it’s supreme theater | The Oasis at Four Queen Palms

Sometimes I do wonder about this world of ours; the ever-increasing chaos, the acceptance and celebration of insanity, the overall abnormalities.

A case in point is the post I saw by a cosmetics company from whom I had been buying my make-up for a decade. They posted several photographs of a fat man wearing what looked like a bad imitation of a woman’s 1940s outfit: shorts, blouse with a Peter Pan collar, and a bandana on his head, and slathered in the company’s lipstick. Yes, there he was posing in the typical 1940s pin-up girl postures, looking like he was gleefully mocking true femininity. The company put a blurb with this gross sight, something to the effect that they see him, stand with him, and “celebrate” him. This, by a woman-owned company, no less!

I don’t care who buys the company’s products, but when any non-political company starts becoming political and panders to the darlings du jour as dictated by the Federal government, I am done with them. I unfollowed their sites, and I don’t buy any more of their products.

I refuse to contribute in any way to the erasure of women, the normalization of mental illness, the grooming of children, and the mocking of God.

As ever,

The eastern sky was colored a bright pinkish-orange as I looked across the meadow behind The Oasis at Four Queen Palms. Happy for a new day, I headed down to the kitchen to pour myself a cup of cold coffee with milk – my version of café au lait. With cup in hand, I walked to the window overlooking the terrace, and by this time, the sun was just over the horizon, looking like a fiery orange ball. The pond sparkled as though a million diamonds danced upon the surface. A lone hawk circled high above. And there, the day began.

I received a strange survey of sorts (I think that’s what it was) through my Goodreads account; a neighbor asked if I still live here at The Oasis. After answering her, she wrote back with a statement that I wrote a book or two recently. (As if I didn’t know that fact!) So how did I answer that? Well, I replied to her with a, “Imagine that!” I heard back with a strange response – “Happy trails!” she wrote. I suspect I won’t hear back from her for another two years, because that was the last time something like this happened with her, when she messaged me about her “handsomest father who ever lived” and comments about her neighbors, none of whom I know. I don’t get it. I suspect I won’t hear from her for another two years, because that was the last time she contacted me. I never even met her in person.

Something like that used to bug me, but now I just laugh it off. People are people, and I’m not going to guess or psychoanalyze their motives. That sort of “hit and run” action seems to be the norm these days. It’s much like the “hit and run” Best Friend and I encountered last autumn by a relative, and *Poof!* she disappeared as quickly as she popped up.

The news is much like that, too, in the current news cycle. One day, we learn about spy balloons, the next day it’s the hubbub of a mass murder, and the next is the screaming of a post-Constitutional America. News today seems to be more like attention-getting than unbiased reporting as it’s supposed to be.

Ah, well, that is ancient history.

This is the new world – the bombardment of spewing about events, screaming deceit, ginning up violence.

Everybody has an opinion, but who is really listening?

As ever,

The Oasis at Four Queen Palms

Gracious Living at The Oasis.

Category Archives: it’s supreme theater

Their Kiss of Death.

Hit and Run.