A Quick Word or Two

Just a quick note now that the sun has set, I have eaten, and I'm already feeling guilty in the new year. 

It was actually really crowded today

Yom Kippur is not a happy kinda holiday. It's a 26-27 hour fast...and I do mean a no-nuthin' kinda fast...and it's a whole lotta time in synagogue. The last few years, for a whole lotta reasons, have been hard on me. It was more than the glances toward the back of the social hall looking to see if Ziggy and his buds had slipped in the back door. It was more than sitting by myself because the Senior Son is all the way in Milwaukee and Family Junior Son is across town in their shul. 

When our first and long-time rabbi retired, no one could've predicted the strife that would follow and the toll the pandemic would take on our little shul. Our transition has been uneasy on the good days, downright awful on the not so good ones, all of them moving us away from the carefully crafted principles we established at the start of the experiment in Jewish egalitarianism. I'm not kidding when I say we because Ziggy and I were there at the start, actively committed to this burgeoning community. 

But now, I suspect the stress is all in the rearview mirror with the distance between then and now growing quickly. Rosh Ha'Shanah services were welcoming like in the early days. People were laughing in the hallway, greeting friends and even strangers with warmth and welcoming smiles. Kids escaped onto the bimah a few times, only to be scooped up with guffaws, not groans. It was nice. I found it comforting to daven sitting in the pew my family has occupied since day one. And it was really nice when the Junior son joined me for Ne'ila, the last service as the Gates of Heaven are closing. We would break our fasts with the rest of the family at my cousins' house, a long standing tradition. 

So why am I feeling guilty already?

Easy. It's Monday night and I did not have a blog entry ready to go. I was nervous about Yom Kippur this year. Seriously. I know that sounds weird for someone who has been doing this her entire life, but this year felt different. Lots of it had to do with the recent changes at shul, as well as the really nice Rosh Ha'Shanah. Was I expecting too much? Was I imagining the change because I wanted it so badly?  Was I setting myself up for another disappointment? Whatever my brain was fixated on, it was making me nervous and I was very much aware of it. I couldn't settle into a topic for this week because I was totally focused on Yom Kippur...and not in the way we're supposed to be focused. 

But it was all for naught. Services were terrific. I made it all the way through the "morning" services from 10:00 until 2:20 with only one stroll for a breath of fresh air. I was back for mincha, the afternoon service, and even stood for all of Ne'ila...not an easy feat when you've been fasting for 24 hours. I wanted to be there. It was the first time I actually wanted to be there since Ziggy died. And it felt really good. And I have no real reason to feel guilty because I will hit the publish button before midnight. 

G'mar chatima tova! May you all be sealed in the Book of Life for a good year. 

PS: lots of people at minyan this morning! Life is good! 

The Wifely Person's Tip o'the Week

Only my agnostic/atheist FIL could manage to

pass away on Yom Kippur morning.

We can never forget his yahrzeit.

This is year 9.

Pop, we all miss you muchly.

OWNERSHIP

 First thing first: Miss Myrus, at 91, is alive and well and living in New York City. I am verklempt! I am hoping to have updates from the lady herself soon. I hear she does email!

Meanwhile, back at the ranch, this past weekend marked the end of 5783 and the start of 5784. All things considered, the Jewish year is supposed to be from the beginning of the earth until now, but uh, our history goes back a bit further than 5700 years. But for the moment, let's talk about the Hebrew calendar. 

Fundamentally it's a lunar calendar, but in the land of mathematics and calculations, it's a luni-solar calendar. How the holidays and leap years are calculated is a total mystery to me, but there is a High Holy Day to next High Holy Day calendar in the kitchen in plain sight so I can adjust my life according to all the holidays and observances. 

On a social/familial level, my life, and the lives of most of my family members, are kinda marked in relation to the Hebrew calendar. Grandma Bessie was born on Shavuot in 1900, but died on Sukkot in 1977. Ziggy died the week after Shavuot. I got married right under the wire for the solemn days before Tisha b'Av. Uh-oh, that's really close to Passover....so forth and so on. You get the idea. 

