Last week, just as I was finishing the blog, I learned Kate Millett had died in Paris at age 82. It was possible to rush in a mention. But a mention about the loss of an old friend was unthinkable. So I've waited until now, remembering . . .
This will be my last blog post until September—I think. I can't guarantee that some news development won't send me leaping to my keyboard, however, so those of you who subscribe to this blog might be surprised.
So, serious stuff is happening. Like yet another Senate attempt to delay but later slither through a health bill that would literally kill thousands of Americans. Like Antarctica's ice-shelf calving an iceberg almost as large as Delaware. Like the United Nations closing down its cholera-vaccination...
The personal is political. Well, yeah, I admit it: it was a good phrase years ago, challenging the notion that feminism was just "personal stuff." It's a good phrase still, with ever widening applications. So this blog post is personal—in the most political sense.
Donald Trump's cesspool of lies, financial crimes, and likely treasonous acts against the United States are finally being investigated, so now he's whining that he's the victim of a "witch hunt." Well, I know a bit about witch hunts.