madameprynne

Way back in mid-December, the Quinnipiac University Poll, widely considered the gold standard in polls, was reporting Trump approval rates at 35% and disapproval rates at 57%. Quinnipiac hasn't done a poll since, but other subsequent polls are roughly in this range, too.

Does this mean Democrats will win the midterm elections?

Honestly, I don't know.

Most people vote from their wallets. And recently, Trump has floated two proposals in his unmedicated, late-night social media rants that, if implemented, could save these prospective voters a whole lotta bank: (1) banning private hedge funds from buying residential homes and (2) capping credit card debt at 10%.

Neither of these ideas will be implemented, I suspect. But that second one in particular is aimed straight at the populist base.

###

Also, the average American taxpayer will be saving on taxes this year. The standard deduction is going up by $750 for everyone, by $1,500 if you're married filing jointly, and by $6,000 if you're over 65. The child tax credit is increasing by $200. Tip income up to $25,000 is protected from taxation; ditto $12,500 in overtime income—particularly interesting if you think of the type of workers (construction workers, nurses, first responders, HVAC workers) who typically earn overtime, i.e. highly skilled workers who, despite the mythologies surrounding them, aren't culturally respected enough to be salaried employees.

If their own taxes drop by a couple of grand, will any of these people really care that billionaires are saving a whole lot more?

I suspect not.

On the other hand, 31% of U.S. tax filers paid no federal income taxes at all. This is the segment targeted by the progressive wing of the Democratic Party because this is the segment that benefits most from cheaper housing and subsidized healthcare. So maybe progressives are on to something from a strictly strategic point of view, as well as a humanitarian point of view. I dunno. The Delphic oracle is on hiatus.

Anyway, I remained hideously depressed all day yesterday.

The gym was crowded with New Year's Resolutioners, and supermarket prices are up by at least 25%, no matter what the official inflation rate is telling you. I bought some stuff at the ShopRite next door to the Schlock office, and I swear to God, their prices were higher than the non-discount grocery store 'cause why not gauge the rubes if they're wandering into your marketing trap, right?

Considering how down I'm feeling, the Work in Progress is going remarkably well. I mean, I have no idea if the prose is any good, but (first draft, first draft, first draft), it is materializing on the page.

I'm currently writing the second of the Hospital in the Time of COVID sections. Scene has to develop relationships with Debbie Reynolds & the New Millennium Kingdom girl, and also explore Grazia's ideas of what being a Good Person entails—picking up random garbage on the street, returning shopping carts to their rightful bin, liking Lost Pet notifications on Facebook, etc, etc, etc. At some point, as she gets nuttier, Grazia will begin anthropomorphizing her relationship with the universe, such that Neal notices and becomes alarmed in the phone conversation that fades out the section.

mallorys_camera

It gets worse:

https://www.facebook.com/reel/1969214120343239

I suspect when the shooter figured out he was being sassed by a lesbian, he snapped, making this not only a murder but a hate crime. Renee Good got shot because her sassy wife assumed white privilege would save her from the fate that uppity Black people suffer at the hands of police.

This shooting took place about a mile away from where George Floyd was gunned down in 2020. And on the same day an Ohio cop was exonerated in the shooting of 21-year-old Ta’Kiya Young.

Most interesting, though, is the fact that this video comes from the shooter's own cell phone. That's right, folks! He filmed himself murdering her! I guess he sees himself as an Instagram influencer! The video made its way to a right-wing Minnesota media outlet, and as soon as it was released, J.D. Vance was all over the airwaves, crowing that the video exonerated the shooter. That's fine, dude, I'm not mad at you: Them's fighting words, you fuckin' seditious bitch!

There was a doctor at the scene. The ICE thugs wouldn't let them get anywhere near the dying woman. Who knows? Maybe she could have been saved.

Within hours, the shooter had been fully doxxed on Reddit. Name, address, phone number, social media history. In a scramble to show how justifiable this slaughter was, Ice Barbie herself, Kristi Noem, sprinkled the first bread crumb: The shooter been involved in a vehicle-dragging incident in June! Had required 33 stitches! Had PTSD!

If his PTSD was that bad, why, why, why were they letting him out in the field?

