My Hate Blog

The thing is, I hate almost all people and many societal norms. Here are just a few of them. 

I am repulsed by my former close friends, Louise L. and Juanita N., who dropped me suddenly when it dawned on them that I am not a Democrat. I tried to keep a low profile about it for years, which was a pain in the ass, truth be told, but I always knew they were too small-minded to accept another point of view. Apparently they found out somehow. They are now both brain-dead to me.

I honestly think that transgenders have a mental health issue and thus hate that they are clamoring for their own bathrooms, and that men are competing in women's sports, and demanding to be seen as perfectly normal.

I am nauseated by my neighbor Nan K. who thought it was okay to gossip with other neighbors about my son, but not tell me what she knew or ask if it were the truth. I know all sorts of dirt about her and have never told anyone, except my husband of course.

While I understand the need for an abortion in certain circumstances, I am appalled that every single parroting Democrat has no problem with murdering unborn children for their own convenience and calling it ''women's health''.

I despise my next-door neighbors who have not spoken to us for 10 years because when they moved here my husband suggested they replace their can of rocks with a decent wooden post to hold up their mailbox.

I disrespect all politicians except for Rand Paul, Jim Jordan, Ted Cruz, Ron DeSantis, Lindsey Graham and George W Bush. 

I pity, and thus feel superior to, every person who has a Black Lives Matter sign on their lawn, like that means they are not racists. What fools.

I am depressed by the very existence of blueberry bagels, raisin bagels, cinnamon bagels and chocolate bagels. Talk about cultural appropriation, hah.

Joe Biden, Kamala Harris and Dr. Anthony Fauci are idiots, plain and simple. 

Film Review/ DON'T LOOK UP

Taking a really cheap shot, this movie should have been titled Don't Look. In fact I couldn't look at most of it, fast-forwarding after 45 minutes to the last twenty minutes. After all, it's got a running time of two and a half hours and life is short.

A new offering from Netflix, Don't Look Up is stuffed with big Hollywood names, including but not limited to Leonardo DiCaprio, Meryl Streep, Jennifer Lawrence, Jonah Hill, Cate Blanchett and Tyler Perry. But despite all the star power it's a real drag. Shockingly even DiCaprio, usually so magnetic that watching him do just about anything is rewarding, can't save this dog. Here he's just boring, as if he can't wait for it to be over either. 

The plot is thin. A giant comet is heading towards Earth and will wipe out the planet in six months. Two small-town astrologists discover this fact almost by accident and head to D.C. to alert the president. She -- yes, finally, we have a female president -- doesn't really care about the coming destruction  of everything as much as the fact that salacious photos of her that she sent to her boyfriend, also her Supreme Court nominee, have been discovered by the media, and it's three weeks before the mid-term elections.

Billed as a comedy, Don't Look Up is more of a tragedy since so much of this ''satire'' is all too real, complete with vapid politicians who care more about their images than their constituents and self-absorbed journalists focused on their ratings and not the pressing news of the day. Even big news, like the end of the world. (Insert "climate change" for "end of the world.") If you find that funny, you'll enjoy this movie. Otherwise, don't look.

Waiting for the Investigation

A 14-year-old girl hiding in a dressing room of a store in a Los Angeles shopping mall was killed when police shot at a suspected criminal and the bullet penetrated the wall of the dressing room. That tells you two things. First, drywall is not much of a wall and second, nowhere is safe anymore.

Obviously the police were unaware that the girl was in there at the time, and probably had no clue there was a dressing room behind the wall. It was just one of those horrible, crazy accidents that defy belief. Yet the girl's family is now calling for a full investigation.

Almost everything bad that happens these days demands an investigation, usually a full one. You never hear about something needing a partial investigation. 

I always wonder what that entails. In this case, I suppose the walls will be questioned about what they saw and heard, as well as the police. It seems so clear to me what happened, yet a team of investigators will have to delve into the situation before the girl's family gets that inevitable million-plus dollars from the store, the former Burlington Coat Factory now known as Burlington's, which will likely be found culpable for not having thicker drywall.

Those Christmas Cards

Many people regard their offspring as their accomplishments. This becomes very clear at Christmas time, when people send out holiday cards featuring pictures of their children. In most cases there are no pictures of the parents, or maybe just very teeny ones on the back. It's like the parents no longer matter, or perhaps they're no longer attractive enough to pose for a photograph.

I find this tradition disturbing, especially in the case of people I may know but whose kids I have never met. Yet suddenly here's a picture of them, smiling woodenly in front of a Christmas tree or maybe swimming in a lake, one assumes last summer, and I have no idea what I'm supposed to do with it. Unless the photo is of a newborn baby or toddler and is very adorable, maybe with a puppy in it, I trash it immediately.

My husband and I don't send out personalized greeting cards, preferring instead to choose from among the lovely art cards available everywhere. But if we did go to the expense I'm certain we would not put a photo of our son on it. First of all, who cares, and secondly, he would never speak to either of us again.

Winning the War Against COVID

I remember last year around this time when people thought the end of 2020 meant that things would improve. That magically when the calendar page turned to 2021, all our troubles would disappear. Obviously they were wrong and things just got worse. With 2022 just days away, we can hope that the same won't be true of this coming new year, although all signs point in that direction.

Yesterday Dr. Anthony Fauci came out with his personal assessment of things based on his years of training and experience in medicine, saying ''It's going to get worse before it gets better.'' With the newest variant of coronavirus raging, Fauci now, and again, suggests we wear masks, wash our hands and maintain a good distance from one another. 

Hey, if that sounds familiar and you want to do even more in your fight against COVID, there are dozens of other experts offering advice. They dominate the airwaves and come in every color and gender. Just turn on your TV any time of day or night and someone with an advanced degree in something will be right there, advising you to wear a mask, wash your hands and socially distance. 

