We Are All Liars

Dad had told me for three years that my daughter had to know there is no Santa. Suggested she was playing me.

“How? She’ll still get the goods when she knows.”

“But she doesn’t know that.”

Ah. A father’s wisdom. I was a single mom, often broke, but the kid always got what she wanted from Santa and something from me, too. Maybe Dad was right and she played along to ensure she got what she wanted, but I believed— that she believed— until the Christmas she was nine.

As the holiday approached, she and her friends made lots of Santa jokes, talked about classmates who said there’s no Santa, and sometimes outright called me Santa through their giggles.

I was sitting at the kitchen table one evening when my daughter climbed up on my lap and said, “I know. Just tell me.”

“Tell you what?”

“You. Santa.”

“Really? You know?”

Eye roll.

I sighed and told her.

She ran to her room, dived into bed, rolled to the wall and repeatedly banged her head against it, all while sobbing, of course.

She screamed that I was a liar, that she could never trust adults again—You are ALL liars! —and how could your own mother deceive you so?

I quietly explained that Santa is real, he lives in our hearts, it’s a loving tradition, and all that crap, while feeling like the shittiest mother ever.

It seemed to calm her. She caught her breath, stopped bawling, and hugged her stuffed rabbit.

Then she bolted upright, startled, and screamed, “Oh my God, the Easter Bunny!”

Jesus, it was a long night.

And yes, we had to cover that, too.

Random Tuesday Rants

I saw the Dump Truck—er—Trump Train, today. As I sat in my parked car trying to make my phone take just one more photo, rescue sirens blared as ambulance, fire, and police arrived at McDonald's, where the truck touting, "Melania 2024!" was parked.

They weren't there for me, so I assume there is at least one other democrat in this town and they happened to be inside getting a side of fries to go with that when they had an aneurism or some such thing. 

May we all have a speedy recovery after November 8.


*****


I've mentioned before that I'm in a couple swap-and-shop groups on Facebook. The posts are nearly as baffling as Craigslist ads. 

The locals use these groups for everything from asking what time a store closes to ranting about getting fired to searching for a pit bull to breed with theirs, 'cause God knows there's good profit to be made before those pups end up in shelters.

People use the groups to look for jobs. I don't mind the posts asking for odd jobs - I've even saved some for later from those looking to paint or remove brush or clean windows, etc. I am irritated by those looking to be hired for a permanent job who share posts like this:

Me and girlfriend are in need of a job and we where wondering who is Hiring in platte city or close by

Well, I'll tell you who isn't hiring. 


*****

I couldn't sleep last night. At 3 a.m. I was thinking about FLOTUS. Specifically that FL = First Lady, so it only makes sense that Bill Cinton would become the First Gentleman, thus, FGOTUS. I can't say FGOTUS. I need an acronym I can say, people.


*****


I did say this yesterday: "Sir, would you show her how to put gravy on mashed potatoes?" Not my proudest moment, but dang, I could write a whole post about watching that woman trying to dish up my deli dinner. 

It was nearly as rough as watching the Trump Train.

Goin' Postal

I’ve been a real slacker about blogging lately. Easily distracted and all that.

My neighbor removed the Mitt and Cruz and Trump bumper stickers from his truck. He’s trying to sell it, and honestly I don’t know why he bothered removing the stickers because around these parts most fine citizens would pay extra for that bullshit.

My HOA forbids yard signs, so the neighbors, being clever buggers, paste Trump signs in their bedroom windows. Why, why, I ask you?

v bgtyte4 hb

Yesterday I visited my local Goin’ Postal. I had an eBay item to ship and some books to donate for the book exchange (Of course they were for the book exchange. Would you donate books to a cookie exchange?). The owners are good people and do much for the community—someone in a T-Rex costume is running around outside as I write this—speaking of being distracted.

So I took my turn at the counter as another customer was asking the owners if they make political yard signs. The lady helping me said, “No, just go up the street to Republican, UH…or Democrat…headquarters.” The customer laughed and assured her she was right the first time. The husband-owner said, “Yeah, we’re all Platte Countians!”

I cleared my throat, then said, “Can you make a sign that says, 'Sorry About My Neighbors'?"

The owners laughed, the other customer did not.

***

I read an article about the new updates to MO Stand Your Ground gun laws just to make sure I understand this. I did. I do. Our lawmakers and most citizens should be ashamed. Or shot. Oh wait—that could sound like a threat and I’m not the threatening kind. Make love not war and all that, but holy baby kittens, things just piss me off lately.

