Weekly news - rave or rant?
Today at (virtual) Mass (yes, my halo is well and truly polished), the last hymn was 'Lord of the Dance' and as I enthusiastically joined in with 'dance, dance, wherever you may be', a most unwelcome visual popped into my head - that of Dominic Cummings prancing around in his parents' garden.
As if that wasn't bad enough, he had to choose to dance to Abba. That honour is and will always be Tay May's and her designer shoes, not Dominic Cummings and his wooly beanie.
It is a bit scary to think that this man who advises the Government, made the decision to travel 250 miles with his wife (they both showed symptoms of coronavirus at the time) and his four year old son, to his parents' home (they are in their seventies).
The big question is, will he resign? Others in prominent positions have. One such person was Scotland's former Chief Medical Officer, for visiting her second home and another (I shall be kind and not name this person) for having a friend over for some therapy.
King Hydroxy of Chloroquine has spoken again. Just when you thought that Donald Trump had stopped peddling his favourite drug, he has started whispering his sweet nothings again, claiming that he has been taking it and urging, in the tone of an oily salesman to 'go on, try it, what do you have to lose?'
The same could be said about wearing masks, Mr Trump. 'Go on, wear it, what do you have to lose'?
Well, a bit of orange tan around the face perhaps but not a lot more, unlike hydroxychloroquine, where you could lose the natural rhythm of your heart, your consciousness, your appetite and your hair. (Notice I have resisted the urge not to say that the last two may not be too bad in a certain person's case).
Until next time, stay safe, wash your hands and try to dance, dance wherever you may be.
In case you are wondering why I haven't blogged for a couple of weeks (I flatter myself), it is because I was on an Orange detox. Not orange, the fruit (I am allergic and would be decomposing instead of detoxifying) but Orange, the fruitcake.
Listening to President Laranja Tinto, was slowly beginning to numb my brain cells, so I took a break to recharge them. Shame that the tweeting tangerine did not do the same. I know what you're thinking - not too many brain cells to recharge there.
In one of his many, many recent tweets, Trump tweeted just one word, 'OBAMAGATE'. I guess he thinks that adding the word 'gate' at the end of a name, magically turns it into a scandal.
It did work to an extent because his followers, the Trumpets and Trumpettes, immediately started blowing their wind instruments (otherwise known as their mouths) making a whole lot of noise, while the rest of the world put their hands up to cover their ears.
To make matters worse, his son, reminiscent of the class dunce who thinks that they have something intelligent to say, tweeted this:
I see that the apple doesn't fall far from the orange tree.
Anyway, even Obama appears to have lost his patience and has spoken his mind privately, in his own Obama way.
Unlike his successor, who appears to have no filter between his thoughts and his mouth, Obama has refined double filters in place and takes measured pauses before voicing his thoughts.
You could easily sneak in 40 winks between the articulation of each thought but it is well worth the wait. A class act, one might say except Mitch McConnell would beg to differ.
The man who sent out a search party in 1972 to look for his upper lip, appeared outraged and asked Obama to keep his mouth shut (could've been mouth envy).
He suggested that it was 'classless to critique an administration that comes after you.'
One might wish to remind him of the saying, 'People in glass houses, shouldn't throw stones....' or as Eric Trump would say, 'People in glass houses are better than two birds in a bush'.
Meanwhile here in Britain, Prime Minister Boris Johnson suggested that it wasn't necessary for us to stay home, so we could go to work but only if we couldn't work from home, although he would like us to continue staying at home, if possible but if we couldn't than we shouldn't, however it would be nice if we could comply.
The above crystal clear guidelines were accompanied by a change in the slogan, from 'stay home' to 'stay alert'.
Once again easy enough to interpret. Stay very still and when you sense the presence of those spiky invisible coronas, whack them with your invisible fly swat.
I feel so reassured and so much better now.
Until next time, stay safe.
