Vanity Project

As the arthroplasty recovery continues, I’m indulging myself in a ridiculously vain social media trend. People are uploading photos of themselves as teenagers to ChatGPT (possibly started by the women abused by Jeffrey Epstein as young teenagers) and asking how Chat thinks they will look at their actual current age. The comparison inevitably makes people feel good about their looks.

Me at 13
How ChatGPT thinks I’ll look at 60.
The real me last month

Also, we shouldn’t even NEED the Epstein files to force Trump to resign in disgrace.

If you haven’t read the entire transcript of Katie Johnson’s 2016 testimony as reported by Andy Borowitz of the Borowitz Report, you really should. It sounds 💯% true to me. Trump should be in prison.

In 2016, a woman using the pseudonym Katie Johnson filed a lawsuit alleging that Jeffrey Epstein trafficked her and Donald Trump raped her when she was a 13-year-old child.

The scenes that unfolded today at the U.S. Capitol dramatize the importance of listening to survivors’ voices. In that spirit, I am posting below the full transcript of Katie Johnson’s testimony.

~Andy Borowitz

Warning: it is extremely graphic and disturbing.

I came to this interview of my free will. No, there was nothing promised to me for doing this interview. Yes, everything that I say in this interview will be the truth.

I met Donald Trump at some parties that I was working for Mr. Jeffrey Epstein. There were about three or four times that I had encounters with Donald Trump. I was 13. The first time that I met Donald Trump was at a party at Jeffrey Epstein’s mansion. There was an orgy going on and he was kind of watching off in the distance.

He basically asked if I could come over and give him a hand job. At first I wasn’t very comfortable with it. This was my first party and I didn’t think that that was my responsibility. But my recruiter told me that I needed to do it. So I agreed to it and then he, you know, I began to—sorry this is a little difficult. But before I gave him a hand job he kind of slapped my hand away and said, “You need to use a glove.” The recruiter ran over and handed me a glove and said, “No one touches Mr. Trump’s penis without a glove.” So I needed to use a glove. I gave him a hand job and then immediately after he had an orgasm he left and I didn’t see him again at that party…

I originally came to New York trying to be a model and in my travels I met a girl named Tiffany there who was very interested in me and said that that’s what she did is that she helped girls, you know, get what they wanted. She could help me get into modeling, that she knew a lot of people that were higher-ups and that it would be no problem. And so that’s why, you know, I would just basically have to come model at a couple of events and meet some people, there would be no sweat.

So of course I went, you know, that sounded like no big deal. And she was recruiting the girls to come to these parties and they all looked, I mean most of them were my age. There were maybe a couple girls that were maybe 14 or 15 but it seemed to me like we were all very young.

Jeffrey Epstein knew that I was 13 years old. When he interviewed me, he asked me to get down to my bra and just my panties and I thought that was weird but, I mean, modeling. Maybe it was something about my figure. He asked me to give him a massage. He asked me my age, I told him that I was thirteen, I told him why I was there, and he basically said, “Well, you’ll do, you know, I’m sure that you’ll fit pretty nicely here.” And then he tried to basically slip himself inside of me. And I pushed him away and I said, you know, I’m—because at that point in time I still believed that there were models and then there was the girls that did that. Like I thought there was a separation. So I told him that I wasn’t interested in that but he said that I would do.

And as far as Donald Trump, he knew that I was 13, and I believe that Tiffany told him. He seemed to take a liking to me because I was so young and I was also a virgin. So, I don’t know, he seemed like he wasn’t really into having girls that were liked by the other guys. The whole glove thing—he kind of liked things to be his first, you know, for lack of a better term. He was the one who wanted to get to a girl before everyone else did.

Donald Trump knew that I was 13 because the first night that I was there, Tiffany actually suggested that and she had a whole bunch of different wigs and I expressed interest in them and I always told her that I would love to walk around with blue hair. And so I tried some on and there was a blonde wig that she said that looked great on me. So, I wore that wig and Donald Trump had specifically asked about me because I remind him of his daughter and she said, “Well, she’s 13 as well.” So, he knew the first time that he saw me. He took a liking to me because I looked like his daughter.

