Magical Thinking

The Democrats are truly magicians. They can turn anything that happens into Trump's fault. This is no small feat when it comes to something like the current pandemic sweeping the globe. Apparently Trump made it a lot worse, not only because he appointed the wrong person to be in charge of handling it but because he cut funds from government programs long before the first coronavirus cough was expelled.

So I'm assuming that when Trump wins the election next November that will also be his fault, as if he turned Elizabeth Warren into a shrill biddy, Joe Biden into a dementia patient, Bernie Sanders into a crotchety socialist and Michael Bloomberg into a leprechaun. I only wish I could get some of my Democrat friends to use their magical thinking on me: I'd like to be ten pounds thinner and three inches taller. Maybe if I run for office?

Getting Ready for the Coronavirus

Definitely stay out of museums or any crowded places for now!

Two days ago I flew home from Florida and counted eight people wearing face masks in the airport. This made me wonder, should I have a face mask? Then yesterday I heard on the radio that 85% of Americans have not done anything to prepare for the coronavirus, should it reach our shores. I'm in that group; am I being stupid?

Unsure as to how to prepare for such a thing, I asked my husband, who is very smart, and he suggested that we stock up on essentials in case the government forces the closure of all stores and quarantines everyone. So today I am going to the supermarket and buying everything they have. This will be a fun outing since I hate having to limit myself to a shopping list. I may even throw in some unhealthy stuff just in case this pandemic turns out to be my last.

Besides all the canned tuna and soups and frozen veggies and potatoes and pasta and meats and chicken, etc., I'll definitely get four or five boxes of Mallomars. Not only are they extremely delicious but they double as an activity, should all the TV channels shut down and the Internet crash. (Yes, I know, I could always read a book, but for the purposes of this blog let's assume I have no books.) Anyway, about the Mallomars: First you bite into the outer chocolate coating, creating little pieces. You then eat those one at a time. Next, suck on the marshmallow mound until you reach the graham cracker cookie that forms the base of the treat. The whole experience is almost as engaging as a game of Words With Friends, and if you eat one with a friend it's just as social.

Fortunately we are always well-stocked with enough wine and liquor to see us through any sort of plague, or even just a bad mood. Seven or eight pounds of coffee beans should keep us alert and on edge until the all-clear sounds. Certainly a boatload of cat food and cat treats. And the inevitable milk and toilet paper, in case it snows.

That should do it.

Worst Case Scenario, President-wise

Okay, so Bernie Sanders and his running mate Elizabeth Warren win the election in November. People all over America are happy and celebrating, even many Republicans who are weary of Trump Derangement Syndrome infecting every media outlet imaginable besides FOX News and Breitbart.

Flash forward to January 2021: Right smack dab in the middle of his Inauguration, at the age of 79, Sanders suffers another heart attack. He is rushed off the podium and dies later that day, whence Elizabeth Warren is sworn in as president. But who wants her? Not so many people. In fact, in a bold Jack Ruby-like move, a disgusted citizen pushes through the crowd during her acceptance speech and shoots her. The wound is fatal, making Nancy Pelosi president.

It could happen. Not saying it will or that I want it to, because Bernie is a nice guy, if a bit curmudgeonly, and a Jew to boot. For me, a Brooklyn-born Jew, having him as president would be as comforting as a big bowl of matzoh ball soup. (As for Warren, feh.) But considering the fact that 78 is the average life expectancy of an American man in 2020, an excitable 79-year-old heart attack survivor given to constant outbursts of temper may not be the wisest choice as the leader of our government.

The Good Old Days

My husband and I are vacationing in Florida for the week. On a lark we walked through a charming community where it might be fun to live, were we to move here one day. We thought maybe we would get a look inside one of the houses currently for sale and, to do so filled out a form online at Realtor.com, giving my email address and phone number.

Within minutes I received a dozen phone calls, a million emails and a trillion text messages from real estate agents clamoring to show me properties in Florida. I answered a few of them saying I only wanted to see two particular houses in one particular community. One guy said okay fine, I can get you in there tomorrow. But then he texted me ten times during dinner saying he hadn't reached the owners and alas, ultimately he was of no help at all.

Not one of these so-called "professionals" can get me in to see that house, yet all of them want to be my agent. This is real estate in 2020. Like most things, it's a joke and far worse than in "the old days." You know -- those days when there were only two sexes and actual humans instead of robots answered the phone and only politicians with experience in running a government ran for office.

