E9: Dear Mrs. White Lady: Hegseth, Reeling From Weekend Bender Lists Ukraine on Etsy
DOD Sec Says, “Just Following Orders”
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Dear Mrs. White Lady,
How many of us haven’t had a little bit too much of the go-go juice and bought or sold something maybe we should have given a bit more thought to?
I once bought an apiary or honeybee farm without discussing the purchase first with my husband. I was thinking, he likes honey in his tea. I was being romantic!
Did you know that you actually have to buy the Queen Bee and her mated partners separately? I thought you could just buy the whole thing—like a matching set from Havertys. Just goes to show—nothing good happens on the Internet after 10 pm.
OK, getting back to Ukraine.
Apparently, the whole country’s up for grabs now. All you have to do is invade. Then you get an even bigger ally (that would be us) to take all your 🔗 rare earth minerals off your hands! There you have it. Bada bing, bada boom.
Don’t you just love the simplicity of the Italian language?
Do this one thing and there won’t be any trouble. I think that’s what they call extortion. (I’d like you to do me a favor though.)
It’s a little bit different than bribery which is like—you give me $20 million in propped up crypto memes—and I’ll give you the White House. And yes, Charlotte sometimes hyperbole is OK to prove a point.
The land treaties we made with Native Americans and First Nations in the U.S. and Canada were kinda extortion-ie.
“What say you nice folks saddle up and move on out, and we promise not to invade your homeland ever again. Oh, and here’s some wool blankets tainted with malaria.”
Look at us! First to use biochemicals in war!
And a lot of White Nationalists like to give that honor to Hitler, but we were really the first.
Putin has already said he won’t cede any territory back to Ukraine as part of a peace deal. So this is just a shakedown in a dark alley. Oh wait. It’s happening right out in the clear light of day.
Would President Zelenskyy agree to the wanton destruction of his country’s assets and his people’s legacy for the false promise of “no more killing, no more death.”
Yeah, I don’t think so either.
I’m trying to think of an analogous situation. Say your neighbor has moved your fence in—eclipsing your property by 20%. After the authorities and lawyers can’t get to a resolution—you finally stand up for yourself and move the fence back at great expense. Even putting in concrete ballasts.
You add a few Rotties or German Shepherd dogs to the mix and you’re back in business.
But lo and behold, he’s crawling over your fence whenever—to steal from your tool shed and is taking your new Kia out for unauthorized joy rides.
Next, the devil himself comes to you with a peaceful resolution. “Let me have all the land I’ve already poached from you—and I’ll leave you alone. Oh, I’ll also take the Kia, the vegetable gardens, that-there shed.
Why am I taking your shit? Because I really feel like it should be mine. Call it a character flaw or an eccentricity.
Did you know Putin’s mercenaries have forcibly removed, abducted, kidnapped and taken 20,000 🔗 children from Ukraine and brought them to reeducation camps across Russia. Yup. Check out the French newspaper Le Monde, 🔗 which reported in Dec. 2024 that of the 20,000 children taken, fewer than 1,100 in the forced population transfer have been returned. And these have been with diplomatic interventions.
Let’s try to put that in perspective. A smattering of lovely, small towns have a pop. of 20,000: Rockport, Massachusetts (a favorite of mine). Maysville, Kentucky. Easton, Maryland. Lockheart, Texas. Nevada City, California. Milan, Ohio. Bluffton, South Carolina.
Now imagine if all the children from these towns were just gone. Not the whole town, just babies. Just consider the crippling grief? The desperation—of being at war and knowing your babies are with monsters. This is the stuff night terrors are made of.
Over the past three years these babies have faced isolation, Russian programming, and gaslighting about their parentage and heritage. And if they survive the war, they will never recover from this trauma.
Would these children be reunited with their families as part of a negotiated peace deal? It’s a lovely thought. And why aren’t the legacy media asking this same question? But what do you suppose will happen to them?
It’s more likely the children would face extermination. Please forgive the term, but that’s what Putin calls it.
Do you think Putin would give these children the chance to bring a counterrevolution against Russia for the atrocities they suffered as infants and toddlers in a decade or two?
The taking of these children is war crime under Geneva Conventions. So if you’re still wearing the T-shirt that says I’d rather be a Russian than a Democrat, you may want to rethink your priorities.
I guess you can tell I’ve had myself a good, White Lady thinkathon this past week.
What if we started holding random think-a-thons out in public spaces? You know, you roll-up at the Costco checkout with automotive supplies, a breast pump, 4 cases of beer, and 40 lbs of baby back ribs. And we just have a think-a-thon together?
In the olden days that’s what pubs were for. Go have a sip, became the word gossip. Although, other respectable sources believe the word gossip is derived from the feminine form of the word god-sib (sibling) or god-parent. I care less for that etymological theory because. Um. Patriarchy, duh. And in most countries, women weren’t allowed in the pubs. SNAP.
I’m thinking these think-a-thons could emerge as spontaneous urban happenings—like flash mobs or pop-up Karaoke bars. Yes, Charlotte, KAH-od-kay 🔗 is three syllables, not four, the second being more of a diphthong. And the “r” is pronounced more like a “d.”
(And to my dearest usage exceptionalists, I see you. I hear you. I love you.)
Let’s also salute the return of Mapquest and Skinny Jeans! Who would’ve thought that MapQuest’s failure to innovate could inspire a grateful nation’s nostalgia and pride around the naming of a body of water?
Remember when everybody used to pile-on about MapQuest? Well now, Mapquest is feeling its oats. How you like me now, Ladies!
The sole time MapQuest steered me wrong was on a trip to a certain retailer in Bentonville, AR-Kansas, which rolled back its Diversity, Equity and Inclusion policies—get this—after the 2024 election—all because some extremist investor threatened to fund a social media campaign—that would slam the W~M as a wokeness machine 🔗 the week before Black Friday.
Remember that? Yeah, I don’t either. Because the legacy media didn’t report on it.
You know who did? Some independent news hounds at InsiderPaper.com. 🔗 If it seems too hard to seek out actual facts in alternative media, then I’m gonna call have to call you out on that.
I once saw you track down and buy the only remaining Hello Kitty anime figurine on the Japanese equivalent of eBay. We can do anything. We just need a little motivation.
Getting back to my Mapquest story. I had followed every directional sign to the letter. Even glancing at that bobbity-bobbity thing that tells you whether you’re going Northwest, East or what have you.
Did you know winds are named for the direction they originate from? So, a westerly wind moves from the West to the East. (This doesn’t apply, of course, to onshore and offshore winds in sailing, however. I have no idea how they figure that shit out.)
So, I’m following the bobbity-bobbity. A series of detailed handwritten instructions. And Mapquest. With all these resources, how could I go wrong?
As I was in the final stretch to reach my destination—I’m directed from a dirt road to a grassy one. Imagine my luck! Mapquest has just found me a shortcut!
I felt like Anthony Bourdain in Season 1 of Parts Unknown. (Yes, of course he could be a bit of a jerk sometimes, but isn’t that what’s expected of great chefs?)
The announcement, “you have arrived at your destination” did not have a pleasing effect on my ears or inspire confidence. My final turn led me into a cow pasture.
I would soon come to understand that the dinner meeting I had travelled in for would go on without me. Which was sorta cute since the presentation was on my laptop.
Knowing full well that these are the moments that show what White Ladies are made of. I stepped out of my ride to approach cows grazing on verdant land.
And I breathed.
Tomorrow, I will get my ass kicked. But today—today, I will fulfill my destiny—I will take my place in the sun.
I wave. Hey Ladies! Anyone want to hear a song?
In my attempt to be relevant, I opened with Adele’s Chasing Pavements—but it was met with tepid response. I had failed to read the bucolic-scene, so to speak.
Anyway. Adele is lovely, but I think we can all admit, she sings far too low for her register. And I worry about the longevity of her career because of it. But I digress.
Have you ever sung to a cow? How ‘bout a herd of cows?
I once saw a TikTok of a lady 🔗 singing the Irish lullaby Turra Lurra Lurra to a herd of Scottish Lady Heilen Coos (Highland Cows). I put the link there for you. Trust me. It’ll brighten your day to watch it.
It’s not what you’d expect though, singing to cows. They’re very polite—but unsure of the proper etiquette when encountering a busker. You might summon a reluctant sense of curiosity from some—but that’s about it.
To my great comfort, The Great Lady Red Hereford as I referred to her—approached the stage door. I grew warm by her fixed gaze. As I continued my redneck concert, she seemed down for the whole experience. Cows are awesome.
I selected my final piece carefully. a capella can be a tricky thing with cows. With the drama expected of this next work—I crouched and wept as I approached the da capo, or return to the top of o mio babbino caro, 🔗 (my dear little one) from Puccini’s Gianni Schicchi. 🔗
We had shared a moment. And she told things.
You’re not the first person to end up in this field,
Cows will remember an unexpected kindness, and
Something or other about not buying the farm.
Although unaccustomed to Italian opera sung at dusk, she bid me to return another evening. And as I found my way back to paved roads, I let out a holla to some kid-goats-in-pajamas 🔗 as I passed. Believe me. You’re gonna wanna watch this video too.
I had to reckon with my own existential reality—who am I in this moment? I wonder whether there was blueberry cobbler to be had nearby? Come on already. A Southern cobbler. A coffee. Chef’s kiss.
Oh yeah, back to Mapquest. They should really standardize the spelling. Is it the bold, impetuous, MapQuest with the capital M and Q? Or the more sober, Mapquest that only initial-caps the M? I’ve used both versions in this letter. I figured I could live with being right and wrong about half the time.
