The Supreme Abort

So, I hate to belabor the point, pun intended, but following the July Fourth festivities, a birthday celebration that I’m honestly not so sure is deserved this year, I harken back to the Declaration of Independence wherein our forefathers spelled out the rights we as Americans are entitled too. The rights, endowed by our Creator (so much for keeping religion out of politics) to Life, Liberty and the Pursuit of Happiness. Yes, the right to be happy, to be free to pursue your own life’s directives free from interference from anyone. To do, think and love whomever you choose. To create a fulfilled life for one’s self without the tyranny of others’ opinions, morals, beliefs or litigation. To make your own choices for your own body for your own life. A life that will be quite different if forced to bear a child that is unwanted, unintended or criminally forced. To think that life begins at inception is ludicrous since that fetus literally is an extension of the Mother, attached and not viable on its own, much like a dying stroke victim is attached to a machine for his or her sustenance. Does that family have the right to sign a DNR, to avoid the life consequences both emotionally and financially of keeping someone artificially alive? Yes they do. The life consequences of bringing into this world a child that cannot be properly supported and cared for is an emotional and financial ball and chain propagated by the government to perpetuate the insolvency of the lower to middle class so rising up to challenge and upend authority is squelched before it can begin.

Freedom, a word that is freely bandied about, seems to depend on who’s granting it. Should we all simply have the right to be happy, to make our own decisions for ourselves and our families? To believe what we choose, to love who we love, and to decide the one thing that is non reversible, the decision to bring another life into this world. A life that will be with us for the rest of our lives, regardless of societal and familial configurations. A life dependent on us to grow, thrive and succeed in a world seemingly devoted to curtail any upward movement of the masses, because that would abort their authoritative movements.

All My Ys and Xs Live In Texas: Redux.

I thought I would re-publish this post from close to one year ago in light of recent events. Unfortunately it ain’t just Texas now, my fellow Kvetchers. It’s time to mobilize and make them pay, financially. Boycott Red (blood on their hands) States.

So, I’ve been complacent for awhile, not really paying attention to the news too much (actually much happier that way) and just soaking in the contentment of family and life. Not a kvetch out of me lately. Ahhhh. Nice deep breath in and out. And then came Texas. Fucking Texas. Actually you better watch the fucking in Texas because it looks like you’re getting a kid, want it or not. Apparently it’s not up to you, it’s up to some over zealous, over religious, over aged, over bigoted Overlord, who deems your body his/her jurisdiction, to tell you what is appropriate for your life. How dare you! I mean really, how fucking dare you!

This has been building for years. The Right has had Roe V Wade in its sights for years. Now with the Supreme Court clearly in their court, it’s looking mighty doubtful it will survive. We all were complacent, thinking it was sacrosanct and could never be touched but obviously we were naive and wrong, because Texas just struck a blow against human decency and human freedoms. The holier than thou crowd have been picking away at our freedoms, in the name of their divine entity and their own power for decades and that fragile scab has now been exposed. They’re even offering a $10,000 bounty to anyone that reports someone getting an abortion or even helping someone get one. Bounty hunters in Texas. Wow! Let’s hunt ‘em down and make ‘em pay.

There should definitely be a movement to ostracize Texas. Let’s do it financially so it hurts. Any like minded artist, musician and business should immediately cancel any tour, show, concert or convention. Let’s not bring any business influx to this backward, morally over reaching, redneck state.

The clock is ticking for our freedoms and justice but the calendar just got turned back to the 1950’s.

Weighting for Goodshow

So, I just attended my first concert since the world ended two years ago. I went to see Steely Dan at the Jones Beach Theater, so I felt a little more comfortable since it was an outside venue. Beautiful night on the water. Wonderful music. Good companionship with a close friend.

