SHOTS FIRED ANTICS ENSUE

 Gentle Readers . . . and Maxwell,

I wasn't interested in watching the Sleeper-In-Chief at the White House Correspondents' Dinner Saturday evening, but I glanced at my phone that night and happened to see shots had been fired at the event so I turned on the TV. 

The shooter was FAST! He flew through the security check point but next thing you knew he was naked on the ground. Was it a true attempt on Cankles McGee's life? 

I'm inclined to believe it was real because the Secret Service treated it the way they should, as opposed to the pretend assassination attempt in Pennsylvania when they let their guy mess around and stick his head out while he pumped his fist in the air. 

I'm also inclined to believe it was not real because, as Carol said, everything he does is a sham. He's a flimflam man, who quickly made it about the ballroom.

Uh, excuse me, Mr. Felon, but the woman walking her dog is called the National Trust for Historic Preservation. The Trust doesn't walk a dog. The Trust doesn't even have a dog.

I'm amused by this guy who calmly continued eating after everyone else took cover or had been hustled out of the room by the Secret Service. The food must have been unusually good.

Now, let's take a look at something much nicer. Last week former President Biden visited his alma mater, Syracuse University Law School, for the unveiling of his portrait. He stood straight and tall. He smiled. He was humble and gracious. No one fell asleep. 

In case you didn't catch it, Joe Biden said, “I hope that long after I am gone your future classmates at Syracuse Law School will see the portrait and they’re reminded not of me, but the greatness and power of our democracy and their obligation to do their part to preserve, protect and defend our constitution."

Seeing him and hearing him brought tears to my eyes. Don't ever say anything bad about Joe Biden to me.

Infinities of love,

Janie Junebug

HAPPY, HEALTHY, AND SAFE

Gentle Readers . . . and Maxwell,

I haven't been here in a while because I teleported to Fifth Avenue, NYC, and for some reason couldn't find the departure portal in Saks or Tiffany's. No way will I ever teleport to a Waffle House. 

Temperatures rose so we needed the air conditioning for a few days. Princess is shedding a bit.

We have flowers on the front steps. 

I found this tiny nest when I was trimming some bushes. I sent the photo to Rita. We think it might be a hummingbird's nest.

Working in the yard put some color in my cheeks in place of my usual Casper the friendly ghost pallor.

Gregarious Scott, who lives next door and turned out to be the one who repaired my yard light that Carol so viciously attacked 😏with her car, gave us a doggy swimming pool. He bought it for his and his daughter's snack-sized dogs, but they didn't like it. Princess loves it.

Princess splashes and rolls around in the pool. Then she runs around the yard in circles. I'm not sure what this routine signifies other than pure enjoyment.

In other news, it turns out Kash Patel goes to work drunk and passes out and Pete Hegseth's Christianity is fake (Did you know the Bible was written by Quentin Tarantino? That guy is multi-talented.). Boy, am I ever shocked by Patel and Hegseth. 

NOT

I filled out an application to adopt a particular breed of dog from its rescue group and was told I'd be a perfect fit and could have a dog after I've replaced my deck and part of my fence. I replied that it's going to be quite some time before that happens (can't get people to do the work on the house and deck and cooperation with the neighbor is moving slowly with the fence), and if the dog(s) couldn't come to live here as things are, then I was sorry for taking up their time. As they could see, Princess is happy, healthy, and safe.

No further response. Dogs need homes. I'm a perfect fit. But I can't have these dogs in need because my deck and part of my fence look crappy. 

I was disappointed and dispirited, but we'll find the dog who is right for us.

Infinities of love,

Janie Junebug

HAPPY EASTER, PEEPS!

 

I SEE THE MOON

 Gentle Readers . . . and Maxwell,

I wanted to howl at the bright, beautiful moon Wednesday night, but Princess refused to join me. Be quiet, Mommy, she said. You'll disturb the neighbors.

Que bella luna, I told her.

Speak German or English, she said, or don't talk at all.

I reminded her I don't speak German, and she turned her back on me. Such a persnickety Princess.

Pam Bondi is out. I wonder if the felon will appoint Little Marco to be attorney general. He's already secretary of state and "acting" national security adviser.  Why not make him AG, too? Appoint him to every position and have a one-man cabinet.

Marco now in charge of Muslims.

Marcus Rubicus Venezuelianus

Marco leads Mass in Latin.

Marco now The Emperor of Man.

Carol had a little accident in my front yard the other day. Her car gave my yard light a love tap. The light still worked, but it was on the ground. I was going to take a picture of it, but when I looked out the window last night, the light was standing up straight. I don't know who fixed it. Maybe softhearted, sympathetic Scott from next door? Maybe someone I don't even know.

If you're wondering why Carol drives in my yard, or even if you're not wondering, it's because when she comes over to my house but we're going out to commit crimes, such as robbing banks or swooping into jewelry stores for a smash-and-grab, Carol parks in the yard and I drive the getaway car because my car is red and, therefore, less noticeable. 

I wait in the car while Carol commits the crimes because no one suspects an 87-year-old woman is going to rob a bank. She's very polite when she asks the tellers to open their cash drawers and get on the floor. 

Princess and I wish you a lovely, restful Easter weekend and the joy of having a Carol in your life who will be your partner in crime, but maybe a Carol who doesn't knock down your yard light (not that I was upset in the least, but she was a little rattled and apologized).

Infinities of love,

Janie Junebug

SIGN SIGN EVERYWHERE A SIGN

 

IT MIGHT AS WELL BE SPRING

 Gentle Readers . . .  and Maxwell,

I cut all the frozen, dead leaves from Phil, and he welcomed spring with signs of new life.

I put the plant my daughter-in-law, K, gave to me in a Princess-approved pot.

We have a spot on the side of the front yard where we've managed to grow some plants and flowers.

Our drought continues. We have water restrictions, so I limit my plants and flowers to a couple of drinks a week. We've had gray, cloudy days of late, but rain is limited to brief strings of spitting. 

Princess and I thought this box looked surprised to be in a recycling bin. Perhaps it hoped to become a permanent member of the household where it was delivered.

Infinities of love,

Janie Junebug

MADAM SPEAKER

Gentle Readers . . . and Maxwell,

In the World of The China Cabinet, Little Johnson does not exist.

 Nancy Pelosi is the Speaker of The House, and our spotlight is on her because she has a new gavel.

In an interview with Junebug Media, Speaker Pelosi stated: I want to express my gratitude to Janie Junebug's daughter-in-law, K. I felt incomplete without my gavel. Clearly, K is amazeballs. Now I can continue to serve the public and my fellow representatives. I've even taken off my mask so you can see my beautiful face. Now I want to invite the ladies of The China Cabinet to gather around me so they can view my beautiful gavel. They'll see how perfectly it rests in my hand.

Yes, Justice Ginsburg, we know you never lost your gavel. I was not responsible for the loss of mine. It went astray during the dusting tragedy on top of the pie safe that also led to the disappearance of Stacey Abrams' microphone. I would never misplace my gavel. Those who insist on moving me out of the way while using Old English Furniture Oil to clean house had better be more careful or I won't be able to clean house with the representatives!

And now the gentlemen can take a look at my gavel.

Move along now, everyone, We have a great deal to accomplish.I need to begin by tearing up the paper copy of someone's idiotic speech.

Infinities of love,

Janie Junebug