I don't think the holiday/home event correlation is much different in any ethnic group. Major events happen, and often they are put into perspective in relation to a community event...like a holiday. It's a time marker and one that can be quite comforting....or not. Our earliest memories are often tied to events like Passover or Christmas or Eid or Diwali...some special occasion when families gather. Not all memories are good, but good or bad, they link us to our personal past. I had great Passover memories, but Ziggy had terrible Christmas ones that ultimately helped to steer him toward Judaism...and a way to make a whole set of new memories, most of which were pretty good because they were family times. 

Rosh ha'Shanah, the first of the Days of Awe, is really a call to introspection. It's mental house-cleaning. The expectation is that we look at the good and the bad of the year, figure out what we can fix, and what needs improvement in the coming year. I take that examination pretty seriously; it's for me, highly personal, and definitely not easy. And it takes place in the middle of pretty happy family stuff. My big bro comes in from Philly to spend the holiday with us, which is cause for great celebration amongst the kiddos. The food is really good, services might be a bit long, but they're also kinda nice. Standing somewhere in the middle of this, I'm trying to figure out how to do better.  

Instead of Happy New Year, we say "l'shanah tova u'metukah," (שָׁנָה טוֹבָה וּמְתוּקָה‎)...to a good and sweet year. At the same time, we use the Book of Life as a metaphor to address that coming year. We wish a good year by saying, May you be inscribed in the Book of Life, but closer to (and on) Yom Kippur we say, May you be sealed in the Book of Life. 

In the liturgy for Rosh ha'Shanah, there is a piyyut, a poem, that addresses exactly that called Unetaneh Tokef. Who wrote it and when is pretty much a debatable issue, but that doesn't change the awe-filled intent of the prayer. It's pretty scary stuff, especially when you're a kid, but the older you get, the more you understand why facing life and death head on is a part of our very existence. 

All mankind will pass before You like a flock of sheep. Like a shepherd pasturing his flock, making sheep pass under his staff, so shall You cause to pass, count, calculate, and consider the soul of all the living; and You shall apportion the destinies of all Your creatures and inscribe their verdict.

On Rosh Hashanah will be inscribed and on Yom Kippur will be sealed

how many will pass from the earth and how many will be created; 

who will live and who will die; 

who will die after a long life  and who before his time; 

who by water and who by fire, 

who by sword and who by beast, 

who by famine and who by thirst, 

who by upheaval and who by plague, 

who by strangling and who by stoning. 

Who will rest and who will wander, 

who will live in harmony and who will be harried, 

who will enjoy tranquility and who will suffer, 

who will be impoverished and who will be enriched, 

who will be degraded and who will be exalted.

But Repentance, Prayer, and Charity mitigate the severity of the Decree.

The last line is the best, the one that tells us we can fix ourselves, that no decree is final, and that there is always hope. But here's the kicker about that last line: we must take responsibility for our own actions. We own who we are and what we do. As a kid, I totally believed that. Come to think of it, I still do.

I can remember Grandma Bessie weeping on Rosh ha'Shanah as she recited Unetaneh Tokef. She used to tell me the only one who could change the Holy Decree was me, and that I was in charge of what I did. And if you don't think this 8 year-old was terrified by that idea, you have another think coming. 

Terrified as I was, however, the idea that I was in charge of me was planted pretty early. I hope I did the same for my guys. But it's not something I can or would ask. This is the deepest part of one's being...the admission that one is in charge of one's own actions. 

Yom Kippur starts next Sunday night and ends at darkness on Monday night. Most of us will fast from right about 6:30 in the evening until 8:00 p.m the next day. This family will gather with our cousins as we have done for the last 37 years (except for two years of COVID) to break our fast with hard boiled eggs, bagels, herring, carrot ring, and assorted other really good stuff. 

I guess what I'm trying to say is that odds are pretty good there won't be a blog next Monday night. Just so you know ahead of time. 

The Wifely Person's Tip o'the Week

Owning your own behavior, actions, deeds

is always a good thing no matter what you believe.

If everyone did that............

Miss Myrus: The Power of Magical Thinking.

Our Miss Myrus

I've written, albeit briefly, about Miss Myrus, my 5th grade teacher, in other posts. 