The reason I’m coming out now is—when it happened originally, I just wanted to forget about the whole incident. And when I saw that he was running for president, I felt that it was my responsibility to come out and tell our country what kind of man this person is. I don’t think that he should even be the dog catcher, let alone running the greatest country in the world…

The first time that I met Jeffrey Epstein, he did try to force himself inside of me without getting the go-ahead or anything. And then it was probably about the third or fourth party is when he basically forced—it was another massage and it was basically like, it wasn’t sex, but it was, there was penetration. And I told him that I didn’t want that, but he kind of got a little irritated. So, I don’t know, there was something about him that, I guess I kind of held a lot of resentment towards him. By the time that that happened, I already started catching on that maybe I wasn’t there for modeling and maybe I was just getting used for things and I kind of held him responsible.

I did receive money to go to these parties. After every party, I was paid by Mr. Epstein. There wasn’t, out of all the girls that were there with me, most of them were 13, 14. I think the oldest one might have been 16, but just turned 16 and she’d been there for a while…
Second time that I saw Mr. Trump was, same scenario, he was an onlooker at an orgy and Tiffany came over to me and said that Donald Trump had requested that I perform oral sex on him. And never, I’d never done something like that with anybody, so I was a little nervous. So, I walked up to him and he was sitting there very proud-like and I just kind of moved in that direction and he kind of slapped me away and said, “What are you doing? You need to put a condom on.” Like I was some dirty filth or something. Tiffany ran over and handed me a condom and apologized profusely and said that would never happen again. And she looked at me and scolded me basically like a child and said that, “That’s not how: Donald Trump always, anytime anyone touches his penis it needs to have a condom on or a glove. Especially when it comes to performing oral sex.”
So, I apologized and then I performed oral sex on him. And once again, once he was done, he hopped up and that’s the last I saw of him at that party. It’s like once he’s done, he’s out. Some of the things that I noticed that were weird with him: sometimes before the parties he would come over and Jeffrey Epstein and himself would kind of banter back and forth and he was very, Donald Trump was very racist. He said a lot of racist things. There was a lot of comments towards Mr. Epstein about being Jewish and he called him a Jew bastard, said that he was cheap and there were some words I didn’t even understand.

Something about his, you know, the shape of his penis being directly related to his mole or, I mean, I’m not too familiar with the Jewish tradition—but I’m pretty sure that whatever he was saying wasn’t very nice. He also referred to, you know, people of Hispanic origin, he called them Spicks. That was around the first time that the World Trade Center had gotten bombed in the 90s. And he was talking about the towel heads and how we would just be better off if we didn’t let them in and basically got rid of everyone, every single one that was already here. And it made me really uncomfortable, really, really uncomfortable.

He also loved to call Black people n—– and Arabic people he called sand n—–. The only time that he tried to give me some money was our last encounter together, where he acted out a rape fantasy. I was forced to give that money back because Jeffrey Epstein paid us after the party. I don’t even know why he gave it to me, maybe to make me feel more cheap. It was a rape fantasy to him, but I wasn’t playing.

The next thing that Tiffany approached me with was that he had a fantasy where he walked in on his maids, maids basically making out and it was some type of fantasy for him. At that point, I was like, “I don’t want to be involved with anything that has to do with him.” But she’s like, “You are just basically the other one. So, there’s nothing that you will have to do. Just—he’s requesting you to be involved.” So, I reluctantly—I mean, I felt like I didn’t have a choice there, but it was basically, he’s walking in on his two maids, I was one of the maids, I was the white maid. And there was a Spanish girl, Maria, who was the Hispanic maid. And we were making out and he walks in and he gets really angry and threatens to call immigration on Maria if she doesn’t come over and make things right and give him a blow job.

