Time Marches On

Two days ago I was 79.

Yesterday was my birthday.

Now today I am 80.

I didn't realize back then how young I was. 

Pay attention, people.

God vs. Satan

As much as I would like to, sometimes it's hard to believe in God when you take a look around. The bad certainly outweighs the good, making me think that maybe Satan is in charge. Let's do a quick tally:

Satan: Childhood cancer, serial murderers, pandemics, mental illness, floods, war, tsunamis, earthquakes, tornadoes, poisonous snakes, poisonous plants, poverty.

God: Flowers, babies.

Imagine

A few months ago I invited a friend out to lunch to celebrate her birthday. Another friend came along and we had a fun time. How nice. Now my birthday is nigh and she invited me out to lunch, to pay me back. WTF?

People lack imagination, plain and simple. Or maybe it's just that people in Maine lack imagination. It's annoying, at least to me, because I don't lack imagination. For example, I can imagine a world where everyone has a brain and uses it, instead of just getting up each day and going through the motions, following orders, and doing what they think is expected of them.

It would be glorious.

The Sick Scumbag vs.The Saintly Senator

Platner has admitted to masturbating in Port-a-Potties.

If you follow the news you have likely heard of Graham Platner, the lying sack of garbage who is hoping to unseat our longtime Senator, Susan Collins, a bipartisan saint who votes her conscience, not her party. As it happens, she is a Republican and he is a Democrat.

I won't go into all the bad behavior that has gotten Platner into hot water recently as it's been covered everywhere and it's already boring. (See photo.) What I do find interesting is that he receives a monthly disability check from our government for his PTSD, which he allegedly earned while in the military, back when he got his now-famous Nazi tattoo.

My question is this: If he's too messed-up to hold a job, then how can he be a working Senator? Do Mainers want someone representing us who has a "100% disability rating from the VA," who is possibly hearing voices or  having flashbacks or whatever the heck goes on inside his head that makes him eligible for lifelong disability payments?

Jewish Paranoia On Sale Now

I keep hearing that antisemitism is on the rise everywhere, especially in this country. 

There are videos online about it, showing lots of protests pro and con, and scary shit going down in major cities like New York and Chicago. News articles and op-eds discussing the problem show up more and more frequently. Reports about NYC's Muslim mayor dissing a pro-Israel parade recently, coupled with an alleged rise in anti-Jewish crime, have increased my worst fears about some gestapo guys barging in and taking my house. 

But the funny thing is, I have not experienced one bit of antisemitic behavior myself. In fact, not once in my entire life. So far it's all hearsay. So is it real or not? And is it really as bad as it's being portrayed by people who sell disaster for a living?

Who knows. You are what you watch.

Time For A Name Change

When he's not posting on Truth Social or running the world, President Trump keeps himself busy by re-naming things. Well, I've got a suggestion for him that I'm pretty sure everyone would accept. Instead of calling our country the United States of America, which is a complete joke since the very last thing we are is united, it should be the Divided States of America. That at least makes sense.

Everyone's An Expert

I used to think there were people who were smarter than everyone else, including me. Then somewhere in my 30s it hit me: there aren't. I came to this conclusion when my gynecologist, a man I respected who had a great reputation, told me, and I quote, "All penises are the same size when erect."  Right away I knew two things about him: First, he was not gay and second, he was an idiot.

Around that same time I started seeing a shrink. I saw him on and off for 20 years and thought he was brilliant, giving me sage advice. But then after his unseemly death -- he drowned, drunk, in a hotel swimming pool -- I learned he was a raging alcoholic who was in and out of rehab several times a year. 

That was long ago and since then I've run into lots more dumb people. The internet is rife with them, all of them "experts" at something, who make videos touting their superior knowledge. A favorite of mine is a woman whose shtick is etiquette and how to dress and behave properly. Her Reels have titles like, "Five Things To Avoid Doing That Make People Dislike You" and "Six Things Never to Wear In Public." It's wild because she is so unlikeable and her clothes are always so ugly, yet she keeps making these videos and I'm pretty sure she's not kidding.

The truth is, each one of us is an expert in one thing -- ourself. Nobody is smarter about you than you. Just listen to your inner voice, unless you are schizophrenic and it's telling you to do bizarre things, in which case you should seek professional help. But Jesus -- good luck finding any.