A teacher can change the trajectory of a life. Over the course of 19 years of classroom learning, I have had good teachers, a few truly great teachers, and a few who should never have become teachers in the first place. But no teacher can hold a candle to Miss Hazel Myrus (now Mrs. Virgopia...or so we've heard.)

 

My long-suffering (grin) BFF who was in that class with me agrees: no teacher could make a room fill with magic like she could. A world traveler, she brought a Balinese shadow puppet theater into the room so we could all be Balinese puppeteers. She talked about standing in the Valley of the Kings and looking down to the doorway that hid Tutankhamun's tomb. When Miss Myrus told us about it, we were right there with her. She's been in India and Thailand, showed us silks from both and the differences between them, and taught us what made silk good or bad. She taught us about the Buddha, and why Shinto gates look that way. On top of it all, she could make math understandable. This was a true skill. 

My copies

Even before I set foot in her classroom, she visited our 4th grade room with books for everyone. She lent me her copy of TUTANKHAMEN after she heard I'd already read GOD, GRAVES, and SCHOLARS because if I want to be an archaeologist, I should be encouraged to be an archaeologist. She promised we would discuss this further when school began in the fall. We did. The time she spent with me changed me. I was always the trepidatious one, but Miss Myrus gave me a taste of how sweet learning could be. I think her sinister plot was to leave me hungry for more learning. It took a while, but...

If you don't know,
I'm not telling. 

When Miss Myrus decided we were going to do a play called THE MAGIC COOKIE JAR, she asked me to help "fix" the script for the class. For reasons I will never understand,  she told me I was a natural playwright. I didn't know what a playwright was, but I found out. And I would eventually give up an archaeology/anthropology major to get my degrees in theater (specifically as a director) and go on to spend some 30 years writing plays for children. And getting paid for it.  Ah, the power of suggestion. 

See, Hazel Myrus was a true magician. She made the world small enough to get through the door of the classroom at Jacob Gunther Elementary School, before blowing it all up to fit the room. Magic.

So why write about this now? Little Miss is in third grade and Young Sir just started kindergarten. Both are excited about school at the moment. I hope this lasts. I hope they have great teachers. But above everything else, I hope they have a teacher like Miss Myrus who made learning magic. 

Which got me to thinking about kids in schools. Look, I'm not advocating for LORD OF THE FLIES in 3rd grade, but I don't see why a 3rd grader shouldn't  have the choice to read Harry Potter?  Or even A WRINKLE IN TIME. Every kid needs a Miss Myrus right about now. Every kid should know the pleasure of magical thinking. And every kid should be allowed to explore books that open up new worlds, new ideas, and new horizons.

And right now, I could use some of her kind of magical thinking 

This has one of the worst, un-creative summers I can remember. I don't know if it was the heat, or the smoke in the air that made breathing a chore, but whatever the reason, working on either of the new books has been rubbish. My characters have stopped talking to me; now they just smirk, something I cannot abide. The BIG book is so complicated I want to pitch the whole thing...but I know there's a really good story buried under all that extraneous detail. I've macheted the damn thing twice now and I'm still not happy with it. The smaller book is just boring and it wasn't always boring but it is now. Everybody is too damn nice. Which brings me to the refrain that's taken up space in my head.

Too damn nice. 

Too damn nice.

See how they bore

See how they bore

They do horrid things and they never pay

They expect to be welcomed home anyway

No repercussions ever get in the way

'Cause everyone's too damn nice.

This is an ongoing issue with me and my characters. Usually, they perch on my shoulder while I'm driving and spill. Not lately. Driving over to the cemetery Sunday to see Ziggy before the High Holy Days, I called the staff meeting in the car and yeah, they ALL showed up. 

Meanwhile, for the record, this is why I like hands-free phones in the car. No one can tell I'm cajoling my characters into telling me what's going on. Not that they did. [BIG GIANT SIGH.] It just looks like I'm yammering away on the hands-free phone. I like looking less crazy some days. 

Okay. I'm gonna shut up now and go back to pretending I'm editing. Or pretending I'm getting ready for Rosh HaShanah. Either way, nothing is getting done. Feh.

