a couple of years ago

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...my parents won a couple bottles of this stuff. Thing is: they like boxed wine. I know. I know. I can't figure out how they came to bear me into this world either. But, it turns out I can sip happily for a few days on their booty here, and it's a consolation for the hateful old blockheads I must occasionally endure while visiting. Tonight I'm having myself rather more than mere heart health would make reasonable.

I know that, strictly speaking, one doesn't shoot nasty old bitches who deny the climate crisis and badmouth everyone who tries to do anything about it. It's not done. But I sat right next to one for a few hours tonight and, well, I can tell you it is done in one's fantasy world. I spent the entire time my lips had to stay zipped searching through the oceans of dharma I've packed in my head over the past couple decades and nothing told me it would not be the best to simply shoot her in the head with no warning, no ado... except that, alone, it would not save all sentient beings. So I must just fit that little notion of poetic justice into a dream of justice on a scale fit to do being enough good.