Nightmare in Nevada: The Democratic Debate

Oh God. Last night I had a really scary nightmare and I wasn't even sleeping. I was sitting at home watching the Democratic candidates for president punch, kick, spit and hiss for almost two hours, making it clear that we are stuck between a rock and a hard place when it comes to voting next November.

I say almost because the whole thing was so disturbing that I had to turn it off before the end. But then I woke up today to find that the nightmare continues, with reviews by the liberal media describing it as a great debate that showed the spunk and determination of these fine people. Oy --talk about spin!

Elizabeth Warren, the drab schoolmarm who lied about being a Native American to get into law school was the worst offender, behaving quite badly out of the gate. Her obvious desperation over her poor showing in recent contests, making her a distant third in line for the nomination, had her screaming like a banshee and hurling insults at all the other children, I mean candidates. I hated her even more than usual.  Her favorite target was former NYC mayor Mike Bloomberg, whose main fault that everyone seemed intent on driving home was that he is a billionaire. How dare he make so much money? What the hell is this, a capitalist society or something where you get rewarded for working hard? The nerve! And so what if he gives away billions to charity; he has nine houses! What a pig!

And speaking of mayors, that choir boy they call Mayor Pete to avoid having to say his unpronounceable surname was his usual holier-than-thou self. He never raised his voice or got excited, he just did his down-to-a-science smirking and eye-rolling, making it clear that he was above the fray because he is so very special, being a member of the LGBTQ community that runs things these days. Plus he was the mayor of South Bend, Indiana, a city of just over 100,000 people so who's not ready to run a country of 327 million? He also played the age card, being an obnoxious 40 years younger than the leading candidate, by snidely saying he would happily release his medical records which of course would be free of any health problems.

As for the others, Amy Klobuchar's eyebrows were drawn on with a heavy hand once again, making her look like she was wearing a Halloween mask of herself. And so what if she didn't know the name of the Mexican president? Is that really so important, considering that while he was president, Barack Obama said he had travelled to all 57 states? Still, Amy further distinguished herself by still not knowing the Mexican guy's name without reading it from her notes.

Then there were all the Old Guys: Joe Biden is simply too ugly to consider as our next president, and that's that. His hair looks like a hat, his beady little eyes are disappearing and his nose seems to be getting pointier every minute. Could this be some new plastic surgery trend I missed? As for Bloomberg, he looks like his face was sewn from an old leather handbag. Do we really want to watch him become even more wizened if he were to win the election? And Bernie Sanders, the current leader of the pack, seemed on the verge of having another heart attack right there on the stage, his face getting redder and redder every time got a chance to speak.

Sick of it all, I finally went to sleep and dreamed that I inadvertently flushed my Invisalign braces down the toilet. Now I'm no shrink but I'm pretty sure the braces represented the whole lot of that shrill, immature bunch on the debate stage.

I Read the News Today, Oh Boy

This morning, like most mornings, I made the mistake of reading the paper and now, like most mornings, following the lead of actor David Carradine, fashion designer Alexander McQueen, Reddit co-founder Aaron Swartz, Mick Jagger's fashion designer girlfriend L'Wren Scott, comic Robin Williams, handbag maven Kate Spade and TV personality Anthony Bourdain, I want to hang myself from the nearest doorknob. I won't do it, of course, since hurting myself in any way is completely out of the question, something I learned when I fainted having my ears pierced at age 17. But still it's a recurring thought when the news is this bad.

First off there's the Chinese coronavirus which is spreading like wildfire. And speaking of wildfire, the ones in Australia have spread like coronavirus. Both situations spell death and destruction for thousands of people, not to mention koala bears, while experts in the field seem unable to stop either outbreak. Making matters worse, 14 cruise ship passengers who tested positive for the virus have just returned from China after their two-week quarantine accomplished nothing, and now they are free to spread their germs here at home. As for Australia, tens of millions of acres of its formerly dreamlike landscape have been incinerated over the last several months, no doubt dousing vacation plans for many National Geographic readers.

