Antifa, Antifa, Where Art Thou, Antifa

Why are we still paying for the pleasure of having teeth yanked out of our heads? Did I not hear we're sending a Canadian to the Moon? Hello? Down here on Earth? Can we step it up please? Day eight and just a spot of blood in my mouth in the morning now after having an eye tooth and whatever the first molar is called pulled but Geez Louise. I am really starting to resent the Moon.😡

But enough about me, I see somebody thought she could interview Donald Trump and not get shit splattered all over her white suit. Figuratively, I mean, not literally, although Noel Casler has been pointing out for years that Donald Trump has no control over his bowels anymore due to rampant drug abuse and wears a diaper. That's why sometimes the people around him will suddenly look vaguely horrified. He's defecated and the stench is swirling around and up into their nostrils through to the back of their throats so they can taste the smell of his shit while he abuses them, all the while pretending not to notice.😬

Hey, nobody's got a gun to anybody's head saying they've got to be anywhere near Donald Trump, so suck it up, suckers. I won't care about you. I can't. His Russian Mob boss is committing genocide in Ukraine, hellbent on expanding his terrorist state into a terrorist empire in reaction to liberal democracies like ours, where we kick more Patriarchal constructs to the curb every day, living life as ourselves, free to be you and me.💃

I'd never paid much (or any, really) attention to Donald Trump because I was out and about having fun in the 80s being cool and trend setting (total lie, I was never cool, nor did I set a trend unless Madonna copied fishnets and messy hair gelled in place from me) and then at home 24/7 with my three children in the 90s because I'm a total control freak and didn't want to let them out of my sight for a second except to go to the little school across the street in which I volunteered so I could turn everybody else's kids into little Liberal Feminists, too, er, I mean, keep them in my sights, too.👀

That's right. I define myself as a Liberal Feminist because we're who the fascists - and everybody else, I guess - hate most.✊

If Donald Trump was around in the 2000s I didn't notice. I basically missed all his tabloid attention whoring until there he was, the Republican Party nominee for President of the United States.😲

Remember how they were all against him until he called them a bunch of pussy whipped weaklings with ugly unfuckable wives and then they were all gaga for him?🙇

But as much as it's been all about Donald Trump ever since (although I've protected myself from getting any of his shit splattered on me by only ever watching Sarah Cooper do Donald Trump) he's just a symptom, not the disease, the disease being fascism, of course.💁

I know, I know, the pedants don't like it when we call fascism, fascism. It belittles other fascism, apparently. Well, too bad. The pedants can go fuck themselves in the ear. Uncomfortable Canadian fact: the leaders of the Conservative Party past, present and future, are all in with it, too. Before I stopped subjecting myself to his data-mining, which is 24/7 on Twitter, I watched Pierre Poilievre "debate" Mark Carney in a clip that came across my feed (imagine, I actually thought I could change fascist hearts and minds) and almost immediately Carney was splattered in Poilievre's shit. Poilievre may as well've called Carney's wife ugly and his father an assassin. It was brutal. A shit show. Everybody a loser.💩

Which brings me once again as to why Trudeau's name is on all the fascist Freedom Convoy's hate flags. And I call the Freedom Convoy fascist because it is. Downtown Ottawa was lawless, the mob in charge. Police either afraid or complicit, humiliated in public like so many Ted Cruzes and Marco Rubios, carrying water (actually gasoline) for their fascist overlords.🙇

But Trudeau's a shit deflector. He didn't pretend, as so many Conservatives wanted him to, there was any percentage in engaging with shit-flinging fascists. Instead he called them out for what they are and invoked Stephen Harper's Emergency Act, an Act no doubt intended to protect fascists against us, you and me. He restored law and order for all of us, while Michael Chong, Scott Aitchison, their gun lobby colleagues, COVID conspiracy kooks, neo-nazi groupies, all voted for the fascists, for fascism.😠

All to say, Antifa is real, but it's Trudeau, not a bunch of masked and black clad rock throwers, who were nowhere to be seen during the very very very fascist Freedom Convoy attack on us last February 2022, an attack very very very publicly 👍 by Donald Trump and every shit splattering fascist from here and through Twitter all the way to Russia.