So, while she is over there giving him a blow job, I am supposed to look scared like, “Oh, oh no,” cleaning up things and pretending like I’m trying to go back to my job as a maid. And then he’s being so rude to Maria. I felt so bad for her. It just didn’t seem like a fantasy. It’s the weirdest fantasy as far as that goes. He was threatening, he was threatening to call immigration on her. She wasn’t even near going down to give him, perform oral sex on him before he slapped her away and said, “What are you doing? You know you need to put a condom on.” And she’s trying to say “I’m so sorry.” And he’s like, “You can’t even, I can’t even understand what you’re saying. Just speak English!” He called her derogatory comments. And then he’s like, “You know what, you don’t know what you’re doing. Have her come over and show you how it’s done.” And so I, again, I said that I didn’t—I had to go over there or else he was going to call immigration on Maria. I didn’t know if it was true or not, but he said that if I didn’t show her how to perform oral sex on him, then he was going to call immigration on her and then get rid of us both.

Anything that was in relation to him getting off or being satisfied or happy had to do with him being in power, extreme power. And it was always intimidating when he was like that. You didn’t really know if it was true. If you refused to play along, would he really call immigration on Maria? Would he really get rid of us both? And I didn’t even want to know what that meant. It wasn’t a game.

The one night that I had the blonde wig on, he mentioned that I reminded him of his daughter. And actually the maid’s fantasy, I didn’t have a blonde wig on. I was trying to stay away from blonde wigs at the time. But he actually requested, told Tiffany that that’s what he wanted me to wear. Like he wanted it, and anytime I put it on, anytime I had it on and he’d see me, he would say, “Oh man, you look—” and it wasn’t like a, “Oh, you remind me of my daughter.” It was this sick, evil “You remind me of my daughter.” It was just this weird pleasure, sick smile. Like I don’t even want to know what he was thinking about. I could imagine what he was thinking about.

After the parties would end, we were to report to Mr. Epstein and basically tell him everything that happened, with who, what they liked, what they disliked, if there was any requests, if there was any talk about anything. That’s what we told Mr. Epstein—everything. And then he paid us, and then we got to go home.

The fact that Trump has a chance to be the next president makes me feel disgusting inside. I’ve always been proud to be an American. I think we live in a beautiful country. But I just see him ruining everything. He’s horrible, what he portrays on the outside isn’t even that great, but people don’t even know the half of how evil, how sick and twisted that man is. I have a friend that’s been my friend ever since the school year that I stopped going, the eighth grade. I confided in her, and she knows all about it. She knows everything…

I’m prepared to do whatever it takes to save the country that I believe that we have. I know what he does behind closed doors. I’m willing to sacrifice my life to put our country back in the right—like, going maybe in some type of positive direction. Not even, there’s no right or wrong, but a positive direction. This guy’s not going to take us anywhere positive.

You know, as far as my life changing by coming out with this information, I’ve thought long and hard about whether or not I should. And I’ve gone back and forth. But I think that the American people need to know what kind of man this person is. And if my life changes because of that, then so be it. But the American people need to know what they’re dealing with. If I had the chance to talk to Donald Trump, I would run the other way. I’m scared of him like I’ve never been scared of anything else in my entire life. I can’t explain it to you, but the fear of him even being in a next room, I have a panic attack.

The last encounter that I had with Donald Trump, Tiffany approached me about a rape scene that was supposed to be played out. And I didn’t like the sound of that at all. But Tiffany promised, assured me that it wasn’t going to be—if it was anything I wasn’t comfortable with, we could stop. That she would be right there and that it wouldn’t get out of hand. And that it was just a fantasy, like it wasn’t really going to happen. And so I told her that I would. I mean Tiffany was always nice to me. I trusted her, or else I wouldn’t have always done what she asked me to.

But she was there and he came in and I was basically tied to a bed with pantyhose. And they were so tight it hurt to even lay there. And I tried to say something and he was just “Shut up! Shut up, bitch!” He was being really, really rough.

It just didn’t seem like a fantasy. And I started to get scared and he was basically like ripping my clothes off. And I got freaked out. I told him that I didn’t want to do this. I screamed over for Tiffany and she was like, “Mr. Trump, she’s only, she’s not—this is scaring her.” And he’s like, “Oh you shut up too.” He just turned into this animal. It was like a completely different, completely different person. It was like everyone in the room was scared of him. And I couldn’t do anything about it.

