AOL: The New Kama Sutra?

I have long wondered just what is missing from society these days. Being a front-edge Baby Boomer, of course I am now old enough to have seen it all. But still I'm surprised almost daily by the depravity all around that is apparently acceptable to the younger generations.

I've almost gotten over the wearing of shorts and flip-flops to the theater. I'm no longer amazed at seeing people wearing pajamas and bedroom slippers in supermarkets and on airplanes. And general personal grooming seems very unimportant circa 2026, at least here in Maine. Still, I can be shocked, and this morning was one of those times.

Logging onto AOL to check my email, along with the usual meaningless schlock stories was an article about "a new way" to have oral sex with your partner, detailing an advanced approach to the traditional "69" position. I didn't click since I've read the Kama Sutra and I doubt A.I. can top that, but the promo promised detailed instructions and illustrations. (How nice for the children.)

Then it hit me: What's missing these days is dignity. There's no trace of it anywhere, certainly not in the Super Bowl half-time spectacles where crotch-grabbing and ass-thrusting are de rigueur. Or at the Emmy or Oscar award shows, where showing as much skin while still technically clothed has risen to an art. If someone claims to be offended, they are instantly mocked and labeled a "Karen" -- or worse. 

For those young people who may be reading this who are unfamiliar with the very word, here's what it means:

dignity /dĭg′nĭ-tē/ noun

The quality or state of being worthy of esteem or respect. 

Inherent nobility and worth.  

Poise and self-respect. 

The American Heritage® Dictionary of the English Language, 5th Edition 

A.I. Stands for Actually Idiotic

Here's how dumb the Internet is. And by "Internet" I mean whoever or whatever makes things happen to your Facebook page or your email stream -- I certainly have no idea. All I know is that if technology is supposedly going to outsmart humans, it's got a long way to go.

For example: I recently purchased a pair of bedroom slippers I saw in a Facebook ad. Since that day I have received roughly ten ads per day for strikingly similar bedroom slippers. Now, having only two feet, why would I want any more of those? It makes more sense that my name would be crossed off the list for bedroom slippers. That's what a human being in charge of such things would do.

So I'm not worried about A.I. bringing about mankind's destruction. Rather, I think it's the other way around, and I hope it happens quick.

A Royal Pain In The Ass

The King and Queen, all ready for Halloween

I did not get up in the middle of the night all those years ago to watch Prince Charles marry Princess Diana like all my gay friends did, including my boss at the time who stayed home the next day because he was exhausted. I'll admit that Diana's car crash was pretty exciting, and then Charles marrying Camilla caught my attention, mostly because all of England hated her but he married her anyway. But those days are gone and now it's just boring sitcom crap, day after annoying day. 

England's Royal Family has never interested me, even when I spent two weeks over there last year. I had a great time but I did not visit royal palaces or see any changing of any guards. So naturally I am getting really tired of all the stories online about Princes Harry and William, one of whom is no longer a prince, and Kate Middleton and Meghan and their little ones like Lisbeth and little George, all of them dressed up in their silly outfits for special occasions. 

Yet for reasons unknown to me, editors and publishers think Americans are fascinated by what Fergie is up to these days or if Prince Andrew -- again, not a prince anymore -- really is a pederast who hung out on Epstein Island. Meghan Markel (or is it Markle) is in our faces all the time, maybe because she is part black and so that makes her story more compelling, what with its racist overtones.

Well guess what. None of it is interesting, at least not to normal Americans who have so many other meaningless celebrities to dote on, like Taylor Swift and Travis and the Kardashian crew and plenty more I've never heard of. I say let's keep all the news about the Royals across the pond. Who's with me?

Okay, So Maybe Trump Is Nuts

Secretary of State Marco Rubio

I am a Republican because I am not a fool. That being said, I can clearly see that President Trump is slowly sliding off his rocker. His whole re-naming of things is certifiable. Lake America? Oh, please. He needs some sort of therapy, be it shock, talk or pharmaceutical, and quick.

But I remain loyal to the party because of its beneficial policies that Marco Rubio, Mike Johnson, Ted Cruz and Josh Hawley articulate so well, whereas Democrats AOC, Bernie Sanders, Ilhan Omar, Elizabeth Warren, Kamala Harris and Gavin Newsom are total nut-jobs endorsing ridiculous beliefs. (For example, men can have babies, free Palestine, Socialism is great.)