I'm not sure how much alarm ringing it will take for Canadians to get it, that we're being warred against whether we want to acknowledge it or not, but Donald Trump is the face of fascism and I promise you we won't hear Pierre Poilievre say "boo" against him because he is all in himself. They all are.🙈🙉🙊

Trauma Center

I don't know if it's the medication I'm on or being a Sober Sally or just really listening to people who care about us, me, your and my well-being, but I'm doing better with how I respond to life, thank you very much, universe. And by better I mean relative to becoming so worked up I get a kidney stone.😷

I just watched this hour long interview with Gabor Mate on Trauma and another piece of my own puzzle, but also yours, because we're all living together in this one world, fell into place.💞

The pride of the self-proclaimed? Boomer proclaimed? Greatest Generation is/was sucking it up, holding it all inside, it was The Depression, not a depression. And don't bother me, I'm having a martini. Also my mother's favourite response to childhood woes, "Well you're not exactly a widow with four young children, are you."❤

No but how am I going to get to the Olympics when I just got beat in the 75 yard dash by Marla Cameron, ffs?💔

I don't know how it came up now, something to do with my period, I'm guessing, but when I was in my teens my mother claimed to have gone into menopause when my father died.👵

This never made much sense to me, because my father died of cancer when my mother was 38, so young for menopause. Also, it's not like he was suddenly gunned down in a hail of bullets, a shock so sudden to his grieving widow that it would bring on menopause, either. I didn't think, anyway.💁

But she wouldn't have said it if it didn't happen, she wasn't shy about bodily functions. I just didn't believe her going into menopause was connected to my father's death. Why? Why didn't I believe it? Well because the notion that it did ran counter to my understanding, or rather, lack thereof, of the mind/body connection, the whole of us, and her life story. Did The Greatest Generation even have a childhood or was childhood something they only afforded their children, the much ballyhooed Boomers.😕

(Also, as was the custom of the day in our society, I was given insufficient information and so didn't have a proper appreciation of how traumatic it actually was for her.😦)

Later in life she took to mentioning her initial, perhaps wilful, misunderstanding of the diagnosis, that it was both terminal and his death quite imminent, which was corrected when a concerned nurse advised her as she made plans ignoring it, "Oh, Mrs. McLeod, your husband won't last three months."😬 

I believe it was more like six weeks, too, but I don't know that and it doesn't matter now. Those sorts of details got lost in the flurry of the time, my mother didn't like to talk about it thereafter, and no one's alive now who would know better. What does it matter, anyway, all these details that have nothing to do with who a person was or the life they lived in our world.😔

Of course she went into sudden and early menopause. She was in shock. The love of her life was dead, she had four kids under the age of ten, her homemaker-married-to-a-lawyer life was over and she went back to being a teacher, but also a single working mother determined we all stay in our middle-class life.🙋

Meanwhile, I was four. My father suddenly disappeared and my mother, well, she suddeny disappeared, too.😒

I don't mean to come across as feeling sorry for myself, or self-indulgent, although I suppose I do, because my point really is how good my life is, in spite of this traumatic event I was too young to appreciate at the time, and which my society didn't appreciate at the time, either, thanks to how it is, or maybe how it was.👪

Because it is better now, from where I sit, and I'm not sure why there's nostalgia for a time when there was so much more unfairness around and we were supposed to just suck it up and hold it all inside, it's The Depression, not a depression.😣

Shooting Range

I've noticed recently some Canadians, women, expressing concern we'll become desensitized to American men mass murdering children, as it happens with increasing frequency due to the ease with which American men can buy guns.😖

But I think the opposite is happening and we're becoming increasingly angry, which is maybe what the enemy wants? I don't know. Who is the enemy? Who wants American men mass murdering children?❤

#NotAllMen💂 #NotAllChildren👼

When I was kid I was almost killed by a Canadian man with a gun. My brother and I were adventuring in the woods. Ever since I've been afraid of the woods. Not because the woods are full of bears (this happened in Northern Ontario) but because I might get shot by a man with a gun.👀

I read a comment on a Facebook friend's page (he'd linked to the latest mass murder at a mall in Texas) from a woman who lives among men whose backyards are now shooting ranges. A bullet hit her house. She's okay about the guns, just not getting with getting shot, so she waited until she had the all clear before heading next door to let her neighbour know he should tweak his range a bit so he didn't accidentally shoot her, which he (thankfully?) agreed to do.😲

Such are the rights of people who want to own and shoot guns in the US now. But like I just said, when I was a kid I was almost killed by a man right here in good old Canada. Was he out of season? Was I? Who the fuck cares? I was eight years old and that could've been the end of my awesome life, just like it is for countless American kids in school, at the mall, in their own backyards.😡

Back in my homemaker days I was friends with a woman whose husband, former RCMP, became unhinged (perhaps he always was), apocalyptic, dangerous. She'd managed to get him out, I don't know how, but he wasn't living very far away and still came and went from her place. Anyway, I was sitting in her living room, our kids playing, and I'm looking around at all the religious paraphernalia, when it twigged, "B? Does R have a gun?"

