Republican ads in Missouri often sound like smear ads. At least, to me. 

“Catherine Hanaway fought to defend Planned Parenthood! And to remove limitations on conceal carry! And to kill a bus load of orphans and indigent retirees to save money on welfare!”

And then it turns out that this isn’t a smear campaign but a candidate proudly announcing her achievements. 

Melania Trump’s college degree turned out to be as fake as her husband’s “university.”

Trump loves screwing the “poorly educated” in every sense of the word. 

So I got a blog roll, right? It’s an app that brings together the recent articles from all websites I’m interested in. For a reason I will never find out, the app decided to deliver one of the blogs I read in an unusual format. The app would take the first couple of sentences or the title and subtitle of an article and arrange them to look like a little poem. It would look something like this:

On the last day

of the Democratic convention

Clinton will deliver

a long-awaited speech.

For years, I’d read this and think, “Wow, this guy is a really shitty poet. Why does nobody tell him to quit?” 

Finally today I could take it no longer. I went to the blog to tell the author to stop writing bad poetry. 

And that’s when I discovered that the fellow wasn’t writing poetry. The app was simply making it look like that. 

I’m now wondering if it’s just me who’s having this problem with the fellow’s blog. What if there are many people out there who curse him for bad poetry he doesn’t write?

One of the Missouri candidates for office argues that he’s better than his opponents because he never ran for office before. This is the “pro guns, pro life” fellow, so we already know that irony is not his forte. He doesn’t seem to understand how self-defeating this argument is. 

But neither do the people he is trying to convince, so it’s all good. 

Even Tim Kaine is now channeling Bernie Sanders.

“A Commonwealth means the wealth belongs to all people in common!”

And this is his most successful line at the rally.

Authorities in St Petersburg, Russia decided to dress the copy of Michelangelo’s David because, they say, the naked David is traumatizing children. A contest will be held where citizens will suggest modest outfits for the world’s most famous statue. Time has come finally to hold David to the standards of decency.

Hillary came out looking very presidential, and the whole speech was serious, sedate, and non-gimmicky. The energy in the arena was crackling off the screen and off the charts. Everything was robust and not jerky. 

Great convention. As much as idiot journalists were trying to create scandal, there was none. Everybody did their best. Even the balloons fell in a more organized and normal way than at the RNC.

I’m deeply grateful to Chelsea Clinton for not going into politics. I detest dynasties and like people who have their own lives instead of shining with a reflected light. 

Have you seen Trump having a fit of hysteria and fantasizing about how he’d hit the speakers at the DNC at a rally in Iowa? It seems like he’s gone completely dotty. 

People, I’m truly blessed with the most calm, peaceful, cooperative and patient baby known to humanity. 

Today, I had errands to run: post office where I had to mail a large box and a smaller package, dry cleaner’s, gift shop, and supermarket. I don’t drag Klara places every day but these errands were not optional. It’s hot and humid, the sun is unforgiving, I’m struggling with the stroller, car seat, packages, and the diaper bag – and we all know how dexterous and nimble I am – and in all this time, there is not a peep out of Klara. She observes everything with big, curious eyes, smiles, plays with her toy, and enjoys herself mightily. 

People credit this to how calm I was during the pregnancy but they forget that I only managed to be so calm and unstressed because even then Klara was constantly helping me avoid feeling anxious. For instance, whenever a clumsy and insensitive nurse would say, “Hmm, I think something is wrong. I’m not hearing a heartbeat”,* Klara would give me a series of reassuring kicks. 

*This strange woman kept looking for fetal heartbeat in the most bizarre places. She never actually got all the way to my left ear but she was irresistibly drawn in that direction. Maybe she was a frustrated otolaryngologist.