Fat And Skinny Had A Race (Skinny Lost)

Two of the beautiful people.

One of my favorite episodes of The

Twilight Zone first aired on November 11, 1960, which would have made it my sister's 18th birthday the year I was 13. Entitled "Eye of the Beholder," the gist of it was that in an altered society, pretty people were considered to be ugly and the hideously ugly were beautiful.

This is what's going on today right here and now, in this society where we live. It's happening online, where hundreds of videos of morbidly obese women dressed in bikinis or other flesh-baring attire are posted. The women look gross and disgusting but get comments like, "You are beautiful" and "I love your body," from men and women alike.

I can only conclude that the fatter we get as a nation, the more we tell ourselves that's the way things should be. Only it isn't.

Morning Coffee In The Nuthouse

When I married a man 11 years younger than me I assumed he would still be mentally fit when I started losing my marbles, and that in fact he might help me keep some of them for a longer time. Sadly, it has not turned out that way.

This morning, having awakened at 3:45 and realized that sleep was no longer a possibility, I was in the living room reading when I heard my husband come down the stairs and enter the kitchen and start making coffee. The sound of the coffee grinder was not right. Instead of the usual low, electrical purr, it was an angry clacking sound. It grew louder, and I was surprised that Mitch felt it appropriate to keep going. However, after about one minute the clacking subsided and the grinding continued normally.

Next, Mitch started making noises like "Harrumph" and "Hmmm," which made me, sequestered two rooms away, wonder just what the heck was going on. Finally he found me and reported that the wide blue rubber band that had been wrapped around the bag of coffee beans was missing. He posited that it was the reason for the clacking sound and that it had been ground up with the beans.

I found that laughable. No way! How could the coffee grinder continue to work with a big fat rubber band in its blades? (I also mentioned that if that were truly the case he was mental and needed help.) Assuming he had simply dropped it somewhere, I began sweeping the kitchen floor. Meanwhile, a pot of coffee was brewing. Undaunted, Mitch opened the top of the coffee maker and inspected the grounds. Soon enough he found what looked like a small piece of a rubber band buried in the wet mess.

Refusing to drink the now freshly-brewed coffee, saying we could surely die if we drank ground-up latex, I thought of David O'Lenick, the other man I could have married. (My high-school beau who was my age, I wondered if he was still alive.)

To settle things, Mitch asked Claude, his A.I. companion, the following: "If I grind up a rubber band along with coffee beans in my coffee grinder, and then brew coffee with the mixture of ground beans and ground rubber band, would that be toxic?  Also, would you think that the person who did this has a mental illness?"

Claude said DO NOT DRINK IT! -- it could cause all sorts of problems, digestive and otherwise, even leading to death. As for the sanity question, Claude said if it were an accident, then no worries, but if it were part of a pattern of distressing or unusual choices, speaking with a health care professional would be a helpful next step.

 And that's what's happening in our house this morning.

Dastardly Dems Destroying Democracy

Anti-Trump protesters in Maine.

Here in Maine, the death of democracy is evident on the highways and byways of every town, where political signs have become the weapon of choice. The vandalism at the hands of the Maine Democrats is stunning in its efficacy, as each new day dawns to find more and more signs touting Republican candidates missing. All but a handful of those supporting Senator Susan Collins have been defaced, destroyed or spirited away. Ditto the signs for lesser Republican candidates, be it a member of the local school board or the Maine state senate. Interestingly, none of the signs touting Democrats for those very same offices have been tampered with. 

What can we conclude from these sophomoric shenanigans? One thing only: the party protesting that Donald Trump represents "the end of democracy" is the very same one that is actively out there killing it. To them, "free speech" means "only if you vote our way."

It's sad and depressing to witness this peevish behavior of the so-called adults who comprise the lion's share of our demographics. Constantly touting their love of democracy, they are actively destroying it. The only conclusion I can think of is that frequent consumption of lobster eventually eradicates functioning brain cells. (See photo.)

Doctor No

There's an old joke that goes like this:

"What do you call a person who graduated last in class at medical school?"

"Doctor."

I recently had a chance to meet one of those people. She seemed nice enough at our pre-surgery consultation, and so I let her go ahead and remove a spot of basal cell carcinoma, if that was what it really was. (Years ago I had lung surgery for an alleged cancer that turned out to be a bacterial infection, so pardon my skepticism.) Now in its stead I have an unsightly lump twice the size that itches and is quite annoying. 

I'm pretty sure that a better doctor, like maybe someone who was first or second or even third in class, would have done a better job, but hey -- live and learn.

Making Fun of Old People

I have a few bad habits, but the worst is surely looking at Instagram. I keep quitting it and deleting the app, only to go back again to see something my son posted. Then I stay and waste precious time looking at posts of strangers, and occasionally commenting on them. That's the absolute worst thing I do.

Recently a fat woman posted a video of herself at the beach in a bikini, saying she was glad she had lost all her "baby weight" following her pregnancy. Many comments denied that fact as it was so obvious, and I wrote -- snarkily I admit -- "But I see it." Someone, not the poster herself, texted me back,"Time for your Botox, Granny." I assumed she had clicked on my photo and concluded that I'm old. Which I am. (However, I am not a grandmother and I would never use Botox.)

Faulting someone for their age is dumb. Everyone gets old, unless they die young and don't get the chance. Yet mocking old people for how they walk or having wrinkles or being hard of hearing or any one of many signs of aging is quite popular and still "allowed" in a society where making fun of any other physical trait is strictly forbidden.