So while The Donald continues to tweet nonsense and slap his name on things, I will keep my eye on the future when President Rubio brings back sanity to a united America.

A.I. Is Coming For You

From the minute I first heard about A.I., which stands for Artificial Intelligence, I was worried. How could that be something good? The very word "artificial" is a negative, meaning something that is fake, imitation or a sham. So from the get-go I've been a non-supporter.

Sadly, my husband loves A.I. His best friends are Grok, Gemini and ChatGPT. He consults with them constantly and takes their words as gospel. When I tell Mitch he's part of the problem, he checks to see if Grok agrees. Apparently it's too late for him -- he's hooked.

Now, finally, our leaders of government and industry are worried. Warnings are everywhere -- on TV, in newspapers, online -- about how A.I. could ruin mankind in as little as ten years. Companies who produce the wicked stuff are being implored to slow things down in order to avert certain disaster. Meanwhile, countries including China and Russia are going full steam ahead, and according to President Trump the US must beat them at this game! Not sure what "beating them" entails, but it can't be good.

It's funny how humans keep inventing things to bring about their own downfall. Excuse me while I go chop some vegetables on my plastic cutting board, thus ingesting little bits of plastic that will ultimately kill me far sooner than my eventual A.I. robot-ordered annihilation.

Orphaned Elephants

I like to give money to worthy causes. My favorites are those having to do with the health of children, so I donate to various children's hospitals and disease research programs. I am also partial to animals, so some of my money is earmarked for the ASPCA and a particular cat sanctuary in Hawaii.

Veterans of war don't get my money since I am a pacifist. Besides,  what did they expect would go on when they went to a foreign country bent on killing total strangers for wearing different uniforms? Parties every night and brunch on Sunday? 

I also don't fix children who need that euphemistic "smile surgery." I agree it's terrible that they are born with their upper lip half-gone, and I hope other people help them, but I'm not going to. Sue me.

I also will reject the plea for aid I got in the mail today to support orphaned elephants. While I know that baby elephants are very adorable and if they lose their mommies that's sad, especially since they never forget, but still, that's a bridge too far. What about all the orphaned humans? There are plenty of them and yet I've never received a plea to help them out. Surely they must need things too. 

So, for me it's a "No" to the elephants and a "Yes" to the kitties. You can see what they're up to at lanaicatsanctuary.org.

What's That Third Sex Called?

Okay, so there are males, females and ... what else? What should we call them? Somebody should come up with a word for it.

This morning at a doctor's office I had a conversation with a nurse about an upcoming medical procedure. The person was either a man who had changed into a woman or a woman who had changed into a man, I couldn't tell. 

I know it's not supposed to matter and people are people and blah, blah, blah, unless of course we are about to have sex with them, but still it's disturbing and more than a little distracting. I'm pretty sure I missed some important instructions while I was busy trying to figure out if it was a he or a she. Either way, their final outcome was not good since I noticed.

So what can we call them? Shemales? That might work. Anyway, I suppose over time we will all just take it for granted that we have three sexes here on Earth. Until then, I remain puzzled.

MRI Mind Games

It's been a long time since I had a new experience. Been there, done that describes most of what I find myself engaged in. So it was somewhat interesting, despite being hellish and dreadful, to undergo a cardiac MRI, which I did recently. 

I won't bother with the details -- just ask Grok or Gemini or ChatGPT. Suffice it to say that at the start of the 45-minute procedure, it sucked. Stuck in a tight tube, unable to move or, God forbid, scratch an itch, my mind turned into a sewer of fear, panic, distress and loathing. I immediately wanted out, but I knew that would be self-defeating, especially since my husband and I had just driven more than two hours, some of it through agonizing rush-hour Boston traffic, to get myself in. 

Sleep would have been a welcome escape, but with a cardiac MRI that's impossible since you've got a job to do. Every few minutes a distant voice intoned: "Please breathe in. Breathe out, and hold your breath."  Then after a period ranging from four to perhaps 19 seconds, the voice said, "Please resume breathing." Far too soon, it came again.

