You drag your body around behind you everywhere you go

[sovay]

And then some days you get up and discover that someone tried to assassinate two former U.S. Presidents, one former presidential candidate, one prominent Jew, and a lot of journalists [correction: one ex-CIA director c/o a lot of journalists], and that's great, that's just great. The White House blusters about despicable acts and egregious conduct. But it couldn't have anything to do with the things the man in the White House is always saying about the conspiracies of his enemies arrayed against him, his incitement of violence against the media and protesters and his political opposition—will no one rid him of these turbulent socialists—could it? No, the escalation of vocal hatred and domestic terrorism is just one of those things that happens without reason, like the derangement of the climate. Like mass shootings. Tragic and unavoidable. Not man-made at all. Thoughts and prayers.

Get out and vote.

ETA: ALL THAT SAID, HUGE FREAKING DOUBLE RAINBOW ACROSS HALF THE SKY:



STILL A QUEER PLANET. STILL A COVENANT. AUGURY WILL ALSO DO.

Comments

[moon_custafer]

Uncle Carl's late wife keeps flinging blueberries at him even when he hasn't bought any, because they don't sleep sound in my wife's family

Is this like the draugars that haunted a village in one of the Icelandic sagas, terrorizing people by taking all the best spots by the fire and shaking the mud off their cloaks everywhere?

[selkie]

I would like to stipulate at the start that I don't know what can have happened: she had a lovely, peaceful, blip of a death. (We know this because she had an implanted neurostimulator and, well, we know.) She was a bit Protestant but not in an abrasive way, and she was always calm and level at family gatherings.

Well, she died in February and since then there have been scattered, fresh blueberries in the basement of their home, jumping off refrigerator shelves, committing bluicide at the supermarket in front of his feet. They're just everywhere.

My wife's brother of blessed memory once left a russet potato (raw, whole, unpeeled) in an armchair in our living room in the dead of night, some several years after his own death, so I cannot wait to see what Mother in Law throws at us. I think it will be sprouts. A sprout-draugar would be really, really apt.

[sovay]

Well, she died in February and since then there have been scattered, fresh blueberries in the basement of their home, jumping off refrigerator shelves, committing bluicide at the supermarket in front of his feet. They're just everywhere.

Maybe she thinks he'd like them. Depending on the climate, I would honestly wait and see if they just start growing in the yard.

[selkie]

Mostly, I coined bluicide in a lucid moment between lots of pain and I can never use it at a family gathering because the goyim's sense of humor around these things is not the same.

(I couldn't even tell them about Mabel the Nice Old Lady Who Does the Tahara Demonstrations. Mabel is 90, loves going to the conferences, gets a nice kosher lunch, and is tiny and easy to shroud. Did I tell you about Mabel? I just couldn't help thinking one day the Malach-ha-Maves is going to tap on her elbow at a demo and be like, Don't get up, Mabel, you're already dressed. )

[sovay]

Did I tell you about Mabel? I just couldn't help thinking one day the Malach-ha-Maves is going to tap on her elbow at a demo and be like, Don't get up, Mabel, you're already dressed.

You did! From a standpoint of sympathetic magic, it seems . . . provocative.