What We’re Talking About Today: Disgusting People, School, Road Trips & Looking to the Future and THE DOG.

Trigger Warning: We will be discussing politics, Star Wars, Star Trek, and being rude and maybe using bad language. I’m also going to ramble on and be long winded because this is my blog.

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Trigger, in his natural state, before being dressed up. And yes, he was stuffed after he died. I find the taxidermy aspect kind of creepy (and I’m a Vampire for heaven’s sake)

For years I’ve been blogging about what my kids and I are talking about.

You all know my mantra is talk to your kids. Seriously, no matter how young, or how old they are, you need to talk to them, and with them, and listen as well. Pretty much no subject should be off limit.

First of all, the age of #MeToo, which should have come long before now, Alex Acosta resigned in as the Secretary of Labor due to his lax dealings and deals with the King of Perverts Jeffrey Epestein.

As the Epestein story unfolds we’ve talked about all of the stories about how rich and powerful men think it is OK to rape girls. Someone was calling them “underaged women.” These are CHILDREN we’re talking about, procured for the disgusting habits of rich men. Yes, folks this has been going on for centuries and it has to stop NOW.

All of the news about nasty creepy men who abuse, threaten, rape, and buy girls is so disgusting. They are not under age women – they are GIRLS and CHILDREN. What asshat thought of the term underaged woman? Obviously someone who wants to excuse the rich and powerful of their disgusting crimes. Anyone would would be friends or associated with any child abuser makes me sick. So many people know about powerful people who buy girls for their own perverted purposes. To me these people are equally guilty for not saying anything. These girls will suffer their entire lives with love self-worth, health problems, and in ways most of us can never imagine. Pedophilia is a crime for everyone – no amount of money or religion can make is acceptable under ANY circumstance.

My kids and I have also talked about teachers, Hollywood figures, and others who also take advantage of young people for their disgusting urges. No excuses. Consenting adults means ADULTS. Any adult who can’t control themselves around children needs to be locked up FOREVER.

We also talked about those horrible adults, including parents, who put their daughters out there, more or less selling them to the highest bidder. We see it all the time. It is all over the place. It is disgusting.

I’ve spent over twenty years drilling it into my children’s heads not to make fun of how other people look but we ended up talking about THIS PHOTO.

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All of the young folks are passing it around laughing saying they can’t get it out of their heads. This is a bad photo all around.

Who the Hell would give their children such creepy old fashioned hair cuts. This is not cute. They look like they’re wearing helmets. It is MEAN Mrs. Acosta. And NOBODY dresses their children in matching outfits anymore. You might think it is cute to dress your children like weird matching twin dolls out of The Shining but everyone else is wondering WTF?

By the way, there are entire web sites and blogs devoted to bad family photos. Look it up. The holiday photos are exceptionally funny.

Mike Pence looks exceptionally short which is weird because he is 5″10′ tall in real life, but we’ve decided that NOTHING in Washington D.C. outside of the Smithsonian Museums has anything to do with reality. On the other hand Mrs. Acosta could be close to seven feet tall. We just don’t know. And hey, Mike Pence, what are you doing so close to a woman who isn’t your wife. Do you feel tempted? Come on Mike, tell us. We won’t blab your secret (yes we will but that’s ok.)

We seriously think men who use the excuse “I won’t be around other women, who aren’t my wife, because it is out of respect for my wife, and I don’t want the temptation” are moronic perverts. Seriously dudes, if you can’t be left alone in a room with another woman, or be around women without the possibility of dirty thoughts then you need to be locked away FOREVER. This isn’t the 12th Century. Get with it guys. Stop thinking with your dicks.

Vlad, the King of Vampires (you all know Vlad) was locked in a crypt for three hundred years, missed the 18th – 20th Centuries, and he is still more advanced than these guys when it comes to women. Then again, Vlad is a Vampire, so of course he is socially advanced. Vlad is also 5″10′ but nothing like Mike Pence. Vlad’s leadership skills are far better. Vlad is also sexy and cute AF but that is another story.

It seems that religion, so called family-values, perversion, violence against females, and politics are all dancing around the May Pole together, and happily, or unhappily falling into bed with each other. Yes, that is what I’m talking about with my kids. I don’t want them to end up so sick and twisted as all of the rich and powerful who choose to use and abuse their power in the name of money, religion, and politics.

Those who turn their backs when they see this behavior, adults harming children, are just as guilty as those who do the actual harm.

