Happy Turkey Day

 The noise from the squeaking grandchildren is both joyful, and nerve racking. The house is full and the rented house is full, yet still sister Patty is sleeping in the 5th wheel beside the house. It is great to have such a gathering. What will become of the country as the rich gobble up so much. Megan told of a filthy rich family in her area that is having the Hamilton cast over. Special costumes will be provided for them at a cost of over 100 thousand. So the super rich will have turkey for perhaps 500 thousand. They deserve it, they brought us poverty. Over on the National Association Blog may wish the Orange Turkey a happy Thanksgiving. 

The Giant, and the Snidlys are here

 Wonderful Thanksgiving shaping up. Both daughters are here with their families. We had fun last night plying Uno. Megan's two little ones Sylvie, and Quinn have so much fun with the Giant, Erin's daughter. Evie is an amazing artist for her age, and Quinn has so much energy he might explode. Entertaining the gang is the mission. We rented a separate house for Megan's family. Fortunately the house is within walking distance. Hope everyone has a good holiday. 

The Giant is here

 My granddaughter the "Giant" is here. Now she has grown taller than grandpa. Her dog Danny went nuts running around the house like he had to know where everything was. The Giant has her first boyfriend, and we call him "The Devil" because that was the role he played in the play where they became friends. Grandpa Kadizzle was walking the dog last night with Sylvie and asked her what was the most fun she had with her boyfriend the Devil. Her reply was hilarious. Kissing was the answer. Grandpa cannot help but brag about Sylvie. She is a grade A student at the Denver School for the Arts, she dances, sings, is an athlete, and has a great sense of humor. Tonight the magic snoochels will fly in from New York with Megan and Sam. Quinn is six and Evie is eight.  We will have a house full. 

The Snidleys are coming

From Denver, and New York the family is coming for Thanksgiving. Sister Patty will come from Cottonwood. Then top it off with grandchildren, which will include the "Giant".  The Giant has been so busy in plays, modeling, and taking to the Devil. The Devil is Sylvie's boyfriend. We call him that because it was his role in the play where Sylvie and the Devil had to embrace. That started the fire. Sylvie is the Giant. She has grown so much she is tickling six feet tall. Megan will come with Quinn, and Evie her little guys that are growing like weeds. Grandpa will be delighted to see them all . 

The Rain has poured down in the desert

The trees must be drunk on water. The parched soil has been dry for so long. Rain has moved ashore from the Pacific and drenched Arizona. The rain is welcome, but we are so used to sunshine it is very different to be living in a gloomy world, but that is the price. The elk wandered down the street oblivious to the rain. Since our backyard is the holding basin for all the water in our settlement, the basin is our rain gauge. It often fills up quickly, but the water percolates through the ground and is soon gone. The basin has been full most of the week, but this morning the water level is down. The mystery is where does all that water go. Some runs down hill to the neighbors. Someday Kadizzle we will have to follow the temporary stream and see where it goes. 

You got screwed by your employer. Find out how on the National Association for the Advancement of Humanity blog: https://naftaoh.blogspot.com/

How to Teach the Bible in Oklahoma’s Public Schools

Will we be rid of the Orange Rat?

Early morning with coffee. The sun creeps up over the Rim, the birds are chirping, and Kadizzle sits there wondering—what will happen to the Orange Rat today? Another indictment? Another lie unraveling? Another MAGA disciple waking up with a faint headache that science calls “contact with reality”?

Trump’s future seems to be death by a thousand cuts, and the strange part is that he’s delivering most of them to himself. Every day there’s a new revelation, a new tape, a new grifter he pardoned who is now selling gold-plated MAGA vitamins or some nonsense. If self-owning were an Olympic sport, Trump would have more gold than Fort Knox.

But of course the MAGA mind is encased in cement—Payson-grade stuff, too. The kind you pour behind the trailer to park the ATV. Smooth, thick, immovable. Trump could shoot the Constitution point-blank in the middle of Fifth Avenue and Hoopleheads would say it was asking for it.

Yet even cement cracks. The biggest boulder on the Mogollon Rim eventually chips away under wind, weather, and geological embarrassment.

And the Orange Rat is weathering, all right. Court dates multiplying like rabbits, former loyalists flipping faster than pancakes at the Kiwanis breakfast, judges losing patience, and reporters digging up his scams like gophers on steroids.

At some point—even the dumbest, most loyal, foam-at-the-mouth MAGA disciple may look up from their patriotic flag-shirt, scratch their trucker hat, and whisper to themselves:

“Hey… maybe that rat is a rat.”

It won’t happen in a flash of enlightenment. It’ll be a tiny crack. A little doubt. A suspicion that maybe… just maybe… the man with the golden toilet and the aluminum brain might not be the Second Coming.

Reality is a slow drip, but even the hardest cement eventually yields.

So for now Kadizzle sips his coffee, watches the cracks spread, and waits for the day when even Payson’s most devoted Hoopleheads finally admit the obvious:

The Orange Rat smells like a rat because he is a rat.

And the country is finally beginning to notice.  

Over on the National Association for the Advancement of Humanity blog check out Trump's White House life.

https://naftaoh.blogspot.com/