Another depressing story concerns a subset of exercise fanatics who are apparently brain dead despite having great bodies. As reported in the Wall Street Journal, "Devotees of luxury performance wear include men and women willing to sweat, spend and endure what it takes to look good while working out." For example, one fashion designer in California created a jockstrap embroidered with pearls, crystals and seashells that sells for $35,000. For women, the fancy gear includes faux velvet, leather and crystal and chain-embellished leggings, tie-front sports bras, Rolex watches and Cartier bracelets specifically made to stay on during exercise. As one trainer says, "You work out to look good, and you should look good while you're doing it." (Who knew? I thought I was working out to be healthy and avoid another heart attack.)

Of course there's more than just hard news in the paper. A movie review (Ordinary Love) details how a woman's  breast cancer diagnosis, complete with a double mastectomy and hair loss from chemotherapy,  impacts her marriage. I was bummed out just reading the review, I certainly won't see the film. On another page I learned how dementia can be staved off by playing games, doing puzzles and coloring with the afflicted, and is also helpful to the 40% of family caregivers who suffer from severe depression as a result of their loved one's illness.

On other fronts, flooding in Mississippi damaged hundreds of homes and businesses, three people died in severe storms in Britain, ex-national security advisor John Bolton trashed Trump in a speech at Duke University, tech giant Apple, Inc. fears the coronavirus will hurt iPhone sales, gunmen killed 24 people in Burkina Faso and a Virginia Senate committee voted to delay a bill banning the sale of assault-style weapons.

So I did the crossword puzzle. And after my workout at the gym later, with a personal trainer who wears plain black tights and an ordinary t-shirt, I may even color. As my father would say, "It couldn't hurt."

Make America Dull Again

Straight from Central Casting: The Klobuchars!

 Excuse me for saying this, but I think Donald Trump is funny. I don't think he is the next Hitler, or any sort of dictator. He doesn't scare me. I believe he truly wants to make America great again and has worked steadily towards that goal. All the negative stuff attributed to him -- the alleged racism and sowing of hatred, the "tearing babies from their mother's arms" and "putting them in cages" (a policy implemented by Barack Obama) -- comes directly from the bosses at CNN and MSNBC and the New York Times.

Trump's copious tweets, a modern take on FDR's radio fireside chats, represent the only un-spun news coming from the White House directly to the people. Still, I didn't vote for him last time and I won't this time, because the chaos he creates by snubbing his nose at entrenched government automatons like Nancy Pelosi, a true lunatic, and her minions is simply too distracting, depressing and downright dirty. 

Imagine a nice, normal president who is as boring as apple pie. Nothing to see here folks except a bland husband and a nice-enough grown daughter. I'm talking about Amy Klobuchar. She would finally break that glass ceiling we keep hearing about by becoming our first female president. (Take that, Hillary!) She's smart, low-key to the point of drab, and seemingly non-neurotic. Oh what a relief that would be.

But never fear: Like truffle pigs, those insatiable journalists will dig and dig and dig and find what to hate about her, so if your life is empty you can continue to fill it with salacious gossip about the leader of our country. Still, a vote for Amy is a vote for normalcy. Do it!

The Wizard of Capitol Hill

Bernie Sanders won in Iowa, and last night he won in New Hampshire, and the Powers That Be in the Democratic Party are having a cow over it. They squelched Bernie's chances in 2016 and nominated Hillary Clinton, a clear loser hated by the public but loved (or something) by the party leaders. Clinton flamed out, and now those power-driven puppeteers are working on Bernie doing the same by spreading negative news about him on CNN and MSNBC. (He's a sexist! He's a racist! He's too old!)

Trump won the last election because so many voters related to him as a regular guy, despite his enormous wealth. Now Bernie is surging ahead for the same reason, enraging the people who pull the strings. I wonder: Who decides? And why are they trying so hard to derail a government "of the people and by the people?" Apparently the unseen Wizard of Oz hiding behind the curtain has been very busy.

Who is he? Somebody knows but nobody's talking. But if Bernie, apparently the clear choice of the Democratic voters if not the party leaders, doesn't become their nominee, you can bet that the Wizard, now relocated from Emerald City to Capitol Hill, has been pulling some strings....again.

