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Korney Violin on Unsplash

After mentioning the 31st anniversary of my husband’s and my first date (Disneyland: he fell in love on Splash Mountain, for me it was his hand on my forehead after Star Tours queasiness), an interviewer marveled at the longevity of my marriage and asked: “How’d you do it? What advice do you have?”, making me feel like a 100-year-old woman with “wisdoms.” But still, I appreciated the awe and wonder because I remember feeling just as awestruck around long-marrieds back before I figured it out/got lucky myself. So I decided to honor her query with the reply that follows. And…


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Photo by Bekky Bekks on Unsplash

What is left of the world when wicked men have had their way, and indoctrinated followers raise voices and fists to further their message of hate and fear?

What is left of the world when global illness and death have no sway over those who claim “freedom” includes their right to selfishness and lack of compassion?

What is left of a world when lies become the lexicon, corruption becomes the norm, and weak people propagandize to weaker people who end up believing in both?

What is left of the world?

Kindness. Goodness. Truth. Compassion. All are still there, existing between…


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I’d never bought one before.

Not because I’m politically shy. I’ve always been happy to holler about who had my vote or where I stood on issues, was never bothered when people warned I might put off family and friends, potentially offend readers with my candor. In fact, I subscribe, as I wrote in The Outspoken Artist: Let Candor Be Your Brand, to Nina Simone’s iconic motto: “An artist’s duty, as far as I’m concerned, is to reflect the times.”

So I reflect… I just never thought to buy a yard sign.

Not sure why. Probably something to do with…


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Photo by Tom Harpel

It was just an ordinary day. A good power walk (mask on), a minute or two at the mini-mart for bananas, then a quick stop at the mailbox where I found a Costco mailer, a client check for my husband, some car dealership spam for my son, and, like clockwork, another gold-embossed letter from the Chaplain’s Office at American Saint Hill Organization (ASHO) at Scientology’s big blue monstrosity in Hollywood.

I didn’t bother to open it — though I occasionally do just to see the current spin on my hoped-for re-recruitment — and it went right into the recycling bin…


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I know you, Karen. You resonate. Not just because you’re loud, obnoxious, and sometimes inexplicably hysterical. But because of what you represent: the worst of us white women. The most caustic, hateful, dangerous example of thoughtless white privilege. It’s not a good look.

Some of us have had the misfortune of catching you in the act. A few might even consider you—on your less-Karen days—a friend. Some have you as members of the family. We’ve seen the ubiquitous videos of you shrieking in checkout lines, accosting people in parking lots, hysterically demanding one thing or another from someone you don’t…


“Who’s that masked man, mama?” “Someone who cares about other people, sweetheart.”

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Americans in 2020 remind me of teenagers:

No matter the issue, how it’s framed, where logic comes in, or what consequences are attached, there’s always an argument. A debate. The foisting of opinions, drawing of lines, asserting of protests and presumptions. Of course, Americans have always been like this (think Salem witch trials or the movie Lincoln). Certainly since the Internet allowed us to be privy to and partake of everyone’s every thought this reality has been made evermore clear. But in the terrifying age of COVID, when…


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I don’t believe Kellyanne Conway, Sarah Huckabee Sanders, Kayleigh McEnany, or Ivanka Trump. I don’t believe Judge Jeanine, Marsha Blackburn, Laura Ingraham, Susan Sarandon, the woman on Fox & Friends, or Jill Stein. Ann Coulter’s veracity is always suspect, as is Michele Bachman’s, and Ronna McDaniel is just plain ridiculous. Remember Sarah Palin? She saw Russia from her kitchen. And that’s just women in media and politics. …


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“You’ll never find a better sparring partner than adversity.”
~ Golda Meir

I’m in the ring, sister. ~ LDW

After almost two months, I think it’s safe to say that people are dealing with the COVID pandemic in as wide a range of unique and individual ways as can be imagined, from charming Tik Toks and Zoom musicals, to cynical beach hooligans and gun-toting right-wingers co-opting Rosa Parks to defend their hissy-fitting. Humans, being both resilient and ridiculous, don’t disappoint in their extremes. …


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On the night of November 8, 2016, I went to bed early, gut-punched by the inevitability of the unthinkable: a classless, predatory man of limited intelligence, pathological crassness, and no qualifying experience was being elevated to the highest office of the land, aided and abetted by Russian interference, Republican election shenanigans, Wikileaks subversion, and an antiquated Electoral College. It was a debacle I could neither endure nor fathom, and one that has, tragically, played out just as I imagined.

We have all suffered through presidents we didn’t like, didn’t support, thought were bad for the country, that is true. But…


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You’d think it was a given, walking. We’ve all been doing it for decades, most can manage it while chewing gum, and certainly at this time of “permission to be lazy” (aka: “shelter at home”), anyone getting out and walking should be applauded, not critiqued.

But it seems, like so many other things these days, that lives — and frayed nerves — depend on how we do things, even the most basic things, so maybe a little “pandemic protocol” when it comes to our last allowed outdoor activity might be helpful.

So… I’ve been out; walking, getting sun, breathing air…

Lorraine Devon Wilke

Writer of fact & fiction, veteran of rock & roll, snapper of pics & someone to be reckoned with (my mom said). Visit www.lorrainedevonwilke.com for the rest.

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