For the record, Miss Myrus has gotta be in her 90s now; I have no idea if she's still out there, but I am hoping that maybe she is, and that maybe someone will see this and share it with her. She will always be the best teacher I ever had. I hope she knows that. 

The Wifely Person's Tip o'the Week

If you're in the Twin Cities,

hie yerownselves down to either Sholom Campus.

They have knishes in 2 sizes: big and small.

They are not to be missed!

Bonus Tip

L'shana tova u'metukah to all that observe.

May you be inscribed in the Book of Life

for a sweet New Year.

That Time Of Year Again: Minnesota State Fair

Yes, I went to State Fair this past week. First one since the pandemic hit. I thoroughly enjoyed my three favorite State Fair things: roasted corn, seed art, and watching Aunt M march toward onion rings. I cannot handle fried food, so I must live vicariously watching Aunt M eat. And tasting. I did get to taste the onion rings (best ever every year) and a Tom Thumb Donut. But the seed art was brilliant as usual....and it wasn't fried.

This is something that may or may not be unique to the Minnesota State Fair, but I will tell you there is always a line to walk by the wall with seed art in the Agriculture Building. Mona Lisa At The Minnesota State Fair took home the honors. Not my favorite this year, but definitely a fine work of seed art.

Ziggy introduced me to the Roasted Corn Stand the first year he took me to State Fair, back in 1975. It was our ritual; we went every year. One day was for just us, no kids. We got there right when the gates opened at the crack of dawn, ate breakfast at the Hamlin Dining Hall, had roast corn for lunch, followed by malteds at the dairy building. Stopping at Peters Wieners in the Food Building to visit his high school friend, Lu Ann Peters. These days, compelled by tradition, I always stop to see if she's there. This year, she was. For a moment, I could almost sense Ziggy's grin as Lu Ann caught me up on all their old friends. I loved it.

On a less nostalgic note, turns out this Labor Day marks a milestone event for The Wifely Person Speaks: the blog has been viewed a half million times. That means over 500,000 clicks on my weekly nonsense have been recorded and duly noted. Yes, I know all about bounce rates. But the WP is strictly a blog, no adverts, no questionnaires, no request for interactions; just me and my opinion. Of course, some weeks are better than others. Do I want to "monetize" the blog? No. That's not why I do this. I do it, as the Senior Son would say, for "shits and giggles."

While this may all sound very exciting on the surface, the one person I wanna share it with isn't around to celebrate...or poke holes at my thinking.That snarky guy from ZJOD who told me, "Sign up for this new Blogger thing. Who knows? Maybe one day you'll use it," would probably think it's all kinda funny. I tend to agree with him....but I would probably call it surreal.

Meanwhile, back at the ranch, I have a new roof, I really like the new fridge, and as I type this, thermometer reads 97°F, I've watered the bleepin' hibiscus 4 times already this afternoon, and I cannot go out on the mirpeset without something on my feet. So I'm gonna go downstairs, pop open a bottle of Spotted Cow, and find a cool corner in which to read. Even with a new a/c unit, I'm on Energy Saver, so it's just okay in the house. Tomorrow, the high is predicted to be a chilly 92°F. I can't wait to open the windows again. 

The Wifely Person's Tip o' the Week

What can I say? 

I'm a South Shore girl pining not for the fjords, 

but for my home beach.

Gotta  beach of your own?
Go catch a wave

This Old Condo

Today has been quite the adventure over at Chez WP...or taking into consideration that there's a guy right over my head hammering and singing canciones de amor de Mexico...Casa WP. Look, I still speak and comprehend enough Spanish to understand Mi amor, mi amor, extraño tus dulces labios. At least I hope he was saying labios and not labias which would make for a seriously bawdy song probably more akin to songs in Quechua...but I'm not going there right now. 

Despite weeks of careful planning, the roof AND the refrigerator arrived today. The roof guys found they had an earlier opening and told us Friday afternoon...after the fridge place closed for the weekend. I couldn't stop the fridge from arriving, but the roof guys said they would make a path to my door when the delivery truck arrived....sometime between 9 and 12 noon. The freezer was emptied into a cooler at 6 a.m. before I left for morning minyan, and since I would be home around 8:15, that gave me plenty of time to drop the upper stuff into its own cooler. No prob, right? 

