It’s hot this summer. Very hot. And as we let climate change push us further into the dystopian Mad Max Wasteland a nice cold beer would feel so good on our chapped lips, so cool on its way down our burning throats. But not so fast! Thanks to Immortan Trump, that frosty, thirst quenching brew is gonna cost ya.
It’s free to request a credit [un]freeze for Washington residents now and I did exactly that. Before June 7th, Equifax, Experian and TransUnion robbed us coming and going, each charging us a $10 fee to freeze our credit report and then another $10 to unfreeze it. These credit bureaus are for-profit businesses that we didn’t choose to give our information to, they just have it and they charge us money to solve problems they create in the first place as though they’re doing us any kind of service.
So it’s been a year since singer, songwriter, musician, Chris Cornell, decided to end his life in the bathroom of his hotel room following a concert in Detroit. Fans at the show described his performance as being a little off and his wife said he was slurring his speech in a phone call earlier that night he was found dead, telling her that he was “just tired” before hanging up.
Soundgarden frontman’s wife asked bodyguard to check on him in Detroit hotel room after he sounded “groggy” on the phoneDETROITNEWS.COM | @detroitnews
I used to send her Mothers Day acknowledgments. Obligatory cards, phone calls, that sort of thing. I used to.
I’m not deleting my Facebook account. At least, not yet.
The latest outrage about the Cambridge Analytica scandal is as valid as it is belated — Facebook has been running unethical social experiments on and making available en mass whatever data we’re compelled to feed it since forever.
I don’t often post public reviews unless I’m really quite impressed or disappointed by some consumed thing. Serendipitiously, Annihilation climbs into the former category.
Basically, a 12th team comprised of scientists enter a shimmering, expanding area (the “Shimmer”) from whence the previous 11 teams failed to return to make their way to whatever it is precipitating this mysterious phenomenon located at the lighthouse in the center of it.
I reject your reality and substitute my own.—Adam Savage (Mythbusters)
When someone who’s hurt us behaves as though nothing is wrong, they deny what we feel. When confronted and reacting as though we’ve hurt them, they deny us once again and put a fiction in our place.
And in their place, we move through the subsequent Kubler-Ross stages of grief for them as externalized ego-functions of them. We’re infuriated, confused. We try desperately to reason with them, to save both ourselves and the relationship. And when it becomes dreadfully apparent that it is we, not they, who must choose one or the other then we feel sadness. It is at this critical juncture, this decision at this point that separates the narcissist and their enablers from we who survive and succeed them.
Those “Log in with Facebook” sign in options you see on sites around the internet — just don’t do it! Nor any other third party service like Yahoo!, Twitter, Google, etc. for that matter. But Facebook is the most capricious.
Mother called me by mistake – let that sink in – and left a brief voicemail saying that her younger sister, my aunt, had passed on.
I’ll always remember my aunt being an excitable, little woman. She resembled Mother but with black hair instead of blond and smaller. Actress, Juliette Lewis, and singer, Cindi Lauper, remind me of her.
She married several times — at least twice. I remember two of her husbands: Uncle Eli and Uncle Mark. Both good people as far I knew them. Very patient. No children.
If there is a god and a heaven as my aunt believed then I hope she is made whole and finds peace and rest from suffering there.
So I fulfilled my destiny and gave Star Wars Episode VIII: The Last Jedi not a watch so much as a long (2.5 hours), concerned stare. And it is with sad disappointment that I must say it continues what’s become a trend in this saga of sucking mightily; which, in and of itself, wouldn’t be so bad if it wasn’t shitting all over something of priceless sentimental value.