So here are the updates:

* Now anyone in your home can stand your ground. Such a relief to know that while you’re out shopping for more guns and camo, your cleaning lady or babysitter or handyman can legally shoot anyone that they feel is a threat.

* You and/or other defenders of your home and person are no longer required to have a permit to conceal carry.  SMDH.

* You can now Stand Your Ground even if you are not on your ground. That’s right folks. If you’re out shoppin’ at the Piggly Wiggly and feelin’ all warm and fuzzy knowin’ your home is safe because the lawn dude is there and packin’, and while loadin’ up your groceries you FEEL THREATENED (this is usually defined as “see someone who doesn’t look exactly like you”) you can shoot them. No problem here in the shoot me state.

This law is called the Castle Doctrine but the guy who wrote the article inadvertently called it the Castle Coctrine.

Think about that.

***

I invited complete strangers to my home today. It’s common practice when selling things online to toss the stuff in the car and meet in a public place for safety. But now they can legally shoot me in public if they feel threatened by an old woman holding a chrome rooster, right? So what the hell. 

Besides, I have a plan and it’s working beautifully: I post a few nice items at cheap prices and wait. Today’s first reply was from a man who wanted to see all items. He sent his number, so I called. His wife answered and asked if I wanted to meet in public. I told her they should just come and look, as I had more. So. Much. More.

They took turns making piles of stuff they liked and telling stories (the tractor slipping out of gear and crashing into the law office where I used to work was a good one). They filled their SUV and my wallet and asked me to call them first as I find more treasure.

The next lady came for one $5 item, bought two more, and messaged later asking if she can come back tomorrow. Yes. Yes, she can.  

Mama wants to fund a vacation.

Don’t think of robbing me while I’m gone, though. The pet sitter might be packing.

Small Town Big News

Sometimes life is just too good for words.

Small Town Big News

Karl Lee Kornacky Gets Committed

by Debbie Turner, roaming reporter

Lifelong area resident Karl Lee Kornacky  checked in at Three Rivers Mental Health Hospital on Tuesday for evaluation and treatment after months of what family and neighbors referred to as “damn strange behavior.”

Karl Lee’s wife of forty years, Debra, said it all started when they moved from their rural place with “room to roam,” and into a maintenance-provided community with a home owner’s association.

Everything was fine until the Kornackys received notice from the HOA that their mailbox, bearing resemblance to a large-mouth bass, violated Section 4.215 of the Covenants and Restrictions, and if said mailbox was not returned to normal standards in the community within 30 days, fines would be imposed.

Mr. Kornacky responded by installing a clothesline (which violates Section 17.938 of the C&Rs) in his front yard, and hanging everything from undergarments to squirrel carcasses to political signs (Section 32.460) on it.

The next notice from the HOA stated that fines for the clothesline and signs would accrue daily until removed, and reminded him that he was still in violation of Section 4.215.

Taking note that there were no rules regarding undergarments and carcasses, Karl Lee removed the clothesline and Ted Cruz signs. Mrs. Kornacky tells us she first became concerned for her husband’s health when he displayed the signs. “Gosh, it’s like he didn’t even know Cruz dropped out months ago,” she said.

Karl Lee then replaced the mailbox with a white, compliant model and stapled the squirrels (tails up, staple at tips) and underwear to the post, in an alternating and overlapping fashion.

The neighbor to the east, Bob Sanders, said, “It was nothin’ to write home about until the wind came up. But then, THEN, it was really somethin’. Danged squirrel heads and they little front legs risin’up and peekin’ over the tops of briefs and through the leg openin’s of panties, and some of ‘em wearin’ bra cups like little hats. I tell ya, it was just like watchin’ synchronized swimmin’, only better!”

The HOA sent a certified letter demanding the mailbox be brought in compliance with Section 4.215 immediately or a lien would be placed on the property.

Karl Lee removed the carcasses and undergarments and left them piled on the curb for trash pickup, in violation of Section 6.559 of the Covenants and Restrictions.

This went on for months, with Karl Lee's antics growing more outrageous with every letter from the HOA.

The Kornackys finally decided to move, but accumulated liens on their house from the HOA made it nearly impossible.

It all ended when the Karnacky children arrived for a surprise visit, and found Karl Lee in the back yard, along with twenty head of cattle, a vicious dog, and  two emus he’d recently purchased at auction.

 “Dad’s a good guy,” the eldest son said. “He just gets a little carried away. As I left his hospital room a while ago, he was asking for three Powerball tickets and a cabochon monkey.”