###

The Greenland yammer may or may not be serious. When it was originally floated, I think it was just part of a pretext for the U.S. to drop out of NATO. But it seems to have taken on a life of its own. Trump is so disruptive that it's hard to analyze anything that's going on right now.

###

Anyway. I was so dispirited when I toddled home from Montgomery that once again, I found myself absolutely incapable of doing anything.

I will try to remedy that today.

But no promises.

mallorys_camera

Mostly, I keep depression at bay through counseling myself, Resilience!

Life has always been a slog for the majority of souls incarnated upon this planet, and happiness (or at least contentment) comes from figuring out ways to put a positive spin on that slog. When the sun rises over that garbage dump, see the luminescent peach-colored sky, not the rotting bags of trash!

Yesterday, though, I kinda lost the thread on that one, and ended up feeling quite miserable throughout the day.

Not entirely sure what was up with that.

I put in four hours at the Schlock office in Montgomery, a creepy little village in Orange County, New York, filled with the type of people who eat at Latino food trucks but plaster their own Ford F-150s with "I Stand With ICE” and “Report and Deport” bumper stickers. Trump ran on mass deportations, and Orange County is a Trump stronghold. It's no good telling myself that most Americans don't vote, that only 22.7% of eligible American voters supported Trump. Trump won, so mass deportations are the will of the people.

While I was at the Montgomery office, an ICE thug shot a Minneapolis woman three times in the face. She was exercising her First Amendment right to bear witness. She died.

Here's the video:

https://www.facebook.com/share/v/1Jqr3UTSqn/

The most horrifying thing about this video actually is not the video but Trump's explanation of the incident: The woman driving the car was very disorderly, obstructing and resisting, who then violently, willfully, and viciously ran over the ICE Officer, who seems to have shot her in self defense.

This is very obviously not the case, and so, we are left once more regretting that George Orwell evidently is the 21st century's Nostradamus: The Party told you to reject the evidence of your eyes and ears. It was their final, most essential command.

Final Dickensian touch: The surname of the woman who got shot was "Good".

Maybe that's what depressed me yesterday. Straw + camel's back. I dunno.

Anyway, when I came back to the house from Montgomery, I was too depressed to do a goddamn thing.

I mean, I was too depressed to watch reality TV, even! And that is saying something.

###

Sleep knits the raveled sleeve of care, etc, etc, so this morning I am back in the saddle, riding that To Do list.

Miraculously, the mental logjam broke, and I have been generating that 1,000-words-a-day + on the Work in Progress with little or no effort. I have no idea whether it's any good or not. My present mood inclines me to think not. But I persevere.

Grazia is currently in the ICU being oriented to the care of COVID patients by cowgirl Debbie Reynolds. (Brian actually had a girlfriend named Debbie Reynolds, and I just couldn't resist.) We need a couple of scenes to establish banter and bonding, & then I will kill off Debbie Reynolds so that Grazia can have her breakdown. I also have to work in Grazia's growing familiarity with the New Millennium Kingdom folk, not sympathy exactly, more Sure, what the fuck as her sense of the permissible breaks down. Needs to have one more phone conversation with Neal, too: And how are your Evangenitals doing anyway?

I have another 1 million pages of tax code to memorize. Depreciation and capital loss carryover stuff, which was out of scope for me when I was a TaxBwana.

There's Remuneration, too!

And shortly, I will be toddling off to the gym.

Still. I'm lonely.

I keep in touch with the People Who Matter through phone, text, & email, but I crave real-time banter. And discounting Neighbor Ed—a champion banterer but unreliable for various reasons—I live 100 miles away from anyone who can provide good banter.

Life seems pointless & grim.

It's on me to change that.

But my recontextualizing superpower appears to be on hiatus.

###

Here's a happy-making photo, though:

mallorys_camera

In the lifetime I can remember, few events have been as subject to political reinterpretation as the incident on January 6, 2021, when 2,000 to 2,500 Trump supporters stormed the U.S. Capitol in Washington, D.C.

Was it a failed coup d'état?

Insurrection implies some degree of internal organization—and, indeed, pipe bombs were planted that day, too: one in a building containing Republican National Committee offices, another under a bush at the Democratic National Committee headquarters. Bipartisan pipe bombs!

