Syllabus #10

Forget a syllabus, I made a highly ambitious Summer 2019 Docket of Shit to Do and I am crossing things off left and right.  And by things, I mean thing.  I did one thing.  I went to see the Frida Kahlo and Mexican Modernism exhibit at the Frist.

Brows on fleek

I got there two minutes before the museum opened on a Tuesday morning to maximize my chances of enjoying the exhibit in solitude, but apparently it was moms' day out or something and a bunch of loud toddlers busted up in the place about 15 minutes into the experience.  Nevertheless, it was moving and inspiring and now I have one more item to add to the ol' Docket of Shit:  stop plucking unibrow.  Check.


Let's see, what else is on fire besides my skin every time I walk outside between the hours of 8 AM and 8 PM:

Redesign of $20 bill bearing the image of Harriet Tubman pushed back to at least 2026 by Trump administration, just so they don't have to deal with the fallout of straight up canceling the whole plan, because they know good and damn well they're on the wrong side of history yet they still have the audacity to channel Gone With the Wind realness and say, "Frankly People of Color and Women Everywhere Scarlett, I don't give a damn."  It's all especially ironic given that Tubman's face was to replace the face of Andrew Jackson, a man infamous for passing the Indian Removal Act but designing it to go into effect during the term of his successor, Martin Van Buren, so he wouldn't have to deal with the fallout.

Reading the news sometimes feels like playing hot potato but with a flaming lump of horse turds.  You know it's bad and you have the third degree burns to prove it, but you gotta pass it as fast as you can without looking too closely so you can brace yourself for the next hot wad of doodoo coming your way.

See also:  Picnicking While Black

Mr. & Mr. Ratburn - the backlash to the backlash:  A cogent argument for why Alabama Public Television does a serious disservice to children in general and to their own mission specifically, by censoring content like the same-sex wedding episode of Arthur.  It's a lot more articulate than what I would have said, which is just, DUH, JERKS.


Less soul-crushing topics:

I vividly remember these dirty Disney rumors from the 90s, and you most definitely could make out a very wang-like segment of King Triton's castle on the cover of the Little Mermaid VHS.  At least, what I imagine a wang looks like, because my mom reads this so naturally I have never ever seen a real one even though I've been happily married to a dude for 9 years.

I'd like to speak to the manager.  This is unacceptable.  (But there's a good chance I'm going to try it anyway because I'm an epicurean and culinary masochist)

Turning our attention to food that doesn't trigger your gag reflex, I made this burst tomato galette for dinner and Andy gave it the highest compliment ever to pass through his lips:  I'd eat it again.

You gonna eat that?  The real truth about sell by, use by,  and best by dates.  Don't throw it away unless it's covered in fur and/or you can no longer tell what kind of food it once was.  Also maybe take some probiotics before you come to my house for dinner.

We live in a high-amenity neighborhood according to the scale used in this study, but we almost never talk to neighbors.  Well, that's not entirely true.  I will stare straight through the people in my building like they don't even exist, but I wave and say hello to people sitting on their porches when I'm walking Charlie.  It feels rude to ignore someone when they're sitting 15 feet away and you're practically walking through their front yard, but the people in my building are pretty much all 22 years old and constantly drunk so I feel like any conversation we might have would result in me giving them the stink eye and demanding to know whether they are the person who lets their dog shit in the stairwell every single weekend.  What does that say about us?  Are we terrible people living off the fat of the land and giving nothing in return?  Probably.