Truth is So Last Week

In 2020, it's all but impossible to reach any business, doctor or professional of any sort on the phone. Instead of a receptionist, a recorded message greets you with the news that he or she is "away from my desk or helping another customer." But never fear, because the blow is softened by saying "your call is very important to us." How could that be? They have no idea who is calling or why -- it could be some dumb reason that's only an annoyance to them and everyone else. It could be Jack the Ripper calling, I know he's dead but you get my point. Not every caller is important. And they lie even more, telling you to "listen carefully as our prompts have recently changed." (What, again? )

Clearly that's all lies. But no matter, since honesty is no longer considered to be the best policy, which is why the left hates Trump. They disdain his lies, but when he tells the truth they freak out and call him "impolitic." (Rosie O'Donnell actually was fat, and in her early days somewhat piggish in her comedy act.)

My husband hates that I lie, but in my opinion sometimes the truth can be devastating, as in: "Yes those pants make you look fat; No, I hate your new haircut, you look like a bulldog; Face it, your husband is a scoundrel who by the way keeps hitting on me, and Get real already, everyone knows you're gay."

I say either accept the ugly truth or don't balk at less. Even God lies: not everyone is made in his image. As for our politicians, oh please. Connecticut Senator Richard Blumenthal never served in  Vietnam but often cited his time there before they made him stop. Elizabeth Warren is not a Native American. Hillary Clinton was never caught in sniper fire. And yes, her pants do make her look fat.

A Vote for Sanity

Ordinary Amy for President!

"The government you elect is the government you deserve." So said Thomas Jefferson, although a Google search also turned up a couple of others who may or may not have said similar things. Whoever said it, it's sad but true, which means we, as a nation, are completely nuts. The president is not 100% right in the head, let's all agree. And Nancy Pelosi, third in line for the office, is clearly a lunatic, evidenced not only by her fitful ripping of the State of the Union address in front of millions, but by her spending the entire time  the president was speaking pre-ripping the pages. (So much for it being an impulsive act!)

So, back to all of us. We are crazy, no surprise there. That explains the number of suicides, drug overdoses, murders, dependency on antidepressants, sexual deviancy, gender confusion, child molestation, morbid obesity, plastic surgery and just plain idiocy we see on display every day in America.

Imagine for a moment how things might be if we had a sane leader. Might things improve? And who would that person be? I'd have to say Amy Klobuchar, even though she's not my cup of tea. Amy's as normal as apple pie, as average as your fifth-grade elementary school teacher. Heck, she's even got a lisp! So let's all vote for Amy and start to normal ourselves up.

Nancy Pelosi's Next Act

I'd love to write a satirical post about Nancy Pelosi, but it's just too easy. It takes no skill at all, anyone can do it: you just have to accurately describe her actions to get a laugh. Also, it's not fair since we all know not to mock the retarded, or even use the word retarded, and Nancy is clearly that which we may not utter, poor thing.

The perfect name for Nancy's glue!

At the televised State of the Union speech two nights ago, Ms. Pelosi, third in line to the presidency should an airplane fall out of the sky and squash the President and Vice-President as they stroll across the White House lawn together, made it painfully clear that she is senile, a fact we never think of thanks to her steady use of Botox and those annual facelifts, all of which make her look far younger than her years. Also, she still has a damn good figure for someone close to celebrating eight decades on the planet, and being extremely rich she's got great clothes, likely handmade by a personal tailor, that flatter her.

But her head is clearly messed up, and I don't just mean her false teeth or whatever dental arrangement she's got going on in there that always seems to need adjusting. Ripping up the president's State of the Union speech -- actually a government-owned document that was not hers to destroy -- in front of the entire world, she looked like nothing more than a petulant five-year old throwing a tantrum. Or else the prudish editor of a romance novel containing too many heaving bosoms and throbbing members for her delicate system to handle.

Whatever her problem, it's time for Nancy to be sent to the glue factory -- and soon, before something fatal happens to Trump and Pence, which certainly could since that lefty lunatic Whoopi Goldberg is still at large.

Film Review: LITTLE WOMEN

The little women in their big hats. 

I can think of no reason to recommend seeing this movie unless you are on the lam from the police and need to hide out somewhere dark for two hours and 15 minutes. Yet oddly enough, Little Women has been nominated for six Academy Awards, including Best Picture, Best Actress, Best Supporting Actress, Best Costume Design, Best Original Score and Best Adapted Screenplay. Those categories are fine, I suppose, but to be more accurate I'd suggest the following ones:

Most Annoying Actress
As Mary March, the mother of all the little women, Laura Dern brings her usual squinty-eyed, sourpuss expression and pathetic acting skills to the proceedings. Here she adds little else to the role. Every time she comes on screen, you can't wait for her to leave.