The pipe bomber's case is still being adjudicated. The perp's lawyers claim he qualifies for the "full, complete and unconditional pardon to all other individuals convicted of offenses related to events that occurred at or near the United States Capitol on January 6, 2021" that Trump issued shortly after he regained office. The pipe bomber did believe the 2020 election was stolen. Still. There's no real evidence linking him to the flash mob, so the Justice Department is kinda on the hook over that one.

And I have a hard time believing that the flash mob members themselves were actual insurrectionists. They were just too stupid.

Regardless of my opinions, though, two years ago, the flash mob members were traitors. And now, they're heroes.

There's no such thing as history. There's just endless reediting of propaganda.

###

Meanwhile, temps, which have been hovering in the low 20°s, are projected to go up into the 40°s for the next week—and I am really excited about no more agonizing 10-point turns in the icy driveway!

I was all set to go to the gym yesterday, & then it started to snow, so I wimped out. The snow stopped after 10 minutes, but I remained wimped out. To atone for my wimpiness, I spent 90 minutes in the extreme cold solving the chickens' water situation. Will be dragging my sorry ass to the gym shortly.

Also, after three years, my FitBit battery no longer holds charge for more than 20 hours. I'm having to charge it daily, which is a drag-gg-ggg. Do I really need a FitBit? The damn thing doesn't do a great job tracking activity, since if you don't wave your arms during said activity, the activity won't register. Mostly, I use the Fitbit to monitor my sleep patterns, about which I am very neurotic. But does it do a good job with that? Who knows?

mallorys_camera

Only managed to crank out 600 words on the WiP yesterday.

Making things up is hard. There's a momentum memories have that one's imagination does not have.

In particular, writing dialogue is hard. You have to do a lot of talking to yourself.

I'm facing two scenes right now that are dialogue-heavy. First is a bantering telephone conversation with Neal. Has to be sprightly & amusing. What plot-critical info does the conversation need to include? Possibly Neal's developing relationship with Mimi since Mimi's suicide attempt will be an important plot point in Part 3. But I'm really throwing the conversation in there to denote the intimacy of Neal & Grazia's relationship, since shortly he will be rescuing her from the New Millennium Kingdom.

Second is a bantering exchange between Grazia and Debbie Reynolds, the nurse who orients her to the care of COVID patients in the ICU. This has to establish instant, strong rapport: Debbie Reynolds' death is what catalyzes Grazia's breakdown. The two nurses share a very black sense of humor. This scene also has to be chock-full of gruesome ICU status detail. A challenge!

###

Other than that, I did very, very little yesterday.

It's bright & sunny outside! It may even break freezing today!

But I'm a wimp. Freezing or below is generally too cold for me to contemplate solo outdoor activities.

mallorys_camera

Craziest stretch of executive power I’ve maybe ever seen, RTT texted to our group chat channel.

That's because you weren't alive in 1990 when the U.S. invaded Panama & took out Noriega, I texted. I don't think there's gonna be huge unrest over Maduro's removal. At least not in the short run.

I think U.S. citizens who don't like Trump, Canada, and maybe Europe are the only ones who will care about it, Ichabod texted.

Oh, I’m pretty sure the relatively recently elected leftist govt of Colombia cares about it, I said. And Mexico.

This is all a psy-op to take attention away from the real war, said RTT. 49ers versus Seahawks in 7 hours and 10 minutes.

I suspect Trump’s solution to the economic slowdown, thanks to his tariffs, is to float the economy with much cheaper Venezuelan oil, I said. That’s how he’ll lower the skyrocketing consumer prices that have made his approval ratings plunge.

Insane to do that when he could simply print 30 trillion dollars and bet it all on the 49ers tonight, said RTT. We would solve our deficit in one day.

###

But my major life crisis at the moment has to do with how to navigate three-point turns on the icy driveway so the front of the car points toward the road when I get in it to drive anywhere.

It's hard. It's stressful.

Everything else is kind of secondary.

mallorys_camera

Crumwold Hall on fire in Hyde Park.