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Now from one soap box to another…

We just saw the new Star Trek series poster. Forget the actual series, just look at the poster. It is beautiful. And THE DOG. Look at THE DOG.

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I also have a thing for men in long coats. It goes way back.

My kids didn’t grow up with Star Trek or Star Wars, at least not a lot. They were not around for the first wave of shows/movies and it isn’t on their social radar. But, they live in The United States of America so they KNOW enough. They’ve seen enough of the movies to the extent where we can talk about it.

I guess I could say my children are more of the Hunger Games generation.

There has always been a contrived battle between those who like Star Trek more and those who like Star Wars more. Come on folks, get off it it. They are both part of our now collective folklore. Get over it.

The thing that has made both of the series of stories so successful isn’t that they take place in space, but in the characters and their relationships with each other. Especially with Star Trek, it is all about friendships.

But there have been fails, horrible fails with both.

With the Star Trek series the first show was something different. It was fun. It was campy. People remembered it.

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Then came the first Star Trek movie in 1979 “Star Trek – The Motion Picture.” It was HORRIBLE.

But then, wait, something sort of wonderful and about as wonderful and campy as it gets happened.

THE WRATH OF KAHN

I have a soft spot for “First Contact” from 1996.

The rest were ok. Fun to see with friends for no good reason. Then in 2009 “Star Trek” came out with CHRIS PINE. OMG talk about eye candy. It was a fun movie. We all liked it.

The next few were fun too, but the last one “Beyond” was so jumbled with massive explosions, special effects, and other violent nonsense that we didn’t even realize there was a story line.

But going back to Picard… I’ve tried to explain this to my kids who won’t take the time to watch it… “The Inner Light” episode of The Next Generation was a wonderful stand alone story. Picard has memories of another life where he lives in a calm and nice community, has a family, and lives a life different from his own. There is no explanation of where these memories come from. It just is what it is.

Now, not to skip it, we talked about Star Wars.

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I find the direction the “Star Wars” series has taken extremely sad.

The first three films are now locked into our culture and mythology, as hard and fast as Apollo, Aphrodite, and Hermes are locked into Greek mythology.

Star Wars: A New Hope (1977)

The Empire Strikes Back (1980)

The Return of the Jedi (1983)

These three movies are what we think of when we think of “Star Wars.” The Return of the Jedi was a perfect movie. All three were magic.

Unfortunately all that followed (except one) were HORRIBLE. What the fuck were they thinking?

In 2016 “Rogue One” came out and surprised us all. It had good actors, a good solid story, and great characters. After that the following movies all went down hill crashing and burning all the way down.

My daughter’s boyfriend described “Solo” this way: It was like someone asked a thirteen year old kid off the street where Solo came from and made the lame answer into a movie.

Way to go Disney.

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We’re kind of done with the Avengers too. The movies got too confusing with too many  disjointed story lines, too many characters, too many stupid things, too many fights, and not enough good lines or a real plot.

But hey, you already knew all of this. It is what we’re talking about this morning.

Aside from political scum bags we don’t personally know, and movies we have other things on our minds.

Both of my kids are looking for places to live next year. They’re filling out applications for renting houses or town houses. I get a million questions about frustrating questions on the applications. They’re adults now for sure, but sometimes need help in  navigating it all.

Fall with a new school, and graduate school is looming on the horizon.

An empty nest is looming on the horizon for me. I have big plans for building an office/studio space for my writing, art, and other business. I’m going to get rid of so much stuff that it would make even Marie Kondo cry, or extremely proud.

We’ve all been on the airbnb site so much that we’re going to shut it down. For the next two months there will be road trips up and down the state of California both for school and fun. In a few weeks we’re also blasting up to Spokane, Washington for the 2019 National Figure Roller Skating Championships.

My kids and I are talking about a lot of things. We always do.

No matter how old they are keep talking with your kids. It is easy, and free. Plus it will always make you feel good.

I’ll end this off with a photo. My daughter is at the coast for the weekend. No matter where she goes she sends me photos. This  one is of a bobcat she was walking down the road by the house she is staying in. Good stuff.

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~ Juliette aka Vampire Maman

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Short Story Sunday: Shrine

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I remembered how Katrina Olson yelled out at Craig’s funeral, “I hope the Devil enjoyed his barbecue.”