He ripped off all my clothes and he started to basically have sex with me and I was screaming. I’d never had sex before, it was my first time and Tiffany was yelling at him too. She was saying I was a virgin and he told us to just shut the fuck up and just basically took my virginity while I was crying and telling him to stop and basically begging for him to just stop. And Tiffany didn’t know what else to do either. No one was there to help us, or me. And so, after the fact, he basically finishes. It didn’t take that long at all. But it felt like it was like five and a half hours. It felt like it was an eternity.

I was crying and Tiffany was consoling me and she was apologizing. She told me that she would never put me in that situation again. But he comes over mad because I was crying and he said that I should be thankful that someone like Donald Trump took my virginity. Well, he didn’t say took my virginity. He said, I should be glad that someone like Donald Trump popped my cherry and not some pimply little 14 year old. And I just was like, “What if I get pregnant?” Not even talking to him. I didn’t want to talk to him. I was talking to Tiffany and he said, “Well you’ll get an abortion then, bitch.” And then just walked away. And I told Tiffany I needed to go home. I never went back again.

I guess it’s for you to decide. I don’t have any kids myself because I’m afraid to have kids because who knows what kind of damage they can get into, but if you have a 13-year-old daughter, would you be okay with the person who’s running our country doing that to your little girl? And I just, I don’t know. I just want people to know. I think that I have a faith in our society that we’ll make the right choice. He seemed to be taking great pleasure in dominance and control and the more I screamed, the more I got scared, the more he was enraged with power and it was like he was just charged with it. It was scary.

Arthroplasty

I have survived an arthroplasty. And by “survived, ” I mean I accompanied my husband to his total knee replacement surgery.

I am not good with medical stuff. I get “white coat anxiety.” So, I think I handled things pretty well. He is back home and resting comfortably.

The only thing I messed up was hanging up on the surgeon (twice!) when he called to tell me everything had gone well. I couldn’t seem to answer my own phone correctly.

Also, I ran over a curb when driving up to the area where the nurse rolled him out in a wheelchair, but my tires seem fine. (Phew, can you imagine if I got a flat on the way home?)

Oh, and I had to plug my ears with my fingers and look out the window when the physical therapist described to my husband exactly what the “madman with the drill and the saw” does during a total knee arthroplasty.

I will be having a drink at 5pm. Or maybe an Oxycodone (kidding)

Image from Pexels

Progress

Yesterday I went to a concert by the world-renowned Boston Symphony Orchestra in Boston’s historic Symphony Hall.

Boston’s Symphony Hall yesterday afternoon

My friend Eileen and I had wanted to attend this particular concert because the planned guest conductor—a young man we knew from our days working together at the Conservatory—was making his Boston debut.

AFTER we bought our tickets, we were notified that he wouldn’t be conducting due to “ the recurring effects of a shoulder injury.” Instead, 29-year old BSO Assistant Conductor Anna Handler would be making her Symphony Hall debut. OK, well at least we were seeing someone’s debut!

The first piece was “The Imagined Forest” by 31-year old British composer Grace-Evangeline Mason. It was atmospheric and beautiful.

Something about seeing these two young women—the conductor and the composer—take their bows together felt like Progress. I’ve seen plenty of women take their bows as soloists, but not as conductors and composers—the artistic leaders—at the very highest level of classical music.

There was no mention of it being a historic first or anything like that, but you could feel that the audience was 100 percent supportive. Partial standing ovation (unusual for the first piece in a concert). Many cheers.

Brava, ladies. Well done. Respect.

29-year old Anna Handler commanded the podium in a focused, confident way as she stepped in for an ailing guest conductor of one of the world’s finest symphony orchestras

Thursday Doors—Winchester, Massachusetts

This is the pic that came up today when I searched the ginormous folder on my computer for a “door.”

There was no geographic info in the file name or photo data. All I know is that it was taken with my old Canon PowerShot camera in June 2011 and that the two kids on the balcony are mine.

I had no recollection of this moment, but Google Lens figured out the location (amazing). It’s downtown Winchester, Massachusetts (my husband’s hometown). My father-in-law was alive and still living there at the time, so it makes sense.

It’s an area now called “Winchester Terrace.” AI found this photo on Apartments.com that shows the exact spot:

At the top of the staircase on the right is the spot I posed my kids in 2011.