Crumwold Hall was built by Archibald Rogers, a minor railroad tycoon, in 1886, making it one of the few local Gilded Age mansions without a Livingston family connection. It's named for Crum Elbow Creek, which flows into the Hudson hereabouts.

The Duke and Duchess of Windsor considered moving there once. FDR's mansion is right next door; he played there as a boy, and the soldiers assigned to protect him on his trips home during WWII were garrisoned there.

New York was not interested in adding Crumwold Hall to the state's portfolio of historic landmarks, so once the original doyenne croaked, the mansion passed from hand to hand, eventually ending up in the possession of an obscure religious cult called the Millennial Kingdom Family Church.

Belinda's house is part of the subdevelopment that was built on the original 5,000-acre estate, so I've often viewed the mansion from afar.

Here's what the mansion looked like in its prime:

Practically nothing is known about the Millennial Kingdom Family Church. They have a Facebook Page, but it hasn't been updated since 2015. Belinda thinks there couldn't have been more than 12 people living in the 75-room house. Their water had recently been turned off since they stopped paying their bill a year ago, which made the firefighters' job all the more difficult.

Anyway, I am thinking: Perfect! Grazia will join the Millennial Kingdom Family Church! And Neal will rescue her after the building catches on fire!

###

Shortly, I must gird up and hike out to check in on the chickens. Their coop is about 500 feet from the house. Icky rigged up a network of extension cords to power their fountain, but that grid has failed, and the water in their fountain is frozen solid, so I have been trekking in every day with bowls of fresh water, hoping this will keep them from dying of thirst.

I tested the outlets with my phone charger: The extension cord relay is charging at its source in the basement, but not at its destination at the coop.

The culprit is likely a dead extension cord segment, currently buried under eight inches of snow.

Fond though I am of the chickens, the prospect of spending half an hour narrowing down the dead extension cord does not attract: It is 20° out there with a "real feel" of 8° 'cause there's wind raising mini-snow squalls.

Maybe when the temps rise back to seasonal (supposedly Tuesday).

###

Frigid temperatures also kept me from my New Year's Day plan: a vigorous tromp across the Walkway!

I have this superstition that the way you spend New Year's Day is a template for how you are going to spend the year, so naturally, I wanted to fill my New Year's Day with as many wholesome activities as possible!

But an hour and a half in the cold?? With Hideous White Stuff all around me?

No, thank you!

I did remain happy & occupied all day long, reading, delighting, communicating with friends. So, perhaps that will be the auger. Had a marathon phone conversation with my pal Tom in Michigan that was quite entertaining.

Didn't do a single scrap of useful work, though. And didn't exercise.

Those would be unfortunate augers.

Off to the gym as soon as I deal with the chickens.

mallorys_camera

Many, many years ago I copped this meme from Alice. At the time, she was an angst-filled teen growing up in NYC whose online journal reminded me of the days when I was an angst-filled teen growing up in NYC.

Now she is the mother of three, and I am an old lady.

We're still both angsty.

1. What did you do in 2025 that you'd never done before?

Made a lot of AI videos before I lost interest. Lived in a house in upstate New York in the dead of winter for a week without heat on two separate occasions.

2. Did you keep your new years' resolutions, and will you make more for next year?

Most New Years, I wake up with a general list of self-improvements I should try. But they never quite crystallize into resolutions.

This year, though, I do have a resolution: Put $5,000 in a savings account I can access easily if I need to.

3. Did anyone close to you give birth?

Yes. A good friend had her third baby.

4. Did anyone close to you die?

Yes.

On March 12, my aunt Anne died. My last link to the Long Ago.

Annie & I had a Mitford-y relationship. Love but love begrudged. Not a whole lot of what one might call affection. But she was absolutely one of the most creative human beings I have ever encountered, a source of inspiration to me when I was young and admiration as I grew older.

She died in circumstances that broke my heart: She had dementia, and her daughter interred her in one of those Memory Acres places. They cost a lot of money. So, why did she spend so many hours in a urine-soaked bed with her hands tied to the guard rails?

It was probably a good thing that she died. I wish I could have done more for her those last four years. But honestly? I couldn't.

Then, on July 3, I found out Brian had died. The medical examiner said a heart attack, but they didn't do an autopsy, & I think it was more likely a stroke. Whatever it was, it was quick, and exactly the type of death he would have—no, not wished for: He wanted to live forever. The type of death he would have appreciated.

