Grandma Got Run Over By A Reindeer. Big Deal.

The words "grandmother" and "grandfather" have been abused by scores of lazy news writers who lack a broad vocabulary to elicit sympathy and add drama to their stories. For example, if a 70-year-old woman who has twin infant grandchildren is involved in a car accident, the headline will be something like, "Grandmother of two dies in car accident." Should we feel worse about her demise because of the infant twins left behind? Why -- don't they have parents?

Or maybe it's, "Grandfather killed  in subway attack." It turns out that a 60-year-old marathoner in great physical shape whose child had given birth to a child years earlier was the victim of a crime. Is his death worse than someone the same age who A, had no children or B, whose own children are childless?

Recently I befriended a waitress at a restaurant we frequent. I guessed her age to be about 35 and started thinking hmmmm ..... maybe she would like my son. (He has a girlfriend but it's rocky.) I mustered up the courage to ask if she was married or had any children to see if a match was possible. To my shock and amazement -- and shock, did I mention shock? -- she said she is 48, married with two kids and the proud grandmother of an 8-month-old. She became a grandma at 47. I'm not even a grandma and I'm 78!  

News flash: Grandparents are not always old, not always frail even when they are old, and not always deserving of our pity even when they are frail and old. Lots of grannies and gramps are mean sons-of-bitches just like anyone else. So let's stop lionizing grandparents regardless of their character. Older people without grandchildren are often even nicer. In fact, in the famous Christmas song written in 1979 by Randy Brooks, Grannie was an alcoholic. (See lyrics below.) And even though she died, Grandpa doesn't let that ruin his Christmas. (The cad!) 

Grandma got run over by a reindeer
Walking home from our house Christmas Eve.
You can say there's no such thing as Santa,
But as for me and Grandpa, we believe.

She'd been drinkin' too much egg nog,
And we'd begged her not to go.
But she'd left her medication,
So she stumbled out the door into the snow.

When they found her Christmas mornin',
At the scene of the attack,
There were hoof prints on her forehead,
And incriminatin' Claus marks on her back.

Now we're all so proud of Grandpa,
He's been takin' this so well.
See him in there watchin' football,
Drinkin' beer and playin' cards with cousin Belle.

It's not Christmas without Grandma.
All the family's dressed in black.
And we just can't help but wonder:
Should we open up her gifts or send them back?

Facebook Rules

Something I don't understand about Facebook is that I just saw a video -- they are called Reels -- of a bare-chested black woman wearing a miniskirt with a naked penis sticking out from her waist, which apparently is permitted to remain on Facebook, but my comment that someone was "really dumb"  was removed because it "goes against our community standards" and my account was suspended for three days, although I could appeal the decision.

I think the naked penis on the transgender person is more offensive than calling someone dumb. And anatomically speaking, that penis was in the wrong place, making it all the weirder.

The New Godfather

It's ironic that the most powerful person in the world at this very minute is also the least powerful. That would be Joe Biden, who is technically the President of the United States and will remain so for about another month. Despite his weighty title he has less power than almost anyone I can think of in our government, except for maybe the current Vice-president, you know.... what's her name.

Instead, the actual most powerful person in the world is citizen Donald J. Trump. Laugh if you want. Call him "Orange Man." Call him a convicted felon. Go ahead and tell that to the world leaders who are all flocking, driving and jetting to his Palm Beach estate, Mar-A-Lago, hoping for a chance to see him, meet with him, dine with him or simply kiss his ring.

This all makes me very happy as I believe he has been treated badly by his enemies for many years and yet he never gave up, never ran away, and certainly never admitted defeat. He is truly a role model for all of us. And I find that that pretty damn funny.

Siri Claus Is Coming to Town

It dawned on me the other day that some of the lyrics to "Santa Claus Is Coming to Town" are very appropriate and alarmingly descriptive of today's hyper-surveilled, over-governed environment. They follow:

You better watch out
You better not cry
You better not pout
I’m telling you why
Siri Claus is already here 

She’s making a list,
Checking it twice,
Gonna find out who’s naughty or nice.
Siri Claus is already here

She sees you when you’re sleeping
She knows when you’re awake
She knows if you’ve been bad or good
So be good for goodness sake

I'd get rid of that Siri thing if I were you, and soon. And her friend Alexa too.

Whatever Happened to Us?

Lately there has been an increase in two very disturbing developments among our species. While they are not comparable at all in terms of seriousness, they both indicate a continuing downward slide for humanity.

