Vampire Lives Matter?

All the colors found in the skin tone of a typical Caucasian. Note, white is the last one.

The only thing I have to say to all those people parading around with White Lives Matter posters is, you’re not white. Often you’re raw siena and alizarin crimson, or you’re cadmium yellow and carmine. You have aquamarine or viridian – depending on the amount of yellow in your skin tone – in the hollows of your cheeks, under your chin and along your hairline. 

But guess whose skin tone is mixed using mostly titanium white?  Vlad the Impaler, otherwise known as Dracula. So my take away is that y’all White Lives Matter folks are trying to save your guy, Drac, from that evil Buffy the Vampire Slayer, right?  Such a kindly gesture and come Halloween night, I’m sure he’ll slither on down your chimney to say thanks and invite you to donate to his favorite charity, Vlad’s Blood Bank.

But seriously, if those White Lives folks want to know who really matters, they should go to a museum.  Might I suggest the one below?

It’s the National Museum of African American History and Culture in Washington D.C. When you first enter this museum, you are directed to an elevator large enough to fit a football team and taken three flights underground. There, in the dim light, you relive the experience of being chained together in the dark, dank bowels of a wooden sailing vessel with no idea where you are going or what will happen to you or the ones you love.   As you make your way up the ramps leading from floor to floor, the often bloody history of the African American struggle for equality unfolds.  I didn’t get many pictures as the halls were dark and the atmosphere, reverent.

In contrast, the upper floors of the museum are full of light, color and music as they celebrate the contributions of African Americans to our culture. You leave those floors grateful that Black Lives really do matter and without them, American culture would certainly not be the envy of the world. Think the experience would cause those White Lifers to change their attitudes?

Happy Halloween everyone!  I hope you all spend it with the people who matter the most to you.

From Brownie Fright Night

Who Are You?

The Zombies Ate My Brains

Who are you and what have you done with Maggie?

Veggie warning for the beet-phobic among the readership.

I don’t know who I am anymore.

Once upon a time, I didn’t need a grocery list. I was a whiz in the kitchen. I’d whip up a batch of, oh, I don’t know – let’s say chocolate beet brownies – or lasagna – maybe both in the same afternoon – after a day of weeding in the yard and hanging laundry on the line. And the brownies were perfectly executed and the lasagna “to die for” and everyone would rant and rave and sing my praises.

I used to track my expenses to the penny. I tended the garden with maniacal precision. Computers and printers and all manner of office tools obeyed my every command.

Now? Loosey-goosey is my middle name. Now, it’s, “Sorry honey, I forgot the marshmallows,” and “Who cares…

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