My brain hurts

 

I've made a habit of reserving this day for my regular Thursday Photo Funnies. A cheap excuse to excuse myself from writing and just dumping a dozen or so photos from my trusty iPhone. Most the time the pictures are inconsequential, as are the captions. But occasionally I'll stumble across something interesting. Like the 1944 D copper penny I found while walking my dog. 

But the sad fact remains that I haven't been able to do much walking lately. And probably won't anytime soon, thanks to my right hip joint. Which has gone from a 3-4 on the McGill Pain Scale to an unbearable 8-9, meaning, "shoot me now, I'm done for this world."

In its place and because I don't know how much longer it will be until I see the relieving sharp end of a surgeon's scalpel, I may or may not be instituting a new series on R17 -- something I haven't done for a while.

I'm calling it Unresolved Thursdays, wherein I address (and seek counsel) on matters of the day that make absolutely no sense to me.

1. Gulf of America. What in god's name is President LumpyTits thinking by changing the name from Gulf of Mexico to Gulf of America? What does that accomplish? How does it benefit anyone or anything other than to prove he can impose his low-IQ will onto a frightened bunch of mapmakers with the gonads of a neutered seahorse?  Why not go all in and call it the Golf of America and sell the licensing rights to Titleist?

2. Kanye West. Yeezy. Queazy. Ye. I didn't stick around for the end of last week's Super Bowl. Apparently I missed a 30 second (at a cost of $8 million dollars) spot where this brainless narcissist was advertising a hoodie/T-shirt/face towel emblazoned with a swastika. We're not even one hundred years past the Holocaust and this hateful, ignorant mofo is celebrating the murder of my relatives. I don't know if Mr. West remembers any history classes, I suspect he never attended school  but  those sturdy looking Germans in their sharp dressed Nazi uniforms had no love for people of color.  

Also, Fuck You Ye.

3.  RFK Jr. This country has officially gone off the rails. Just a few months after electing a senile convicted felon fond of telling stories about electric boats, man eating sharks and Hannibal Lecter, the US Senate is considering his nomination for Director of Health and Human Services. A former heroin addict, who chainsawed the head of a beached whale, and lugged a bear carcass to Central Park in order to fabricate a biking accident. "Yeah, hi Jake from State Farm, you're not gonna believe what happened to my on my Schwinn 10 speed..."

The only thing scarier than not knowing to what to make of all this, is the knowledge that for so many people, it all makes perfect sense.

Ayahuasca, take me away.