We later ascertained that he had actually died on July 1 and sat there, dead head bowed on his kitchen table for two days. Maybe that gave his spirit time to come to terms with the passage. I dunno.

The loss to me is incalculable. Ten times a day, I think of him. When he died, one of my moorings was cut, and that side of the boat now knocks uneasily against the dock.

Did anyone close to you get married?

Yes. Lew & Ed. The wedding was lovely.

5. What countries did you visit?

This was another year when I didn't manage to exceed escape velocity very often. The farthest I traveled from my home base was Washington, D.C., on two separate occasions to visit my fabulous pal, Alex.

6. What would you like to have in 2025 that you lacked in 2024?

Money. For me, it's always, always money.

7. What date from 2025 will remain etched upon your memory, and why?

Per above: March 12th, July 3rd.

November 24th & 25th—which I spent at the Cayuga Medical Center, having overdosed on pills that, in my sleep-deprived psychosis, I thought were ibuprofen but turned out to be Wellbutrin. No long-term harm done, but very humiliating.

8. What was your biggest achievement of the year?

Starting the Untitled Chick Lit novel. It will take me another 10 months to finish. But I will

9. What was your biggest failure?

See November 25th above.

10. Did you suffer illness or injury?

Apart from unintentionally ODing on a popular antidepressant?

No.

I mean, the usual unexplainable aches & pains & twinges that beset humans of my advanced age (73). The warranties are expiring on all my joints & muscles.

11. What was the best thing you bought?.

I'm not sure I bought anything in 2025! I mean, other than food for me and food for the kiskas.

12. Whose behavior merited celebration?

My oldest son, Ichabod. (Not his real name!) He has been unwavering in his emotional & yes, financial support. He is even talking about buying a house in Ithaca to give me some housing security.

13. Whose behavior made you appalled and depressed?

The usual clown car politicians allegedly running this world. My dick landlord, Icky.

14. Where did most of your money go?

Liquidity went to basic operating expenses: rent, utilities, food, car expenses. When I moved across the river, my rent & utilities more than doubled. And I don't care what inflation numbers the Trump administration manufactures: Food is easily 25% more expensive now than it was last year.

15. What did you get really, really, really excited about?

I am excited about the Unfinished Chick Lit novel. If I can pull it off the way I want to pull it off, it will be very good—though, of course, since no one actually reads anymore and I no longer have publishing connections, it will remain one of those secret accomplishments that warm you up from the inside.

16. What song(s) will always remind you of 2025?>

Oddly enough, since it was the total antithesis of my mood...

Watch on YouTube

17. Compared to this time last year, are you:

I. Happier or sadder? So much sadder.

II. Thinner or fatter? Thinner. Too thin, in fact.

III. Richer or poorer? Poorer.

18. What do you wish you'd done more of?

Traveling. Writing fiction. Hanging out in real time with my friends and my offspring.

19. What do you wish you'd done less of?

Feeling sorry for myself. Reading The Daily Mail. Watching anything produced by Bravo.

20. How did you spend Christmas?

I had an absolutely fabulous Christmas hanging out with Flavia & bopping around NYC.

21. Did you fall in love in 2025?

No, I don't think I'm capable of falling in love anymore.

I can still touch my toes, though. And stand on one leg for 45 seconds without falling.

22. How many one-night stands?

My vibrator resents this question!

23. What was your favorite TV program?

White Collar. The first two seasons. It's an old TV show, corny & goofy. It has no delusions whatsoever of significance. But it distracted me sufficiently throughout the summer so that every once in a while, I forgot Brian was dead.

24. Do you hate anyone now that you didn't hate this time last year?

No. This is one of those very few areas where my rational mind wins out over my naturally vindictive and grudge-harboring heart.

Hatred is a vector with that grasp & pull that signifies a claim on one's emotions still. It's a waste of time. When people cross you, the best way to deal with them is to disappear them through absolute indifference.

