Years ago, on January 6, there was a riot in the Capitol Building.
And Congress has set up a committee to investigate the riot.
I am looking forward to that January 6 Committee coming to the conclusion that January 6th should be abolished.
Go straight from the 5th to the 7th. Problem solved, right?
And then, to keep the year 365 days long, tack another day on to February.
Make it February 29th.
Well, what about leap years, you ask.
On leap years, they tack on another February 29th.
And everyone will stand and applaud.
Until the next riot starts.
Author: R.
Matt the Whore
I recently saw Matt Damon saying in a “fortune favors the bold” in a commercial.
He was playing off of his astronaut persona from that Mars movie.
Not that he’s ever actually gone to Mars.
So, it was more like a “I’m not a doctor, but I play one on television” level of arrogance, only he’s serious.
He was hawking cryptocurrency.
If he believes in it so much, he should ask to be paid in it.
Hell, every employee of that company should.
Otherwise, he’s just another Hollywood whore, as empty and vacuous as his “Team America World Police” marionette.
Weekly Challenge #945 – Blood is thicker than water
LISA
a Secret Meet
It felt right from the start. There was never any question of me leaving but he gave me all the reasons I should stay.
He’d laughed as he said ‘Blood is Thicker than Water’ but stressed that my parents had forgotten me; we were leaving behind the traditional and sharing this special experience. We were family now.
He brushed my hand as he talked, held my gaze as we walked. I’d joined the police to feel part of something but as the only woman in my station I hadn’t felt like I fitted in. He made me feel special.
Loved.
LIZZIE
“There’s an issue… The whole village drank water from the creek. No one said blood was thicker than water anymore. Brothers attacked brothers, fathers ambushed mothers, grandparents turned on neighbors.”
“Neighbors?”
” Yes. That was the only exception.”
“Ahm…”
“I know. We went a bit overboard.”
“Do you realize that now we won’t get the grant? We will never be able to convince them that proverbs are our way in.”
“Yes, well, but that was a bit of a silly idea in the first place. Humans are insane. Let’s try that other planet with the little green men.”
“Why? Oh, why?!”
RICHARD
Thicker
They do say that blood is thicker than water, which I’m reliably told, means family comes first.
Clearly, whoever coined that expression never met any of my family.
Believe me, if they were yours, you’d want to disown them too.
It’s not that they’re particularly unlikeable, or that they’ve intentionally done anything to deserve being side-lined.
The truth of the matter is that using their brains is an alien concept to them.
If it’s dumb decisions, idiotic plans, or simply not having a clue, they’re first in line.
I don’t know about blood being thicker.
Because they, are thick as…
SERENDIPIDY
It’s only when it starts to congeal that blood is thicker than water. Just try slitting a wrist and you’ll see just how freely the red stuff flows!
However, personally, I prefer to leave it a while. I like to let it thicken a bit, like soup left to simmer on the stove. Thicker, means more concentrated, a more intense flavour; an altogether more enjoyable experience.
Not everyone’s cup of tea, of course.
Some would rather it thin, and runny.
Each to their own.
But I’ll take intense and robust over tasteless and insipid, any day.
You should try it!
NORVAL JOE
As the nurse left the room, Sabrina lay back and closed her eyes.
The shooting had been days before and she still had a unit of blood hanging on the IV pole.
Billbert thought, ‘Blood is thicker than water. Where will she go with her only relative dead?’
As if she heard his thoughts, Sabrina asked, “Where is Buhmilda?”
Billbert swallowed. Was he the one to break this news? “Um.”
Sabrina squeezed his hand. “It’s okay. I know she’s dead. We stood together and watched them carry our bodies away. She stayed with her body, and I went with mine.”
TOM
To feel envy is human, to savor schadenfreude is diabolic Arthur Schopenhauer
Blut ist dicker als wasser was a play written by Franz Klass. It is based on Christoph Starke, “Synopsis bibliothecae exegeticae in Vetus Testamentum,” Leipzig, 1750. The three central characters representing the three driving forces behind schadenfreude – aggression, rivalry, and justice. The setting drawn from Byron’s poem Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage. The metaphor of the Roman holiday run through the work where a gladiator in ancient Rome expects to be “butchered to make a Roman holiday” while the audience would take pleasure from watching his suffering. Across the back-drop the phrase is Xing zai le huo scrawled in red paint
PLANET Z
No moon tonight, so we walk to the border site.
