Poison Skittles

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(google image)

“Life is like a bag of Skittles . . .  you never know what you’re gonna get.”
I am semi-plagiarizing the character Forrest Gump’s famous line from the film Forrest Gump.

Donald Trump, Jr. likens Syrian refugees to “poison Skittles.” How fitting that a man of no taste refers to people he knows nothing about as a multi-colored confection.

His tweet:

“This image says it all.  Let’s end the politically correct agenda that doesn’t put America first.”

This is the caption below the gleaming white bowl of Skittles with the Trump/Pence logo: “If I had a bowl of skittles and I told you just three would kill you. Would you take a handful? That’s our Syrian refugee problem.”

Hmm. White bowl, colored Skittles. This could also be seen as racist, could it not? Like the white ruling class holding the non-white people in a bowl (earth?) and controlling them. Alas, I do digress.

The white color could symbolize purity and innocence and the candies inside, the unknown or the impure? Perhaps it is a cautionary tale for trick-or-treaters. After all, Halloween is fast upon us. Should we withhold  mini bags of Skittles gathered  by our jubilant children at All Hallows’ Eve, for fear they may be in possession of a tainted one? So many questions.

What are your thoughts on the poison Skittles predicament?

 

Locker Room Chronicles

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(google)

A couple weeks ago I lost my mother’s necklace. The week before, two pairs of earrings and a necklace of my own.  Back in June, I lost two pairs of pants while cleaning out the closet in preparation for our “house viewing” by prospective buyers.

Today I couldn’t open the gym locker after my workout, even though I always use the same combination. I had to get the Facilities guy to unlock it for me. Luckily, it is one of those “modern” locks and can be opened with a master key. So I sat in the locker room waiting, my office attire held hostage.

I didn’t feel like going back to my desk in brown yoga pants and a blue T-shirt, so I had time for contemplation.

Contemplating my manic state, and how I could get locked out of something as benign as a gym locker.

Contemplating the absurd, the trivial, and what got me to this place. Yes, to this locker room, separated from my work uniform, my daily armor.

Isn’t that what we do every day when we leave the sanctity and security of our homes? Suit up for battle? Hope for the best and anticipate the worst. Weather the elements and brave the municipal transportation system. And at the end of the day, hope to make it home in one piece.

My existential musings for the day.

 

 

 

I Keep Losing Things

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(google)

I packed some jewelry–a necklace and two pairs of earrings–for a trip to Savannah in mid-August. Or at least I thought I did. I never wore them during the trip. I wore the same silver hoops and beaded bracelet for the duration of the trip. I never found the earrings and necklace when I got home and unpacked. Continuing searches in my bureau, suitcase and duffel bag have yielded no results.

When I visited my mom on her birthday (August 24), I noticed that her peridot-silver heart pendant and chain were lying on her night stand, and the chain was broken. I have replaced the silver chain at least three times–guess they aren’t made well. I stuffed the necklace and pendant in the front pocket of my purse and promised Mom I’d replace the chain. Both are missing. I’m not sure if they fell out of my purse, or if I took them out and put them somewhere else (don’t think so).

It’s only jewelry. Maybe it’s a sign that I am casting off the old and embracing the new? But why my mom’s necklace too?

My mind has been scattered what with the short sale of our house, our imminent move and family matters. It feels like things are running ahead of me and it’s hard to keep up.

As I said, it’s only jewelry. It could always be worse.

Send in the (Creepy) Clowns

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(google, “It”)

Isn’t it weird?
how many are there
creepy clowns in South Carolina
causing a scare
(Don’t) send in the clowns . . .

Just when you thought the world couldn’t be more bizarre, what with  Donald Trump and his “Great Wall” of Mexico, and softening and hardening and softening (rinse and repeat) his stance on illegal immigration and his promise to deport “millions” of illegals within five minutes of being voted into office . . . here comes something new.

Creepy woodland clowns!

Yes, they appear to have taken up residence in Greenville County, South Carolina and are terrorizing children and adults.

This from The New York Times article “Creepy Clown Sightings in South Carolina Cause a Frenzy”:

A woman walking home late one night said she had seen a “large-figured” clown waving at her from under a streetlight, the police said. (She waved back.) And another woman said her son had heard clanging chains and a banging noise at his front door. In these cases, people who reported clown sightings refused to give their names to the police.

And I thought New York was weird!

Children have said that the clowns were offering them money to follow them into the woods; they apparently live in a house near a pond. The clowns seem to be targeting residents of a particular apartment complex. The police are receiving calls that the clowns have also been spotted at another apartment complex. What do they want?

People are armed and ready to defend themselves and their children against these ghoulish jesters.

As the Times article mentions, this may be a prank or publicity stunt of some kind, but that doesn’t seem to lessen the fears of the community.:

The pranksters, viral marketers and criminals may be taking advantage of a cultural fear of clowns, with examples including Mr. King’s “It,” and John Wayne Gacy, a serial killer who dressed as a clown. But Steven Schlozman, a child psychiatrist who teaches a course on the psychology of horror films at Harvard University, suggests that something more primal could be at work.

This brings to mind Ray Bradbury’s “The Monsters Are Due on Maple Street,” which was also made into a Twilight Zone episode. In this story, strange things start happening in a sleepy suburban town in Main Street, USA. The appliances stop working, lights go out and people start to panic. A resident says it’s like a science fiction story he read where an alien space ship came to earth and created a disturbance. Ultimately, neighbors who were friends begin to distrust one another and wonder if Joe or Jill next door might actually be the “alien.” I won’t ruin the ending for you, but it’s well worth the read or view.

It’s the ultimate “fear of the other” story, like the fear of the evil woodland clown. Perhaps the clowns are malicious or harmful, or perhaps they are simply preying on our basest fears and sitting back to watch a once benevolent community self-destruct.