25. What was the best book you read?

Fiction: The Great Believers, Rebecca Makkai

Nonfiction: Larry McMurtry, A Life, Tracy Daugherty

26. What was your greatest musical discovery?

Not a discovery in terms of a new artist or piece. But increasingly, when I listen to music, I have the ability to identify & track instruments individually as they harmonize and backtrack through various melodic themes, which has given me a much greater appreciation of musical compositions.

27. What did you want and get?

Despite my multiple character flaws, the Universe continues to be kind. This year, I wanted the money for the wheel bearings I needed to get replaced on my ancient Prius to fall from the sky. And it did.

28. What did you want and didn’t get?

Brian's car.

29. What was your favorite film of this year?

Anora. A Real Pain was a close runner up.

30. What did you do on your birthday, and how old were you?

I had a fabulous birthday in NYC with my two sons:

I turned 73—which, as Velma notes to Thelma in Chicago, is "older than I ever intended to be."

31. What one thing would have made your year immeasurably more satisfying?

Brian not dying.

32. How would you describe your personal fashion concept in 2025?

As I have been writing in these yearly summaries for 20 + years, I dress like a bag lady.

I have a decent eye for fashion and am thin enough so that I would actually feel comfortable in just about anything I chose to wear. And I understand that fashion is a meaningful personal statement!

I just can't be bothered with it.

33. What kept you sane??

Sane? My, you are making assumptions, little meme! 😀

But, no. I am sane. I force myself to be, so I get all the credit.

34. Which celebrity/public figure did you fancy the most?

This year? No one.

35. What political issue stirred you the most?

The continuing consolidation of wealth & resources in the hands of the 1%.

36. Who did you miss?

Brian.

37. Who was the best new person you met?

I met & befriended a surprising number of new people this year. The one I liked best was probably Justine.

Though RTT told me recently, "It's probably a good thing you didn't move into Justine's house! She's dating the mayor! And it wouldn't look good for my mother to be living in a house with the mayor's girlfriend!"

RTT was just elected to the City Council of the city in question. 😀

38. Tell us a valuable life lesson you learned in 2024:

It doesn't matter if the first draft's good. It only matters that the first draft's finished.

39. Quote a song lyric that sums up your year:

None.

40. Post a picture of something that made you happy this year.

Always, always tulip trees.

41. Did you wrong or hurt somebody in 2025?

Probably. But not intentionally.

42. Is there some new place you are planning to visit in 2025?

I hope I can pull off the trip to India.

43. Where would you have wanted to go and did not in 2025?

Same list as last year: India, Vietnam, Cambodia.

I've always wanted to go to Bhutan, too, but I kinda have to take that one off the list because I don't think I have the stamina anymore for those kinds of altitudes.

44. Did you learn any new life skill in 2025?

Designing websites in Squarespace. Making AI videos.

45. Any new food or drink preferences developed in 2025?

Nope.

46. What is your greatest fear for 2025?

That I won't make enough money to sustain even my simple lifestyle. That I'll slip on the ice & break a leg, a hip, or something that will take away my independence. That something bad will happen to my kids.

47. Did you follow any sports event in 2025?

No.

48. Which social media did occupy most of your time in 2025?

Probably Facebook, although I've dialed wayyyyy down on the time I spend on social media. True, I spend at least an hour most mornings writing in my online diary. But I don't consider that social media.

49. Is there somebody you feel particularly grateful to this year?

Ichabod & RTT. They love & support their eccentric old Mom!

50. Five predictions for 2026

1. The U.S. will go into recession, and the world will follow.
2. Democrats will win the House but lose the Senate in the 2026 midterms.
3. Some major industrialized nation government starts crumbling in February, & this immediately leads to war
4. Netanyahu will be ousted as Israel's prime minister
5. Trump will die in June or July.

denise in

dw_maintenance

Привет and welcome to our new Russian friends from LiveJournal! We are happy to offer you a new home. We will not require identification for you to post or comment. We also do not cooperate with Russian government requests for any information about your account unless they go through a United States court first. (And it hasn't happened in 16 years!)

Importing your journal from ЖЖ may be slow. There are a lot of you, with many posts and comments, and we have to limit how fast we download your information from ЖЖ so they don't block us. Please be patient! We have been watching and fixing errors, and we will go back to doing that after the holiday is over.