B looked away, then down, "Yes, but don't worry, he wouldn't use it."

And I felt guilty, sad, shitty - but also scared - and there was nothing for it but to gather up my lot and take them home, B and her kids welcome at our place but only as long as R didn't know about our existence.😬

(The "happy" ending is he ended up living with his mother out in Vancouver and not allowed near B or their kids in Ottawa.)

Another time my oldest came home from visiting a friend to say with concern, "C's dad shot a crow."

So, one more time, "Okay well that means C can come here but you're not allowed to go to C's house. I didn't know her dad had a gun or I wouldn't have let you go to her house in the first place. Thanks for telling me."

Sorry not sorry. As a mother of young kids - and we're all mama bears when our kids are young - I could draw a line in the sand - just like that - no man dared cross, zero tolerance, done and done.💪

So never mind the nanny state, these men who want to own guns rag on about, I want the mama bear state. Fuck them and fuck their goddamned guns. They're mass murdering children, ffs.💔

Waiting Out the Day

Walking to the bus late yesterday afternoon, on my way to the dentist, I could appreciate how someone might decide enough already, if this is my future, I'm cutting it short.👻

This is not to say I want to check out, but I increasingly understand how aging can become a bit tedious.💗

Bette Davis: "Old age ain't no place for sissies!" 

Sorry but it's a great quote and I'm a sissy so I can use it. I'm whining on the internet about a trip to the dentist, ffs. Of course, it did involve taking an OC Transpo bus, so there's that in my defence.👅

As you know, I despise the Freedom Convoy, a coalition of neo-nazi narcissists and brainwashed flag hags (I should've patented "flag hags" when I came up with it👿) but being a bit of a Pollyanna Sunshine😇 (just ignore my first paragraph, I'm over it already) I like to look for the silver lining in my co-citizens flinging shit at me at me for three weeks during a pandemic in the middle of winter because they've got cops and politicians on their side for some reason that escapes.💩

But if old age ain't no place for sissies, neither is democracy, and we can't have the army called in to quash every attack on civil society/our country (regardless of it being funded by American fascists and the like) when it's already stretched to the max (thanks a lot, sexual assaulters) our government being called out for not meeting its NATO commitments by every Tom, Dick and Donald Trump, noted supporter of said attack on our country costing us a couple of Bs (for billions).👀

So I took the Mr. Rogers' lesson, which is to look for the helpers, starting with myself when random panic attacks made it clear I was internalizing a lot of problems in the world that are not mine alone to solve, and went to the doctor.😷

I should know as a mother, you always put your own oxygen mask on first, so you live to save your children's lives, which is why I'm a Sober Sally (again) on a low dose of fluoxetine to address a baseline anxiety problem that's really been lifelong, meaning I owe the Freedom Convoy one for upping the ante so I finally addressed it. Also bringing me to the realization that substance abuse is just self-medicating in the absence of professional treatment, so how dare anyone judge us for it.👮

But back to the dentist. I had to have two front side teeth extracted when their coverings and a fake tooth they held in place fell off while I was brushing my teeth. That's why I was walking to the bus late yesterday afternoon, a terrible time to schedule a dental appointment, by the way.😓

Anyway, I now have two long fossil-like teeth I insisted on bringing home, much to my dentist's and her assistant's consternation, in a little plastic bag sitting here beside my laptop. They're there to serve as a reminder to Scottish Presbyterian me (clan motto: work hard, then die) that I've lived through a "thing", not nothing, a "thing". The teeth are 2 centimetres long, 1 centimetre wide, and they were pulled out of my mouth.😬

And as if that wasn't enough for one day, I took an OC Transpo bus home.😀

But that's not what this entry is about because this entry is about something my dentist said to me when I commented it must be a long day for her, how does she manage, and why (she's currently on her own with 3 kids, her husband working elsewhere) and she responded, eyes shining above her mask, "I love helping people."💖