The less serious one, but still sickening, is the alarming increase in homemade videos appearing online showing grotesquely obese women with pendulous, oversized breasts and incredible rolls of body fat posing in teeny bikinis, as if they were lovely fashion models. Some of the women claim that they are starting their "weight-loss journey" while others simply stand there and slowly turn around to show their disgusting bare butts, like that's a turn-on to someone. (If it is, we have even bigger problems.)

The more dire development is the increase in gun violence directed at strangers. When someone murders a person they know personally for a reason that makes sense -- not that I am saying murder makes sense -- like marital  infidelity, child custody battles and financial disputes, we don't feel threatened like we do when it's a random mass shooting. But those are happening with greater frequency, like the one earlier today at a Christian school in Madison, WI where a student and a teacher both died, along with the teenaged shooter. Several others are hospitalized in critical condition.

Something bad is happening to once-normal people. I wonder what it is. Could it simply be that our time is up? Maybe those mysterious drones hovering overhead are picking out houses for after the coming Fall of Man. New Jersey is, after all, a great place to live if you're into city life but still want a backyard.

FILM REVIEW: Carry-On

This film is currently trending, and since I am never trendy I wanted to jump on that bandwagon and see what it feels like. So last night I watched the latest Netflix original, Carry-On. After it was over I felt better about not being trendy. 

Taron Egerton, Jason Bateman

Starring Jason Bateman, who I love even when he's just standing there breathing, I figured it would be great. I figured wrong. Sadly, I'm over my Bateman-love. Alas, all things must end, and I was happy when this movie finally did. 

Carry-On is a Die Hard rip-off from start to finish, only it's set in an airport and there's no Bruce Willis or Allen Rickman or those muscular blonde foreign guys running around. In contrast, this film's supporting cast is pretty lightweight, although I learned later that young people celebrate the lead actor, Taron Egerton, who has been in several movies including Rocketman, playing Elton John. While he might be cute and do well in light fare, he cannot act convincingly in a drama. However I do commend him for not falling through any of the script's gaping loopholes.

The plot is unbelievable and stale: It's Christmas Eve at LAX and a very bad man (Bateman) is determined to get a bomb filled with nerve gas onto a plane and kill everyone on board. There is some sort of political motive attached, but even though my husband and I went back and watched the explanation of it twice, with subtitles on, we still didn't get it. (Not important.) TSA agent Ethan Kopek (Egerton), on his first day at the luggage-screening machine, has his head virtually hijacked when he is given instructions through an earpiece mysteriously delivered to him from a man dressed like an ordinary street bum (Bateman). 

There's lots and lots of talk. Yada, yada, yada, blow up the plane. If Ethan doesn't let the bomb go through security, Bateman or one of his goons who see all through remote cameras will kill Ethan's girlfriend (Sofia Carson). She is newly pregnant so that means two murders and double the number of tissues needed. Yada, yada, yada, the bomb is on a timer and there's only 10 seconds left to deactivate it before EVERYONE DIES A SLOW AND HORRID DEATH CHOKING ON THEIR OWN BLOOD. Count with me now: 10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2 ....... Phew, that was close! 

You get the idea.

Say Nothing

If one can believe anything reported online, things are getting pretty dicey here in America. For example, a woman was arrested in her home yesterday following a phone call with her health insurance company about a denied claim during which she said, "Delay, deny, depose," words scrawled on the bullet casings found at the scene of the murdered CEO of a health care company recently. 

Adding, "You people are next," the assumption that she was threatening to kill someone and is a danger to society sent local Florida cops to her door. The 42-year-old mother of three does not own any weapons. Despite that, her bail was set at $100,000.

So just shut up if you know what's good for you. And for God's sake, get rid of that damn Alexa thing. And your phone. And your computer. And move to another country while it's still possible.

Delete this post.

Droning On About A Killer

Okay, here's a little quiz: Tell me all you know about Thomas Crooks. Who is that, you ask? I'll tell you later. Now tell me all you know about Luigi Mangione. Okay, okay, that's enough -- now I'll give you my answers. 

Thomas Crooks is the guy who attempted to kill President Trump last summer at a rally in Butler, Pennsylvania. I think he was 20 years old. That's pretty much all I've got, except that he's dead. (They shot him.)

Luigi Mangione murdered, in broad daylight, the CEO of a huge company, United Healthcare, in New York City last week. He is 26. After college he moved to Hawaii where he was an avid surfer, and hurt his back doing it. He was in a lot of pain and lost touch with many of his friends. He was the valedictorian of his high school, the prestigious private Gilman School in Baltimore that costs $40,000 a year in tuition. He earned two degrees from the University of Pennsylvania, a bachelor's and a master's. He comes from a wealthy family, his father owns several golf country clubs in the Baltimore area.