Weirdo Wednesday

A woman came to the door and I’m tellin’ ya, she’d practiced her enthusiasm so hard I thought she was gonna have an orgasm on the porch as she handed me a bag of Tide Pods while saying, “You’re a good neighbor!”

I said, “What are you trying to sell?

She said, “Nothing! I don’t sell anything!” with that high-pitched excitement.

She wanted to show me how great Kirby is by cleaning my carpet. I told her I’m buying new carpet and why bother?

As the cat slipped out she said, “Just let me vacuum?” Now THAT I should have taken her up on. I should have let her deep clean the carpet, actually, but I’d feel a little guilty accepting a free offer that isn’t intended to be free at all, even though they lie to you.

She grabbed Damcat and tossed her back in, then said, “Can I have those pods back?”

***

My cell isn’t working. I’ll just add it to the list:

AC

Dishwasher

Two laptops

Knees

Master shower (how does everything except one shower get hot water?)

iPhone

***

I had to make a run for dog food and Half and Half again. They had Clos du Bois cabernet on sale, so I grabbed a bottle. At checkout it didn’t ring up. I said, “It’s $10.99.” The cashier said, “Shh,” then rang it up at $3.99. Either he likes old women with bad joints who always look pissed, or he (more likely) pitied me based on appearance.

***

Now I’d add a nice photo of Tide Pods or Damcat or wine, if things were working. Maybe say Kirby a few more times for SEO.

Screw it. I'll have some wine and vacuum.

Note To The House Guest

Debora Palmer's poem, "Note To The House Sitter" is a favorite. I tried to write a standard post about everything that's going wrong just before company comes, but it ended up as a note.

I need to tell you the dog is filthy

because the flaky groomer never shows as scheduled.

Please don’t mention it,

as she (the dog, not the groomer) is highly sensitive.

The cat will ignore you,

until you want to be ignored.

Don’t open the kitchen window –

there are ten wasps trapped between the glass and screen.

The AC in the car hasn't worked in two years.

When June bugs knock on the back door, do not open it.

The howling at night comes from coyotes,

less frightening than the neighbor next door,

who ties her yapping dog out for hours at a time,

and the republicans across the street.

The clothes dryer beeps at random.

You can watch Netflix on the iMac in your room

if you can figure it out.

I highly recommend Grace and Frankie.

That reminds me to stock up.

You’ll need a drink.

Small Town Big News

The Citizen

Complete County Coverage

May 20/Debbie Turner, Reporter

Local Arrested After Fight Breaks Out at Yard Sale

Local pet groomer Mary Jo Mullins was arrested Saturday, May 14 after an altercation with another shopper at a yard sale. Police were called to the scene at 9 a.m. by a homeowner in Fox Creek, who was selling the hell out of used baby clothes and empty Avon bottles.

Police, fire department personnel, ambulance, KCTV3 camera crews, and more bargain hunters arrived on scene within minutes to find an Excelsior Springs woman rolling around in the grass with a bloody broken nose and Mullins waving a rusty rake around and yelling, “That salt shaker was MINE!”

Witnesses confirmed that Mary Jo and the other shopper spotted a set of vintage pink poodle salt and pepper shakers at the same time. As Mary Jo was examining the female’s stopper, the other woman grabbed the male off the table, and that’s when the fight started.

Mullins was released on bond in time to bathe Ziggy Martin’s black lab at 11 a.m. and has a court date of June 7. The Excelsior Springs woman was treated and released, and when reached for comment said, "Those salt and pepper shakers will cost her a pretty penny now."

Small Town Big News

The Citizen

Complete County Coverage

April 27/Debbie Turner, Reporter

Shitty Old Resident Finally Dies

Local old codger Richard (Dick) Duddy passed away belligerently at his home on Monday of an apparent heart attack while standing in his front yard and yelling at kids three doors down not to come near his grass. He was 72 years, 6 months, 2 days, and 8 hours old. He leaves his wife, Delores, of the home and three children, Mark, Beth, and Diane, who have been waiting.

Richard was a lifelong resident of Platte County. He enjoyed building fences, burning bridges, and writing letters to the editor of The Citizen. According to those letters Richard was an expert in county government, proper farming techniques, HOA legal terminology, feral cats, and everything else.

Visitation will be on Thursday from 2:00 to 2:10 p.m. at Pineview Drive-In Church and Theatre with private services to follow (come back that evening to see Two Mules for Sister Sara). The family requests that in lieu of flowers, contributions be made to Mr. Duddy’s nonprofit organization, Make Platte County Tolerable Again.