Pagan and the Pit(bulls)

The political musings of a Pagan and her dogs.


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An Open Letter

An open letter to the arrogant national embarassment known as Donald J. Trump:

I see you.

I saw you, standing so proud over the pounds of fast food, still in their trademarked containers, sitting on historical tableware. I saw you, boasting about how you paid $50 yourself to buy the food, when it would have been truly a better display of wealth to pay for a quality dinner.

I saw you, so proud of your paranoia, ignoring the fact that that meal may trash the diets of these athletes. Of course you couldn’t serve actual food like the Obamas did: potato and eggplant salad from the White House Garden, red lentil soup, potato dumplings with okra and chutney, green curry prawns, coconut rice, pumpkin pies and pear tatins.

Speaking of real food, you know who would like some? The federal employees who are going to food banks in droves because they haven’t been paid and they need to eat. You say they support you. You’ve never faced hunger. Or privation. Let me tell you a secret. It sucks. There’s only so many ways to cook rice and beans. Food stamps help a lot. Food banks help a lot.

When I was at my hungriest, I thought about how much easier it would have been to go back to my ex husband. Then I wouldn’t be eating rice with hot sauce. I cried into my veggies when I got food stamps. I sobbed into the Wheat Thins I got from the food bank.

Don’t say people support you when they’re rationing insulin, heat, and food because you shut down the government. Don’t act proud that you paid for a meal when federal employees are struggling.

Food is sacred. Food should be safe from E. coli and Hepatitis A. Farmers should be able to plant their crops without having to rely on the government for loans. Your actions will starve the country. But you don’t care. Let them eat Big Macs.

I know malice is your agenda, but you’re a piece of shit.


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A Gaslit Nation

I’m lucky to have been asleep during Trump’s primetime speech. Thank Goddess for different time zones. This let’s me give a lukewarm take on his bullshit.

Now, at this point, we’re all fully aware Donald Trump is a liar. So much of a liar that the usual drinking game of “Drink when the politician lies” becomes less of a wonky alcoholic indulgence and more of a suicidal cry for help. If you want to jump down the hole of endless Pinocchios, pick your flavor of fact checker: Yahoo, USA Today, Time, or just Google it and wade through the bullshit. Be sure to bring your wellies.

Look, I grew up on the Mexican border. When I went to Texas, I could see Juarez on the passenger side of the road. When I wanted to drive anywhere outside the border zone there was a checkpoint. We had names for each of the northern, eastern, and western checkpoints. The northern checkpoint we used the most often was mockingly named Checkpoint Charlie. WARNING YOU ARE NOW ENTERING THE AMERICAN SECTOR. I’m also the type of woman Donald Trump is imagining (white, young, thin, fairly pretty) when he talks about protecting women from illegal immigrants.

I’m going to be honest. I was never afraid of illegal immigrants. Ever.

I was afraid of the checkpoints and ICE though. There were several times at the checkpoints when I would see Latinx people standing by their cars while they were inspected while I passed by unharassed. There is a mountain that straddles the border, and the spiral path leads past the stations of the cross to a shrine at the top. While my grandmother knelt at station 6, where Veronica is moved to compassion, I watched ICE escort a family back to the Mexican side of the border. If the wall, or steel slats, are built it will cut that sacred site in half, leaving compassion on one side of the border. And it won’t be on the American side.

I’m inordinately pleased that Sehkmet aspect Speaker Nancy Pelosi and Chuck Schumer aren’t giving into Trump. It’s not appropriate. No matter how hard he tries to pin this on Democrats, the wall and the shutdown are a crisis of his own making. A cornered animal is at its most dangerous. That speech was the beginning of an active and aggressive gaslighting campaign. Stand firm and don’t give in.


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Happy New Year!

Happy New Year! Happy 2019 everyone!

2018 was a bit of a doozy. Rephrase, it was a bit of a hell ride for a while, and then it evened out. My divorce was granted. I got my Masters. I moved to South Korea.

I got more time to devote to the blog. My viewership numbers went up exponentially. Thank you to everyone for your support. Your comments and views mean the world to me. Thank you to all my followers as well.

For the next year I intend to keep working on the blog. Hopefully, I’ll have a solid rhythm I can get in to for a regular posting schedule. I intend to really get started on the book I’ve wanted to write for the past 8 years. I intend to eat healthier, work out more, and have a better practice. I honestly had no idea how many spoons and forks grad school was for me. I’m going to eat less meat, and take more public transportation. I can’t stop climate change on my own but I can still do my share. Of course I’ll still be writing about politics and paganism here. The dogs will still be lying on the bed while I do.

Thank you everyone! And have a great 2019!