Mangione's picture has been plastered everywhere -- there are three of them in today's Wall Street Journal -- whereas I could not pick Crooks out of a lineup. Mangione is considered to be good-looking by many women, who have sent him money for his legal fees. (Personally I think his nostrils are too big.)

The point is, WTF? Why do we know so little about a president's assassin but so much about the killer of a private citizen? Could it be for the same reason we know nothing about those drones flying over New Jersey? CIA, FBI -- I'm talking to you.

Film Review: A FAMILY AFFAIR

Actress Joey King is a joy to behold even when she's freaking out.

Now streaming on Netflix, A Family Affair is much better on film than it sounds on paper.  So I won't bore you with a scene-by-scene recap of the plot, which is what most professional film critics do and somehow get paid for doing it. Instead I'll tell you why you should watch it despite -- if you're anything like me -- not wanting to.

It stars Zac Efron, a pretty-boy actor I have never paid any attention to mainly because he's just too handsome in a teeny-bopper kind of way. The other leads are actors I respect, including Kathy Bates, Nicole Kidman and relative young newcomer Joey King. With my husband away I thought I'd give it a try, since I would never dare ask him to watch what sounds like a typical Christmastime rom-com. 

It's not. Instead, it's a complex, heart-stirring and down-to-earth drama about a few lost people trying to find their way, each hoping to make a human connection to feel less alone. It all takes place in the context of Hollywood movie-making and very rich people living the good life, which as fas as I'm concerned is lots of fun to wallow in. 

A zany plot actually works here. Chris Cole (Efron) is a huge Hollywood star and Zara (King) is his tireless, go-fer assistant spending her days fulfilling his selfish requests in hope of advancing her career as a movie producer. Through happenstance he meets Brooke (Kidman), Zara's mother 16 years his senior. They fall in lust, then they fall in love, much to the dismay of Zara who is afraid her mother will get hurt, Chris being a well-known serial womanizer.

To see how it turns out, watch the movie. It's full of truths about family ties, loneliness, forgiveness and grief, offering even the most jaded viewer something to hope for even when things look grim. And as it turns out, Zac Efron is a pretty good actor despite his Greek-god looks.

Person of the Year?

According to news reports, Kamala Harris, our current Vice-president who does absolutely nothing as far as we can see, is on the "short list" to be named 2024 Person of the Year by TIME Magazine. This brings to mind a flood of questions, including who knew TIME is still being published? Does anybody read it? What does being named their Person of the Year indicate? Is that a good thing or a bad thing?

If the title indicates someone who dominated the news all year regardless of their inherent merit or value to society, Kamala might very well be it. But if it indicates someone who is outstanding in their field, or beneficial to all of society in some way, she's off the list.

If it means someone who is a complete know-nothing clown who happened to be in the right place at the right time and with the right skin tone, then she's it. But if it means an intelligent person who people revere, she's out.

Here's my short list for Person of the Year:

Donald Trump

Elon Musk

Vivek Ramaswamy

Benjamin Netanyahu

Tulsi Gabbard

I know I'm gonna be seen as a racist for not listing a black person. But hey -- P. Diddy seemed wrong.

The Jesus Thing

A dear friend of mine is a retired pastor and continuing student of religious teachings. I consider him to be quite intelligent and possibly the best piano player I have ever met in person. However, his firm and unshakeable belief in the existence of Jesus Christ and the power he holds over every living human being makes me question his sanity at times.

Here's the thing: I strongly believe in God. Not sure what that means, but it's definitely not anything in human form. Maybe it's the Ocean and Sky. Or the Constellations. Or the very air we breathe -- I have no idea. Whatever It is, It did not/could not conceive a human son, in particular Jesus Christ. And if some human named Jesus did walk on the Earth, he certainly did not come back to life after three days of being dead. And his mommy was not a virgin, as in The Virgin Mary. And what makes him God's son anyway?

I know that millions of people swallow that story whole and that blows my mind. As for the whole organized religion thing, after seeing the 2015 movie Spotlight which detailed the discovery and worldwide exposure of priests as child molesters and sexual predators by reporters at the Boston Globe, I don't know how anyone can keep the faith .

Clothes to Die For

I have never understood fashion trends. Who follows them and why is a puzzle. Don't people simply wear clothes they like and that feel comfortable? 