Not All Birthdays Are Happy

As I have mentioned in this space recently, I am about to turn 80. This fact does not make me happy, and yes, I have considered the alternative.  I don't want to be dead, I just don't want to be 80. At least not in our society, where being old is the only handicap that is still allowed to be mocked. You can't say someone is a cripple or a retard or a fat whale, but you can call anyone an old coot, a geezer, a hag, an old fogey or an old bat, or say they are "over the hill" or "ready for the glue factory" and nobody cares.

Because of that, I do not see this upcoming birthday as cause for celebration. Still, others do and thus far I have had three different friends say they want to "take me to lunch" on my birthday, and I have already agreed to "go out to dinner" with my husband on that day.

Understand, I have lunch out several times a week, often with friends. And my husband and I go out to dinner frequently, certainly once a week if not more. So these outings do not in any way seem special, or make up for the fact that I am now an old hag, old bat and old fogey who is over the hill and ready for the glue factory.

My husband keeps asking what I want for this very special birthday. All I can think of is to be younger. Certainly chowing down some random restaurant food, probably poorly prepared by some 20-something, heavily tattooed and pierced line cook, isn't it. 

Living In Maine Without A Boat

When I take a break from making art, I am not interested in doing the following things: 

Bungee jumping off a bridge

Skydiving

Mountain climbing

Fishing

Eating lobster

Clamming

Shopping 

Demonstrating against Donald Trump

Kayaking

Camping

Going to a Whoopie Pie Festival, or any sort of festival

If I were, I'd be in hog heaven living here in Maine. Alas, I was born and bred in New York and thus like to do the following:

Attend professional theater

Wander through old bookstores

Eat great pizza

See famous comedians and musicians live in concert

Since nothing on that last list is possible here in Maine, I'm sort of at a loss on cold, wet, dark days like today, when hiking in the woods -- the one thing this state is good for -- is less appealing. Also, if I had a boat I could "go down to the boat" and work on it, or just sit on it and read, which is a very popular activity with boat-owners in these parts. I don't have a boat, so one of my major weekend activities is Wondering: How to spend this most precious gift of a day when I'm not sick or in the hospital or committed to someone else's project. I am doing that today -- in fact, right now.

Planet of the Apes

Whatever happened to modesty? How about privacy? These qualities simply do not exist anymore here in America. Everyone shows everything that once was considered too personal, and not just to a few people but to the entire world, or at least anyone with a Facebook or TikTok account. This might be explain why I feel slightly nauseous all the time.

Like just now, when I logged on to my Facebook account and instantly saw a video of a skinny young woman in her underwear exhibiting the gruesome stitches on the inside of both of her thighs, explaining that "most of the swelling has gone down" from her recent surgery for God knows what -- I didn't stick around to find out. What I wondered is, who cares? Why do we, or more specifically I, need to see that? Is Facebook now also an anatomy class in med school? 

What's next? Will people start posting photos of their bowel movements floating in a toilet bowl for praise or diagnosis? When will the downward slide of humanity come to an end? And how? Will we go back to being apes, or go all the way to primordial slime?  (Personally I have met many people who I'm pretty sure are already primordial slime.)

Circling the Drain, Feline Style

Both my parents died relatively young: My mother was 62 and my father was 70. (Or 72, depending on who you ask.) While I deeply mourned their early passings, I was spared the horror of seeing them disintegrate before my very eyes, a sad situation I have watched many of my friends endure. So I guess it's fair that I now have an old cat, who at age 19 or 20 -- depending on who you ask -- is slowly dying, or as one friend said bluntly, "circling the drain."

Big Lurch, his proper name at birth, was once a fierce competitor in the feline world. A Maine Coon who in his prime topped the scales at 18 pounds, he was down to 10 at his last vet visit and grows thinner every day. I'm pretty sure he is deaf and half-blind, with a touch of arthritis.

Even worse, he has feline dementia, also known as cognitive dysfunction syndrome, which says it all. He is definitely dysfunctional to the max, and yet atop his skeletal, un-cuddly body, his face is as beautiful and adorable as ever. 

Lurch has become very demanding, like a crotchety old person in a nursing home who hates the food, is always too cold, and splits his time staring out the window for hours or complaining loudly about his current situation. He tells me minute by minute when he is unhappy, or in pain, or wants treats, or wants to go outside, or wants to come back inside. His thirst is unquenchable, causing him to pee in his two litter boxes approximately 500 times every day. If I don't empty them immediately he will pee on the floor next to the box. As a result, I have stopped accepting all invitations in order to stay home and scoop his litter, since cleaning the mess on the floor is so much worse.

My conclusion is that God makes sure everyone gets a little of everything.