Put Some Gay In Your Day, Dallas!

Celluloid. Circus. Census.

I have been led to share these concerns with you all this week.

Celluloid.  I had to wait a couple of extra months before I could pass my annual judgment on the celluloid cavalcade of back-slapping known as the Academy Awards. How does one make such ado over a bunch of films we had to welcome into our own homes instead of having them infiltrate some theater which I could leave in disgust? Apparently, much ado was NOT made. What a circus this was direct from a train station. No one really seemed to care what they wore. Speeches had no boundaries and were roundly dull. And winners were somewhat surprising. Personally, I’d like to publicly say how embarrassed I am for Sister Glenn Close. Not only did you dress oddly (save for Sister McDormand), but you certainly became “da butt” of the evening’s jokes. Filthy.

Circus. Speaking of circuses, another headline has caught my eye this week. “The Trump Republican circus gears up for another tour.” (I vowed to never write that man’s name again, but it is part of the headline.) I think this is such a vivid description. This circus has lots of elephants, clowns and daredevils balancing on a high wire between truth and fiction. The GOP finally got big tent they’ve been promising, only it’s made of lies, straining under the brittle poles of respectability. Popcorn? Peanuts?

Census. The 2020 Census results are in. I’m sure there are valuable pieces of information within the information gathered. For instance, I’d really like to know how many foreigners are living in my neighborhood. Instead, the only news reports focus on how the numbers are affecting political representation in Washington. Some states will losing a seat in the House while others, including my home state of Texas, will be gaining House seats. It is my understanding now that some man named Brother Jerry Mandering is going to be carving out abstract districts in this Great State. I hate modern art.