I am finally feeling mostly normal again after a week of having a man-cold.
Man-cold: near death experience; mixture of all the worst of stage four cancer, childbirth, hypothermia, hyperthermia, demon possession and a hang nail.
But I survived because I am a fighter!
I read a thing about a person taking their Mexican dad to see Rogue One. I haven't seen it, but apparently there's a Mexican actor. He sounds Mexican. Looks Mexican. Anyway, it got to me. Suddenly, without seeing it, it's become my favorite movie of the franchise. That may not make sense to you, but imagine if all the roles of people who are supposed to be like you, look like you were given to people who are nothing like you. You know there is supposed to be something of you there, but there isn't, there's just some bland, gentrified version of what certain people think is a palatable version of you there.
Anyway, I am just babbling. I need coffee.
I am reading What Is Punk next week to the kids at the libary. I have been warned against reading the names of the bands The Sex Pistols and The Buzzcocks. Apparently, children cannot hear the words sex or cocks in any form without their fragile little minds being corrupted.