Dingus of the week: 118th Congress
We all worked hard this year. Everyone except Congress.
It’s the end of the year, and I am dragging my limp ass toward the finish line.
I literally make money off this email. This newsletter is almost 50% of my income. And I’m a single mom! I don’t have another income to fall back on.
And yet, I sincerely hope this email does not find you. Instead, I hope you are buried in wine and sugar cookies. I hope you are taking a third nap. I hope you are schooling your family in the world’s longest game of Monopoly and your weak nephew is sobbing because he landed on your Park Place, but you don’t care because you are 10 Ferrero Rochers deep into the box and that little smatchet needs to learn about life. I hope you are sitting there with a brandy old fashioned saying, “What is an eee mail?” Like you are a duchess of Northumberland, Ohio, and have never labored a day in your life.
If this email does find you, I apologize. But I must inform you that this week, we do indeed have a dingus.
We have all been working very hard this year. Everyone, that is, except for the 118th Congress.
The Republican-led Congress is the most unproductive in modern history. Only 20 bills have been passed and signed into law this year, with another four awaiting President Biden's signature. The absolute legend Alexandra Petri wrote a review of all their accomplishments or lack thereof.
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You do have to hand it to them, though. They did manage to embarrass Kevin McCarthy all the way out of Congress. And it’s a huge feat to shame someone whose moral core resembles a blobfish.
It took them 19 votes to elect a new speaker, and he’s basically a villain straight out of a Margaret Atwood novel.
They literally expelled George Santos, the hardest-working member of Congress. And I do not care what you think of the man, he was hustling and scamming all day for those Botox injections. You have to respect that level of grind.
Otherwise, though, it’s like nobody in Congress wants to work anymore. Here are three things more productive than the 118th Congress.
Houseplants. They clean the air and make me happy. Cannot say the same for Congress.
Arguing with a Nazi online. Wait, just kidding. For me, that’s like contacting my reps. *Stares in Iowa*
A pet rock. Listen, at least a pet rock doesn’t do harm, it doesn’t waste natural resources, it’s a fun conversation starter, and hasn’t threatened violence toward anyone.
I know I make a lot of dingus jokes. But there is no bigger joke than the 118th Congress.
It’s time to vote for dingus of the year! Click this link and fill out the Google form to tell me who the dingus of the year should be. You have ONE WEEK to vote. Please don’t nominate your ex-husband, although he deserves it.
And now for something good:
I’m very worried about Massachusetts.
This is old news but I just learned it when I fact-checked a meme at 2am: Cows have best friends and get sad when they aren’t near them. It’s me. I am cows.
A woman has been matching with men on Bumble and asking them where they were on Jan 6., then turning them into the FBI. And I love this woman. I wish I were her. She’s incredible. She’s everything. Give her a Nobel Peace Prize. Is this what the Washington Post editorial board meant when they said they wanted more people to date across the political divide?
NPR is running a good and thoughtful series on harm reduction and drug use.
Giuliani filed for bankruptcy and it couldn’t happen to a worse person.
What I am drinking:
This week, I turned 41! That’s right. It was my birthday. If you didn’t get me anything, that’s okay, you can just listen to my podcast or preorder my book.
I had a huge birthday party last year. This year, I wanted to plan something but I didn’t get my act together and so I settled for going out with my kids the night of my birthday to my favorite restaurant in town.
My kids are old enough now that I don’t have to remind them not to knock over the tables or spill their water or keep their feet off the seats. So it was a lovely night. My daughter railed about everything from the Battle of Hastings to the kids in her class not helping her with the class Christmas party. My son seriously discussed jokes from the Calvin and Hobbes book he was reading.
And all of this happened while I ate the best food and drank a brown butter old fashioned.
It’s an old fashioned made with brown sugar syrup instead of simple syrup. It was toasty and delicious and I will be making some with brandy for Christmas.
This year, a lot of new buildings went up around my little city. It’s starting to look like a proper city now. A skyline not entirely crowded with manufacturing plants. And yet, we are still recovering from so many disasters. I know that these new restaurants and places took time to plan and build. I know money was argued over. Ideas were fought over. People lost friendships. Other people got yelled at. And yet, somehow, something was built. A place people already love.
This year wasn’t the massively productive year I wanted it to be. It was a year of saying “no” to a lot of things so I could stay at home, hang out with friends, walk my dogs, and spend time with my kids. It was a year of planning and building the things I wanted, rather than doing work for someone else. And I know that even though it’s not glamorous, eventually that work builds something lovely.
Happy holidays to you all.
Now go destroy your twerp of a nephew in a board game.
I'm at work (one more day!), so thank you for keeping me company while I sit here and pretend like there's any reason for my presence. Wishing you and yours a very, very happy holidays!
Now, it will not win so I'm not going to fill out the form (No one's the boss of me!... except my boss), but I nominate "office jobs that sometimes require more than forty hours but sometimes require less, but you still have to sit there at your desk and pretend like you're working even if you aren't and haven't for DAYS" as the Dingus of FOREVER. I mean, what the hell am I doing here???
I bought two new games to play with my family on Christmas. They are actual physical games with cards. We'll see if they're a hit or a dud.
Yesterday, I received a letter from a friend of mine, enclosing a HANDKERCHIEF. She was sorting through her mom's things (such a heart-wrenching task after losing your mom) and she found this handkerchief that my mom had given her mom. The whisper-thin, floral-bordered item reads OHIO in one corner with the map and cities reflected across the width of the hanky (yes, Lyz, that's the word we used back in the 60's). I stared at that hanky for the longest time and wondered who I could give it to. Do people even recognize a handkerchief these days? I don't know anyone from Ohio. I've never been to that other vowel state. What to do with this blast from the past?