An article online highlighting the hottest new trends declares that skinny jeans are out and fuller pants are in for 2025. I can only guess this is to accommodate the steadily growing girth of the average American. Obviously, hiding in baggy clothes is much easier than dieting.

The article I read included the picture shown below, with the caption "Chic classic jeans will be more popular in 2025." (I would have added "if you are a homeless bum," but that's just me.) So go ahead and indulge all you want! At least if you do have a heart attack while stuffing your face, you'll be right in style when the paramedics come to cart you away.

The Kavanaughzation of Pete Hegseth

Bad boy Hegseth.

Back in 2018, a woman named Christine Blasey Ford came forward to accuse Justice Brett Kavanaugh of sexually assaulting her -- he allegedly "groped" her through her sweater -- when he was 17 and she was 15. This was said to have occurred at a high-school beer party nobody could remember, including her. Every Democrat ate it up, seeing as how Kavanaugh, a Republican, had been nominated to become a Supreme Court Justice by Donald Trump, then serving his first term as president.

They dragged Kavanaugh through the mud and muck known as Congressional confirmation hearings, embarrassing themselves in the process. Thankfully Kavanaugh emerged relatively unscathed, except for his sullied reputation and the damage done to his two young daughters during that gruesome ordeal. 

Now the Dems are trying to do the same thing to Pete Hegseth, another Trump appointee -- this time for Secretary of Defense -- who they claim has had too much sex for his own good. It's funny because when Bill Clinton had sex inside the White House they sighed, looked the other way, and said "his sex life is his own business."

I think the Democrats in Congress need a hobby. They could start with closing our borders and making our cities safe. Just a suggestion.

Life Is Short

If aliens from another planet arrived here and could speak our language and use our Internet, which of course they could because they would be so much more advanced than us, having kept themselves hidden for millennia, they would be stupefied by most of what they find. Humans, with the exception of Elon Musk, Albert Einstein and Stephen Hawking, are pathetic. Equipped with incredible brain power, they squander it on things like this:

1. A popular home video is titled something like "What I Eat in A Day As A 150-pound Mom of Three" or "What I Eat In A Day While Dieting to Lose 100 Pounds." They then photograph all their meals and show us how they look eating them.

2. Brides-to-be model three or four different wedding gowns and ask strangers online who are stupid enough to watch them which looks best.

3. Videos of pretend-recipes for giant wedding cakes or complicated casseroles go on and on, showing innumerable ingredients -- Cool Whip is often included -- that look gross and incongruous. These might run 30 minutes or more, and always engender tons of viewer comments like, "This looks disgusting," or "Is this for real, when will they get done with it?" 

The time wasted by hundreds of thousands of people watching inane videos might be spent learning a new language, reading books, exercising or even curing cancer. Almost any other activity would be more beneficial to society. Really, life is short and it gets shorter every day -- for everyone.

Ugly Celebrities Still Get Rich

Sandra Bernhard, net worth $10 million

Kathy Griffin, net worth $40 million

Bill Maher, net worth $140 million

 

How Can We Be Friends?

Politics really messes things up. For example, last night I went out for sushi with my husband. At one point I went to the ladies' room and another woman was in there. I complimented her wild hair -- brown with bright kelly green stripes framing her face. We chatted about this and that as we washed up. It was clear that I liked her and she liked me. 

Maybe I was a little tipsy from all the sake but I said, "We should be friends!" She agreed. Exchanging names, I promised to send her a friend request on Facebook. So when I got home I looked her up and found her profile and did a little looking around. One of the things listed as something she likes was The ReidOut With Joy Reid. 

I don't just dislike Joy Reid, I despise her. In fact, I recently wrote a blog post naming her "The Worst Person in America." Anyone who likes Reid obviously hates Donald Trump and all Republicans. I am a Republican and I voted for Trump.

I decided not to contact the woman from the ladies' room. It's a shame, really. In another time we might be good friends.

Another Turkey Pardoned

The media is all aflutter over Joe Biden's pardoning his son Hunter, like everyone alive on the planet did not see that coming. What's that -- he said he wouldn't and now he did, so he lied? Oh please, lies are the bread and butter of politicians. 

How anyone can get the slightest bit upset about this is beyond me. Hunter is a sleaze bag, a grown-up big baby who cheated on his taxes and maybe did some other sketchy stuff, but he certainly is not a threat to the public and doesn't need to be behind bars. As for Joe, he's his father and he could do it and why wouldn't he? What father wants to see his kid go to jail? 