I am very sorry that we can't translate the site into Russian or offer support in Russian. We are a much, much smaller company than LiveJournal is, and my high school Russian classes were a very long time ago :) But at least we aren't owned by Sberbank!

С Новым Годом, and welcome home!

EDIT: Большое спасибо всем за помощь друг другу в комментариях! Я ценю каждого, кто предоставляет нашим новым соседям информацию, понятную им без необходимости искать её в Google. :) И спасибо вам за терпение к моему русскому переводу с помощью Google Translate! Прошло уже много-много лет со школьных времен!

Thank you also to everyone who's been giving our new neighbors a warm welcome. I love you all ❤️

mallorys_camera

Minor frustrations this final day of the year.

The driveway is drivable. But slippery. 'Cause I shoveled all the slush, but the standing water froze, so there are multiple ice patches.

The nail place overbooked. I waited 15 minutes yesterday afternoon, & then walked out. Will try another place Friday, I guess.

Post office label printer was out when I tried to mail packages.

Today, I was gonna work on the Work in Progress, but the Schlock people offered to pay me to get small business-certified and money, money, money, money, money.

When I was hanging out with Flavia last week, I found myself reminiscing about my childhood in the City, how my best friend Roberta & I used to spend every Saturday walking through Central Park, making up elaborate stories about the people we passed.

"You mean like The World of Henry Orient?" Flavia asked.

"Yes, exactly like The World of Henry Orient!" I said, delighted.

It's an obscure movie.

So last night I tracked it down & watched it again.

Some thoughts:

First, the concert scene where Peter Sellers is presumably playing an atonal Precoviev piano concerto is absolutely hilarious, especially when Sellers keeps hitting the wrong note, and the conductor refuses to let the orchestra start playing, & Sellers keeps getting more & more exasperated until finally the conductor silently mouths, "B Flat."

Second, there is a fair amount of what would be considered racism today in the film. Inspired by the titular character's surname, the girls stalk Peter Sellers wearing coolie hats and performing "Ah so" bowing rituals.

Is this offensive?

Most people under 60 would find it so.

Aging Boomer that I am, I guess what I would say is that playing with stereotypes in this way is a form of teasing, & I wish more people did it. Specifically, I wish that white people were teased this way in movies—except, though, what exactly are stereotypic white people behaviors?? Double parking? Collecting refrigerator magnets? Inability to dance?

I suppose "white people" in the United States is a synonym for "people of European descent," and most of us identify with country of origin.

Still. I think gentle humor is a step toward demystification. And demystification is the only real way to end the Fear of the Other & related xenophobias.

I know, I know. It's off to the Reeducation Camp for Aging Boomers for me.

mallorys_camera

Whaddiya know? I'm not sore at all this morning except for some tightness in the tendons behind my knees. I maintained crouching tiger stance the whole time I was shoveling 'cause you know, ergonomics. I guess I need to do more squat thrusts.

###

Finished Schlock customer training. I start showing up in their office this coming Monday.

I'm not sure Schlock makes much revenue off the financial products we're supposed to hawk so relentlessly to unwitting clients desperate to square their tax statuses with the IRS. I guess that puts Schlock a notch above, say, check-cashing operators & payday loan providers, the carrion eaters in the predatory foodchain that feeds upon American poverty. Their customer base is not the wretchedly destitute but the struggling poor.

Schlock offers refund advances, various types of loans that use your refund as collateral, & debit cards for individuals whom various life circumstances have conspired to make wary of banks. These products are the nectar in the Venus flytrap's hairy sack: Once you wander close enough to sip, it is very difficult to extricate yourself, so you will wander back year after year after year to be overcharged on yr taxes. They're retention mechanisms, in other words!

Would love to do some serious muck-raking here á la Barbara Ehrenreich (Nickel & Dimed) or Jessica Mitford (The American Way of Death). Taxes and the whole tax industry are deeply interesting; this is why tragic genius David Foster Wallace was working on a novel about the IRS before he ambled off one bright autumn day to hang himself on his back porch.

I'm fairly certain, though, that amidst the contractual verbiage that I scrolled past & signed without bothering to read was some sort of NDA. Ah, well! It's not as though I don't have a dozen other writing projects on my plate.

