
Eric Blume
3.1K posts





California's Secretary of State says we likely won't know the results of the governor's race on election night. "We've got 60 candidates. That in itself is historic... There's so much going on," @CASOSVote Shirley Weber told me.






Hegseth Strikes Female and Black Navy Officers From Promotion List. The result: a slate of 22 new one-star admiral nominees that bears little resemblance to the force these officers will help lead. Of special note: The list has no women. w/ @katekelly nytimes.com/2026/06/01/us/…








When I was a kid growing up in the 80s and 90s my uncle Charlie was gay. My mom told us he had always been that way. She said when they were little her other brothers would be outside playing and Charlie would hang out with the sisters and play Barbies. I thought he talked funny. He usually grew his nails out. But my mom told me that's just who he was. We loved Charlie. We loved his crazy, loud friends. Sometimes we'd go to Pizza Hut in our small town where he worked and visit him. He was a great storyteller. When I was around 12 or 13 Charlie got sick. I remember my mom cleaned his mobile home with bleach and Lysol because he couldn't get healthy. Eventually he passed from tuberculosis and complications from AIDS. My mom said at the end there wasn't much left of him. It was a terrible way to die. And because of the time and place he died mostly alone. People were afraid to visit him. I remember relatives asking if they should disinfect the toilet after he used it. I think about my uncle Charlie all the time. I'm glad my mom introduced us to him. I'm glad he was part of our normal lives. I'm glad my sister and I grew up knowing he was a real, loving, caring, decent person. I'm glad my mom didn't try to tell us something was wrong with him. I wish everyone had an uncle Charlie. Maybe the world wouldn't be so full of hate and bigotry. Because he was impossible to hate. When I see people shooting up Bud Light cans and screaming about storytime I wish they knew my uncle Charlie.





