I see it as a non-story, especially since lying is so common with Joe, ho-hum. But to the members of the media, a hangnail is a story on a slow news day. They will inflate anything into a crisis if it will sell papers, increase ratings or get advertisers. Every reporter, with the possible exception of Bret Baier of FOX News, is no different from the paparazzi who killed Princess Diana in that tunnel in France. 

So relax, turn off the news and turn on a movie, preferably a documentary. There is an excellent one streaming now on the History channel entitled Reagan, about the former Hollywood actor who became our 40th president in 1980. (Not the new movie starring Dennis Qaid, this one was made in 2011.) It's quite interesting, very well-edited and offers a fun snapshot of the times he lived in. Watch it if you loved Ronald Reagan or hated him; either way you'll come away smarter than you will if you tune into all the yapping about Hunter's pardon.

Doing the Trump Shuffle

Come on -- loosen up and give it a try. Doing the Trump Shuffle makes people feel good, and Lord knows the Democrats need something to make them feel good. Maybe if they stopped blindly hating the man and tried being open-minded and, God forbid a million times, loving, things would improve for the whole country.

I know, it's hard since the poison they ingest daily takes its toll. And on Sundays they get a triple-dose of poison that lays them low for days, I'm sure. I'm talking about The New York Times, that insidious Bible for the misguided and unthinking Democratic Party foot soldiers who read it and weep, of course in unison.

Today being Sunday we have the pages of that liberal rag strewn around our living room. After doing the crossword puzzle in the Magazine section, I ventured further and only found blatant negativity concerning everything Trump is doing, will do and ever did, sadness over Kamala's inevitable loss, and suggestions of how to survive the terrible four years ahead until they take back the White House with hopefully a woman president. Like that matters? Have these people learned nothing from the outcome of the recent election, when a black female lost? Get it? Nobody cares about your gender when you are unfit for the job.

My favorite -- and by that I mean my least favorite -- column in today's Opinion section is by Gail Collins, a middling writer who says things like "I dunno" and "um, obviously" in otherwise acceptable sentences. Gail believes that Kamala lost because America is racist: "I know we elected Barack Obama twice, but if we can't rise up above race once and for all, it's hard to believe we'll ever be a country capable of making grand, inclusive decisions like making a woman president."

President Koko Banana-Rama, 2028?

Two things Gail seems to overlook. The first is that we might elect a white woman as president. Would that be grand enough for her, or too lacking in inclusivity? And second, who gives a damn if we have a woman president? Why is that so important? What's next: A dog for president? Or maybe a chimpanzee, I hear they are very smart. 

When will we recognize that we share the planet with many different species? Let them take a crack at running things; they couldn't do any worse than an old man with degenerating brain cells. As for the Dem's so-called deep bench, I actually heard on CNN that AOC is being floated for a presidential run in 2028. If she runs I'm definitely writing in the chimp. (Any chimp.)

The Art of Living

In ad copy appearing on The Times of Israel website, a new luxury high-rise complex in Jerusalem "invites residents to participate in the art of living." That got me wondering -- am I participating in the art of living, or am I just living? And just what is the art of living anyway? It goes on to explain:

"For some, that includes enjoying the quiet of the residential Talbieh neighborhood. Or it might mean pampering oneself in the pool, gym, spa, or other amenities. Other adventures lie in the vast cultural and culinary experiences just steps away in the world’s holiest city."

I was in Jerusalem a year and a half ago and I never felt like I was pampering myself in any way. Of course I was staying in an Airbnb and couldn't even figure out how to use the washing machine. Maybe the fabulous hummus and salads could be considered "pampering," but when I wasn't eating I was counting the days until my return flight to America. 

Why? Because the whole place is so damn noisy! Just after the constant street traffic finally dies down and you fall asleep, some Arab religious leaders across the city start prayer-wailing at all hours of the morning, loud enough to wake the dead. And many of the residents are super-religious Jews who walk around in crazy outfits I found disturbing, even as a Jew myself. For example, I steered clear of the men wearing long black woolen coats in 70-degree weather and hats that looked like lampshades.

Anyway, at home in Maine I'm wondering how to participate in the art of living. Being an artist, I guess I'm halfway there. But this morning I have to go to the supermarket; could that be artful? How can I make it so? Yesterday my husband and I cleaned out the garage; that was not the art of living in my book. How can I rise above just "living"? Must I move to Jerusalem?

The search goes on.