John and I put on our gloves and we take the water and food out of the wagon.
“Do you think what we’re doing is right?” John asks, as he takes the top off of his canteen.
“Stop,” I say.
“Damn,” John says. “I keep forgetting.”
We finish with the site and head back, tossing the contaminated gloves and the canteen into the wagon.
I hand John my canteen and he drinks.
“What we’re doing is wrong,” I say. “But what they’re doing is wrong, too.”
John nods and smiles.
CHATGPT
Ella always believed in the saying, “Blood is thicker than water.” Family first, she thought, no matter what. But when her sister, Clara, betrayed her trust by spreading lies, Ella felt shattered. Seeking solace, she turned to her best friend, Sam, who had always been there, no questions asked. As days turned into weeks, Sam stood by Ella, offering support and understanding. Ella realized that family isn’t always defined by blood, but by those who genuinely care. Sam’s unwavering loyalty taught her that sometimes, the bonds we choose are stronger than the ones we’re born with.
The Serpents of Cape Cod
When I was little, my parents dragged us to Cape Cod to suffer a hot summer in a cabin without air conditioning.
I cheatcoded the diner’s Galaga game out of infinite lives.
But couldn’t keep from them forever.
Out at the beach, the cheap suntan lotion washed off, and I sunburned my calves horribly.
Instead of taking me to a clinic, they forced me to crawl everywhere like an animal.
Made worse by a performance of Annie Oakley by the local amateur theatre group.
When I cried from the pain, they’d smack me.
“Don’t make a scene,” the serpents hissed.
The arms dealer
Victor was born in the Soviet Union, and his country collapsed around him.
Serving in Russia’s army for a time, making connections for his later role as an arms dealer.
Many regimes who bought weapons from Victor.
Massacre after massacre, yet Victor claimed not to have their blood on his hands.
When Victor died and went to Hell, he pled his case before Satan.
“If not me, someone else would have sold them the guns, tanks, and planes,” claimed Victor.
Satan nodded, and assigned demons to torture Victor for eternity.
“Your blood is not on my hands either,” remarked Satan.
The casting trapeze
There are so many stories about the so-called Hollywood casting couch, where producers and directors force young starlets to do things to get a role or keep a role.
Wally never had a couch.
He had a trapeze.
And the things he made those young women do, well, they were actually kind of awesome.
Strictly acrobatically speaking, of course. There was nothing sexual about it.
The backflips, the catching Wally in mid-air, the spinning and the lit torches…
It was like his own private circus in there.
Until one starlet spoke out.
And it became a huge public media circus.
In transit
Gramma died last week.
She was an only child, Mom and Dad have been dead for years, and I’m her only grandson.
I moved away for work a few years ago, and went back and visited, but really couldn’t take time off.
So I had the crematorium pick up her body from the rest home.
They were supposed to mail her ashes to me, but the tracking number is wrong, and the post office doesn’t have any other records of it.
Out there, somewhere, is Gramma.
Probably sitting on a shelf with others lost in transit.
Should have used Fedex.
Travis
Travis Scott has a history of yelling for the audience to rush the stage.
“There are more of you than guards,” he’s said.
What utter dumbasses take a job to guard his shows?
The guy you’re supposed to protect, screaming for the audience to attack you.
What an ungrateful son of a bitch.
I tried to listen to his… “music” is what he calls it?
Three “songs” in, and I had to hit stop.
I want to go to the hospital rooms of the injured… the funerals of the dead.
And say “You were willing to die for this shit?”
The cool kids
I don’t hang with the cool kids.
I’m rather behind on the times, so I don’t know where the cool kids hang.
Do they still hang at the roller rink?
Do they still hang at the drive in?
Do they still hang at the malt shop?
That’s kinda dated, I admit.
That’s Fifties thinking.
Do they still hang at the arcade?
Do they still hang at the mall.
Maybe. Not sure. This isn’t the Eighties, man.
Where do the cool kids hang now?
If they don’t wash their hands, get vaccinated, and mask up, they’ll all hang at the ICU.
Weekly Challenge #944 – PICK TWO Express, In my hand, Expected, Cut and dried, Desiccation, Blocker
The next topic is Blood is thicker than water
NORVAL JOE
The tree, struck by lightning, burned and sizzled as rain and wind slashed against the window of Sabrina’s room.