Guess again. 

I wasn't home more than 5 minutes when the fridge guys arrived at about 8:20. They were very great and said to empty the fridge whilst they got everything set up...and the roof guys did their best not to throw shingles on them. Old fridge was standard depth and wedged into the opening so precisely that it took an act of brute force to get it out. The doors all had to come off and although it must've come through the kitchen door to get in, it wasn't going out the same way. So with a shrug and a grin, they began removing anything that could catch on the doorframe. 

no mice,
no plumbing

The guys were undeterred. They promised me everything would be just fine. At last, that bugger was sliding outta the hole. My biggest fear in all this was not the height nor the width of either fridge...it was a dreadful dark thought that there might be a dead mouse (or two) under there because that's where they hid on the two occasions I had to employ the peanut butter bucket. Once it was out, we confirmed that the bright stars who designed this kitchen, beautiful as it is, did not plumb a waterline for an ice maker. I am not doing it now. And that's still annoying.

There were no dead mice. A few giant dust balls and a rather large, imposing dead moth, but I could dispatch those easily enough. The floor got washed, and the new fridge, a counter depth one, sailed right in. 

Ian and Dan

Ian and Dan, my two patient heroes, slid that sucker right into the hole and it was perfect. I was thrilled that the giant sticky-outy part was gone and I could stop whacking my toes on the corner. (Yay, feet!) They installed, they adjusted, they walked me through a few new things, and they made the experience not simply pleasant but kinda fun. Okay...they laughed at my punchlines. All things considered, their good humor was great considering the pounding outside, the stress of moving the original fridge, and me trying to be funny. 

I knew, going to counter depth and a two drawer freezer, I was going to lose space. I was a little surprised at how much space I lost, but that's the price of toe-protection. Better organization in the fridge upstairs and the little chest freezer in the garage will balance out. It will be fine. Oh, and one MAJOR improvement...the stainless steel door is magnetic. Thank G-d! No more blue tape for kiddo artwork!

Okay, this is the part where I say thank you to the folks involved with the saga of me finding a new fridge. If you've been reading the WP for a long time, you might remember when the 26 year Sub-Zero was wheezing precariously and I had to replace it. That episode, Standing in the Sunlight and Blinking, was about fixing up that which was wrong with my kitchen. This time, the only thing that really needed replacing was the fridge, and like the last time, I did my homework to figure out what I wanted/needed. I shopped around, visited a number of appliance dealers, including Home Depot, Best Buy, Warner Stellian, and Lowe's, before I stumbled across Build With Ferguson's. They're actual a builder's resource, but the showroom is open to the public. So I walked in the door of the Oakdale showroom. (The tubs situated in lovely displays were ogasmic all on their own!) The lady that helped me, Kerrilynn, was nice, knowledgeable, and patient. I came equipped with the dimensions of the old fridge as well as the manual for it, questions about sizes, depths, counter versus standard, and a whole lotta other stuff. She took the time to not just answer the questions, but to educate me about what has changed in the 9 years since my last foray into refrigeration. Sorry if I sound like an advert, but customer service makes or breaks the experience, and this was a great experience from beginning to end. ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ That's 10 outta 5 stars. Okay?

Meanwhile, back to the singing roofers. I am but one part of a row of 6 townhouses. I was stunned at the speed and efficiency these guy had. I will admit it made writing the blog difficult with hammering over my head for a good portion of the day. They were all very nice, stopped tossing shingles every time I walked out the front door. They were great about the fridge business, and as promised, they left space so I could get in and out of the garage. And while today could've been horribly, horribly stressful. it wasn't. The roofing guys I interacted with were charming and helpful. I loved when, at noon, they spread out blankets and had picnic lunch all together. It was kinda sweet, actually, with lots of banter and laughter. 

Next week I'll be back to ranting and raving, I'm sure.  But for the moment, I'm going to enjoy the silence overhead while it's dark out. They're coming back in the morning. Maybe I'll go to the Art Institute after morning minyan. Or the walk the Tree Top Trail at the zoo . Or go to State Fair. Whatever. I'll figure out something. 