And she does, with unfailing kindness and humour. One of our co-citizens living her faith, in her case, Muslim, who reminds me I could stand to be a better person myself. I don't have insurance, nor does my partner, and she's very aware of that and so would no doubt welcome proper dental care for all of us, the most bizarre omission from universal healthcare since eye care, therapy, rehab, etc etc etc. So one wonders who exactly our government thinks it's serving by its failure to provide it lo these many decades now, and just exactly how much needless stress Canadians must put up with before it puts our collective health and well-being first.😖

Because no fair not being either all in with MAiD, so we can at least have a civilized shuffling off this mortal coil, or all in with universal access to ALL our healthcare needs. No, not needs, rights, our healthcare rights. Our banks have been telling us we're richer than we think for years now because we are. So why are we being nickel and dimed to death over our healthcare rights? I'm not getting teeth implants and a bone graft because of the cost. Instead I'm getting a temporary denture. Still expensive but necessary - and not just for looks, which matter, too, dammit! - but to eat and hold my other teeth in place.👹

To paraphrase our handsome Prime Minister, it's 2023, ffs, do better!😠

People Are Funny - Part Eleventy Seven

I don't understand why Canadians who aren't in favour of limping along with fusty ol' King Charles III as our Head of State, are also mad about him defying the Queen's deathbed decree that his long suffering true love, Camilla, just be Queen consort, not Queen.

Of course, even the Queen's beloved and chosen husband cousin, noted philanderer and racist quipper, Philip, only got to be her consort, no fool was the Queen to make a husband King in 1952.

Can you imagine how badly behaved Philip would've been as King? No serving girl safe anywhere in the Kingdom. Serving girls? Heck, the Queen would've been dodging his plots to supplant her with one left, right and centre.

If history proves anything it's never trust a man to love you more than he covets your Crown, or at least resents you for wearing it in public, when it's decreed he walk two paces behind it. So you.😬

Still, Elizabeth II went one better'n her namesake, Elizabeth I, who stayed single because it was the mid-1550s, ffs, and had her man, yes, but kept him firmly in his place, carousing behind her back in his affairs of the heart and away from the affairs of state. Or away from her Crown, anyway.

😎

Meanwhile, fusty ol' King Charles III, says "Pooh pooh to all that, Mummy - Camilla, shall be Queen." And all hell breaks loose. Even from Canadians who want to kibosh the whole thing anyway.

Pick a lane, rabble-rousers.😀

Meanwhile, this loyal subject says, "Bravo, King Chuckles". Because no one deserves to be Queen more than Camilla, in my commoner opinion. No one. Camilla totally earned it, sticking by Charles through their respective marriages all those decades. Imagine how hard it was for her, too:

Diana👸

Camilla👵

Then instead of supplanting ordinary Lady Diana 👰 remarried to Dodi Fayed 👤 (Jackie would've at least gone for his old man, Mohamed Al Fayed❤) she's stuck supplanting St. Diana the Most Beloved Princess since Cinderella:

Diana😇

Camilla👺

Really. Women can't win for losing so why do we try so fucking hard, eh? What will it take for us to wise up? Camilla finally gets her due - thanks to Prince Churlish - and NOW everybody's over the monarchy?😡

Well not on my watch, dammit.💂

Queen Camilla, long may she reign.💪

Teef Fah Ow

So this just happened.

I was brushing my teeth like an ordinary normal everyday person when the fake tooth next to my two front teeth and two attached coverings for an eye tooth and whatever that first molar is called fell out along with a small metal post I managed to grab before it went down the drain.😱

I mean, it's Saturday, ffs. I'm unemployed. It's raining.😡

Ugh. I hate having to deal with dental stuff. Or anything, really. I am totally done dealing.😠

To top it off, it all happened immediately after reading a piece in The Guardian by a young man of thirty describing his less than stoic reaction to finding out he has blood cancer, initially diagnosed as imminently fatal, later reduced to chronic but requiring pints of blood be drained regularly - until it may become imminently fatal again - and realizing I have a good friend living with this very condition.😬

I was feeling grateful for my good health fortune, dammit!😎

Anyway, I thought I was in shock, but I may have been faking. You know, acting out how I thought I should feel after having my teeth fall out, rescuing them and a little metal post from going down the drain, and then looking in the mirror to see little greying stubs where my fake tooth and teeth covers used to be.😖

I made it quite dramatic, staring in horrified fascination at my new hillbilly look, the real me as it turns out, but while also registering the distinct lack of pain.👀

