My Hungarian pal says that in Hungary, "Depression is in the soil."
. . . And in the songs?
Marz emailed me this, this morning:
omg here's the final stanza from the actual Hungarian national anthem:
Pity, O Lord, the Hungarians
Who are tossed by waves of danger
Extend over it your guarding arm
On the sea of its misery
Long torn by ill fate
Bring upon it a time of relief
They who have suffered for all sins
Of the past and of the future!
america: sea to shining sea!!!!
hungary: sea of misery.
Americans---we are such triumphalists (even when we haven't triumphed).
I'm not writing about what's happening at George Floyd Square here this week––the city's bumbled reopening of the intersection––because I can't stand it, the Powers That Be are so ill suited for the job.
I am not seeing good negotiation skills at play here.
Surprise, surprise.
Why are we humans so frickin' short sighted?
____________________
Speaking of geographical differences-- how bout this? The word frickin' is a regionalism. I did not know that.
“The map for this word shows the highest frequency in the Upper Midwest, especially Wisconsin, Minnesota, and North Dakota..."
--per Atlas Obscura.
What F-word substitute do you use, if you use one?
And, what do you call nonalcoholic carbonated drinks, such as Coca Cola?
I call it pop, which is also Midwestern.
It's soda pop in Milwaukee, where I am going this coming week.
. . . An actual VACATION!!!
I admit I'd sneered at people who complained last summer about not being able to travel because of Covid, saying things like, The worst of it is, I can't go to Belize.
That was not the worst of it.
But now after 15+ months, yeah, a change of scenery will be very, very welcome.
And a whole week away from my intense workplace:
"New disasters donations every day!"