Despite my best intentions I am now 80 years old. I couldn't help it -- it just happened. And if you're very careful, it will happen to you.

Life In These United States

 I can't think of anything good about life in the United States today. But I will try.

1. There is no war going on within our borders, unless you count the ones between Democrats and Republicans and Muslims and Jews and Blacks and Whites and transgenders and straight people.

Film Review: ZODIAC

Jake Gyllenhaal and Chloe Sevigny

If you missed Zodiac when it was released in 2007, you can rent it now on one of several platforms. It's well worth the investment, both in money and time (2 hours and 37 minutes). But make sure you are clear-headed and sharp at the start, as the circuitous plot takes you down several long, complicated paths and the rapid-fire dialog is best understood with the subtitles feature turned on.

Instead of cops and robbers, think cops and reporters. Based on a still-unsolved serial crime spree that gripped California for many years, Zodiac showcases several fine actors we know today when they were mere babes. Mark Ruffalo, Jake Gyllenhaal, Dermot Mulroney and Robert Downey, Jr. look almost too young for their roles, but that might be because they -- and we -- are all so much older now.

Aside from several brutal scenes -- I had to cover my eyes and my ears -- much of the action takes place in complex conversations between two or three of the characters in various locations -- a newsroom, a dark bar, on the steps of the courthouse -- hashing out the facts of the case. San Francisco police detective David Toschi (Ruffalo) becomes frustrated by the brash intrusion of Robert Graysmith (Gyllenhaal), an eager cartoonist at the San Francisco Chronicle who becomes obsessed with finding the killer. (You will be too.)

Directed by David Fincher (Fight Club, Inglorious Basterds, Panic Room) and featuring Chloe Sevigny, Anthony Edwards and John Carroll Lynch, Zodiac warrants a second viewing in order to fully grok all the plot twists and turns. Or you could just read the book, written by the real-life cartoonist, which has gotten rave reviews.

Not-So-Secret Secrets

You probably have heard of celebrity chef Ina Garten, who once had a TV cooking show called "The Barefoot Contessa." My dear friend Noreen Welle, who died in 2006, looked quite a bit like her and was a devoted fan. In fact, on a trip to Paris with Noreen and her husband Tom, she shlepped us all over the city searching for Ina's favorite outdoor food market. (We found it.) 

Since then I have read with interest about Ina. An article in today's Wall Street Journal shares some of her "cooking secrets," which obviously won't be secret anymore after the paper hits the stands. I found several of them shocking, especially considering that Ina's net worth is reportedly $60 million, whereas mine, an arguably better cook, is about a couple of hundred bucks. Following are her two most egregious secrets:

1. When unexpected guests drop by she whips up her favorite 2-ingredient dip, which consists of blue cheese and mayonnaise. This glop is served with store-bought potato chips (and a Pesto-Bismol chaser).

2. Ina's "entertaining advice" for a crowd is to, "Go to a great bakery and buy a cheesecake. Nobody will ever know." I guess we should all be glad that Ina doesn't work for the CIA.

Don't Bug Me

More than war, disease and summer, I hate bugs. if you ask me, anything with multiple feet and wings is just plain wrong and evidence enough that Satan exists. The one exception is (are?) ladybugs. The very name is so sweet and innocuous, and they're so pretty! 

As winter approaches, throngs of ladybugs enter our home and gather in the corners of our dining room, seeking warmth and possibly a meal. They don't bother me and I don't bother them. Still, I don't want to eat one, and yesterday morning at breakfast in a diner with friends, I discovered a cooked one in my spinach and feta omelet and I was not happy about it.

I saw it in time to not eat it, and brushed it aside on the plate. Breakfast was obviously over and with so much omelet left! And those hash browns looked pretty good, but no thanks. I called the waitress over and she was as appalled as I was, removing my plate and marching into the kitchen to show the cooks.

The Freeport Cafe didn't charge me for breakfast, but I remain haunted by the thought of that poor ladybug meeting such an ignominious end.

Baby Doctors

The older I get, the younger all my doctors seem. For example, one month ago I underwent Mohs surgery on the bridge of my nose to remove what was determined to be a spot of basal cell carcinoma. That barely visible spot has been replaced by a grotesque lump of angry flesh tucked right next to my eye that makes me want to kill myself every time I look at it, which is constantly. This, supposedly, is modern medicine?

The doctor who performed the surgery looked about twelve years old. She wasn't, but she might as well have been. She told me the surgery would be "nothing" and that I would have a "slight scar." Ha!

Next up is a visit back to the same medical practice to find a remedy for this depressing situation. The doctor I am scheduled to see looks older in his online photo, and I'm hoping that's the case since young doctors today are scary -- especially the girls.

Oh well, at least I didn't have the wrong leg amputated, which has happened more than once to some unlucky patients. Those people must be really pissed.

Modern Life

I have to go outside tomorrow and I'm a little nervous about it. I hope nobody runs me over with their car or stabs me with a knife or a maybe a syringe, like happened yesterday in midtown Manhattan. Or shoots me in the back, like that Mangione kid did last summer to a man walking down the street, also in NYC. These things are becoming commonplace as more and more humans lose their minds, possibly from consuming too much sugar. Fortunately this epidemic of human mania coincides with the rise of A.I. bots who will soon replace of all the dead and crazy people, so that the world can go on.

Still, I'm trying to cut down on outside activities unless they're absolutely necessary. I think that's best. And from now on I'm only opening my door to people I know, and maybe a robot.