know I must have sounded unhinged as I yelled at them not to come here. “It’s not safe! You don’t realize how bad it is here!” My son is in New York City, so he knows how bad it can be. My brother is in Montana, so it is still an abstract picture to him. I begged and pleaded and demanded a promise that they wouldn’t come here, and they both finally agreed.

My sister, my nephew and I will bury my mom on Wednesday. I will not be able to be next to them or touch them or hug them, but at least they will be close. We won’t have a funeral until this nightmare is behind us. Then, my son, my brother and others who loved my mom can come and grieve and celebrate her life with us. We’ll laugh at how funny she was and at the irony of delaying her funeral, because if there was anything my mom loved, it was a good funeral. We’ll hug and sit together and share a meal. I think I’ll make corned beef and cabbage.

Mommy1

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