And for the lady, perhaps a non-Trad Wife sundress with actual, functional pockets? My search continues.

Imposter syndrome is no longer allowed to exist in a world where Kid Rock goes joyriding in an Apache helicopter after addressing the Pentagon.

Say what you will about it, but knowing that @bsky.app uses AI in its coding makes me not want to use this site.

Call me naïve if you want, but I just never expected the AntiChrist to be such a cringey dipshit.

"Beating plowshares into swords for this tired old man that we elected king…”

Now that his nails are dry, Spouse is in the kitchen making buttermilk biscuits from scratch and humming along to Shakira. Male loneliness epidemic? Nah. Skill issue, my dudes.

The ghosts of several of my Appalachian ancestors shall now rise and commence clamoring for posthumous pardons and generational restitution.

Battle of Blair Mountain Part 2: Quilted Two-Ply Boogaloo

Once again having hair long enough to get stuck to your lipstick on a windy day invokes a certain feeling. That feeling is not nostalgia. (Pleghbpt.)

How it feels doing literally any task right now.

“I don’t really support destroying civilizations, but the alternative was pronouns in email signatures.”

I'm becoming too acquainted with the feeling of dread, coupled with anger that the people best positioned to stop all this choose not to on a daily basis

50% frittata. 100% cast iron. 0% stuck to the pan. Look upon my works, ye mighty, and despair.

Every time Louis C.K. books another comeback tour event, I think about how the country music establishment reacted to Natalie Maines and The Chicks, and I mentally put another marble in the celestial gym sock that I hope Kris Kristofferson is swinging at Toby Keith in the afterlife.

Doing my annual Good Friday listen of “Heaven on Their Minds” and understanding it as the ever-prescient warning about the dangers of Christian Nationalism and religion-as-political-power-lever that it is. And singing my face off, of course. Like ya do.

If I had a nickel for every time JD Vance has ripped off a book title from *actual Appalachian* bell hooks, I’d have two nickels. Which is not a lot, but it’s feckin’ ridiculous that it’s happening twice.

Neurodivergent Tax includes having to remap your Roomba every few months because you went searching for spare dopamine by rearranging the furniture again.

“States can’t ban conversion therapy but they can ban trans healthcare. They can’t regulate ‘crisis pregnancy centers’ but they can ban abortion. The plain text of the Constitution just happens to align with the GOP political platform. Do not dare suggest we’re doing politics.” —The Supreme Court

A surefire way to appreciate the weight of a piano is to move one across the house by yourself.

RIP editorial cartooning.

I turned down Appalachian State University in Boone, NC (my home state) because 18-Year-Old Me thought high country winters were too cold and snowy. I’ve now lived in Wisconsin for a little over ten years. Every time I complain about -20F, Spouse reminds me whose idea it was to move here (mine).

I don’t know why there is a grave-shaped patch of unmelted snow on the grass by my neighbor’s garage. I don’t need to know and, for legal reasons, will not be asking her a single question about it. Whatever a woman does with the jumbo-sized tarp she keeps in her truck is her own business.

This is absolutely a test run for replacing poll workers with militarized election oversight.

We need to redefine “national security” and what makes us safe. Making sure people are fed and housed makes us safe. Healthcare makes us safe. Renewable energy and climate solutions make us safe. Imagine if we funded these instead of bombs.

Many things are terrible, but being able to finally get all of my hair into a claw clip is like rain in the desert at Hot Flash o’Clock when everything is itchy-sweaty-sticky and my own body is touching me too much.

On the downside, Chuck Norris was a homophobic Zionist whose public image helped foster the worst of toxic white masculine culture. On the upside, he was only mortal after all.

I’m sure I’m not the only parent whose kids do things just for the sake of your reaction. And if you’re wondering when they’ll outgrow it, the two who are currently kicking off the “Let’s see if we can make Mom do That Face™️” game are ages 18 and 30. As in years, not months.

“Ew, human. Why is there cold, wet, white crap on the ground again?” #CatsOfBluesky #BlackCatBluesky

With almost zero political daylight these days between Israel-the-country and Jewish people at large, this “we were tricked by the Jews” narrative as an excuse for bombing Iran is as dangerously antisemitic as it is nastily craven.

Wisconsin Blizzard Survival Tip From My Neighbors: Keep your snow gear on after you finish clearing the driveway. That way, you’ll stay warm in the single-digit windchill while cooking on the barbecue grill you moved out of the garage to access the snow blower.

This was obviously a spontaneous explosion of a defective product. We should all be thankful that no one was hurt.

“I am semi-restored by coffee and strive to be adequate.” I need this framed on my wall, immediately.

Step 1: Wash thick, wavy hair at night after everyone else in your household has gone to bed. Decide to just let it air dry, to avoid noise from blow dryer/diffuser. Step 2: Put zero styling products in hair, like an absentminded fool of a Took. (Some of you already know where this is going.)

Look the feed made a poem

Every once in a while, when I need a good giggle, I think about the day my lesbian neighbor was painting her front porch steps while listening to “I Don’t Know How To Love Him” from Jesus Christ Superstar.

Having your transgender offspring receive their Selective Service registration paperwork in the mail just after the start of a new Gulf war sure is… something.

Me: “So if it’s 11:15 but our bodies think it’s only 10:15, then why does it feel like 2?” Husband: “Same reason it’s 2026 but it feels like 1939.”

Saw my first mosquito on this lovely 63°F day, right as I was refilling the ice melt bucket ahead of the frozen slop expected later this week. Welcome to Jackass, also known as March in Wisconsin!

My dad’s copy of the Woodstock album eventually became mine. My mother absolutely hated the live version of the “Fish Cheer” because of the profanity. I think the really bad F words have six and seven letters, not four. RIP Joe. Yours was a helluva tune. I’m just sorry it’s still so apt.

My kitchen can be a real zoo sometimes.

A country that allows its own children to die from violence, hunger, neglect, and abuse to preserve the comfortable lie of our superiority will never inconvenience itself enough to care about children who come from places we can’t find on a map and parents we don’t fully consider to be people.

Lost my wallet earlier this week. While I’m grateful that the WI DMV’s online service options let me get an immediate replacement license without having to drive anywhere, that temporary digital file is getting printed out *immediately.*

I got my nose broken in a pillow fight.

Hey, real quick: Homophobia doesn’t magically become funny or acceptable when it’s aimed at terrible people. Queer sex is never shameful. Bigotry for the sake of a cheap laugh always is.

[Exit Murderer.]

The Venn diagram for those two types of people is the most geometrically perfect circle ever drawn by hand or instrument.

Didn’t Spielberg film a series of cautionary tales about this kind of thing?

As much as I wish Christianity wasn't so prominent in partisan politics, I do love to see progressive Christians push back on the narrative that bigoted conservative Evangelicals speak for the entire faith. I just hope Talarico remembers keep a firm floor and a strong bouncer in his "big tent."