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Sandra S. McRae is the more than the sum of her triumphs and ailments, her frustrations and joys. Are you? Learn more about Sandra. Archives
Stupidest Headline Ever? Or Just the Most Obvious?
“The NFL Doesn’t Get It, and Maybe Never Will.”
Um, they turn a blind eye to domestic abusers on their payroll. They pay healthy athletes to give each other concussions, then turn their backs on the long-term debilitating and often fatal side effects. They objectify women and sell boobs and beer (in that order). They vilify patriots exercising their right to free speech in peaceful protests against American Civilians gunned down in cold blood by the State just because they are black. They do absolutely nothing to address the fact that the alive-and-well child sex slave trade swarms around their Super Bowl like flies on shit. They enjoy the backing of the worst “president” in the history of the United States of America, who is a misogynist bigot with grabby little hands.
And you are just now figuring this out, CNN reporter? Sweetie, what you been drinking all these years? That cheap shit rice beer they sell on NFL game ads? Hope you at least got a free jiggle ogle with that crap.
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Springtime in New Mexico, Part IV: The Long Road Home
There many ways to start a poem. Some, like diamonds, are forged under years of pressure. Others, like pearls, show up wholly formed when you least expect it. Too many float by like garbage bags on the wind, tempting us with their facile elegance and tempting immediacy. I find some poems–often the best ones–only appear once you’ve emptied your mind of workday urgencies, the static of mass media, the horrors of our over-connected network of electronics. And that is what New Mexico offers: a sky to receive your disjointed blips and beeps and carry them off to outer space, allowing the poems to bubble up through the surface of your de-cluttered mind. I’ve been on roll since we got home.
Taking photos with my telephoto lens at highway speeds…not bad for 240,000 miles away:
According to BBC’s Science Focus, it would take just under six months to drive to the moon at 60 miles/hour. Shoot, it felt like it might only take a few hours.
We decided to stop in Las Vegas (not that one) for dinner. We headed to the plaza because we figured if anything would be open late, we’d find it there. The famously haunted Plaza Hotel did not disappoint. Great food and, thanks to the very friendly and accommodating front desk manager, a tour of a haunted room as well rooms with framed announcements of the famous guests who have once stayed there: among others we saw plaques for John Lithgow, James Spader, the Coen Brothers, and (though I don’t believe it) Michelle Obama.
We were also treated to this little gem of a seasonal decoration. At Christmas I hear he gets a Santa hat.
By the time we got to our hotel in Taos, it was a 11:00 p.m. and the town was all tucked in. We had a comfortable night at the Hotel La Fonda (eat your heart out, Kip), learned we could’ve ordered only ONE massive breakfast burrito at the friendly and delicious Taos Diner, enjoyed a little shopping on a beautiful spring morning (no, I did not take pictures), and then we were ready for home. It took a while to make our way, but the view in Cimarron Canyon on the way from Taos to I-25 is another reason I’m glad we decided to road trip this spring:
There aren’t a lot of things that last in this life…hell, we don’t even last in this life. But while we’re here, we might as well enjoy the view. And if you get a poem or two out of it, or a little insight on what’s important…well, that’s worth the trip, if you ask me.
See you again a little farther down the road.
Posted in Beauty, Travel Tips, writing process
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