But cheer up, all is not gloom and doom. Not at all. In fact, when you think about it we've come a long way. Last year we were told ''don't touch your face'' and ''wash your groceries before bringing them inside.'' That was a total drag. This year we can touch our faces as much as we want and walk directly into our houses carrying our groceries. Plus we have special vaccines that, even though they don't work, make us at least feel like we are protected. And we can keep getting more of them and feel even more protected with each one. And really, that's pretty good.

So go ahead and celebrate the new year. Touch your face a lot. Under your mask, of course.

Trans Women Still Look Like Men

Just so we're all on the same page, surely we can agree that trans women do not look female. Nor do they sound female. What they have is long hair, lots of makeup, big breasts and high heels, which is a pretty insulting take on what it means to be a woman, if you ask me. Anyway, they still look and sound like men and so are quite easy to spot despite their costumes.

Many actual women have very short hair, are flat-chested, wear no makeup and wouldn't be caught dead in high heels. Someone should tell them.

America's Growing Color War

Surely I am not the only one who has noticed there's a war going on inside our borders, yet there it little mention of it in the newspapers, on TV, on websites and podcasts, in fact anywhere. The two sides are the Blacks and the Whites. You can be on either side regardless of your skin tone, although for the most part white people are on the White team and black people are on the Black team.

These days evidence of The Color War can be found everywhere there are people. 

A stunning example could be seen today on TV when the verdict for Kim Potter, the white policewoman who mistakenly grabbed her gun instead of her taser and killed a young black man during a traffic stop in Minnesota, was announced. She was convicted on two counts of manslaughter and held without bail until her sentencing in early February, and she likely faces at least 15 years in prison.

Watching this drama unfold in the privacy of my home, I was brought to tears for the woman whose life, at 49, is now and forever ruined, going from defender of the law to incarcerated jailbird in one chaotic instant. But outside the courthouse it was a different story as the assembled crowd of mostly black people, ready to protest had Potter been found innocent, erupted into exuberant cheers during the reading of the verdict over a loudspeaker.

I was reminded of all the black people cheering WILDLY at the verdict of not guilty for OJ Simpson, despite everyone knowing in their hearts that he had deliberately murdered two white people, and not by accident. It was the Whites against the Blacks in 1995 and it hasn't changed, except to get worse.

I wonder if there is even one black person anywhere in America today who feels a shred of pity for Ms. Potter, just like I wondered back then if any black person would admit that justice had not been served in the Simpson case. If so, they would never admit it.

Political Parrots

If there are any Democrats out there who think for themselves, I have not yet had the pleasure of meeting them. In fact, every Democrat I speak with says all the same things as the rest of them, which I find an odd coincidence at best. 

Meanwhile, the Republicans I know are all over the place. Some support one thing and not another. Most find Trump abhorrent, while admitting that things were better in this country while he was president. Every single one of them is vaccinated, most have gotten the booster, and wear masks in public.

Yet writers like Dana Milbank of the Washington Post insist on tarring all Republicans with the same brush. His column today spews the usual poison, all because ex-Governor of Alaska Sarah Palin gave a speech somewhere saying she would not get the vaccine under any circumstances.

Nobody I know turns to Sarah Palin for advice. Or, for that matter, Dana Milbank.

Kim Kardashian's Butt

Kim Kardashian's big butt has a new boyfriend. I found this out when I checked my email online. I did not click on the article as who in their right mind would, but still there it was, many paragraphs long strung out under that oh-so-tittilating headline. To be fair, the headline named the man but he was unknown to me so I forgot it.

The fact that someone, somewhere -- probably a managing editor earning a decent salary-- decided to assign that topic to a writer, and then the writer spent time researching for it, and then crafted the story before it was ultimately posted online, is depressing to me. And I am 75 years old and past caring about career advancement in my chosen field. Imagine how it might make young people feel, not only those reading it who find such things interesting, or perhaps demoralizing, but aspiring writers wishing they could land a job writing about famous people for a news organization. 

I'm not proud to be one of those people who think the good old days were better, but even people not alive during the good old days would agree. Yes, it took longer to dial a number on a rotary phone than to press a button on a cellphone, but at least when you finished dialing it was answered by a human and not a robot. And celebrities achieved fame for doing something to be emulated, and not for injecting their behinds with silicone. 

FYI, word on the street is that Kim had most of her butt fillers removed and is now going for a more natural look. 

Merry Covid Testing

This afternoon Joe Biden, acting president, gave a televised speech to the country. I tuned in late as I was touching up my grey roots, but I did catch the last 20 minutes or so. What he stressed, time and again, was that Americans need to get tested. They need tests to be delivered directly to their homes, which the government is preparing to do at a cost of roughly a billion dollars, or something like that. They need to go to neighborhood testing centers. Children need to be tested a couple of times a week in order to stay in school. And once everyone is tested they need to get tested again. 

TESTING. TESTING. TESTING.  WE NEED MORE TESTING.

Biden never clarified how testing stops the virus from spreading, which is something that still mystifies me. The pandemic has been around for almost two years now and I have never had a test although I have been vaccinated twice and boosted once. Perhaps this makes me Public Enemy Number One, I'm not really sure. But apparently testing is the key to ending this thing, and I have not been doing my part. I thought the vaccine was the way to end it. 

I'm so ashamed.

Anyway, as a good citizen it is advised that you leave an at-home Covid test kit on the fireplace mantel for Santa this year, right next to the milk and cookies, and maybe a mask too. God knows he'd be a super spreader.

A Great Time To Be A Jew

Let's face it, being a Jew in Nazi Germany was really bad. I mean really bad, as everyone except a few kooks will admit. But being a Jew during the Christmas season is absolutely fabulous. It's quite relaxing, with none of that running around getting a tree and then decorating it, hanging holiday lights in the yard, buying gifts and then wrapping them, planning parties, shopping for food for big dinners, and facing the horrors of flying, driving or training to faraway places, all in the name of someone nobody even thinks about anymore. Yes, I mean Jesus Christ.

The following headlines are splashed across the pages of my two home-delivered newspapers this morning. And that's just today; this has been going on for weeks already.

Families advised to keep gatherings small and vaccinated over holidays

Seeking a COVID test before Christmas won't be easy

Families reach financial edge in pandemic, with no money left for Christmas presents

Supply chain holdups imperil holiday gifts

Last-minute shoppers make weekend busy for retailers

COVID tests hard to get before Christmas gatherings

Secrets of grabbing the hot gifts online

What to know before flying home for the holidays

With so many people burdened with shopping, traveling, writing all those Christmas letters and sending out greeting cards, baking cookies, glazing hams and fighting for parking spaces at the Mall, things are quite calm for us Jews. It's a pleasure, really, and probably the only time when at least a few Christians might envy us.

No Mask Required

After much deliberation over whether or not I need the thing, I caved in to my greedier self and ordered an item online. One thing that sealed the deal was the promise of a ''20-percent discount site-wide.'' A quick calculation told me I would pay 30 dollars less for the item that was listed at 150 dollars, bringing it to 120 which I found to be much more reasonable. So I went through all the rigamarole and entered my information, and at the end I was charged the full price. 

Almost incensed but not all the way to incensed since it did not involve a ton of savings, I wrote to the company with my complaint concerning false advertising. They responded quickly, thanking me for ''reaching out'' and promising an answer in four to six weeks.

I might remember some or all of this transaction in four to six weeks but I highly doubt it, and to be honest I hope not. Really, my limited brain space is precious and stuff like this gets tossed out right away. What I will remember is that online shopping is sketchy at best, but at least you can't catch Covid while doing it.

Just a Few Minutes of Your Time

Hoping to be more like normal people, and just about every other website/business/venture that exists in 2021, I have decided to post a survey for my readers to let me know how I'm doing and thus improve my product. It should take you just a few minutes to answer the following questions and will save me a ton of money hiring a marketing company, like businesses did in the old days when self-respect was more highly prized. 

1. I read The Daily Droid

     A. sometimes, when the title has the word Trump in it

     B. often, especially when the title includes the word Biden 

     C. never, because it's stupid

     D. only when I have Covid and must quarantine 

2. I wish The Daily Droid would focus more on 

     A. movie reviews, especially very bad ones

     B. stories about the author's miserable yet amusing childhood 

     C. stories about how black lives matter and whites don't

     D. stories about how transgenders are mentally ill

3.  I like it most when the accompanying illustration shows

     A.  a laugh-out-loud Bizarro cartoon

     B. a photo of a disgraced politician or Jeffrey Toobin

     C. a drawing of Donald Trump looking ugly and orange

     D. a morbidly obese person stuffing their face

4.  I hate it when the illustration

     A. shows Melania Trump looking absolutely fabulous

     B. mocks a Democrat, like Nancy Pelosi in a strait jacket

     C. unfairly targets pit bulls, Jussie Smolett or Jesus Christ

     D. is unkind to Native Americans and/or Indians     

Thanks for your cooperation, your answers will greatly improve this blog.

      

How to Boil Water

In the interest of expanding my readership, I will be offering articles that are aimed at the lion's share of Internet users. This is the first in a series. Coming soon are How to Get Dressed in the Morning, The Best Foods to Eat, How to Recognize A Spam Phone Call, How to Tell You Are Pregnant and How to Open a Cereal Box.

Start with an empty saucepan. Fill it almost to the top with tap water. Place it directly on your stove burner or other heat source. Be sure to look away, as it is common knowledge that a watched pot never boils. 

Eventually little bubbles will form in the water. These will turn into bigger bubbles, until finally all the water has big bubbles. The water is now boiling, as is shown in the photo above. 

DO NOT TOUCH IT AS IT IS VERY HOT.

Film Review/ THE ALPINIST

For sheer thrills, the opening half hour of The Alpinist, currently streaming on Netflix, delivers. Stunning aerial photography takes us to heights we will never attain, panning slowly over jagged, snow-covered peaks that are almost too high to imagine. And then right there in the middle of everything we spy a tiny red speck punctuating all the white, which turns out to be a jacket worn by the hero of this film. 

Canadian climber Marc-Andre Leclerc, 23, tackles mountains without a rope, ascending as easily as we might climb the stairs to our third-floor attic. It's a sight to see, no doubt about it. But soon enough it becomes a sight we've seen, and then seen again, and again, and again, and it sort of loses its appeal. 

Suddenly we're just watching a very young man live his hippie-dippie life, roaming around the world with his mountain-climbing girlfriend, the two of them camping, sleeping in a tent, meeting up with other nomadic friends and partying til dawn. 

Since this is a documentary, sprinkled throughout are interviews with other climbers recognizable from other climbing movies who are on hand to sing the praises of young Mr. Leclerc. His mother offers stories of his childhood -- how he was a wild child who could never sit still and was different from all the other kids and never wanted an office job. Okay, fine, but it had me wondering what's so very special about that, since my own son had the same qualities and is also very intelligent and special but doesn't climb mountains, instead he teaches kids and adults difficult and esoteric skills. 

Despite the backdrop of awesome beautiful scenery, shot with super-sharp clarity by I'm guessing some very expensive drones, The Alpinist gets us wondering how these athletic 20-something ruffians differ from a group of homeless people who also weather the elements, surviving outdoors year-round in all sorts of weather, contributing nothing to society but not hurting anyone, yet they are objects of our scorn instead of our adulation. Let's see some movies about some of them.

Still, if you keep watching, there are surprises ahead. I can't say more.

Two Degrees of Separation

Creepy, Creepier and Creepiest.

I happened upon a photograph today that literally made me sick to my stomach. It shows my first cousin, a bad egg named Suzanne Bennett with whom I have not spoken in more than a dozen years, happily tucked between our senile president Joe Biden and his snake-in-the-grass son Hunter, grinning stupidly as if she had just won a billion-dollar lottery. The fact that half the townsfolk of Nantucket took such pictures on the president's recent vacation there does not diminish my nausea.

Yes, seeing my blood relative actually touching both creepy Bidens is disturbing to me, six-degrees-of- separation-wise. Even more disturbing is that there exists no such grinning photo of Suzanne with her father, like the one of me with my beloved uncle who was my best friend from the day I was born (see photo below).

No, Suzanne didn't like her daddy for some reason. I guess it was because he bought her a pony when she was only ten, and then built a barn on their property in which to house Dandy, and gave her riding lessons until she didn't want them anymore, then didn't want Dandy anymore either. Or maybe because he paid for her to attend an expensive 4-year university in Arizona where she stayed only for three weeks because  ''it was too hot'' and "there was no grass." Or any number of other gifts he lavished upon his little girl over the course of her spoiled-rotten childhood, including buying her a townhouse in Baltimore and making a healthy contribution to her house on Nantucket.

Whatever the reason, once she turned 18 she flew the coop, got married, came back for the townhouse, got divorced, then married again, and stayed far, far away for the last 20 or so years of my uncle's life, including during his years of increasingly failing health until his death at age 85. I know from our many conversations how much pain this caused him. After he died I mourned his passing for a long time -- still do -- but at least I could be done with her.

And so now, today, that picture of her brought it all flooding back. Alas, one must be careful on Memory Lane; it's fraught with hidden landmines.

Film Review/ 14 PEAKS: NOTHING IS IMPOSSIBLE

Nims and some other guy carrying all the heavy stuff.

Yet another in the growing list of nail-biting mountaineering documentaries, 14 PEAKS: Nothing is Impossible tells the allegedly true story of a narcissistic young man who fancies himself a savior for all mankind. Nimsdai Purja, called Nims in the movie, sets out to be a mountaineering legend by summiting the 14 highest peaks in the world faster than anyone thought possible. That particular feat had been accomplished before, but it took that climber 16 years to do it. Nims vows to do it in 7 months or die trying.

As to why he wants to do it, his primary reason is to show the world that anything is possible. So we are to conclude that because Nims can reach his goal, all of us watching this movie will be motivated to reach ours. Secondarily, he is Nepalese and is distraught that his people have never attained their much-deserved notoriety in the esoteric world of mountaineering. Rather they have toiled as nameless "Sherpas," guiding the white man up various mountains, most notably Mt. Everest. The white man gets all the glory, or so Nims believes. To that end, he introduces his team of Sherpas by name and then promptly resumes his place at center stage for the entire film. (Goodbye Sherpas, now get to work!)

Nims goes up the first mountain in seemingly no time, and then it's off to the next. And then he's summiting that one, and then he's off to the next. We see lots of close-ups of individual boots being inserted into deep snow, but nothing at all scary or even gasp-worthy. Every once in awhile the team parties when they meet some other climbers, except for when they meet climbers who are near-death and eventually all the way dead, since mountain-climbing is very, very dangerous, except not for our Nims.

There is plenty -- no, constant -- drone footage of mammoth, snow-covered mountains, so if that's your thing, this is your movie. Otherwise, it's a really long (100 minutes) date with Nims, who we repeatedly see hugging other climbers, kissing his dying mother and asking investors for money for his project, which he never gets but goes forward anyway because after all nothing is impossible. Spending somewhere in the millions on helicopters, mountain fees, a hefty Sherpa payroll, food, mules, multiple cameras, the aforementioned drones, innumerable oxygen tanks and tents, not to mention all the climbing equipment and gear, we start to wonder where he got all that dough. We never find out.

We do get to meet his pretty wife who tells us what a great guy Nims is and how he is so driven and that he has always had personal goals, and how he's so strong and almost superhuman, and how she accepts that he has to be away from home for months, if not years, at a time. That's okay with her because he's, well, he's Nims.

I hated Nims. For a real thrill, and minus an annoying frontman, watch K-2: Siren of the Himalayas.

Magical Babies

I read online about a tennis star who announced the exciting news that she is expecting a baby with her wife. This is so confusing to me since I was always taught that to make a baby you need sperm from a man to fertilize the woman's egg. Yet somehow these two ladies, each one the other one's wife, have a baby on the way! And the crazy part is, people accept this and are actually congratulating them.

I guess they got the baby in the same magical way Pete Buttigieg and his husband got theirs.

Something's Coming, and It Ain't Good

The thing about aging is that it sneaks up on you. Not long ago my biggest concern was my hair turning gray and should I keep coloring it, and suddenly like a day later my left leg is stiff as a board and just getting out of bed in the morning feels like summiting Mt. Everest. How did this happen? What's wrong with me? I must have injured my leg, that's it, since I didn't feel this way last week.

So I went and got an X-ray and the results come back: minor arthritic changes, no big deal, as common as a penny. In fact, if you must know, this is just the beginning. Soon there will be major arthritic changes.

The worst part is that in my head I don't think of myself as old. I think of myself as cool and with it and funny and, truth be told, quite cutting edge. But on paper I am old, very old in fact, much older than my friends Susan and Bethann and Noreen who all died more than 20 years ago. And as every article about Covid vaccinations will tell you: I am in the demographic that dies first and needs the vaccination more than anyone else.

But wait, how did this happen? And when? I still listen to rock music. Is rock music old now? Does that make me nothing but an aging hippie? Should I be listening to musicians I never heard of like, well, musicians I never heard of? And if I did, would I not have arthritis? Because if that did the trick, I would do it, although I'll never stop listening to Jackson Browne no matter how old that makes me.

There's no getting around it: Through no fault of my own I was born in 1946, and that's a fact. And as my husband loves to point out, someday I'll be dead so I should be grateful for today's aches and pains since I am alive to feel them. Ha! What does he know, he's only 64. What a baby. Just wait, he'll see.

Covid's Here to Stay

Last evening I attended an indoor party with about 20 guests. It was held inside an apartment. I noticed that the windows were closed as it was cold outside. I tried opening one and found a glass storm window instead of a screen, so there went that idea.

Before going to the party my husband and I, both double-vaccinated and boosted, did a lot of soul-searching about whether or not we should go at all, since the rate of Covid infections in our state of Maine is at an all-time high with hospitalizations and rates of infections through the roof. We consulted with many friends, some of them also invited to the same party, and everyone agreed that we should be extremely cautious, wear a mask, not stand too close to anyone, move around a lot, and keep our stay short.

Once we arrived, masks in hand, we found a party in full swing with no masks in sight. So, not wanting to put a damper on the proceedings, we refrained from wearing ours. We then ate and drank, stood very close while talking to lots of different people, many of whom we didn't know, and stayed for about three hours. A few guests laughingly questioned if we were at a "super spreader" event that would make the local newspapers. Despite that, a good time was had by all. 

This morning, in the harsh light of day, we reflected on our foolhardy behavior and now await a dreaded phone call saying someone at the party tested positive. Multiply that gathering by about a million, and that's why Covid is here to stay.

Ted Cruz for President!

"Baaa, baaaa, baaa!" said the politicians. 

When it comes to politics, what we need is a leader, not a follower. And Joe Biden is nothing if not a follower. We can only guess who he is following, with Obama, Pelosi, AOC, and more like that likely candidates. Sadly, many if not most politicians are afraid to chart their own course lest the media and their fellow politicians go muckraking in retaliation and discover the clattering of skeletal bones in many of their closets. (Did they once play golf with Harvey Weinstein? Visit Jeffrey Epstein's private island? Touch anyone inappropriately?) So finding a true leader is hopeless. 

But wait! Today on TV I saw one, seated among all the sheep attending the funeral service for Bob Dole who died last week at the age of 98. Everyone who is anyone in D.C. was there, all wearing black face masks. Except for one guy whose face stood out as a shining example of independence: Senator Ted Cruz.

I guess Cruz figured that since everyone present was double-vaccinated and boosted already, what's the problem? Now that's thinking for yourself.

Me and UPS

I was told a signature was required for a wine delivery. I was told it was coming today. I stayed home ALL DAY LONG, left a note on my door when I took a 5-minute shower, and did not go out to do errands I need to do. Finally, at about 7 pm I looked out my window to see if the truck was coming and much to my surprise, there was a big box on my doorstep. No knock on the door, even though my husband and I were both home. No signature. was asked for. No sign of the truck or driver, just a box of wine left on our doorstep. THIS IS OUTRAGEOUS CUSTOMER SERVICE AND ALSO AGAINST THE LAW. I AM CONSIDERING MY OPTIONS.

UPS:  I’m afraid I am having trouble understanding. Could you please try asking your question with fewer words? You will be able to ask follow up questions later if necessary.

What's Next for Kamala?

What a surprise: Every recent poll done by every polling group suggests that America hates Kamala Harris! Who didn't already know that back when she was a candidate for the Democratic nomination for president? She got such low polling numbers that she dropped out of the race before even the first primary contest. Then the group of people going by the name "Joe Biden" decided on her as VP because she has a vagina and her skin is not white. Those are the reasons folks, don't be mad at me for saying them. (I normally would have said because she is a woman, but these days that descriptor is suspect. You gotta check the genitals to know for sure.)

So now the Dems are scrambling to find someone more palatable to replace Harris on the ticket, should Biden live that long and actually run for re-election. If he dies before then, the Dems will have to call in the Clintons and have them take out the VP in one of those borderline-believable ways they have down to a science. Suicide? Heart attack? Plane crash? Botched surgery? The possibilities are endless.

Believe  me, I don't wish death for Kamala. Not at all. Instead I think she should resign gracefully and start her own clothing line and maybe host an afternoon talk show, or join the other has-beens and that one never-were on "The View." 

Arrest Me Red

My red car and Mitch's black car. Guess who got arrested?

I got a new car three days ago. It's bright red, a color which several people have jokingly called "Arrest Me Red," since it is bound to catch the eye of one of those sneaky cops hiding in the trees along the highway hoping to snag a speeder. But I don't speed and I have never been arrested, unless you count the time when I was crossing Dupont Circle in Washington, D.C. and was swept up in an anti-war protest and got carted off to RFK Stadium with a few dozen other hippies, even though I was on my way to work. But I digress.

Last night my husband, who drives a black car, was arrested. And it was pitch dark at the time, proving that the color of your car has very little to do with anything. Mitch failed to stop at a STOP sign in our sleepy little neighborhood, mostly because we live in a rural area and he was hungry and hurrying home to a roast chicken and there was nobody else on the road. What there was, however, was one of those sneaky cops parked unobtrusively, lights off, just waiting for a scofflaw, and he pulled him over lickety-split.

Turned out Mitch had an outstanding warrant for his arrest! A few months back he was stopped when a cop spotted his expired registration sticker, and instead of a ticket he was given a court date for early November since the expiration was five months old. Sadly, he forgot to note it on his calendar and thus missed his day in court, which went on his record, which the cop found last night when he stopped him for going through the STOP sign.

So Mitch was immediately arrested by this cop, handcuffs and all, and stuffed in the back of the police car and carted off to jail. (He told me later he considered saying, "I can't breathe" because the back of the cop car was so tiny and cramped but decided against it.)

Once at the Big House he used his one phone call to ask me to bring the bail money, yes bail money, which I did not have on hand, so I drove to the nearest ATM in my bright red car and got $160 and took it to the police station where Mitch was handcuffed to a bench (See photo). Meanwhile my chicken in the oven was getting overcooked, which really annoyed me, but more about that later. 

We were told we had to wait for the Bail Guy, whatever that means, who lived half an hour away and was taking his own sweet time, likely eating his dinner when the call came. And who could blame him, after all it was dinnertime. 

I was not permitted any conjugal visits and instead was stuck in a dim waiting room outfitted with several candy machines, the kind where you put in a quarter and turn the handle and a few measly pieces come out. I had two quarters and so after much deliberation chose Reese's Pieces and Jelly Bellies. 

Finally they released Mitch and we drove home in my very red car to my somewhat overdone chicken, which actually was quite tasty although a tad dry. Mitch has a new court date for sometime in February for his original infraction. Nobody mentioned his going through the STOP sign.

The Happy Holidays Letter

Hello All:

It might seem a tad early but today I received my first "Christmas Letter" in the mail, and it prompted me to write mine lest I forget, since this year I turned 75 and by all accounts (and certainly according to all those drug commercials for Prevagen) I might be losing many of my marbles any day now. 

Since Covid put a damper on things I have done very little traveling this year, although I have thought about visiting Hawaii, Italy, London, Tanzania, Israel and Greece. Where I went instead was to the North Fork of Long Island, which is a hidden way of saying The Hamptons because, well, you know, and to southern Florida, which never disappoints. The ocean is still there in all its glory; thankfully climate change has not ruined that. 

I'm pleased to report that my entire family has escaped Covid. That sounds like a lot of people but it's actually only me, my husband and our son, and my cousin Brian and his son Bailey. That's it. Oh, and my cat Lurch. He has caused me no end of problems as he refuses to wear the mask and I have no idea where he goes when he's out. For all I know it's a crowded beer hall, which are steadily becoming very popular here in our little town. Who knew Freeport would become the craft beer capital of the world?

In October my husband ran for the Freeport Town Council on the Jew from New York ticket, which lost him the race. He insists my blog lost him the race as some nosy townsfolk managed to find it and were shocked and dismayed by what they read, attributing my outrageous statements to Mitch instead of me, which is ridiculous. 

As a consequence of the local citizenry not supporting his candidacy I have decided not to participate in this year's Holiday Baking Extravaganza that takes place at the post office for two weeks leading up to Christmas Day. It's the least I can do in protest. The most I could do is go into town and Smash and Grab several of the high-end stores, since that sort of robbery seems to go unpunished these days, but alas, it seems like an awful lot of work. Besides, Mitch has refused to drive the getaway car.

This year I sold two paintings and gave four away to friends, so I'm busy making new ones to replace those missing canvases. Painting remains my passion and does not require me to wear a mask, so I'm happy.

The bad news is that I had a boatload of strange illnesses this year, none of them fatal thank goodness but bad enough to keep me mainlining Extra Strength Tylenol. I'm asking Santa to bring me a new body for Christmas.

This being the sixth night of Hanukah and God knows what day of Kwaanza, I wish all those happy holidays to my loyal readers in addition to Christmas. May all your dreams come true!

 

Strange But True

Dr. Oz, a TV-doctor who is a resident of New Jersey, is running for the open Senate seat in Pennsylvania. In his own defense, Oz says he "spent a lot of time in Philadelphia growing up" and also that he met and married his wife there.

Miss Nevada, a biological male who had plastic surgery to become a woman and competed in the Miss USA contest as the first transgender, was eliminated early. She/he claims that the country is "not ready." Will we ever be ready for a man to be crowned Miss USA?

Actor Alec Baldwin, who has stated for weeks that he accidentally shot and killed a "dear friend" on a movie set, suddenly remembered that he actually never pulled the trigger despite holding a gun pointed at the deceased. This finally proves the long-held liberal belief that, "People don't kill people, guns kill people."

So-called "Grab-and-Go" flash mob robberies are trending in Los Angeles and Chicago. According to Charles Ramsey, former Philadelphia police commissioner, "The punishment for this kind of crime is very, very minimal. In most cases, it's a misdemeanor." Some district attorneys say they will no longer prosecute shoplifting.

Joe Biden, a frail, bumbling 79-year-old with a long history of lying and plagiarism, is the current President of the United States.

Understanding Government

Remember high school? All the pretty girls were cheerleaders and Prom Queens, all the handsome boys were star athletes, all the creative types were in the Drama Club or the school band, or editors at the school paper or on the yearbook committee. The serious brainiacs were in math or science clubs or some sort of national competitions like spelling bees. In my high school three of them competed against other high schools on a TV show called "It's Academic."

Then there were the annoying nerds who nobody liked except for the teachers. So in order to feel a sense of power and get back at all the kids who taunted them, they ran for office in the student government and got to "make the rules" and count the money taken in at the car washes and other fundraisers. 

It's exactly the same in the grown-up world. Nerds like Adam Schiff,  Chuck Schumer and Elizabeth Warren think they are big and important, but it's easy to see the insecure dorks they are at heart. Now's their chance to shine, and they do it at our expense. This explains the high taxes, high cost of gas, increased inflation and those long, boring televised hearings they stage every once in awhile.

The Fat-Shaming Diet

Fat-shaming has earned a bad reputation when actually it is a very good thing. Being fat is unhealthy and it looks bad too. But to avoid getting into any trouble, I recommend that if you are overweight you only fat-shame yourself. (What do you care if other people are fat?) And the very best way to do it is to get in better shape. Only you can care enough, and only you can do it.

Honestly, Jenny Craig couldn't care less about you. She loves you being fat, her entire company and billions of dollars in revenue depends on you failing and coming back for more of that frozen stuff that was real food months ago -- somewhere far, far away from where you are now consuming it. The top executives of NutriSystem love you being fat; that's what feeds their families. Weight Watchers (now owned by the queen of obesity Oprah Winfrey) loves you being fat, their entire organization depends on you failing and coming back for more of their packaged snack bars, frozen treats,  food scales, food diaries, recipe books and calorie calculators. 

In fact, all the authors of all the dieting programs and diet books love you being fat: Stick to their diets and you will remain fat, eating not just bad foods but all their money-making schemes. There is only one way to lose weight and the word "diet" is not involved. It’s up to you and you alone, you can start immediately, and it’s free. The following Five Easy Steps are all it takes. 

1. You have to hate being fat more than you like eating fattening foods. In fact, you have to start seeing fattening foods as bad for you, which they are, and if you love yourself, which you should--and if you don’t why should anyone else?--you will not want to eat things that are bad for you. Simple.

2. It all starts at the supermarket. Do not buy the stuff that is bad for you. If it’s not in your house, you can’t eat it.

