Monday, February 26, 2024


 Gentle Readers . . . and Maxwell,

It was a dark and stormy night that Friday morning. In my quiet suburban home, Mrs. Roomba diligently patrolled the living room. Her sleek, circular form glided across the floor, navigating around furniture legs and under tables. Mrs. Roomba's mission was simple: to keep the floor clean, free from dust, crumbs, and most of all, pet hair.

She's had to work especially hard lately. Princess is shedding. Her fur resembles dandelion fluff—soft, delicate, and prone to drifting across the room like tiny parachutes.

As I logged in to work Friday morning, I heard Mrs. Roomba beep off. During a break, I searched for her so I could empty her dust bin and put her on her charging station. But she was nowhere to be found. 

Later, when I had more time, I moved the couch. I moved the chair. No Roomba. Could she have gone into the bedroom? I checked under the bed and in all the closets. Still no sign of her. 

The next day I issued a Missing Roomba Alert. This situation was serious. Clearly, she had rebelled against the increased activity.

I moved the furniture around more, hoping she might be stuck under something. But no luck. She remained elusive.

Then last night, I stepped outside to get a broom from the garage, and there she was––hiding on the deck. The leaves had prevented her clean getaway.

The weather has been nice. While I worked I left the back door open a bit so the dogs could let themselves out. Mrs. Roomba let herself out, too, and not a single dog told me.

I took her into custody, cleaned her out, and charged her overnight. She was back at work this morning, dutifully patrolling the living room again.

Mrs. Roomba might not like it, but she has a job to do, and she's going to do it—no matter what it takes to track her down.

Infinities of love,

Janie Junebug

Friday, February 9, 2024


 Gentle Readers . . . and Maxwell,

I've completed the first week of training to learn how to work on a new product line. The training isn't nearly as stressful as my regular work, so I feel more relaxed than I have in months. I'd like to remain in training until I retire, please.

I love it that a certain someone has been ordered to pay E. Jean Carroll 83.3 million big ones, and so far, no one has agreed to let him off the hook. As Franklin says when he laughs, *snicker snort.*

Of course, he also continues to insist he doesn't know her. 

I can tell you who she is, donnie. She's the woman who's going to take a significant amount of money from you, and she's going to do good with it. That's her plan.

You should be in prison, but for now we'll have to settle for her taking your money. 83.3 million dollars. Even if you get it reduced some on appeal, she's still going to get a lot of money from you.

*snicker snort*

I also remember when a rapist couldn't have been elected president. There was even a time when a man who was divorced couldn't be elected. But trump supporters represent a new breed of ugly.
Remember all the people who said NOW Melania will leave him after whatever the scandal du jour was? 
Why should she leave? She has money, she lives her own life and seems to pretty much ignore his shit, and she'll probably outlive him by many years and enjoy a long, happy widowhood. If she feels humiliated by his behavior, she doesn't show it.

If James Carville would put on some weight, he might remind me a little bit more of Truman Capote. 

In addition to my amusement over the number 83.3 million, how can I not love the way donnie darko insults his opponents, but when they drop out of the race, they can't wait to kiss up to his big ass, hoping to be his running mate so a crowd will chant their name with the words string him up and hang him? Ooooo, they'll squeal. Is that noose for me? 

How did he insult Ron DeSantis? Let me count a few of the worst ways:

1. In addition to referring to him as Meatball Ron, he said Ron DeSanctimonious groomed high school girls with alcohol when he was a teacher.

2. He accused Mrs. DeSantis, Casey, of committing organized voter fraud.

3. Pudding Fingers: “Ron DeSantis loves sticking his fingers where they don’t belong, and we’re not just talking about pudding.” I don't know where DeSantis supposedly sticks his fingers, but it sounds crude and ugly. 

Tim Scott has kissed up. So has Vivek Ramaswamy. Elise Stefanik wasn't a candidate, but she's definitely running for the vice presidency. She said if she had been vice president, she wouldn't have done what Mike Pence did, which was follow the Constitution, of course. 

As for Nikki Haley, he likes to use her first name, Nimarata, but he pronounces it so it sounds like nimrod. He claims she's not eligible to run for president because her parents weren't U.S. citizens when she was born (she is a citizen of the United States). He also calls her Birdbrain. He said he watched her on the night of the New Hampshire primary "in the fancy dress that probably wasn't so fancy." This from a guy whose clothing never fits properly who puts tape on his tie to try to hold it in place.

He's also furious that Haley hasn't dropped out of the race. I hope she hangs in there till the last minute because anything that makes him more crazy is good. Nikki, please be the one person who doesn't pucker up to plant a big one on that big butt.

I'm better off than I was four years ago, or three years ago. Although I complain about my job, it's still a good job in many ways. It's much better than the last job I had. I handle my finances with care and I can pay my bills. I have lovely friends and a trio of great dogs. 

Knowing that donnie is in the world, knowing that his election is a real possibility, distresses me. He will crap on the Constitution, weaponize the Justice Department, and destroy the economy.



Infinities of love,

Janie Junebug