Partial answer, I think: the right has fused quite thoroughly with evangelicalism - where receiving "worldly"/social persecution is baked in to theology. Quite literally, if no one is giving them grief for their faith, they must not be performing it correctly.

https://twitter.com/StephenKing/status/1486382774911184898

Likewise, if the right's political stances are popular with secular parties, then they must be wrong and bad somehow. If the heathens don't object - and object *wildly* - then Republicans must be doing politics wrong.

I'm shopping a Yellowjackets-meets-Bowling for Columbine project around right now, and it has been described as "tv/film-baity af" so... ::makes universal flirty 'call me' gesture at @netflix ::

https://twitter.com/thebookseller/status/1485905486906114049

Or if @netflix wants another haunted house project for @flanaganfilm, I mean my recent southern gothic novel THE FAMILY PLOT (described as "the salvaging operation of Hill House") is right...freakin'...there...

My 94-year-old grandmother lives in south/central Florida on one side of a duplex with her middle daughter; my mother (the oldest daughter) lives on the other half of the duplex; my youngest aunt lives down the street. They are all anti-mask/Covid-vax Fox News enthusiasts. Youngest aunt has been visiting her son in jail - where he's been at death's door from Covid, though he seems to be recovering now. Last week, this aunt joined my mother and Grandma on a road trip to Iowa to bury Grandma's sister, who died earlier this year (not Covid).

Went to clean/fill the bird baths and heard someone say, “Hello? HELLO?” I thought I was losing my mind - but it turns out that the crows who frequent the patio baths have spent enough time around humans that they have picked up both basic greetings and passive aggression. Gonna be real honest, I didn’t know that crows can learn to talk a bit - and by the time there were three of them on the fence urging me to hurry up with the fresh water already I figured I’d better hustle. So. Here you go, crows. Sheesh.

10a.m. and it's already in the 80s, without a cloud in sight. I washed and refilled all 5 bird baths, put out three more big bowls of water in various shade locations, refilled the bird feeders, put up the patio umbrella for more shade, & hosed down all the flowers/trees/garden. We've got four days lined up with temperatures at - or well exceeding - 100 degrees, and I can't save everything or everyone, but I can keep some freaking wildlife hydrated. So that's what I'm gonna do.

Once a year or so there's a piece by someone who got a book deal, tanked, and now blames...everyone in their immediate vicinity. It's always clear that they went in with wild expectations, absolutely no understanding of the industry, and a hearty sense of entitlement. (1) Every single time, I think, "Ah, an asshole." Because the industry is a crapshoot, and authors as a general whole are very keen to help newbs. This is a hell of a field, one that can be difficult even for seasoned pros. SO MANY people gave me a hand up when I was starting out (2)

I don’t know who needs to hear this, but you don’t have to welcome shitty people into your life with open arms even if they aren’t technically literal criminals. They’re an asshole. They treat people like garbage when nobody’s looking. Grapevine says XYZ won’t work with them. Got a weird vibe off them. Won’t take “no thanks” for an answer. Won’t respect boundaries, physical or otherwise, even after a warning. Doesn’t tip.

By popular demand, and in case it helps anyone else with a pet who has continence issues.... here’s my method for dealing with big dog messes. A thread: 1. BLOT. This is the most important step, and you must be patient. I fold a towel into thirds so it’s nice and thick, then put it atop the wet patch and weigh it down with heavy boxes + a cast iron end table. Leave it half an hour, then refold towel and repeat.

Today is terrible and I can’t fix that, but my dogs wanted a snack and I had leftover sweet potato fries from Drae’s Lake Route Eatery. So here goes a long, blurry thread that’s just dogs eating sweet potato fries. For your enjoyment.

Things overheard whilst a zippy Pomeranian named "Chunk" escaped his yard and chased after me while I walked Greyson and Lucy this morning. A thread: "You get your fat furry ass back here, Chunk! You know what you are? You are BRUNCH when those dogs catch you!"