NEVER WALZ

Gentle Readers . . . and Maxwell,

You need to go to never walz dot com. Trust me on this one. You'll love it.

I don't want to spoil it by providing more information.

Infinities of love,

Janie Junebug 

PENELOPE SPEAKS: Je suis épuisée

 Hello. It is I, Penelope. I am ready to drop from exhuastion. I am afraid Dr. G. will say I should be hospitalized because of the stress and strain in my life this summer, on top of a life as the saddest, most abused little dog who ever lived.

Here I am at the end of a difficult day, unable to move from my bed.

I have always taken on most of the responsibility to keep our household running. When Mom Mom is sick or injured, I am the one who takes charge. 

And now Auntie Rebekah is staying with us, so I have to take care of her, in addition to being in charge of the small creature she brought with her, Fritz. He is very needy and emotionally unstable. (Don't tell anyone I told you, but he takes medication prescribed by a psychiatrist; he needs a larger dose.)

Princess assists me in fulfilling my duty to Fritz. Auntie Rebekah had to go out for a while today––it was highly inappropriate, the woman has no business gallivanting around––and Fritz sometimes cries when she's gone. I convinced Fritz, with much cajoling, to sit on the couch with Princess, which assuaged his fears for a time.

I suspect I shall be responsible for Fritz for the rest of my pitiful little life.

Next week I have to take time off from my job with Fritz to see Dr. G. for my Annual Exam. You know, don't you, that I suffer terribly from arthuritis. Sometimes I limp because of it. I do not like it when Dr. G. manipulates my limbs to check how I'm doing. He also squirts nasty, wet stuff up my nose and he sticks needles in me. Needles, and needles, and needles. At least 20 to 30 needles of stuff that's called vaccinations. Oooooooh, the horror of vaccinations. 

On top of taking care of Fritz almost non-stop, I have spent most of my summer dealing with Mom Mom's various illnesses. I make her appointments with doctors and watch over her when she is ill. She also becomes angry about her job sometimes. Today she was so upset that during her lunchtime break she played the piano loudly and cursed mightily when she got a note wrong. I do not care for that side of my Mom Mom's personality.

I also want to talk to you about the saddest thing that happened this summer. I do not understand it and I have not recovered from it. My big brother, Franklin, is gone. I do not know where he went. I thought perhaps he went to College For Dogs the way Princess did last year. Princess came back. Franklin has not returned.

Mom Mom cried and cried and told me my beloved brother died. I do not know what died means. I think he is never ever coming back. I cry, too, when I think about him and how much I miss him.

A very nice neighbor who no longer lives here said he liked seeing Franklin and me together because we looked as if we were wearing matching tuxedos. 

I know I teased my big brother and called him the village idiot, but he was really very smart and so kind to me. We played chase around the big bush in the back yard until he couldn't walk very well anymore. I feel guilty for making fun of him. Please, can you tell me, will Franklin come back? Will I see him again? I am so worried about him.

I cry myself to sleep, missing Franklin.

Cette perte est tragique. Yes, I also continue to study the language of the great nation of France. If my responsibilities ever lessen, I still hope to visit that beautiful country.

I must sleep now. My work begins very early in the morning. 

WHAT A DAY!

 Gentle Readers . . . and Maxwell,

I had a helluva day today. I worked and I fucked up all sorts of things and I had to talk to some rude clients who yelled at me for no reason. I did not fuck up anything for the people who yelled at me but they yelled at me anyway. One of the shouters kept calling me dear and honey. 

You're wrong about that, honey. You can't possibly have that right, dear. 23? You said 18 before, honey. You said 18 twice, dear. I know you did, dear. Why did you say 18 and now you say 23, honey? I want to talk to a supervisor, dear. 

I got so fed up that I told him my name is not dear or honey and he should save it for his wife or girlfriend. 

STOP TALKING AND GO AWAY! 

Did I mention I had a bad day today?

Infinities of love to all of you but not to the man who yelled at me while calling me honey and dear.

Janie Junebug

THE LAWYER OR THE CONMAN

 

HERE HE IS: MISTER AMERICA

 Gentle Readers . . . and Maxwell,

I have a great photo for you today. 

LOOK AT ALL THE MAKEUP HE HAS ON! INCLUDING RACCOON EYE LINER!

In this early photo of J.D. Vance, in addition to learning he doesn't have a neck, we see the beginnings of a drag queen.

This is a man who wants to come out of the closet. Or maybe he was starting to transition. 

We certainly know now why he grows a beard. 

It's too bad he repressed his true self. He could have been a much nicer guy. Maybe he did it because a gay man wouldn't be accepted in his Appalachian hometown.

Except I've heard and read that he didn't really grow up in Appalachia. Does anyone know if that's true?

I'm falling in love with Tim Walz. I was already in love with Kamala.

Infinities of love,

Janie Junebug

OPEN FOR PRIVATE PARTY ONLY

Gentle Readers . . . and Maxwell,

I know you'll be pleased to hear I've opened 

The Lake Junebug Resort & Rumpus Room 

but don't bother to call for a reservation. We can't accommodate you. You're disappointed, I know. The sparkling waters of Lake Junebug are especially beautiful after a visit from Debby. The daily afternoon thunderstorms are something to see and hear, and the chef's haute cuisine features some chicken salad from Costco that remains in the refrigerator. Perhaps I'll open 

The Lake Junebug Resort & Rumpus Room 

to you, the hoi polloi, next year. 

For now, you can feel you're a part of the fun we have here by adopting a tadpole. For a contribution of $100 - $1,000, you can name some tadpoles and I'll post photos of them when they become healthy, happy frogs. We prefer cash handouts donations.

The private party staying with us for a while consists of Rebekah, Another Junebug Production video assistant, and her little dog, Fritz. 

That's Rebekah, but not Fritz. Princess is giving her Auntie Rebekah some love. 

Fritz is a chihuahua mix. I wish I had a video of my girls with him. When Fritz trots around the yard on his stubby legs, Princess and Penelope follow behind him as if they're a pair of nannies who are worried their charge might suffer an injury if they aren't watching his every move.

I'm sorry to say I am ill. I had to take a six-week leave of absence from work. I returned this week only to get sick again. I have an appointment with a specialist later this month, and the fun fun fun of a colonoscopy and perhaps some other tests will be mine to enjoy. I remain optimistic that all will be well. 

Infinities of love,

Janie Junebug

WEIRD IS THE WORD

 Greetings From Stormy Florida!

It's raining and the wind is blowing. Thank you, Tropical Storm Debby. I thought I'd have my bloodwork done today, but I'm not going out in the storm. Besides, many places are closed.

Lake Junebug has a lot of water in it, so skinny dipping is pretty tempting. 

I'm embracing the whole let's-call-certain-Republicans-weird thing because, after all, they are weird. Along with being silly, freakish, and just plain dumb.  

Vance is weird for the childless cat lady crap along with so many other examples, but today we're focusing on don and his dopey Kamala Harris just turned black garbage.

I'm in love with this journalist. Too many reporters laugh and say, Well now, Mr. Trump, you're not answering the question when he does this shit. 

I don't want to spend time today on don's racist history of refusing to pronounce the names of Black people correctly, but I must point out that I've learned we've been mispronouncing his first name. It's actually do-nads, which rhymes with gonads. 

If you're in Debby's path, I hope she doesn't cause you too much trouble.

Infinities of love,

Janie Junebug