The Wifely Person's Tip o'the Week

Shopping for a big ticket item?

You have the right to ask all the questions you want. 

If you don't like or trust the answers, go elsewhere.

Wanna Know What Scares Me?

 My grand-dog has derailed my ability to think. 

She's mad that Uncle Senior Son is not in residence at the moment. She depends on him for amusement. I, apparently, am not amusing.

I gotta go! RFN! I gotta go!

I, on the other hand, is a total meany because I insist she not attack wicker garbage baskets. Today, in an attempt to access used tissues, she figured out how to open my closet door behind which I had hidden the basket. Stupid she isn't. It's now on a shelf. 

Granted, she is used to having a fenced yard and lots of room to romp. However, in my house, she has to be walked and if she has her way, I would be walking her every half-hour from 6 a.m. until 10 p.m. Oh, wait! I already am walking her every half hour. This dog poops more than a newborn. For a dog that is over 90 in dog years, as soon as the leash is attached, she's a toddler all over again. I'm lucky my arm is still in the socket.

Needless to say, I'm exhausted. But I love her to bits especially now that she has mastered which side of the bed is hers. 

Still, I  am unable to write a cogent sentence. 

Yeah, yeah....why is this night different from all other Monday nights?

In the past, I've been fixated on the Second Amendment. I know this and accept that I will never understand how anyone can possibly believe an automatic weapon is a hunting rifle unless you are hunting humans...adults and children alike...unsuspecting prey at best. I cannot understand how the pro-life movement can be pro AR-15s. These things are a mystery to me. 

But this week, I am fixated on a different amendment: the Fourteenth:

Amendment XIV

Section 1.

All persons born or naturalized in the United States, and subject to the jurisdiction thereof, are citizens of the United States and of the state wherein they reside. No state shall make or enforce any law which shall abridge the privileges or immunities of citizens of the United States; nor shall any state deprive any person of life, liberty, or property, without due process of law; nor deny to any person within its jurisdiction the equal protection of the laws.

Section 2.

Representatives shall be apportioned among the several states according to their respective numbers, counting the whole number of persons in each state, excluding Indians not taxed. But when the right to vote at any election for the choice of electors for President and Vice President of the United States, Representatives in Congress, the executive and judicial officers of a state, or the members of the legislature thereof, is denied to any of the male inhabitants of such state, being twenty-one years of age, and citizens of the United States, or in any way abridged, except for participation in rebellion, or other crime, the basis of representation therein shall be reduced in the proportion which the number of such male citizens shall bear to the whole number of male citizens twenty-one years of age in such state.

Section 3.

No person shall be a Senator or Representative in Congress, or elector of President and Vice President, or hold any office, civil or military, under the United States, or under any state, who, having previously taken an oath, as a member of Congress, or as an officer of the United States, or as a member of any state legislature, or as an executive or judicial officer of any state, to support the Constitution of the United States, shall have engaged in insurrection or rebellion against the same, or given aid or comfort to the enemies thereof. But Congress may, by a vote of two-thirds of each House, remove such disability.

Section 4.

The validity of the public debt of the United States, authorized by law, including debts incurred for payment of pensions and bounties for services in suppressing insurrection or rebellion, shall not be questioned. But neither the United States nor any state shall assume or pay any debt or obligation incurred in aid of insurrection or rebellion against the United States, or any claim for the loss or emancipation of any slave; but all such debts, obligations and claims shall be held illegal and void.

Section 5.

The Congress shall have power to enforce, by appropriate legislation, the provisions of this article.

Read Section 3. Now read it again. Now, notice the text in red. 

I am surprised no one has gone gaga over the last line. This is like a part A and part B quiz. 

And I heard some Iowa guy on the radio today who said something to the effect that the charges don't matter and if they convict him, that don't matter neither...once we have Congress back to red the way it should be, they can just get rid of any convictions.

Hello? Anybody home? The presumption is that Feckless will win the election and the majority of both houses will go red...thereby negating anything the courts have done. 

And, in effect, opening the door to overturning the Constitution. 

So if all of that is scary to you, you need to pull up your grownup undies and get out there to canvas and speak out FACTUALLY. Not in anger, not in hyperbole. But in simple, declarative facts. 

