FFS! Friday!: Week Six

Farm fodder to follow, but first, a political rant.

Hello, Friend,

I’m trying to For Farm’s Sake Friday here…damn it…but Tariffmeister Meistertariff can’t stop acting out like a three year old toddler demanding more ice cream. In typical narcissist fashion, he creates constant chaos in a relentless need to be the center of attention. I try to ignore his nonsense, but after that bill and the pay to play ‘private time’ event yesterday…I feel a rant coming on…

How many billions of dollars must he pocket before our elected officials DO SOMETHING? Isn’t one gilded, gaudy plane enough? Is he seriously doing the 50% tariff threat thing, again?

These are rhetorical questions.

Santa Claus is Comin’ to Town, 1970 Rankin/Bass (with edits)

The tariff thing is the destructive distraction from the meme coin grift-a-thon thing.

He’s a miserable, insecure, self-absorbed man baby, a bottomless pit of depravity, a black hole sucking all the joy, hope, and goodness out of life. He fancies himself King Meidas, but he’s actually King Turdass. Everything he touches turns to crap. Surrounded by obsequious toadies, self serving psychopaths, and shameless opportunists who incept him with hateful propaganda, he’s so willfully ignorant and easily triggered they keep him in a constant state of outrage and grievance.

How has it only been four months?

It feels like an eternity in the worst level of Dante’s Inferno.

Wait…is this hell?

That would explain some things.

Hell or not, it is the stupidest timeline.

No, Sir, Americans aren’t going to screw tiny screws into iPhones for meager wages no matter what Nutlick says. Stop trying to bring sweatshops back. Who the hell will buy these $3500.00 phones, fellas? If we can’t afford the phones or cellular service or internet access or streaming services, they’ll be obscenely expensive useless bricks. Besides, if we’re all dying of formerly eradicated diseases and newly emerged bird flu, living on ramen noodles, and drowning in medical debt, how will you mesmerize your MAGAs? You can’t feed them a steady diet of bullshit through right wing media and social media if you can’t reach them.

Will you send drone armies to rain pamphlets on us or is your pal MElon going to shove his brain chips into our craniums?

The lack of foresight is staggering.

“Every jack-in-the-box be sealed
Till my wounded pride be healed
Stuffed animals, unstuff 'em!
When a child objects, rebuff 'em!
No more drummers who rat-a-tat-tat
No buglers who root-a-toot-toot
Don't let me see another toy
Or you will feel my boot!”

Burgermeister Meisterburger, Santa Claus is Coming to Town

And now for some farm fodder!

Cowbert enjoyed some carrots in the rain yesterday. He’s a very good boy.

It has been raining non-stop and unseasonably cold here all week, but today the sun is trying to peek through the clouds, the flowers are starting to fill out, and I refuse to let the bastards grind me down.

I fed the birbs, snuggled the dogs, texted a forever friend, and hope to get back to painting bears.

There is wonder in this world and I will savor it.

You can’t put a tariff on wonder.

So there.

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