This discovery sparked a memory of my very dear father-in-law—“Nonno” to my kids.

He was most the wonderful man who enjoyed life’s small moments like no other. Martini time, a beautiful operatic aria, an excellent meal, a grandchild’s kiss (he called it a “buzz”), a friendly joke with a stranger (especially waitresses!), and random bits of foreign languages sprinkled into any conversation. He always made me feel like the most amazing, interesting, gorgeous woman who ever lived. A true charmer. He lived well into his 90s.

My son with his wonderful Nonno (2003)

Dan’s Thursday Doors

A particularly cruel scam

A friend of mine called me today with incredible news. Her novel was going to be made into a movie and she would be going to Glendale, California for a meeting about it on December 19.

I was thrilled for her. I asked how it came about and she mentioned a podcast she’d done about a year ago where she’d answered some pre-written questions about her most recent book—her third semi-autobiographical, self-published novel. Somehow a media company had heard the podcast and became interested in shopping her book to movie studios for possible adaption to film and incredibly, DreamWorks was interested.

My friend is 80 years old and recently lost a kidney to cancer. Her husband has advanced Parkinson’s Disease. She’s led an unusually interesting and challenging life. She worked very hard professionally but kept up writing fiction as a hobby for decades. Having one of her novels turned into a film would be a dream come true. Truly. I cannot think of anything else that would be more meaningful to her at this point in time. She was so excited. Her main concerns were what she would wear to the meeting in California and who could take care of her husband while she was away.

Her daughter called while we were talking, so we hung up.

I was surprised (but not shocked), when she later confirmed (by e-mail) that her daughter had been right. It was a scam.

Imagine the emotions. From the highest high to…well…the way every single scam victim must feel.

Shocked • Embarrassed • Confused
Foolish • Upset • Betrayed
Misled • Angry • Frustrated
Disappointed • Let Down • Hurt

Thankfully, her daughter caught on early and no money had yet been requested or sent.

Here’s how ChatGPT summarizes this particularly cruel scam:

A book-to-film option scam is when scammers target self-published authors by pretending a major studio wants to adapt their book. They pose as agents or producers, build excitement, and then demand money for fake services like screenplay adaptation or representation. It’s a type of advance-fee scam designed to exploit hopeful authors.

Last Watercolor Class

Yesterday was the last week of my 8-week class called “Loosen up with Watercolors” at our local (amazing) community arts center.

Against advice from the teacher, I attempted to paint a portrait of someone I know and love: my granddaughter. The reference photo (taken by my daughter) was from last summer when my granddaughter was 9 months old. (She’s walking now!)

I had the idea to use wine bottle webbing in the background for her playpen siding.

I had fun doing this, but I get why the teacher said not to paint family members as a total beginner. You’re too attached to the subject!

I want to learn how to make smooth skin tones, but I was too afraid to experiment on her adorable little face. I will try a stranger again next time, like that random chef from a magazine, which was my first ever watercolor portrait.

I also used those experimental gradients as backgrounds for some giraffe silhouettes. I have always loved giraffes.

I’m definitely glad I took the class. I may sign up for another session. I like the teacher and it gives me some structure to keep at it.

Dark Spain

I read this article about a woman’s harrowing coming-of-age in Franco’s Spain and it triggered memories of a trip to Madrid I took with my parents in 1984 or 85—less than a decade after the end of the authoritarian Franco regime, which had lasted 36 years.

I cannot find a SINGLE photo from that trip, but I know it really happened. (Someday, if I find photos in my parents’ house, I will add them to this post.)

Here’s what I remember:

My father was in the process of selling his small company to a British company and had to go to London on business, so he took my mother and me with him. This was my first trip to Europe, so they wanted to visit one other city while we were over there and they randomly chose post-Franco Madrid. (For some reason, my sister did not come. She stayed home with the family dog who fell into the foundation of an unbuilt house and died while we were away.)

Of London, I remember only some heinously spicy Indian food, other bad food, and cream being poured on everything.

Here’s my very hazy memory of Madrid.