But wanna know what I'm really scared of?

What happens if Feckless gets the nomination and loses? Mull that over for a while. January 6th will look like a dress rehearsal. 

The Wifely Person's Tip o'the Day

Whining is an exhausting activity.

So is taking Savta for a drag around the block. 

My smart watch keep congratulating me on all my new exercise. 

I shall not disabuse it of that notion.

At least she stopped whining. 
Silence is a blessing. 

Every Family's Got One or Two...or More.

David Weiss           Hunter Biden

The names David Weiss and Hunter Biden kept coming up in my emails this week. Hell, even my bro asked me what I thought.  Other than the standard I haven't given it much thought, I must confess I have given it some thought. In no discernible order, here are my thoughts on the subject:

1. David Weiss was appointed to his position by Feckless Loser. Even though he claims he didn't really appoint him, he did, with little or no opposition from either side.
2. The Clowns of Congress have been screeching for a special prosecutor since the beginning. Now, they're screeching they don't like the special prosecutor even thought he's been the lead investigator since the beginning. 
3. The plea deal was shot down not  by Judge Maryellen Noreika of Federal District Court who asked for "more information" from both defense and prosecutor, but by Hunter himself when he finally grokked the idea that immunity was not a total blanket of protection for any crime ever committed. [Like duh.]
4. The plea deal never included the international trade irregularities with Hunter Biden and Ukraine. No deal would have covered those. 
5. There is NO comparison between Feckless attempting to overturn the election and Hunter Biden's attempt at tax evasion. These are not on the same playing field.

In a July 26th. 2023NYT article, Judge Puts Hunter Biden’s Plea Deal on Hold, Questioning Its Details, there is a fairly clear explanation of the judge's objection:

Judge Noreika’s concerns appeared to center on two elements of the proposed deal. One was a provision that would have offered Mr. Biden broad insulation against further prosecution on matters scrutinized by federal prosecutors during the five-year inquiry, providing him with some protection against the possibility that Mr. Trump, if re-elected, or another Republican president might seek to reopen the case. The other had to do with the diversion program on the gun charge, under which she would be called on to play a role in determining whether Mr. Biden was meeting the terms of the deal.

 

Judge Noreika said she was not trying to sink the agreement, but to strengthen it by ironing out ambiguities and inconsistencies, a view held by some former department officials.

But did it stop there? No! In today's attempt to explain what happened, the NYT  proffered  Hunter Biden Says Prosecutors Reneged on Major Part of Plea Deal. The article holds Judge Noreika "largely responsible" for the deal impasse, but I think when Hunter Biden told the judge he would not sign any deal that did not offer broad immunity and his lawyer "popped up angrily to declare the deal “null and void," might have had something to do with it.

But not everyone is on the same page here. 

All manner of folk seem to have their knickers knotted over this. Poppycock! What happened in that courtroom is basic SOP. Deals are hammered out, refined, re-hammered, and eventually agreed upon. In the comments section of today's article, one fellow added a lucid and precise explanation of what just happened. I vetted his answer with my legal-eagle lawyerly consultants, and they thought his explanation was spot on:

Pietro

NYC

There is a great deal of hyper-ventilating going on in these comments, my my! I work in criminal defense, in district (federal) courts. Plea deals happen in over 95% of cases--it's the rule, not the exception. Hardly anyone goes to trial. What's more, the "immunity" business everyone seems suspicious of is misunderstood--the idea is, you proffer as a defendant, come clean with your conduct in the offense, and you can't be prosecuted any further for the answers to whatever they ask you: the famous "queen for a day" proffer session with the feds. The idea that Hunter should plead guilty, proffer what he knows, then still be vulnerable to MORE prosecutions and investigations is simply NOT how it's done. I am sorry--LEFT AND RIGHT--if this offends your sensibility, but it's how the DOJ operates, day in, day out. And yes, defendants routinely get diversion for minor charges, like making a false statement on a gun or other licensure application. It's routine (I've worked on a few of those). As for putting someone in jail for paying their taxes late, with fines and fees--the decision to do that is entirely political. Plenty of folks walking around free who file late every year, with fines, as a matter of routine business. Folks need to stop taking the right-wing messaging bullet points and blowing them up into outrage. This is how our justice system works. It will probably work that way for you someday, when you get jammed up, if you have a decent attorney advocating.