3. Look at yourself naked in a full-length mirror. (I dare you.) If you like what you see, forget losing weight. If you hate what you see, don't eat something, do something. Showers work for me. Or take a walk, drinking a huge glass of water, call a friend, paint your toenails, strip the wallpaper, move furniture, do yoga, walk the dog, call your mother. Anything but eating is fine, unless you have stocked the fridge with good stuff like fruit, cut up veggies, tuna, club soda and iced tea. If you have, then go for it.

4. Weigh yourself first thing every morning. As the number goes down, you will become more attached to the New You than the Old You. Really.

5. Eat only nutritious foods. No need to weigh and measure, just eat well, and you know what that means. You don't need to pay anyone to tell you. If you must have a cookie (or a chip or some ice cream or cake or whatever), go ahead and eat it but understand that you are giving away power over your life to something baked in a factory, and not by adorable Keebler Elves but by Serious Businessmen who have hired Evil Scientists to determine how best to hook your taste buds to their dastardly products.

End of story.

Cloudy With a Chance of Covid

Apparently this week's Covid variant, named omicron, is much milder than the normal Covid virus. Several credible doctors treating patients in South Africa have reported only two symptoms: fatigue and a little cough, perhaps lasting a couple of days. Yet Israel has shut its borders to all incoming foreigners, and many other European nations are not allowing people from South Africa and other African countries to enter. And for what? Something less debilitating and as contagious as the common cold?

This whole Covid "game" is getting pretty tiresome, with lame-brains like Joe Biden and Anthony Fauci telling us what to do or not to do about it. (Yeah, lame-brains, you heard me.) I mean, wear your mask between bites? What kind of moron believes that has any validity?

Like many people, if not most in America, I've been double-vaccinated and boosted, and now I'm supposed to worry about a whole new thing. It's unclear what's behind all these shenanigans, but surely something is. Let's hope that doesn't turn out to be even more dire than the virus.

 

When Men Were Men

As a prehistoric Baby Boomer my opinion counts for nothing with nobody. Still, I have many, on a variety of subjects. Today's topic is the sad loss of the male of the species. Oh sure, there are still a few to be found, holdovers from the good old days, but most of today's men are greatly reduced in stature, sex appeal, physical strength and almost all traditional male characteristics. 

A prime example is People magazine's current "Sexiest Man Alive," Paul Rudd. A fine actor and mildly handsome in an average way, to call him sexy is downright laughable. Here are some old favorites whose pronouns were always he/him:

Steve McQueen, Paul Newman, Sean Connery, Harrison Ford, Robert Mitchum, Clark Gable, Cary Grant (gay or bi but still sexy), Warren Beatty, Mick Jagger, Jean-Paul Belmondo, Jeff Bridges, Montgomery Clift (also gay), Marlon Brando, Denzel Washington, Gene Kelly, James Caan, Humphrey Bogart, John Cassavetes, Laurence Olivier and Roy Scheider.

Above: New York Times photo of San Francisco teacher Brendan Dunlap who says, "Some days a little sundress feels right."

The Never-ending Stories

Back when Trump was in office, the people who generate the daily news were in heaven. They had a built-in story every day, in fact every minute, with which to fill their 24/7-sized news hole. Many of those with paltry imaginations still use him, whether the angle is newsworthy or not. Fortunately for the newsmakers, Covid came along just as Trump's presidency was ending, giving them a whole new topic to exploit, since clearly Joe Biden wouldn't be very interesting.

But eventually interest in that big story started to wane. Enough Covid already, people were thinking. Just in time, the Delta variant showed up and got people talking again, but it's old news now. Nobody wants to talk about that. So today, with a new variant taking Europe by storm, journalists and editorial cartoonists and TV pundits the world over are re-invigorated!  

If you simply Google the words "new strain," you'll get some idea of how much verbiage is being spent on Omicron, as it's called. So many column inches! So many talking heads blabbing about it on videos! How exciting! It's almost enough to push Trump out of the picture. But never fear, he'll surely be back when concern about Omicron dies down. After all, there's always 2024.

  

A Two-Party Thanksgiving Story

Woke (Democrats): "A celebration of racist genocide," the Pilgrims were the original white supremacists who eventually turned into Republicans. They stole the land from the peace-loving Native Americans. They also slaughtered hundreds of innocent turkeys and ate them. On the plus side, they didn't slaughter the Native Americans until much later. (See Dances With Wolves.)

Unwoke (Normal People): The Pilgrims were pioneers joyously settling a new land. To celebrate the first harvest they had a huge feast. The Native Americans joined with them in the celebration and they all ate deer, not turkey.

The Antidote to Wokeness

I barely left my home today. It's so much easier, and certainly the only way to avoid offending someone. Here in Maine, just driving around my neighborhood I am trespassing on the sacred lands of the Wabanaki, and that can't be good. Although according to my son, the tribe ceded the land to the city of Portland so it's not stolen property. Besides, how else can I get around? I never learned to hover.

I did go to the post office to mail some bills. I just ran in without a face mask for a few seconds and then ran out, but not soon enough to avoid the steely glare and harsh words from a masked woman entering, who chided, "Masks are RECOMMENDED in here, didn't you see the sign?" I didn't bother telling her that the postmistress herself told me masks are now optional. Besides, don't two vaccinations and a booster count for anything?

The news is off limits because it's so bad these days and promises to get worse. I turned on the TV for two minutes to see if any active shooters were holding hostages or airplanes had struck any buildings or terrorists had taken over our government, and managed to catch sight of a pasty-faced Joe Biden stumbling through a teleprompter reading, saying, "Today all Americans have more money in their pockets than they had before the pandemic." Crazy talk from a nutty guy we call "Mr. President."

So by nightfall I'm ready for some laughs. Lately I've been watching random episodes of Seinfeld and Curb Your Enthusiasm which are now streaming on Netflix and HBOMax. It's so refreshing -- the shows mock everybody equally and it's perfectly okay. Wildly funny too. I go to sleep with a smile on my face, resting up to do battle with the Army of Wokeness the next day.

