injaynesworld it's "A Summer Day..."

Bathed in the sun’s warm rays, I lie on the soft grass, the sticky coolness of my orange Popsicle dripping down onto my fingers.   I lick them clean and take a slow, deep breath as my eyelids flutter and then close.   In the distance, my mother calls to me.  I’m coming…  But the buzz of a nearby honey bee lulls me to sleep, and the orange treat falls to the grass as I drift away. 

From the prompt "Orange" at Five Sentence Fiction.

injaynesworld it's "Memorial Day...."

Best friends never forget…

injaynesworld it's "The Wedding Night..."

Her knee slammed into the corner of a glass-covered night table as she struggled to sit up, the sharp pain serving to awaken her senses. 

Outside, fog horns called to each other through a dense mist like giant beasts in search of their mates, while inside her bare foot brushed against the empty bottle of “Jose Cuervo” that had transported her from her own. 

Her eyes began to focus, taking in the unfamiliar surroundings until her gaze fell upon the discarded heap of satin and white lace lying on the floor, causing a swell of panic to encase her in its grip once again:   The pounding of the church organ, the suffocating scent of a thousand gardenias, the eyes – so many eyes – bearing down upon her every step.

From behind, she could feel him stir as his arm moved slowly to encircle her bare waist – like a noose.  

From the prompt “foggy” at Five Sentence Fiction.   

injaynesworld it's the "Sunday Recap...."

Happy Mother’s Day…

And to celebrate, Time Magazine featured a photo of Chelsea Handler nursing sidekick Chewy.

It’s called “attachment parenting” and apparently nursing your kid through college is the newest craze among the lactating set.    Expect to see strong GOP support for this practice as justification for cutting food stamps because really…  What’s better than homemade? 

***

A special Mother’s Day gift for my friends, Linda and Nicky…

Behold the stiletto wine bottle holder…

Also available in zebra and pink feathers.  Go wild, girls.

***

The big news of the week was President Obama’s “coming out” in support of marriage equality.  Sure, Biden – ya gotta love him – had to give him a little push…

            

… but the President still said the words that will take this country one step closer to “liberty and justice for all:”  “A gay couple should be able to marry.” 

Let the “family values” set spew their outrage all their want.   Let the pundits on both sides worry about the political ramifications.   If one school bully now decides not to torment a gay classmate because the President of the United States has said that gay is okay, if one gay kid decides not to end his life, it was the right thing for our President to do. 

***

Finally…

Twenty years ago, “The Golden Girls” were already approving of gay marriage…

Go hug a mother...

injaynesworld it's about "The Win..."

They called him Sombrero and he was the baddest of the bad from south of the border. 

Many had tried to stay astride his explosive bulk only to find themselves a broken and bloodied heap in the dirt.  For his brothers it was enough just to rid themselves of their arrogant cargo, but for Sombrero it was about that triumphant moment when he felt his powerful hooves connect with fragile bone and heard their agonizing screams of defeat.

He gave a ferocious snort, his massive heart pounding with anticipation, as yet another foolish challenger lowered his body into place.

For a split second the crowd was still, and then the gate burst open.

From the prompt “sombrero” at Five Sentence Fiction.

injaynesworld "Under A Shy Moon..."

Except for a loosely-knit veil of clouds that slowly drifts across the face of the full moon, the sky is clear and dazzling with celestial celebration.   A bolder moon would not so willingly remain in the background, but this is a shy moon and so it peeks through the passing clouds – cautiously – as a child might dip a toe in a river, testing the water’s reception before daring to jump in. The stars and planets twinkle with hilarity at the bashful lad. 

From below, its brightness appears shrouded in mystery, drawing us in like the seduction of a teasing lover. But tonight’s moon knows nothing of its power to move whole oceans, inspire countless love songs, or create legends of madness at the sight of its full glory. 

How often it is that we don’t see ourselves as others see us, instead reserving our light so as to not shine too brightly for that would be boastful and our fear of ridicule too great?

And so, like a shy moon, we offer only glimpses of what we could be. 

injaynesworld it's the "Sunday Recap..."

Not a “Happy Meal…”

Dateline:  Australia.  Look at that sad little face.  A mother down under told police she was “sickened” when she took her family for burgers only to find this crude drawing of a penis inside the container.   Some dastardly lad, no doubt inspired by Justin Timberlake, decided to try his own hand (no pun intended) at putting a dick in a box.   “If someone would do this, what else did they do to my burger?”  Eww...

On the plus side, it does look like they gave her extra pickles. 

***

Holy Cracker Jacks Batman!

While in Utah another woman also got more than she bargained for when she bought an off-brand box of tampons “because they were cheap.”  Upon opening the box to use her purchase, she instead found each individual applicator stuffed with cocaine.  Oops!  Wrong cavity!

Well, damn.    All I’ve ever found in a box was a cheap, plastic whistle.

***

First of all, let me just say that I do not understand “gay Republicans…”

Closeted, repressed individuals who clearly hate themselves?  I got it.  But openly gay?  Really?   WTF’s up with that? 

This week Romney’s campaign advisor on foreign affairs, Richard Grenell, quit his position after coming under attack by the leader of  the right-wing homophobic American Family Association who called his selection a "shout-out to the homosexual lobby."

My outrage is somewhat tempered by some of Grenell’s tweets, which portray him as a bit of an asshole:    “Hillary is starting to look like Madeleine Albright,” “Michelle Obama working out and sweating on the East Room carpet,” and asking if Callista Gingrich’s hair “snaps on” (Okay.  That one could be a little bit funny.)

But the point is there was no public statement of support for Grenell from the Romney campaign.  

So this week when President Obama suggested that Mitt “spine-of-an-amoeba” Romney may not have had the huevos to go after Osama Bin Laden and everyone was all up his ass with, “Oh no you didn’t…” claiming it was a political hit below the belt...

... Clearly, there is nothing below Romney’s belt. 

***

Behold!  Drunk-In-A-Can…

So now we don’t even have time to get drunk anymore?  

Yes, even that age-old, time-consuming tradition of tossing back a few has fallen victim to our fast-moving society with its obsession with high-speed everything.  

Getty image

One spray of “Quantum Sensations” can render you stupid drunk in just seconds and with no hangover, too. Since each intoxicating spray only lasts a few minutes, you can even drive yourself home.  No more waking up the following morning next to Quasimodo and wondering what the hell happened.   A little pricey at $26 per fashionable aluminum tube, but really – what’s your time worth?  

The spray will be available to Europeans this summer but, like universal health care, those of us in the U.S. will just have to wait. 

***

Finally, in the spirit of cinco de Mayo…

Your turn...  Comments?

injaynesworld it's "The Intruder..."

Dense enough to keep him well-hidden, the vines proved to be the perfect spot from which to view her sleek, soft curves as she sunned herself by the edge of the pool.   She’d sauntered across the grass so completely self-involved that she hadn’t noticed him lurking only inches away.   It wouldn’t be long now.   Her eyes closed and she stretched, falling deeper into sleep.   He knew he would have to be quick.  There would be no second chance. Gathering himself low, he pushed off with all of his strength, arcing high into the air and coming down with a powerful splash, sending a wave of water cascading over her long, lovely white fur and drenching her to the bone.  With a yowl of surprise, she leaped into air; her back arched in outrage and spit a ferocious hiss at him before racing from the yard.   His yard.   He paddled to the steps, climbed from the pool and gave his fur a mighty shake of satisfaction.  Now where had he buried that bone?

A One-Minute-Writer Friday Fiction piece from the prompt “vine.”

injaynesworld it the "Same Crap, Different Day..."

I’ve been stymied as to what to write here lately.  It’s been a while since I let ‘er rip with a tasty political rant.   I know there’s ample crap going on that I should have something to say about.  And then I realized the problem:  Everything old is new again.   I can’t even get it up to be outraged anymore.   I’m embarrassed for everyone on both sides of the political arena.   Well, except for Hillary Clinton who just keeps getting cooler…

So I dug out this piece written in September of 2010. 

Today I filled my car up with gas.  It was $3.05 a gallon -- and I thought that was a deal.  I remember when gasoline was just 25 cents a gallon – 29 if you had some fancy ass car that took premium.   We had no idea at the time that the Saudi’s already had us by the short hairs.   We thought all the oil came from Texas, and Alaska was still a foreign country.  

Back then this is what “green stamps” looked like.   You got some every time you went to the grocery store.   Then you went home and glued them into little paper books just for that purpose.   When you had enough saved you could take them to the “green stamps store” in town and get a waffle iron, or a toaster, or some cool toys.   I don’t remember exactly when they stopped giving out green stamps, but it was a long time ago and I’m still bummed. 

Nowadays, these are the only kind of “green stamps” you see changing hands.

There were food stamps when I was growing up, too, but nobody ever actually knew anyone who used them, or we didn’t know it if we did.   Not like today where 38.2 million Americans are signed up for the program and it’s highly unlikely that you don’t know someone who uses them or even have them discreetly tucked away in your own wallet.  

Up until now, every generation has had their stories about the “good ol’ days.”   Even those who went through the Great Depression could tell you tales about how some things were better “back when.”   I would not want to be at the dinner table 40 years from now and hear what the middle-class youth of today has to say about the world where they came of age.  Oh, wait.  There is no more middle-class.  

In the 60’s, the top tax bracket was 90% on incomes over $400,000.   Of course, back then there weren’t a whole lot of folks with incomes that high.   But by the 90s, with the dot.com explosion and a stock market that seemed to know only one direction – up – you couldn’t hardly step outside without seeing your reflection in the window of someone’s Mercedes, and the top tax bracket under Clinton was 39.9%.   Good times.   

Then came the Bush tax cuts of 2001 and 2003 and, despite two unfunded wars and a recession, the rich were doing better than ever.   In 2008, renown billionaire, Warren Buffet, said he was actually in a lower tax bracket than his secretary.   To his credit, he found that appalling.

Fast forward to today where the top 2% of all earners in this country are going bat-crap crazy at the notion of having the Bush tax cuts expire and having to go back to what they were paying in the Clinton years – a whopping 4% more.   The Republicans are doing their best to spin this as a tax increase, but under the Democrats’ plan you’ll see that everyone still gets a tax break – just not the obscene amount that the Republicans believe the millionaires among us are entitled to.

Bottom line.   If you make over a million a year and you’re not too concerned about the rest of us, then the GOP is the party for you.   But if you’re working your whatever-size ass off just to feed your kids and make it from day to day, you might want those who can afford it to pay their fair share.  

See what I mean?   Nothing’s changed except the price of gas.  What the hell’s a writer to do?