It was dark and dirty. We ate extremely late in the evening in smoke-filled restaurants. My parents spoke no Spanish, but still rented a car and drove up a one-way street the wrong way. A cop pulled us over and somehow it was communicated that he would take cash in lieu of giving my father a ticket.

We went to The Prado Museum and I looked at lots of dark paintings.

“David With The Head of Goliath” by Caravaggio (c1600) has been in The Prado forever. I feel like I remember seeing it there. So gruesome.

We visited Toledo, which is outside of Madrid, and I got a piece of their signature jewelry, which is also dark. They make it with black steel. I no longer have the piece, but it looked something like this.

And that’s it. That’s all I remember. The lack of photos doesn’t help.

Back to the BBC article about that poor young woman whose parents turned her over to the authorities and suffered the cruelest treatment imaginable during the Franco regime. I can’t imagine how she (or her daughter) carried on any type of relationship with her ultra conservative Catholic parents after that. The gall of that 90-year old grandfather saying “we suffered a lot too” is outrageous. I noticed the word “forgiveness” is not used.

Thursday will mark 50 years since Franco’s death. Spain has since seen a revolution in women’s rights – but survivors of the Patronato are still waiting for answers and are now demanding an inquiry.

Alizarin Crimson in nature

Fallen leaves from our Japanese Maple

Alizarin crimson is a deep, cool, and transparent red color with a blue or magenta undertone that has been a staple for painters for generations.

Why is it called Alizarin?

Google’s short answer:

Because alizarin was originally the principal red dye extracted from the madder plant, and the name comes from the old word for madder root dye.

Madder plant with roots (image source: https://www.naturesrainbow.co.uk/2021/04/harvesting-madder-from-a-large-planter/)

Thursday Doors—The Kremlin

It’s fun for me to search the giant folder of pictures on my computer for “door” and see what comes up. It really jogs the old memory.

This pic came up today.

I knew it was from a slide I took in 1987 on a college trip to Helsinki, Budapest and the Soviet Union, but I didn’t know exactly where.

Guess what? ChatGPT identified it immediately as the Dormition (Assumption) Cathedral in the Kremlin, Moscow, Russia.

The distinctive arched doorway with ornate frescoes above it. The icon of the Virgin and Child surrounded by angels and saints. The Romanesque-style columns and arches framing the door.

This specific doorway is the main western portal of the Dormition Cathedral (built by Aristotele Fioravanti in the 1470s), one of the most important churches in Russia and the site of coronations of Russian tsars.

And I do believe ChatGPT is correct because I found this picture in my files as well:

That’s the Kremlin with the Dormition Cathedral—the second cluster of gold domes from the left. The Moscow River (in the foreground) was frozen solid.

I believe this is also inside the walls of the Kremlin. I think it’s Spasskaya Tower, which overlooks Red Square.

There are two possible reasons I do not have more pictures of the Kremlin. Either it was too darn cold and my camera battery froze or our “Intourist” (Communist Party) tour guide wouldn’t let us take photos.

I have a feeling my camera battery froze because I’m not a total rule follower. (I have been known to sneak a photo in forbidden areas.) However, we were warned so severely to not break any rules while in Russia, I may have been “scared straight” as they say.

Here’s a photo of our Intourist Guide Elena receiving some parting gifts from our Russian History professor on the tour bus. Too bad I only got the back of her head.

See, this is why you take pictures people. I had forgotten all of this. I have been to the Kremlin!

Posted for Dan’s Thursday Doors.

Northern Lights II

A little over a year ago, I saw the Northern Lights for the first time on the way to choir practice and wrote a post about it.

Last night at about 9pm, thanks to Facebook, I was alerted that the aurora borealis was again visible in the skies above our town. Not as bright as last year, but still very cool.

Photo taken from my back porch facing north
The Northern Lights do not look as bright to the naked eye as they do in photos, but I could distinctly see both the pink and the green with my own eyes.

I texted my kids and my parents to look north and my daughter saw some beautiful pinks where she lives in southern central Massachusetts:

My father saw them for the first time in his 91 years and he was a pilot who has been to Alaska several times and also to Iceland. Here was his photo from two towns over: