Golly gosh, hell and fishes; jinkies, and run me over with a giant toaster on wheels; I haven't written here in a week. What have I been doing that's kept me from here? Well, official author-wise, I have had to submit a PDF of my manuscript for Howling on a Concrete Moon for removal of the previous publisher's logo before uploading to Ingram Sparks. Turns out word document not suitable. I'm not good with technology, to me a computer is a glorified typewriter, and this is doing in my head.
Also, I have been trying to study. The subject involves what's known as 'multiliteracies', and my head is spinning like that of a demonically possessed adolescent. I have no crucifix here to defile - I'm not sure who took the crucifixes when my siblings and I were clearing out our parents' home. I did have one hanging in my old bedroom. Our Lord had been painted with that glow-in-the-dark stuff. I recall so many religious figurines from my childhood were treated thus. I suppose it was to give it a glow of holiness, but they looked like they'd been caught in nuclear fallout. However, I do feel in danger of barfing green slime everywhere at the moment.
I also had to write two presentations. I'm giving them via a virtual classroom, and I prefer a physical audience. Anyway, one presentation is on apostrophe usage; the other is on comma placement. Naturally, I will wax most lyrical about the Oxford comma. (I am aware I am the only person you know of who gets loquacious and vivacious about Oxford commas, so stop rolling your eyes).
Another achievement: a social media blocking from a conservative politician - our local one, this time. This is my third blocking from such a creature in about a month. What puzzles me about it is I'm not overly abusive, unless telling a politician to get in the bin and pull the lid over himself is abusive. It's not the nicest thing to tell someone, but gosh, there are so many far worse insults out there. Someone told me I was not giving him the right to express his opinion, but that's not true at all. He can express his opinion, and I can give MY opinion on HIS opinion, particularly if his opinion ruptures the time/space continuum with its sheer stupidity and offensiveness.
So, I guess I've been busy with study and not taking much notice of the news. What's the point? It's all about frigging Covid-19. Oh, and Trump making a horses arse of himself drinking water with one hand holding the glass (before you @ me for the punctuation, adjectival phrases like 'horses arse' and 'big girls blouse' don't have possessive apostrophe, and I daresay that's because the actual backside of the horse is not the object of the sentence). He wants to prove he's not physically ill or incapacitated. Trump, Franklin D Roosevelt ran the States at one stage, too, and he was a person with disability, so stop being ableist. Maybe Trump does not have a physical disability, but oh my giddy aunt, there are multitudinous bats flying about the belfry!
The other weird thing I read this morning is that, according to Spotify, the most listened-to artists during the act of making love are Beyonce and Rihanna. To this I say: Yikes and Yuck! I could not imagine a greater libido crusher than Single Ladies with its inane, 'If you liked it/Then you should have put a ring on it...'. Hey, Beyonce! Put a ring on this! (*Flips the bird*). Oh wait, yes I can. Rihanna's Umbrella is a seriously putrid piece of melodic murkiness. It's just so shit. 'Under my umbrella-ella-ella-ella, eh-eh-eh'. Those last three syllables sound like a reversing truck.
Well, I'm off to do some work on my assignment now.
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