Well, that sounds lovely Kvetchy, what’s your problem now, you say. Okay, my problem was the rather large gentleman sitting next to me. I believe he should have paid for, oh I don’t know let’s be generous, one and one-quarter seats since his girth spilled out into my space. I was actually amazed that he fit into the seat at all. Now, I know I’ve always had my share of weight issues but they have never gotten to the point where just sitting down entailed measurements, both of circumferences and capacity. I’ve always been able to rein my weight in just before it gets too out of hand. Obviously this guy cannot. But Kvetchy, maybe it’s a medical condition, you say. Well, maybe it is and for that I am sorry but it didn’t help the invasion of my personal space that night. So, yes, this was an outdoor concert but my Covid paranoia wasn’t totally abated due to the constant contact of Mr Big on my left.

Addendumb. . .

So, our time reversing overlords of the Republican Sharty and the Supreme Abort are sending us spiraling through a vortex of anti-intellectual, immoral, bigoted, xenophobic, and misogynistic properties, as I noted in my previous entry: Freedumb of Choice.

Now these same Tardis and Delorean time adulterating thugs have seen fit to remake some of our favorite science fiction films to suit their anti abortion propagandist agenda. Witness the following movies:

Back To The Suture

Blade Shunner

Dependent’s Day


District Nein!

Planet of the Rapes

The Day the Birth Could Kill

Close Encounters of the Third Reich

Terminator 2: Judge’s Day

Arrival (no title change needed).

And. . . 2001: A Space for Modesty

Freedumb of Choice

So, I’m a bit of a geek, in that I enjoy science fiction and one of my favorite sub genres deals with time travel and alternate universes. Now some members of the physics community really believe that it might, theoretically, be possible but I am here to tell you that it has already been accomplished. Yes, time travel is real and it’s the Republican Party in collaboration with the Supreme Court that has achieved it. Without any complicated machinery or CGI enhanced special effects, they have taken us all back fifty years. Amazing, no wormholes needed, unless of course we consider the members of aforementioned groups as such themselves. They are worms and they are holes of a different kind, after all.

For the sake of argument, let’s put aside their obvious onerous opinions of women. Let’s look to their love of the unborn. Yes the unborn, who’s rights out trump (god I hate that word) some of the living. As George Carlin once said, “These Conservatives love the unborn, they’ll do anything for the unborn, but as soon as you’re born, you’re on your own .” So what about the unborn’s right not to be born. That’s right, maybe Baby-X doesn’t want to enter this fucked up world, maybe he’s listened to a few things on his womb box and doesn’t like what he’s heard. “Hey, I don’t want to be out there, it’s dangerous and people are stupid. Don’t tell ME I have to be born, who are you to control me. You don’t even respect my Mom and she grew this whole new organ just for me. You just need more tax dollars and fast food employees for the economy and then you’ll lie to me about the opportunities the military can afford me so I’ll jump at the chance to carry a gun and wear a costume. Give me a break. Am I a Fetus or a Freetus? Raise your semi formed arms my brothers and sisters and gurgle with me: Freetus! Freetus! Freetus!”

Doing the Diet(h)ing.

So, it’s about damn time I addressed the elephant in the room, and what do you know. . . it’s me. Oh, not really that bad, just a growing paunch that is getting harder and harder to blame on the pandemic as it recedes in intensity and controversy. The cloyingly entitled Covid-15 or just insert your own poundage number here.

The weather is warming and pretty soon it’ll be time to lose the loose sweaters I’ve been wearing to try and hide the roll that began hanging over my belt as I sat home, safe in my little cocoon, but eating as if it was an exercise regimen. Hey, you do exercise your arms as they lift food up and down to your mouth, right? Anyway, I know the health risks associated with excess belly fat and have started to do sometimes about it. I’m doing a low carb diet/intermittent fasting hybrid thing, eating in a window from 1pm to 9pm, so, fasting for 16 hours/day and eating high protein/low carb foods when I do. Probably not the healthiest way to go but I need to jump start my weight loss and so I’ll do it for a few weeks and see. I’m also increasing (increasing? how about starting) my exercise level, jumping on the treadmill, lifting light weights and trying a modified HIT workout.

I find dieting to be a mindset. When the scale begins to tilt in your favor, it becomes almost a game to see how well you can do. When you stop shoving all kinds of stuff into your mouth, that stuff begins not to tempt you.

“Oh, Kvetchy, here I am and I’m delicious.”