Jeanee Kinley, Craig’s fiancé, started to howl like a cat in a car, tears pouring down her pretty face, as her nose grew redder and redder.

At that point a couple of big guys, maybe fraternity brothers, hauled Katrina out of the church.

I sat looking straight ahead at the casket, all covered with white flowers. I thought about Craig and the time we’d spent together. Part of me wanted to tell perfect Miss Jeanee Kinley that her Craig had never been faithful to her. I wanted to tell her about all of the women Craig had considered his conquests, even after they’d become engaged.

That was forty years ago. We were in our early twenties, ready to face the world with our hopes and dreams.

The casket was closed due to the unpleasant way Craig had died. He’d burned to death. His body was found in the passenger seat of his 1981 Corvette. A lighter was in one hand, a cigarette in another, the door was open, and a charred gas can was next to the driver’s side door. He’d gone up in flames but nobody knew how or why. The back of his skull had been cracked with a blunt object but not enough to kill him. There were also scratch marks on his shoulders. Since he was sitting against the seat his back was spared from the flames that engulfed the front side of his body and most of the car. His handsome face and lush chestnut brown hair had been completely burned off.

I can’t imagine a more horrible way to die.

On the floor driver side floor of the car a delicate silver chain with a tiny bird pendant was found. It had been broken, as if torn off of it’s wearer. Nobody knew who it had belonged to. Jeanee said it wasn’t hers. She’d been in Los Angeles with her mom at some spa. Craig had died in Northern California near the UC Davis campus.

That is where we’d all gone to college.

I thought about Craig and my college days as I drove along the backroads through tomato fields and almond orchards.

My bag was packed with everything needed to our get together. I brought the charcoal and beer. Fresh made brownies were in a bag, still warm from my oven.

When I arrived at the abandoned farm buildings off the side of the road I saw I wasn’t the first one there. Karen, Katrina, and Lydia had also shown up. Greta pulled up in her orange truck right behind me. Several other women waited around a fire this cool summer evening.

Nine women ranging in age from fifty eight to sixty four stood around the fire, building a shrine for Craig. Our friends Dan and Rick were there too, now with white hair, and no hair respectively.

Barbecue sauce, rib rub, garlic bread, lighter fluid, baked beans, and beer surrounded the fire. This was going to be good.

We all talked and caught up as we did every year at this time. We’d done well, despite our misspent youth. We’d grown up to be a college professor, an attorney, a retired Navy officer, a librarian, a museum curator, a high school principal, an antiques dealer, a furniture builder, and other professions that would have baffled us when we where in college.

Dan mentioned how Craig had just finished his first year of law school. Some of the women talked about their experiences with Craig. We all opened drinks, poured shots and glasses of wine and prepared for a toast.

Karen placed a photo of Craig on a holder, kind of on a long stick. Dan placed a model of a 81 Corvette down by the fire.

We lifted our glasses and bottles to a toast. “To Craig, law student, roommate, fellow student, and rapist.”

Then I lit the photograph on fire and we drank, and then had dinner. The Devil’s Barbecue and a fitting shrine for Craig.

I remember that night as I stood bloodied and torn as he laughed in my face just before he lit his cigarette.

My wrists burned from the twist ties he’d put on me so I couldn’t get away from him. Later that night I’d hit him in the head with a lamp, then in a panic agreed to drive him to the hospital. I poured gasoline all over the car and threatened to light a match so he wouldn’t attack and rape me again. Then out in the middle of the farmland I pulled over. I don’t know why, but I stopped. I’d walk home rather than get help for him. He could drive himself to the hospital. He got out of the car and lit a cigarette. I told him to stop. I told him to STOP. I told him to put his lighter away. I begged him. He laughed again and called me a whore as blood ran down my leg and I watched him burst into flames.

I never told anyone it was me. Not a soul.

I looked into the fire fingering my necklace; a small silver bird on a delicate chain, a replacement for the one I’d lost. The yearly shrine to Craig burned bright in the summer night as we all looked on knowing justice was served.

“I love you all,” I said as I looked into the faces of Craig’s victims and their friends.

“We love you too,” said Katrina. Then we did a big group hug. It was nice. Super nice.

Then we grilled some pork ribs, ate our salads and my brownies, and caught up. Most of us talked about our kids, our dogs, and just all sorts of good things about our lives.

Life is good. Yes, it is.

~ end

Tangled Tales

~ Juliette aka Vampire Maman