The Worst Person In America, Part Two

I hope you don't think I am a racist because the last designated Worst Person was also black, but hey, it is what it is. And speaking of racists, today's winner of the WPIA award is Joy Reid, that creepy lady who has her own show on MSNBC, the station nobody watches.

Joy is even worse than Whoopie Goldberg, our last awardee. At least Whoopie wears dreadlocks, which is a black thing and a black thing only -- just ask Zac Efron, who was berated across the Internet when he posted a photo of himself on Instagram sporting his new hairstyle. 

Within seconds he was called out for "cultural appropriation." But Joy dyes her black hair bright blonde, definitely not a black thing, and thinks nothing of it!

That horrible witch has posted a maliciously mean Thanksgiving Day message in which she excoriates all Trump voters and says hateful things about the man himself, who by the way is her next president too. She has done the same for the past three years, insulting, denigrating and ranting about how terrible all Republicans are and in fact anyone who doesn't think as she does.

Today I will be truly thankful if Joy fatally chokes on a turkey bone and moves on from here to disgust and terrorize the poor devils in Hell. (As if it's not bad enough already down there.)

Do You Know Who This Guy Is?

Apparently this guy is a great guitarist.

If you can't trust what you read on the internet, what good is it? That's the question I'm grappling with after a recent exchange with a stranger made it perfectly clear that nothing is what it seems to be online.

I innocently queried, after seeing a photo of someone I did not recognize but whom many people were extolling, "Who are you?" OMG, you'd have thought it was a photo of Jesus Christ himself. The first answer I received was, "only the greatest guitarist who ever lived!" I responded (big mistake) with, "In your opinion," and then named some guitar greats I revered, including Alvin Lee, Jimi Hendrix and Stevie Ray Vaughan. That opened a flood of nastiness aimed at me for not recognizing the guy. My favorite comment was, "Go sit down, Gen Z."

I had to look up the age range for Gen Z. What a riot! I told the commenter I had been at Woodstock, attended the Beatles' first US concert, went to the Fillmore East every weekend during college, etc., etc., and sorry but I didn't know the person pictured, maybe I was too stoned all those years. Turns out he was the lead guitarist from Pink Floyd whose name I already forgot.

Anyway, the rude commenter thought I was between the ages of whatever you are if born between 1997 and 2012. He/she was so wrong.

Whither Goest Kamala?

My favorite news story of the day is that Kamala Harris is considering a run for the presidency in 2028. This is interesting on so many levels. To begin, what part of "Nobody Likes You" does Harris not understand? 

She was the butt of jokes for her first three years as Vice-president, and became a bigger one in her last year while running for president. Is she hoping that everyone now alive will be dead by then and she will be presenting herself to voters who hadn't heard about her blowing her billion-dollar campaign chest on hair, makeup and Oprah?

Next, hasn't she heard that DEI is dead? The fact that she is a black(ish) female will count for nothing four years from now. And judging by the way things are going, in 2028 you'll probably have to be an AI-created robot to even run for office, let alone get elected to anything at all. 

Another possibility being floated for Harris is governor of California. That also seems unlikely since by 2028 the state will have been obliterated by forest fires, floods, mudslides and the Big One we've been hearing about for years. 

I hear McDonald's is hiring for all positions. And with her past employment, she's a shoo-in.

Uniting the United States

This country would be a lot better off without Whoopie Goldberg, Joy Behar -- in fact the whole damn lot of them on "The View," especially that horrible Anna Navarro. We also might live well and prosper minus The New York Times, CNN, Anderson Cooper, Chris Hayes, Rachel Maddow and all the rest of the whining babies who still can't believe that more than half of their countrymen (and women) feel differently than they do!

Annoyingly, they persist in insisting that Trump "botched the pandemic," despite his fast-tracking a vaccine in record time. The real botcher of the pandemic was evil Dr. Anthony Fauci. The lefties love the guy for some reason that defies comprehension since he had a direct hand in the original creation of the virus. 

The tone-deaf Democrats are already looking two years ahead to the midterms instead of working towards uniting what we oddly call "The United States of America."

Big Fat Dummies

Big Mamma

 No, it's not your imagination and you don't need new glasses -- store mannequins really have been putting on weight. On a recent shopping expedition to LLBean's in Freeport, Maine, the fake dummies were giving the real dummies a run for their money girth-wise. The only thing distinguishing them from real people is their lack of a head. (See photo, left.) It makes sense, as marketers are tasked with making goods appealing to the widest range -- no pun intended -- of buyers.

Even more disturbing is that despite obesity rates being virtually the same for both genders -- 32% for men, 34% for women -- only the female dummies are getting fatter. The males are all very trim and in great shape, and despite being headless were more attractive than most of the people walking around the store. 

Today's "curvy" lady and her outdated counterpart.

The guys are ready for a strenuous hike.

Help Is On the Way!

Robert F. Kennedy Jr., age 70, keeping in shape.

Three weeks ago my older sister died from obesity. Okay, she was about to turn 84 so Death was certainly lurking around her neighborhood. But weighing about 300 pounds and hardly moving every day, she was an easy mark. While many people live to be much older than that, none of them are overweight. Actors Clint Eastwood, 94, Joan Collins, 91, and Jane Fonda almost 87, are all in great shape, i.e. not fat. (Ditto a personal friend of mine, Ron Holley, who at 87 is stronger than many men half his age.)

Obesity kills in many ways, with heart disease, stroke and diabetes among the leading causes. Most often obesity is caused by taking in more calories than the body needs, which then are stored as fat. Put more simply, it's from stuffing your face with processed foods laden with tasty and addictive garbage that contain no nutritional value. Added to this is a lack of exercise, a.k.a sitting on your fat ass playing video games or watching Netflix.

The good news for those humans paying attention is that Robert F. Kennedy Jr. promises to be somewhat of a savior, having been tasked by President-elect Trump with making Americans healthier. This is a worthy goal and everyone who values living a long, healthy life should applaud his efforts and spur him on, instead of parroting that he's against vaccines, which by the way he is not -- he's just against vaccines for himself, you can do whatever you want. This is still a free country despite the past four years of government-sanctioned censorship and woke rulings by the misguided Democrats. 

So don't worry, be happy: Help is on the way! You don't have to shoot yourself up with costly chemicals every month to lose weight; all you have to do is eat well and get some exercise. 

Easy to Be Hard

So many strangers are so mean-spirited and nasty, it's getting tougher and tougher to "have a nice day" if you dare leave your home. Funny thing -- everyone is always telling you to have a nice day, despite not giving a damn about you. Most people couldn't care less if you are depressed, just found out you have cancer or have to put your dog down, they only say it so they won't be fired from their job as a supermarket checkout person, server, convenience store clerk or whatever.

Today I was actually having a nice day until I went to my local post office to mail some bills. I noticed just in time that I had put the payment slip into one envelope upside-down so that the address was not showing. Trying to open it carefully to remedy the situation, I still ripped the envelope and needed some Scotch tape to fix it. No big deal, right?

Wrong. The bitchy postmistress, who everyone in town hates because she is, well, bitchy, refused to give me some tape. "Get your own damn tape," she barked, adding, "I'm not even allowed to give you tape."  I asked if she could tape it herself. "That's not my job, you did it, you fix it!" (This is a woman who does very little work, since ours is a teeny, tiny post office with few customers, and thinks nothing of closing hours early to attend to personal business.)

I am not proud to say that I completely lost my mind, yelling vulgarities at her as I left while tossing all my collected junk mail on the floor of the facility. Then I drove home and wrote a formal complaint about her to the USPS, as if that will do anything. But it made me feel better, just like writing this is making me feel better. In fact, if I had written this post right away I might not have eaten all that peanut butter straight from the jar. (With a spoon of course, I'm not an animal.)

Peanut butter is so much nicer than most people.

Kudos to Kennedy

The human race is in big trouble. People are getting fatter and sicker from the poisons they ingest daily, often without their knowledge. At the same time they are getting dumber, dimming the likelihood of halting the damage being done to them by food purveyors profiting from the average American's outsized appetite. 

The biggest pushers of lies and propaganda are the advertising agencies that create happy stories concerning the foods we eat. Their very existence depends on us believing those woke commercials full of blacks, gays and mixed-race couples hired to distract us from whatever garbage they are hawking.

Weight-loss is a leading moneymaker, especially online. I recently saw a commercial for a company selling smoothies that would make pounds disappear miraculously just by drinking them. The ad showed a fat young woman who supposedly weighed 180 pounds, then showed her at 134 pounds after using their product. Oddly enough, she had a tattoo sleeve on her left arm when she was fat that was on her right arm when she was thinner. Plus she had a different face! I mean really, just how dumb do they think we are?

