I was drafting a news/issues odds and ends post* yesterday afternoon. I had planned to include a warning that we should brace ourselves for an obnoxious media rehab of DeSantis and Musk.
The infotainment outlets originally proclaimed those mediocrities political/business savants, and then when the pair’s incompetence aggressively manifested, the infotainment complex shat on them for a while. (Which I admit I enjoyed. A lot.) So pumping them back up seemed like the next likely step. There were portents earlier this week, including intimations that DeSantis’s decision to declare his candidacy on Twitter was a bold move and that hosting the event was the wily Musk’s shot across Rupert Murdoch’s bow.
Then came last night’s catastrophuck, and friends, what a calamitous shit-show it was for both principals! In political/business image terms, it was like a train carrying 1,000 flaming dumpster cars hurtling off a bridge, landing on a nuclear reactor, and causing a meltdown that breached the earth’s molten core and triggered the simultaneous eruption of all the planet’s volcanos.
Possibly that’s a slight exaggeration. But dear God, the headlines — even from DeSantis and Musk-fluffing outfits like National Review! Putting on my flack hat, I’ll just note that it’s difficult to reset a client’s image when they do an extremely high-profile fuck-up that confirms the negative impressions that were already setting like concrete in people’s minds.
And for the spectacular fuckstravaganza to happen to the loathsome DeSantis and Musk simultaneously was just — MWAH! — chef’s kiss! I don’t think my feet have touched the ground for 24 hours.
Anyhoo, just wanted to share the joy. Open thread!
*I ended up trashing the post because it contained multiple items that depressed me (more book banning, LGBTQ bullying, debt ceiling fuckery, etc.), and then I heard Tina Turner had died, which depressed me further still. So I wandered off to do something else.** It was probably for the best.
**Here’s the something else: We’re having a run of splendid open-windows weather, but it’s humid as fuck. It’s Florida, so I’m used to breathing air that seems filtered through boiling cotton balls. But it’s so humid that every surface feels slightly tacky, as if coated with drying varnish. Including one’s own skin.
My workstation desk is a wooden table with built-in leaves on either end that belonged to my great-great-great grandparents. I’ve had it for more than 20 years, ever since my uncle moved to his riverside cabin and bequeathed the table to me. It’s really too big for my riverside cabin, but I love it, so it moved here with me.
Anyhoo, I keep it reasonably clean. But the humidity-tackiness on the table’s surface felt unbearably icky this week, and the usual wipe-downs had little effect, even with copious elbow grease applied.
So I did something I’ve never done — something that would probably make an antique furniture expert sink into the nearest antique fainting couch: I wet down the table surface, sprinkled it with Bar Keepers Friend and really scrubbed the shit out of it with a deck brush. I wiped it down and repeated the process. Twice!
Then I dried it thoroughly with cotton towels, sprayed Murphy’s Oil Soap on it and wiped it down again. My God, what a difference! I’m tempted to give my face the same treatment. The end.