Not feeling pain during something untoward like your fake teeth falling out is everything, isn't it.😒

Then, I'm ashamed to admit (and he'll be reading this for the first time if he reads this) I decided I should go show My Blond Companion the new me by smiling and opening my hand to show him where my teeth were now.😜

Except, of course, I was still acting like I was in shock (I probably was, it was pretty shocking) and I'm trying to remember his reaction now but I believe it was along the lines of, "Okay you need to call the dentist."😮

So I called my friend (at this point I had shoved the fake teeth back into place) and she said, "Okay you need to call the dentist."💁

So I called the dentist and for the second time in my life I'm meeting a dentist at their office on a Sunday, the first time being a million years ago when I met the lovely Dr. Stanley Goldman at his office to deal with an abscess, the tricky part convincing his wife to let me talk to him because I knew if I could just get past her he'd do it.💂

I don't blame her. She probably had dozens of young women wanting to meet Stanley at his office on the weekend. Hundreds, maybe. And sadly I believe he committed suicide many years ago now. Decades, I guess. An occupational hazard, apparently.😢

Oh, my dentist, who is equally lovely but also very upbeat, already told me to take the fake teeth out again tonight, so don't worry about it. She wants me to stay alive. I'm keeping her practice going strong.💪

How's your Saturday goin'?😍

Boundaries Without Borders

I like it: Boundaries Without Borders. I need to figure out what exactly I mean by it. Boundaries internal, borders external. Let me think on it.😎

I've been feeling so much better since I admitted my addiction to Twitter was THE problem for the moment and so applied the simple solution of quitting it. I even got my hair cut short to celebrate, to look how I feel - sprightly.💇

I have limited emoticons with Blogger and don't have the tech skills to add more, if that's even possible. If anyone reading can help with this I'd appreciate it but only if it's a simple fix. Otherwise we'll all just have to put up with it.💩

The medication I'm on continues to work well, although I'm also a Sober Sally, and paying particular attention to not over doing it in all other ways now too. I'm behaving more rationally, less reactionary.😇

Three examples:

1) I painted a room over several days instead of doing one coat one day, a second coat two days later.

2)  One day last week I realized I was tired and so had a nap.

3) Someone made a comment on a Facebook friend's post with which I disagreed and I just let it be.

That may not sound like a big deal to you but it is. We're engaging far too much with each other in online speakers' boxes designed by techno-fascists to drain us of our souls. Mea culpa. To each poorly articulated meritless opinion posted we line up like Pavlov's dogs to respond.🙀

The other day I spent some time studying the comments posted on a Facebook group from my hometown to do with unhoused citizens addicted and living with mental health disabilities vandalizing public and private property in search of money and goods to pawn.

Also looking for a place to poop.

You'd think the Sault was Hell on Earth and not a typical Canadian city stubbornly refusing to elect citizens who want to adequately fund other citizens willing and able to do the work required to repair the by now gaping holes in our social safety net responsible for this relatively recent and imminently solvable problem FOR OUR UNHOUSED CO-CITIZENS WHO OBVIOUSLY NEED OUR HELP.😢

Did people become fascists during the pandemic or are they just expressing fascist opinions online?😱

It's a low dose of fluoxetine I'm on, as I've mentioned before, Prozac of Prozac Nation fame.👼

Pause for Wikipedia rabbit hole about Elizabeth Wurtzel, widely criticized for her best-selling confessional memoir, Prozac Nation, at age 27, and who I did not know died of breast cancer at age 52 in 2020.😢

She apparently wrote two other confessional memoirs after Prozac Nation that were even more widely criticized, albeit with the odd critic describing them as good and/or honest, and one describing her third book as, "the best thing she ever wrote".😐

However, at least one critic stood out for me as more seriously disturbed than the others. Come on down Paul Kurth, a contributor to Salon, who ended a scathing review of "Bitch: In Praise of Difficult Women", with: "Sorry, Elizabeth. Wake up dead next time and you might have a book on your hands."😲

Imagine. Of course my beautiful and brilliant friend, K, who died of (inherited) Creutzfeldt-Jakob disease, and who wrote a few book reviews herself, told me "a book review is really about the reviewer". So as I would say of Paul Kurth: "Line up forms to the right, ladies."👺

But that's not what this entry is about because this entry is about eating disorders, and whether they're really about food, weight, control, yadda yadda blah blah, while still trying to work out what I mean by "Boundaries Without Borders".