Most Convincing Makeup
I sure hope it was makeup that turned the always radiant Meryl Streep into Aunt March, the bitter old crow aunt of the little women. She's very convincing, playing the part of the boring biddy so well I nodded off every time she showed up, maybe four times for three minutes each time.

Biggest Silly Hats
Least Testosterone
Most Obvious Author's Message
Least Interesting Storyline
Most Horse-Drawn Carriages
Biggest Waste of Chris Cooper's Talents

Considering this Little Women is a remake of a remake of a remake, and based on the novel they made us read in high school, it's amazing that I couldn't get everyone's names straight. But then in all fairness, I slept through the first half-hour and spent the last half-hour checking my watch, so I may have missed something of value. All I know for sure is that one little woman married a man who was in love with her sister and another little woman died, and I didn't care about any of it but the friend I was with spent a lot of time sniffling. 

The Worst Thing About Rush Limbaugh

The Voice of Truth, Rush Limbaugh

Okay, I admit it: I love Rush Limbaugh. And I'm not alone; millions of other people do too. And so today, a day after his announcement that he has been diagnosed with advanced lung cancer, his many fans are saddened beyond belief. What will we do without him, this articulate explainer of the political world? Not only does he help us understand what's going on, but he does it with unusual grace, extreme clarity and a sense of humor equal to the most successful stand-up comic. He is, in a word, irreplaceable.

The funny thing is if you were to ask a bleeding-heart, MSNBC-CNN-loving Democrat, Rush and all his followers are rabid right-wingers, skinheads, neo-Nazis, deplorables, gun-toting religious nuts and the like, good for nothing at all. Naturally no Democrat has actually heard Rush's radio show, only snippets taken out of context by caustic late-night, unfunny comics like Conan O'Brien, Bill Maher and Samantha Bee.

That's all they need in order to jump on the hate-Rush bandwagon and parrot inanities like "he pushes hate and conspiracy theories." Well I've been listening to him for about ten years now, and I have yet to hear him endorse a conspiracy theory, tell a lie or even stretch the truth. And he doesn't "hate" the opposition, he mocks them for what they are: inept.

If you've never heard the wisdom of Rush firsthand, you've missed out on something very special. He calls it as he sees it, and that's a rare thing for anyone to do these days. Oh yeah, what's the worst thing about Rush? He's got cancer.

J. Lo's Halftime Vagina Show

J. Lo's crotch, the star of the SuperBowl Halftime show.

Last night I was forced to watch the SuperBowl with my husband and a couple of friends. Okay they didn't tie me down or anything, they just all wanted to watch it and I wasn't going to be a spoil sport. So I dug in and sat down within easy reach of the Binga's Wingas -- they are truly awesome -- and tried to pay attention. Still, I honestly didn't find it all that compelling, although I pretended to so as not to disrespect the others. Then came the halftime show, touted for days in advance to be so fabulous, what with the amazing J. Lo starring.

As far as I could see, her talent must be located somewhere between her legs since she spent most of her act showcasing her vaginal area: pushing it forward, twerking it around and even dressing it in a black leather strip in case we didn't notice it, the better to spot it when she spread her legs wide, a recurrent theme of the choreography. In a second number she changed outfits, this time directing the audience's attention to her butt cheeks, bending over and shoving them at the camera, shaking them hither and yon and making them bounce in time to the music, such as it was.

(Okay, time out. I give up. Did I dream the whole #MeToo movement with the pink pussy hats and the women screaming obscenities about being treated like nothing more than pieces of meat? Is Harvey Weinstein about to spend his life in jail for treating women like sex objects, but the producers of the Superbowl who sent several dozen young women onstage dressed in equal amounts of red sequins and bare skin, their vaginas, albeit covered, pulsing wildly in our direction, are allowed to remain at large?)

Meanwhile, back on stage: Let's not forget the pole dancing number, which J. Lo appeared to really enjoy. This made me wonder if the woman is an actress, a singer or a stripper. Based on last night's performance, wherein singing or acting were nowhere to be found, I'd have to assume stripper. BTW, I am not a prude. Go have sex, as much as you want with as many people as you can, indulging in your gender preferences and favorite positions -- I could care less. But please -- keep your vagina out of my chicken wings.