Why yes, I do think that, thanks in part to identity politics, many people are too goddamn sensitive and that it's a threat to the arts. This for example. The day a publisher asks me to submit a manuscript to a "sensitivity editor" is the day...well...that they cease to be my publisher.
The weirdest thing for me about being where I am right now – well, one of the weirdest things – is that we've now lived in this house since June 2, 2008. That's 8 years, 8 months, 12 days. Before this, then longest I'd ever lived anywhere was about four years, and that only happen twice, once at my beloved Liberty House in Birmingham and once when I was a kid, a crappy old house by the cement plant in Leeds. We've moved around a lot when I was young, not because I was a military brat or anything like that, but because my dad was a drunk and we were frequently evicted for not paying the rent. There were lots of times we were in an apartment or a house for only a few months. After I left home, I continued that habit of frequently moving. To me, it's normal, like spring beginning in February. So, to have lived in one place for almost nine years, that's actually kind of terrifying. I should have been out of here by 2012, at the latest.
Last night I watched an episode of Saturday Night Live for the first time since at least the early 90s, and, I gotta say, Kate McKinnon's Kellyanne Conway was truly, impressively ghoulish. And yet still not half as scary as the real thing. Please note that here I am using "ghoul" in the Lovecraftian sense. Even Pickman couldn't do that woman justice. And I have no idea who that wretched Ed Sheeran person was, but ugh.
Now, time to make the doughnuts.
Resistance, Peace, and Compassion,