Monday, May 29, 2017

May 29, 2017

Dear Diary,

It's pretty quiet today, I guess because it's Memorial Day, which is not only a unifying time to thank American military women and non-women, but also a day when banks are closed and no mail is delivered. I never could understand that. Doesn't our military send letters and need cash? Perhaps with ATMs and e-mail, that's all changed, but I wouldn't really know.  When it comes to e-mail, I'm the first to admit I'm kind of retarded.

Tee hee.

Bill and I never spent a lot of time observing Memorial Day, because neither he nor I ever spent any time in the military.  I would have signed up when I was younger, but at that time the military didn't accept lesbians I was already enrolled in law school and had other obligations.  Bill should have been drafted, but by the time his draft number came up, he'd already been at Oxford for three months defending himself against rape charges as a Rhodes scholar. By the time the Feds finally caught up with him his deferment expired, the war was over and those British whores were bribed to recant their testimony he returned here to pursue his career.

I suspect that not being in the military made Bill feel a little uncomfortable. For example, just after his first coronation inauguration, he had to be taught how to salute properly. Because he's a southpaw, he kept using his left hand, and when he couldn't get the hang of it, he tried to get the army to switch their saluting policy.  Little things like that would drive him crazy. He had the same problem whenever he said the pledge of allegiance.  While everyone else had their hands over their hearts, his was somewhere over his right lung. He didn't care, though, as long as there was enough beer at the reception.

I always made sure I knew about military customs by educating myself before I became a Senator. I must have watched all the reruns of "Sergeant Bilko" and "McHale's Navy" a million times, not to mention suffering through two hours of Ben Affleck in "Pearl Harbor."  Believe me, when it comes to saluting, I know my stuff.  Sometimes, just to add a personal touch, I curtsy, as well, which is a lot tougher to do in a pants suit, believe me.

We were going to have barbecue food delivered, but Bessie says her favorite rib joint is closed today, so we're just going to order pastrami sandwiches from the Jew deli down the street.  Those people know where the money is.

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