I thought this was a great explanation.

So, do I think Judge Noreika was right to push back on the deal? Absolutely. Do I think David Weiss should've been named Special Prosecutor? I don't think it matters one way or the other in a court of law...and that's the only place it should matter. He's been doing the job, he's a Republican, and no one is gonna make everyone happy, so give it a rest. 

I have no doubts that Hunter Biden is 1) an idiot and 2) was engaged in less than above-board actions. Like I mentioned in observation #5, this is nowhere near to overturning an election, shitting on the Constitution, or preaching insurrection. Hunter is nothing more than a diversionary tactic that, if his folks were as smart as they should be, would've strong-armed him into coming clean at the first hint of impropriety. That they did not do exactly that makes me lose some measure of respect for both POTUS and FLOTUS. But they didn't and it's a swamp they really need to drain quickly and openly because right now, it's festering. 

Meanwhile, back at the ranch.

Wanna know what I wanna know? How come Feckless Loser's asshat sons are wandering the earth spewing bulloney at campaign events. No one has ever gone after those two, or even Princess Ivanka and her consort. These guys traded on the presidency, from golf courses in Scotland to charging the government. But the GOP is carrying on as if Hunter Biden was planting bombs under the federal buildings. This bothers me. Apparently, I'm not the only one who has noticed. 

In their May 11th, 2023 issue, TIME Magazine noted:

Records of Hunter Biden’s activities also echo the foreign business dealings of the family members of another President. While in office, former President Trump remained connected to the Trump Organization, even as he passed control of the company to his two sons, Donald Trump Jr. and Eric Trump. Though Trump’s team said the business would not enter any new overseas deals during his term, his family members continued to engage in business abroad. Meanwhile, Trump’s daughter, Ivanka, and her husband, Jared Kushner, continued to pursue financial interests in foreign countries.

Specifically? Don't forget Don, Jr's foray into foreign affairs even before his Sorry Sire was elected. He met with Russians at Trump Tower in New York City to get dirt on Hillary Clinton. Of course, Ivanka's clothing line and her dealing with China and Indonesia continued while she had an office in the White House...but before she was "encouraged" to shut it down in 2017. And let us not forget that in 2019, when Hunter Biden's actions were first being examined by the DoJ, Eric lied as he claimed his family had stopped dealing in international business all the while doing the Scotland golf deal. Where are those investigations? 

Tonight, down in Georgia, Feckless Loser and 18 of his cabal have been indicted for attempting to overturn the election in that state. 

Let's take a minute to look at the U.S.C. § 2381:

18 U.S. CODE § 2381 - FEDERAL CRIME OF TREASON

Treason is a federal crime in the United States, as stated in Title 18 U.S. Code § 2381. It is defined as "levying war against the United States, or adhering to their enemies, giving them aid and comfort."

The actual law reads as follows:

18 U.S.C. § 2381 says, “Whoever, owing allegiance to the United States, levies war against them or adheres to their enemies, giving them aid and comfort within the United States or elsewhere, is guilty of treason and shall suffer death, or imprisoned and fined, and incapable of holding any U.S. office.” 

Now, listen to this recording: 

There is abundant proof that it is the voice of Feckless Loser. One might think that's more than ample evidence in a court of law to convict that embarrassment of treason. Now, add what he did on January 6th, then add what he has recently said at rally after rally after rally. 

Whadday think? Is there a case there?

And therein lies the problem. A significant number of citizens of these here United States thinks what he did was okay...despite overwhelming proof that there was no malfeasance in the election process in Georgia, or anywhere else for that matter. 

Yeah, yeah.  I'm preaching to the choir here. 

The Wifely Person's Tip o'the Week

A quote from Miyamoto Musashi

Truth is not what you want it to be; it is what it is,

and you must bend to its power,

or live a lie.

A  bonus quote from Isaac Asimov:

When stupidity is considered patriotism,

it is unsafe to be intelligent.