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"My mailbox is swamped with messages from Republicans asking when “the media” will get on Joe Biden’s speech tonight with the same list of factual errors they/we produced after Paul Ryan’s “post truth” convention speech last week. […] If someone comes up with illustrations of Biden mis-stating facts as grossly as Ryan did in his speech, then he will deserve and get comparable grief for them. But the expectation in most of these notes, interestingly, is that it shouldn’t matter whether there is any objective difference in who is bending the truth at any given time. If you point out problems “on one side,” then you’d better find some equal and offsetting problem on the other, or else the game is rigged. Whether or not the problem is there."
— Garance really nails this political moment we’re in.
Tags: facts Posted: 8 months ago
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DNC treats (Taken with Instagram)
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This beautiful post by Ann about penpals and living by the Mississippi hit me pretty hard right at the end. It made me remember a thing I mostly forget — the two-page pen pal letter I carry in my wallet.
It’s a letter to my maternal grandmother, Pearl Eastwood Smith, dated Nov. 30, 1939. It’s from a woman named Stella who lived in New Zealand. How my then-20-year-old grandmother living in Kingston, Jamaica acquired a pen pal in NZ is not clear to me, though I think my mother knows the story. (And now that I think about it, carrying a 72-year-old letter in my wallet probably isn’t the smartest idea, as I would be devastated if I lost it. Archiving suggestions?)
The letter is written on gorgeous linen-y paper that’s textured and worn, but still surprisingly crisp. The script is beautiful.
In it, Stella congratulates my grandmother on her wedding and the photo Pearl sent her — though I believe my grandmother was married at 16, so I’m assuming they were newish pen pals still getting to know each other.
Stella also laments World War II, and reveals a bit about herself: “I am not home now, I am nurse to two children about forty miles from home and I find it very lonely at times but children brighten one up.”
She signs it “Stella xxxx” which brought a lump to my throat thinking of how many emails with X’s at the end that I send to beloved woman friends.
That letter was one of the few things I kept of my grandmother’s when she died at the end of summer in 2006. My mother and I spent the last few weeks of her life with her, shuttling between her apartment in Queens NY and the hospice where she lay, unwinding from stomach cancer. The apartment was a treasure trove of memories, but besides a few of her awesome clutch purses and embroidered handkerchiefs, I left most of it to the rest of our family to take what they wanted, needed.
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There are a lot of overwhelming things in this post about Montgomery Clift. Maybe the most of which is the set of photos with him and Elizabeth. I could read AHP all day.
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| Cari: | "If that feeling like something is missing can't be resolved with online dating, it may be time to look within -- literally." |
|---|---|
| so... MRI or X-ray or what? | |
| me: | self-surgery? |
| Cari: | literally. |
| renovate your heart. literally. | |
| me: | stare down your own throat with a mirror |
| Cari: | and a flashlight |
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Cute that she’s pretending she drinks beer
(Source: beyonce)
Now I know:
Bangor, Baltimore, El Salvador, Amarillo, Tocapillo, Baranquilla, and Perdilla, I’m a killer