After about 20 minutes of thinking surely this is Hell, how did I get here, when will this end, I can't stand it another second, I hit upon a great idea that turned the whole thing into a lark. What if I thought of myself as an astronaut instead of a patient with a potentially devastating heart problem? Yeah, that's it -- I'm training for my next mission to Pluto or whatever, somewhere the air is thin. And not only that, but I'm getting paid a lot of money to do it! Suddenly the whole thing wasn't so bad. In fact, it was sort of fun. And when it did end, part of me was a tad disappointed. Just when I was getting into it! 

Turns out I don't have the terrible disease after all. And although I'm not an astronaut, I came away knowing that instead of my mind playing tricks on me, I can play tricks on it, whenever I need to. 

Good to know.

Oprah's Mascara

A video advertisement on my Facebook page showed a woman proclaiming excitedly, "This is Oprah's favorite mascara and she put it on her list of favorite things!"  This brought to mind so many questions:

1. Who cares what Oprah likes?

2. Why is Oprah even wearing mascara? Isn't that something young women use to make them more attractive when they are seeking a mate? Oprah is 72 and has been in longtime relationships with her cover story, Steadman Graham, and her girlfriend Gayle King. She no longer needs to bat her eyelashes and I doubt she even wears mascara.

3. If I wore the stuff and I bought Oprah's favorite mascara, would I get rich like her? What, exactly, would I gain by using it instead of someone else's favorite mascara?

4. What is mascara anyway?

This is what makes the Internet great. It is so thought-provoking.

Online Commenters Are the Worst

Instagram is full of stuff you might like, and some you might hate. I scroll right past ads trying to sell me something, photos of very fat women in skimpy attire, bad comics and all videos of an AI Donald Trump doing anything. What stops me cold are dance videos. Love those! John Travolta's disco scenes in Saturday Night Fever and Gregory Hines doing any tap number anywhere, anytime. 

I recently came across a video of Bob Fosse, the great choreographer, doing a dance number in a 1974 film version of "The Little Prince," wherein he plays a character called The Snake. (See photos above.) Dressed in a black suit, with white spats, gloves and black top hat, naturally who comes to mind but Michael Jackson! But wait: he dances exactly like Michael Jackson in Thriller, which was released in 1982. He even moonwalks!

Okay, so MJ has stated he was "influenced" by Fosse. But this is downright plagiarism. (See it for yourself, just Google it.) More interesting are the comments following the video, some defending  Michael and others saying he stole the whole routine. But one comment really got my goat: "Michael wouldn't steal anything from this loser!"

Somebody somewhere, likely sitting in front of their computer eating pizza, probably a tattooed, unemployed, out of shape nobody, called Bob Fosse "a loser." This cracked me up and pissed me off at the same time. Here's a tiny excerpt of Fosse's very lengthy Wikipedia entry:

"At the 1973 Academy Awards, Fosse won the Academy Award for Best Director for Cabaret. That same year he won Tony Awards for directing and choreographing Pippin and Primetime Emmy Awards for producing, choreographing and directing Liza Minnelli's television special Liza With a Z. Fosse was the only person to win all three major industry awards in the same year."

The Internet is the gutter.

Be Your Own Doctor

At least where I live, in the state of Maine, it's very important to take charge of your own medical care. If you can't because you are mentally unfit to do so, then make sure someone can act on your behalf. Otherwise you might just die sooner than you should.

I recently was diagnosed with the "suspicion" that I have a "disease" that might be quite serious and in need of treatment, possibly medication or even surgery depending on the results of a necessary diagnostic test called a Cardiac MRI.  This bleak news was delivered to me by a nurse practitioner in the office of my cardiologist who works at Maine Health Cardiology in Scarborough, Maine. She said the earliest they could schedule me for that test is next January. She also said I shouldn't drive until then as I might black out at the wheel. (Which I did a few weeks ago.) January. Hmmmm, let's see -- that's five months from now. 

Deeming that unacceptable, my husband spent a few diligent hours on the phone finding other sources of this test, and I am now having it in two days at one of the most reputable hospitals in the country, in a neighboring state a two-hour drive away from our home. (Odd that my doctor didn't suggest that!)

Maine's Democratic Governor Janet Mills earmarks plenty of money for free food, free housing, free daycare and free health care for all those "new Mainers" who flock here from foreign countries, but apparently not enough for a few more MRI machines which are desperately needed by many "old Mainers."