“No, no, foul temptress, I shall not partake of your sweet caloric deliciousness. Away with you, be gone!”

So, here I am distracting myself from entering the kitchen (I’m thinking of putting up some crime scene yellow tape at the entrance—DO NOT CROSS). by writing this blog entry and ignoring the stomach grumbles that Google Translate has told me means “feed me” in Gut Speak.


So, I usually don’t invite any guest Kvetchers here into the Void, but having read my last blog—-App-Athy, he was, dare I say inspired, to expand on my idea. He blogs under “LowittLowdown” and is pretty darn clever. Just so you know. Enjoy!

To stock New York City apartments

(a) establishing land spaces
(b) negotiating with Nazis

Seeking a higher salary

To deal with STDs and other diseases

Used by Republicans and Russians

For suicides (single use)


So, this months Editors Choice for best new App is. . . “App-Athy” by Doldrumetrics LLC.

If you’ve had enough of social media judging you, if you’re done with the rabbit holes you go down in surfing TikTok, Instagram, Facebook, Twitter and all other sites that steal valuable hours from your life, App-Athy is here to help. The App-Athy app uses proprietary AI to curate a synthetic virtual existence that frees you from the pressures and anxieties of having to post every boring scintilla of your life. It will respond with appropriate emojis to your friends posts, post delicious looking photos of fictitious meals, and make sarcastic comments based upon your uploaded preferences and beliefs. All this frees you to actually live and interact in TRW.

App-Athy: When you just don’t give a shit anymore.


So, I am on a plane. Yes, my first flight since the world changed. I just left 70 degree weather in Connecticut to fly to Park City, Utah where it’s 1 degree. I’m off to visit my kids and grandson. My son tells me the cold is different there, that it’s a “dry cold” since the humidity is so low, kinda like Arizona without the heat. Sounds iffy to me but I’ll find out soon. Now, I’m not a skier, I’m more of a sit by the fire and drink hot beverages kinda guy, but my kids are. They both work remotely so being on Mountain Time, two hours earlier than the east coast allows them to finish work early and hit the slopes nearly every day. Not bad, huh?

To be continued.

Continued: So, I’ve landed, it’s 8:30 pm Utah time, 10:30 pm body-clock time, been picked up by my son at the airport in Salt Lake City, and am being driven back to their Condo in Park City. It’s night out but I can make out the shapes of the mountains on the horizon as we drive. Sleep is also on my horizon as it’s been a long day.

To be continued.

Continued: So. . . I’ll be damned, it IS a dry cold. Woke up and toured the town in 12 degree weather and wasn’t really cold at all. Amazing! Back home I would never take a walk if it was 12 degrees, it’s too bitingly cold. But here, well, not bad.

Photo Shot

So, it’s January in the northeast and we just had another six inches of beautifully treacherous pre-slushified white powder. Now don’t get excited all you nose junkies out there, not that kind of white powder just your common everyday snow. This storm covered my already ice sculpted driveway (thank you snowplow guy for doing a shitty job and leaving mounds of unplowed snow to turn into heaps of ice. Maybe you fancy yourself a fucking Michelangelo with an oversized palette knife).

Anyway, since I wasn’t going anywhere this weekend my wife thought of a snow day activity for us. An activity forty years in the making. An activity that would hit me over the head with how fast time was passing. An activity that would challenge my memory. Yes, we were going to go through boxes and boxes of old photographs and organize them by year. Over the years we had put some photos in albums but the majority were still in their original drugstore envelopes. Interesting to see that our laziness actually preserved those photos better than the ones carefully arranged in those albums. Who knew? Interesting to watch hairstyles change through the years. My wife’s hair: short, long, straight, curly. Mine: dark, gray, white. At least not gone. Nice to revisit the past one frame at a time. You really can see your life’s arc watching your kids grow. It’s such a slow and subtle thing IRL but slow and curated in still life photos.

We still have more to do, it’s really a daunting task to sift through thousands of pictures, toss the out of focus and non remembered landscapes and organize a timeline. Might as well do it now though before we die and the kids have to do it.

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