Do Some Black Lives Matter Less?

About 80 thieves, all black, stormed a Nordstrom department store in Walnut Creek, California on Saturday night, each grabbing as much merchandise as they could carry, then ran outside and jumped into into one of several waiting cars that sped away. Inside the store, shoppers reported being terrified as many of the looters, or whatever you choose to call them, brandished crowbars or spray cans of mace.

The day after in Waukesha, Wisconsin, an SUV plowed into a Christmas Holiday Parade, killing five people and injuring more than 40 who remain in area hospitals, some in critical condition. Many are children as young as three years old. The driver, a black man with a long criminal record who recently ran over his own wife in a parking lot, was apprehended by the police.

So far Reverend Al Sharpton, Reverend Jesse Jackson, big-mouth TV personalities Whoopie Goldberg and Joy Reid, journalists Van Jones and Juan Williams and the leaders of Black Lives Matter have been silent about these crimes. When blacks get killed by whites, those folks are all up in your face, on TV, calling out every white person a "white supremacist." So where are they now? And how proud of her country is Michelle Obama these days?

Asking for a friend.

Strange Doings at the Symphony

Today my husband and I were excited to attend an in-person performance of the Portland Symphony Orchestra, the first one since the onset of Covid two years ago. We happily returned to our usual great seats as holders of a season pass, but things were a little more politically correct than they were when last we went.

Upon arriving, instead of walking right in we had to join a long line of ticket-holders that snaked around the corner, down the street and around another corner in order to show proof of vaccination and a photo I.D. at the door. Everyone wore masks, even in the orchestra, except for the musicians playing wind instruments who of course could not. (I sure hope none of those floutists had Covid.) 

Entering the building, we had to pass through a metal detector, airport-style, and hand over our purses for inspection. Right away I got in a bad mood.

The concession stand, which normally did a rousing business during Intermission selling coffee, wine, cookies, nuts and candy, was closed. Signs warned that no outside food or drink, including water, could be brought in. Today there was no Intermission, I suppose to reduce the interaction between attendees. 

What was always the "Ladies Room" was now labeled "Gender-Neutral Restroom." My husband followed me in and used the stall next to mine.

The conductor came out and greeted the audience to much applause. Added to his always genial welcome speech was the following, somewhat dire, pronouncement which he read from a piece of paper: "The Portland Symphony Orchestra would like to acknowledge that here at the Merrill Auditorium we are making music on the ancient sacred land of the Wabanaki." The audience, unsure of what to do with that information since there didn't seem to be any members of that particular tribe in the house, remained silent.

But oddest of all was a woman three rows ahead of us who cradled in her arms what I thought was an infant dressed in a hooded snowsuit. I worried about what would happen if the baby cried during the concert, until I got a better look at the baby and it turned out to be a pug dog. I suppose that was her "comfort animal," although it sure made me uncomfortable.

Deadly Music Feeds Greedy Lawyers

Aerial view of the Astroworld concert.

Just like some people, some lawyers are despicable. Consider the ones currently earning their outrageous fees by suing the pants off of rapper Travis Scott for his "crime" of being absurdly popular with his fans. That popularity sparked the carnage at the recent Astroworld concert in Texas, where drug-infused revelers raged out of control and ten people died at the feet of OTHER CONCERTGOERS. Many more were seriously injured.

Sad, tragic and stupid, yes, but also a big money-maker for the families of the dead, who stand to reap the biggest rewards. Most recently, concert producers Live Nation and Apple, along with Travis Scott himself, were sued for a total of $2 billion by hundreds of concertgoers who claim they were injured when the crowds surged the stage.

A separate suit by even more lawyers is seeking more than $750 million in damages on behalf of 125 victims who still live and breathe. Scott was once again named in the complaint, along with fellow rapper Drake who performed as a surprise guest. On what charge? Supposedly, Scott's past actions and social media posts "glorify violence and other dangerous behaviors" whereas Drake "was well aware of the damage Scott had caused at his shows in the past." 

As for the charge of glorifying violence, for some interesting reading, Google "most violent rap lyrics." There's no end to them. Here's one pretty little ditty: 

"X-Is Coming" by DMX

"Man, if we was up north, niggas would have been fucked you/But then we in the streets, niggas should haven been stuck you/Plucked you like a chicken wit' your head cut off/They'll find you wit' your back open and your legs cut off/And as for your man, don't you ever in your mothafuckin' life/Know when I gotta gun come at me wit' a knife, a'ight?/And forgetting you ever saw me is the best thing to do/Don't give a fuck about your family, they'll be resting with you"

This is what young people are listening to these days. It's a wonder there aren't more dead found at the end of every concert. I'm thinking the lyrics must be written by undercover lawyers.

Some People Get Away With Murder

Celebrating the O.J. Simpson verdict.

The jury has spoken, and Kyle Rittenhouse was found innocent of all charges. For some reason -- even though he is white, the two men he shot were white, the jury was 11/12ths white and the presiding judge was white -- black people have grabbed this verdict and run with it, waving it around as further proof that America is systemically racist. 

Black New York Times journalist Nikole Hannah-Jones tied the verdict to the history of slavery. "In this country, you can even kill white people and get away with it if those white people are fighting for Black lives. This is the legacy of 1619," she tweeted.

I'd like to add to her comment by saying that in this country, you can even kill white people and get away with it if you are a famous black celebrity and hire a dream team of lawyers who lack a conscience. This is the legacy of 1997.

When black O. J. Simpson was found innocent of killing his white wife Nicole Simpson and her white friend, Ron Goldman, hordes of black Americans (who absolutely knew in their hearts that he was guilty) jumped for joy, including even black Howard University Law School students who were shown on national TV, joyously celebrating the verdict at a local D.C bar. 

Yet today black people, led by their leaders in the Black Lives Matter organization, are damning the verdict in the Rittenhouse case as a miscarriage of justice. Go figure!