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.

The Way Life Shouldn't Be

During a recent televised debate between the two candidates running for Senator in the state of Maine, the Democrat (Troy Jackson) said to the Republican (Susan Collins), "Oh, shut up!" That's what it's come to in America's Vacationland, where the state motto is, "The Way Life Should Be." Only it's pretty much the opposite lately, and not just in Maine. 

Civility is a thing of the past, along with lots of other things that made life in America great, or at least more fun. Today I went into a CVS store and was saddened to see that the Halloween merchandise shared an entire aisle with the Christmas merchandise. I can remember when they were two separate holidays, each with their own special feeling and excitement. Now it's just different colored candies and wrapping paper, and they drag everything out at the same time just to make it easier on everyone.

I won't bother listing all the rest of what's wrong these days, since everyone is all too aware. Let's just say that our menu options have definitely changed, and all of the staff is busy helping other customers.

Dumbing Down

Sometimes it's embarrassing to be a human. Other species seem so much more intelligent, spending their allotted days on Earth looking for food, building their homes and enjoying nature, while so many humans waste their lives gossiping, spending money on total junk, overeating garbage and hurting others.

This morning I read an article, or part of it, about what the deceased actress Marilyn Monroe had as her last meal, 62 years ago. I don't know if it was written by A.I. or an actual person, but the comments that followed it came from real people who were hotly divided on whether she ate at a Mexican buffet in a restaurant or was it takeout she ordered and ate at home, and whether it included champagne or not.

Where and when did we go wrong? Here in Maine, stupidity has reached new heights with the current "sign wars" between the two political parties. Retaliating against a sign that has popped up statewide saying "STOP FRAUD, VOTE REPUBLICAN," the witless Dems have rushed out and posted signs that say, "STOP FRAUD, VOTE DEMOCRAT."

As I said, it's embarrassing.

Tit For Tat In Maine Politics

Here in Maine, long considered the ultimate autumn getaway offering fabulous foliage and luscious lobster, war has broken out between supporters of the two major parties vying for control of the state. The weapon of choice: political signs printed on cardboard and posted on every available patch of land allowable by law.

This is nothing new, since political posters first appeared in the 1820s during the presidential campaign of John Quincy Adams. In Maine, the ubiquitous signs dotting neighborhood lawns and crowding one another at major intersections are common. In the past they featured the name of a candidate with their chosen slogan and party affiliation. But this year things have gotten rougher, with nasty moves by party leaders turning the posting of political signs into a poisonous conflict.

Take, for example, a standard Susan Collins lawn sign, which simply states that she is "our senator" -- which she has been for 22 years. She's up for re-election this year and the Determined Dems want her out. Not content to just remove or deface her signs, they've gone a step further and actually printed smaller signs which they post directly in front of and below her name, to read that she "ACCEPTS BRIBES" or "FUNDS ICE." 

In retaliation, a small army of conservatives have countered with their own signs which read, "STOP FRAUD, VOTE REPUBLICAN." These have sprung up all over Maine seemingly overnight, causing outright hysteria among the lefties who have taken to Reddit to post their dismay, hurling insults at their opponents like hand grenades. 

So far things haven't gotten violent, but if you're planning on leaf-peeping in this neck of the woods, you might consider replacing that fleece vest with one that's bullet-proof.