I've been thinking a lot about eating disorders, my own in particular, mostly during my teen years, after reading "Unmasking Autism" by Devin Price, and being referred to a therapist who specializes in eating disorders as a complement to my fluoxetine prescription (for anxiety and panic attacks if you're a first time reader).😟

By the way, my partner of some 20 years doesn't have a doctor, as so many Canadians don't, so please allow me to acknowledge my privilege to have inherited one.

It's absurd, failing each other like this, so penny-wise, pound foolish in the wealthiest most enlightened time in Canadian history.🙈🙉🙊

But back to the start of my eating disorder when I realized after a night running around Toronto at age 14, due to getting off the Greyhound from the Sault at York Mills? and not downtown, I had lost weight, which I continued to during a visit with my older sister as she introduced me to pot and inadequate calories (particularly for an athlete who ran 2.5 miles 6 nights a week and 5 miles on Saturdays).😨

There in spite of siblings go I.💪

Anyway, Kate Moss famously said, "Nothing tastes as good as skinny feels", revealing herself to be more than a bit of an asshole, but also it's really not true. Gram's butter tarts tasted better than skinny felt, so my older sister turned me on to other tricks. And I employed them all, although not to a life or serious health threatening degree, and not without awareness of what I saw when I looked in the mirror.💃

I did generally eat enough healthy calories, although I lost my period for a few months, so I shouldn't downplay it, either. Still, I was dieting, not suffering from a mental health disorder.😉

Wow. Another breakthrough. I do hope my confessional memoiring is as good for you as it is for me. Perhaps Paul Kurth will take notice and grace me with a scathing review one day. Although probably not since I'm doing it for free, unlike Elizabeth Wurtzel who became a best-selling author at 27, no doubt enraging more than a few older male book reviewers.😇

Trust me, other writers are the worst.👹

Anyway, as I look back I can see how one immoderate behaviour led to another and so on and so forth and more of the same etc etc until I started having panic attacks last spring, i.e. a paralyzing sense of alienation accompanied by overwhelming nausea and the belief only purging would bring relief. But when even purging didn't do it, because, of course, it had nothing to do with food, I finally went to the doctor. Then I went again because I hadn't been assertive enough the first time with regard to how debilitating the panic attacks were and he prescribed medication to address the baseline anxiety behind the panic attacks.😰

So here I am, feeling better, thank you for asking.😷

Then I read "Unmasking Autism" by Devon Price, sent to me by my son, and started thinking more about neuro-diversity and transgenderism (Devon is trans) in the context of my eating disorder (also substance abuse/hamster wheel brain/obsessive compulsive tendencies/control freak issues/chronic indecisiveness/fill-in-the-blank).😜

If you're still reading, you get the picture.

Still, I don't identify as Autistic, or being on the spectrum, but my immoderate behaviour could be put down to being neurodiverse and trying to fit in with a neurotypical world.👾

The therapist who complements the medication (every Canadian could and should have access to the help I'm getting, so why are we letting governing politicians get away with pretending we can't afford it when we can?) suggested if the medication is working, the anxiety and panic attacks may be the result of a chemical imbalance.💣

This strikes me as likely. Certainly I no longer feel the need to "take the edge off" as they say, not because I'm numbed on prescription medication (I'm actually thinking more clearly) but because there's no edge to take off. I don't feel apart from our world, with an edge between me and it, I feel a part of it, with every right to be in it, just like everybody else - including my unhoused co-citizens addicted and living with mental health disabilities in Sault Ste. Marie, not to mention right here in good old educated public servant dominated Ottawa.💓

I guess what I may mean by "Boundaries Without Borders" is, boundaries are for me, I make them to protect my time and energy, we all do, but borders are set up against us and so should be transgressed. Which brings me back to Twitter and the Facebook page I mentioned hours ago now. These "places" have borders, but the borders can't be transgressed and the only boundary we can set to protect ourselves is to stay out of them. I've tried. The right thing to do was stop trying. And looking in from outside as I was the other day I just felt bad for the well-intentioned citizens having their souls drained engaging with citizens so addicted to anger they've become fascists.😟

So I don't have the answer but I do know we need one because online fascists got offline long enough to take over my downtown (Ottawa) in February 2022 with help from fascists in our political parties and police services and if my last look in at one of those techno-fascist designed speaker's boxes is any indication, the anger addiction fueling them has only gotten worse.💔