And while we’re on the subject of names and the uniquely American Conceit of naming everything after ourselves, I wanted to give a shoutout to the peeps at the Associated Press.
The AP is independent. It’s not owned by the rich White Guy who owns the Washington Post and Amazon. Or the rich White Guy who owns Twitter and the President. Or the rich White Guy who owns The Wall Street Journal and Fox News. If you’re filling out your bingo card at home, that’s Jeff Bezos, Elon Musk and Rupert Murdoch, respectively.
The AP doesn’t have advertisers. It makes bank by serving up a stream of well-sourced, thoughtfully-crafted international reporting—and selling their work to other global news outlets.
I proudly stand with the AP on The Gulf of Mexico. I also stand with the Danes who have a sense of humor and have renamed it, The Gulf of Denmark. 🔗
The AP Style Guide is not necessarily better than the Chicago Book of Style—but I hope in my lifetime I may see the Associated Press concede the proper spacing for the em dash—has no spaces—on either side. (See what I did there?)
SIPPING AT NATO PRESS BRIEFING
Much has been said about Petey being a DUI hire. But you didn’t hear that from me.
The world sees the U.S. Secretary of Defense, Pete Hegseth humming into a cup of gin or vodka during the Q&A of a NATO press briefing in Brussels on Thurs., Feb. 13, 2025.
His answers give pause to all present as he agrees that Putin should not have to concede anything in the negotiations with Ukraine—the negotiations that curiously do not include Ukraine, NATO leaders or the EU.
He promised to return us to a warrior ethos, whatever that means. He promised the negotiations would stop both the “killing and the death.”
When on the world’s stage—he suffered from dry mouth—he took to his sippy cup six times in fewer than 28 minutes.
His first sip came about three seconds in. His second sip came when the AP asked what concessions Russia was prepared to make. I guess we could’ve prepared better and made a drinking game out of it for those at home.
I linked the coverage from the AP here. 🔗 If you want to see the abridged version, a montage of each sip is here. 🔗
He did show up on the weekend news programs, including Meet the Press and Fox News, sporting what I would call a Kentucky sunburn (IYKYK)—and a dab, dab, dab too much of Daddy’s Brill Cream.
Dear Mrs. White Lady, is it as much of a challenge for you as it is for me to watch a White male drunky-poo, war-crimes apologist and accused S/A-er defy gravity and continually fall up?
Einstein would find this most curious. As do I.
And what of the unearned confidence of these maladaptive White men? #47, Hegseth. Patel. Kennedy. Musk. To name just a few.
So, I have to ask, Dear Mrs. White Lady, why not Kamala?
Pronounced (n.) comma•lah/ ; rhymes with (n.) momma•lah/
And what of the scandal-free 49th V.P. of the United States—The highest ranking woman to ever serve in U.S. gov’t.—The twice-elected Attorney General—D.A.—U.S. Senator—Wife, Stepmom, Sister and Auntie?
Well first, let’s head off any nonsense that Women lack the temperament to be leaders. Poppycock. Let’s look at the record.
Case in point.
Cleopatra (Egypt and Cyprus).
Catherine The Great, The Red Empress (Russia).
Queen(s) Mary I., Mary II., Elizabeth I., Victoria I. Elizabeth II.
Margaret Thatcher (England).
Angela Merkel (Germany).
Mette Frederiksen (Denmark).
Katrín Jakobsdóttir (Iceland).
Sanna Marin (Finland).
And the breath of fresh air who is President Claudia Steinbaum (Mexico).
Second, let’s dismiss that other bs that Women lack the requisite physical strength to be leaders. Poppycock. And. Double Poppycock.
First of all, not all men are specimens of physical health. And you know why that doesn’t matter? Because it doesn’t matter!
FDR had polio and led from a wheelchair. 🔗
Dwight D. Eisenhower had a learning disability. 🔗
Abraham Lincoln lived with depression. 🔗
Jefferson had dyslexia and a speech impediment. 🔗
JFK had a learning disability and chronic pain. 🔗
Clinton had a hearing impairment and wore hearing aids. 🔗
And Biden had a stutter. 🔗
So, back to my question, Dear Mrs. White Lady. Why not Kamala? You tell me.
Talk soon.
-m.
P.S. Check out this recipe for Kentucky Chocolate Boubon Pecan Pie. Brown butter, chocolate, pecans and bourbon. Oh, yes please. And maybe a coffee. The Confederacy itself would stand down and surrender for one helping of this indulgence.
P.S.S. The Google Machine just informed me that Hegseth and the former V.P. candidate and U.S. Congressman Tim Walz—are both from Minnesota. I don’t get it.
The depth at which you weave your points together is pure magic. You make logical connections where none should exist and give one much to reflect upon and think about. Bravo!
I love your meandering descriptions that lead to and through your poignant point(s)