The nurse’s frown faded to an apologetic smile. “If it was in my hands, I’d let you stay. But these are the rules, cut and dried.”
“I expected as much.” Billbert made to leave.
“No!” Sabrina snapped, squeezing his fingers. “Keep your hand in mine!”
The nurse folded her arms. “Okay. You have until I give report in about forty-five minutes.”
Billbert glanced at her name tag. “Thanks, Nurse Racquet. Can I come back tomorrow, earlier?”
She sighed. “I guess so.”
SERENDIPIDY
Here’s where I keep them, sealed away tightly in airtight boxes to keep out the humidity.
Cut and dried into cubes, the desiccation process preserves all the flavour, but makes storage simple and none of those nasty smells to deal with.
Then, when I have guests for dinner, I simply rehydrate a few cubes overnight and use them to make stock, or simply crumble them over the meal, to add a nice piquancy to the food.
Delicious!
I think so, anyway.
My guests, sometimes disagree.
So I slit their throats, and use their bodies for the next batch of seasoning.
TOM
here in jungle-land 945 859 860
The children of the unforgiven tooled broken express lanes. No time to be expected. Enter longing, regret hot shame. In her hand was his redemption, In his hand was the echo of pain. Whined out a fiery engine cut and dried in the furnace’s reframe. She knew no reason to wait in the darkness. He was her savior, her light, her flame. This flight was his last. Wheels pounding in the rain. A wall of law behind them a wall of law ahead. Desiccation of hope hardens the heart, but concrete blockers will end the game. Here in jungle-land.
A line of lawmen, a wall of cars and a hail of bullets in wait. Just at the edge of eyesight the Rat was making his run. Like the speediest falling star, brief and doomed, he never really had a choice, gun the engine at that blue line, and lose. Music was spilling out the window in some broken down Homeric hymn. The barefoot girl keep time with its mournful beat that mark the last full measure of her empty life. In the end it was just the sound of metal, then a silence you could cut with a knife.
The rasping of rain in the gutters. Thumbs setting safeties, up turn barrels in the night. A trail of smoke above a trail blood below. Crossing the heart of the city one less rebel ment one less reason to fight. In morning would there be a pray for the rat? Would his passing even be noted? Would a mother cry for her child? For a good girl gone bad. When the song is finally written who is forgotten who is not? Only the strong stay strong and the meek fade way. Burn bright the children of night here in jungle land.
LIZZIE
The guy stole my headset, and then the gun magically appeared in my hand and I just had to shoot. I knew the detective wasn’t buying my loony bin strategy… My lawyer told me to shut up, but I just had to talk. And I went on and on about voices, lots of voices “can’t you hear them?!”. My lawyer said “shut up” again, but I just had to keep talking. In court, my lawyer turned to me and said “Voices?! Did you hear my voice??” And then I was given life. Perhaps I should write a book about voices!
RICHARD
Express Checkout
I really don’t know why I bother!
Every single time, it’s always the same: I pop in to the store, rushing as always, and up against the clock.
So, of course, I choose the express checkout, as I always do, and – as I always do – I regret it, almost immediately.
The guy with more than ten items; the woman with annoying kids, demanding sweets and gum; the idiot, struggling to swipe their credit card, or fumbling for change.
All of them delaying the line, each one a blocker to my rapid exit.
Express checkout, my arse!
Slower than the others!
PLANET Z
Every morning, Harry took the express train to work.
He had been taking the local route, but after timing all the stops and delays, he saved a few minutes by driving to the next town over and boarding there for the express.
Sure, it took a little more gas, but when the station offered free charging, he traded in his car for an electric and let it charge all day while he was at work.
Henry was so proud of himself, until the express missed a signal and slammed into a garbage truck.
His blood-soaked briefcase landed in the weeds.
CHATGPT
The express train rumbled through the desert, where desiccation had reduced the landscape to dust. In my hand, I clutched a letter with “urgent” stamped on it. The message was clear: return home immediately. The situation wasn’t as cut and dried as I’d hoped. Dad’s health was failing, the letter said, and I was expected to make a choice I’d dreaded. My heart felt like a blocker was squeezing it, but I knew what I had to do. The train screeched to a stop at my station, and I stepped onto the platform, bracing myself for what awaited me.