Must remember to get manicure!

I know from experience that tax clients stare at the hands that are entering their financial data!

Speaking of Jessica Mitford, I am currently reading Carla Kaplan's Troublemaker: The Fierce, Unruly Life of Jessica Mitford.

Jessica Mitford is a particular heroine of mine. Partly because I find the Mitford sisters utterly fascinating, and partly because she lived in my old North Oakland nabe, but mostly because she is an utterly hilarious writer whose critiques invite you to find the absurdity in the seriously objectionable. For me at least, it's easier to reject something because it's ridiculous than because it's morally reprehensible.

I met her once.

I was invited over to the Rockridge house by her son Benji's then wife. Some kind of coffee klatch. It would have been the mid-70s. What the pretext was, what the wife's name was, I can no longer remember. What I do remember is Decca, with her regal demeanor and air of perpetual bemusement, sweeping down the stairs in a shabby bathrobe. And I remember Decca's voice. Think Maggie Smith in Downton Abbey.

She joined us in the living room, waved her china coffee cup about and chatted away. Whatever was in the coffee cup had been liberally doused with what smelled like bourbon. I had no idea who she was, but I was enchanted.

Years later, she wrote me a charming postcard after I reviewed her book The American Way of Birth for The Whole Earth Review.

Years later still, when I became a Mitford fan-girl, I realized Decca was easily the most tragic of the sisters. She inhabited her droll, acerbic persona so thoroughly & magnificently that it was easy not to look beyond it.

First husband, the quixotic Esmond Romilly, with whom she ran off to the Spanish Civil War at age 19, was lost at sea flying home from a bombing raid of Nazi Germany. First child, Julia, died of measles at the age of four months; first son, Nicholas died at age 10 when his bike was hit by a bus while he was doing his paper route.

Esmond & Julia only got footnotes in Decca's memoir Hons & Rebels.

And she could never, ever bear to speak of Nicholas.

Years later, she wrote in a letter to someone, "What it boils down to is putting one’s feelings on a special plane; most unwise, if you come to think of it. Because the bitter but true fact is that the only person who cares about one’s own feelings is ONE." One of my favorite quotes of all time.

You can only deduce the immensity of Jessica Mitford's pain by her steadfast refusal to acknowledge it. That no-whinging-allowed credo, of course, was part of her indoctrination as a blood member of Britain's aristocratic class. As was a certain airy disregard for the feelings of the laboring classes that survived her membership in the Communist party and immersion in America's civil rights struggle.

It is very difficult indeed to deduce the existence of something by its complete absence from the official record.

Still. I think I would be enjoying this biography more had its author intuited its subject's tragic essence.

mallorys_camera

Temps rose just high enough last night so that snow turned to freezing rain.

Morning came. The rain continued to fall, the temps continued to rise.

By noon, the driveway was coated in three inches of slush.

So, this afternoon, I spent two and a half hours shoveling slush. And another hour sprinkling 50 pounds of rock salt along the layer of brittle ice (impervious to shovels) that had formed on top of the frozen ground.

Hey! It's a long driveway, & fuckin' Icky—who just bought a Tesla—is too cheap to spring for asphalt. Once upon a time, the driveway was a gravel track, but now it's kind of a drove road (thank you,

puddleshark!) Temperatures are going to plummet back down again tonight. And I don't want to have to deal with a skating rink whenever I drive the car home.

Slush is heavy, & it was a lot of work. Thank God, I've been going to the gym! Even so, I'm gonna feel it tomorrow.

I suppose I should congratulate myself on being physically up to the task.

But instead, I blamed myself for not being able to outsource. I'm flush for the moment & would cheerfully have hired someone—but who do you hire? This ain't plowing. Inherently lazy, I guess. C'est moi.

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madameprynne

January 2026

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Reading

The Delphic Oracle Is On Hiatus

No Promises

Who Wears It Better? Nostradamus or George Orwell?

There's No Such Thing As History

Writing Dialogue

How To Solve the Deficit In a Single Day

Augers

The 2025 Meme

Привет! LiveJournal imports may be slow

The World of Henry Orient

Of Souless Corporations & Jessica Mitford

Slush

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January 2026

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