Right-wing bad-boys. Bill O’Reilly. Roger Ailes. Donald Trump. Left-wing bad-boys. Teddy Kennedy. Jack Kennedy. Bill Clinton. Harvey Weinstein. Yeah. It all depends. Hypocrisy rules. Always. Follow the money.
And. Please. Can we finally dispense with all things Sylvia Plath?
No. Not a snow storm in New York. But. Blizzards abound at college campuses. Prohibiting graduation speakers from actually being allowed to talk at so-called liberal arts bastions of free thinking. Holding classes in coping with failure. Like not getting an A instead of an A-minus. What? Yup. Wait until these fluffy flakes get out into the real world. Speaking of Smith College. The black guy on the Veep finale who wore its sweatshirt could not have gone there. For at least one reason. Open-mindedness beware!
People on United Airlines. Animals are treated well. Get to keep their seats. Allergic people passengers get kicked to the back of the cabin or booted off. Remember when cigarette smokers had to sit in the back? For health reasons?!
Smith College. Relegated to runner-up for Veep Selena Meyer’s Presidential library after Yale dumped her. Then Smith dumped her, too. Not feminist enough.
Free speech. On college campuses no less. Censorship is the new academic ideal.
Pocahontas. Why tag her with Granny Warren? Liz will be swinging her tomahawk on Real Time with Bill Maher tonight.
White House Correspondents Dinner. Incestuous glitterati fest. This year no guests.
I know you’re all awaiting our upbeat holiday news from winsome Western Massachusetts. Regret to report that we end 2016 in severe post-election shock. An unholy macro-aggression has been perpetrated against our New England progressive pseudo-peace.
Decided to try growing magic mushrooms on our mulch farm. Psilocybin is said to ward off acute TTSD (Traumatic Trump Stress Disorder). Zelda’s a zombie, yanking weeds in her purple bathrobe at dawn. Our manboy Moonbeam was last seen buried under Bernie signs in the basement months ago. So. I hang out with Meph the cat in the frontyard pigpen scooping poop for hours on end.
Back in our old burg, Silent H, the Lord Jeffs have been tomahawked. So to speak. And Hampshire College has banned the American flag. Some solace. Still blessed to live in the Happy Valley of safe spaces.
More good news. Cranky next door neighbors moved to NYC. They’ve been replaced by a young couple from L.A. Hope we can coerce these neophytes into cutting down all their sugar maples for our photovoltaic benefit. Anyway. If you see our crabby former neighbors in the Big Apple, tell them they are missing out on all the fun in the old ‘hood.
Until next year,
Pronounced H, Massachusetts
(Bidrights Holiday Letters Past- Side Trek Falls Off the Rails)
Snow in Northampton last week. Former next door neighbor Brooke Hauser tweets that power was out. She is the author of Enter Helen, and had an interesting piece in the NYPost reviewing a book about Eleanor Roosevelt’s mistress. I miss Brooke. Not that old ‘hood.
No snow here in the new ‘hood. Haunted townhouse. Still hate Halloween. But. Who cares?
I’m in New York!!
Rainy Monday on Central Park West. Schools closed up North. Hampton. Snow.
Mermaid Inn has moved. Expanded. Little necks still sweet. Mussels too. Kept its ambience and character. Politics seems so remote all of a sudden. Furniture deliveries trump everything.
So. Like. I’m so over college. It’s not a safe place anymore. They. Like. Say mean things about my boyfriend’s man bun. And. Like. My Fifty Shades of Gray in the Context of Feminist Literature course got scrubbed. So. Now what? I have like loans to pay off. And. Like. No jobs for my major. Medieval womens’ studies. So. Like. Maybe I’ll join ISIS. I can travel and meet new people. Make a difference. But. Like. No hair salons. No Starbucks. Seriously. That sucks.
Maybe I’ll become a barista in Istanbul. Bon weekend.