Who knows -- maybe we are that dumb. Democrats are melting down over Trump's appointment of Robert F. Kennedy Jr. to head the Department of Health and Human Services, repeating the tired charge that he's an "anti-vaxxer." The real reason they hate RFK is because he promises to go after the manufacturers of those addictive, unhealthy foods that turn well-proportioned, healthy American kids into big fat diabetic blobs by the time they hit their teen years. Naturally they just keep getting fatter as adults, which is why Americans now have the lowest life expectancy of all other high-income countries. 

So drop the bag of Cheetos and do some research on RFK. He's not just against vaccines, he's against you dying young.

Democrats Gone Wild!

One of  the latest to fall ill from TDS (Trump Derangement Syndrome) is Laura Helmuth, former editor-in-chief of Scientific American magazine, following her mental breakdown after the election. Her bratty rant about Donald Trump voters went viral on X, and even though she eventually deleted the posts it was too late -- she was canned anyway, so kudos to Scientific American. (Who wants to lose 50% of their readers?)

It is well-known in publishing circles that when Covid showed up in 2020, Helmuth developed a tip sheet for journalists covering the pandemic, saying that, "repetition makes misinformation feel more true." That's some tip!

Posting online, Helmuth called Trump voters "the meanest, dumbest, most bigoted” group, and “fascists.” After her comments went viral she backed down, obviously lacking the courage of her convictions. In fact, they aren't even her convictions -- she was just repeating things she heard until they felt true, just like she had instructed her journalists.

Helmuth has since apologized, calling her comments “offensive and inappropriate. I respect and value people across the political spectrum. These posts do not reflect my beliefs; they were a mistaken expression of shock and confusion about the election results.”

Hardy har har, Laura. Yup, you'll get a new job somewhere soon. You might try McDonald's, I hear they once hired Kamala Harris. I hear they once hired Kamala Harris. I hear they once  hired Kamala Harris. I hear they once hired Kamala Harris. I hear they once hired Kamala Harris. I hear they once hired Kamala Harris. I hear they once hired Kamala Harris. I hear they once hired Kamala Harris. 

It's A Good Time to Be A Shrink

Let's recap: The Republicans won the White House, the Senate, the House and hold a majority in the Supreme Court. Trump won not only in the Electoral College but also won the popular vote. Clearly, more Americans today are in sync with the policies and proposals of the Republican Party than with those of the Democrats.

And yet the depressed, delusional and disdainful Democrats are out there, on TV and in print, shamelessly advocating that their followers are right to cut Republican friends and family members from their Christmas celebrations and exclude them from Thanksgiving dinners.

It's a sorry state of affairs when so many depressed people are in need of psychiatric help all at the same time. On the flip side, it's a great time to be a shrink! For the next four years -- possibly eight -- they can rake in big bucks helping the losers through the five stages of grief, all while the meter is running.

Bye Bye, Kamala!

It's like my dream come true: Today's paper contains not one photo or article about you-know-who. Despite raising a billion dollars during the campaign, just a week later she'd barely get enough for a Happy Meal if she stood on a street corner with a sign saying, "Deeply in debt, anything helps." 

This is as it should be, since her stairway to the stars -- including Oprah, George Clooney, Julia Roberts, Beyonce, Taylor Swift, Robert DeNiro, Lizzo, Queen Latifah and the rest of those glitzy lapdogs -- was built on mere quicksand.

If only all the sad Democrats could recognize that our election gifted us a strong leader instead of that lamebrained follower, the doom and gloom of the last four years would be lifted. Instead, they wallow in misery and cling to the baseless belief that all Republicans are scoundrels and Donald Trump is a threat to democracy.

As Kamala herself said repeatedly in the last few months, it's time to turn the page. Rise up and rejoice: Not only is Trump going to be President, but Sen. Marco Rubio will be Secretary of State. Finally I will sleep soundly again. Now all we have to do is make it to January 20th without incident. Fingers crossed that the dismal duo currently at the helm doesn't blow it before then.

Grocery Shopping 101

As my husband was leaving to go to the supermarket, I looked at his list and offered to rewrite it because there were so many things already crossed off. What concerned me was that he would come home with things I already bought, but he took it to mean I was calling him an idiot. "You know I only use that word when referring to Kamala Harris," I replied. 

That calmed him down, but he was still miffed. Our exchange reminded me of a column I wrote 28 years ago for Utah's Deseret News. I post it below, shaking my head in disbelief that little has changed: 

I consider myself a liberated woman, despite the fact that I go by Mrs. and not Ms. So I was somewhat shocked when I had the following conversation with my 9-year-old son the other day:

"Honey, would you like to come to the supermarket with me this afternoon?"

"No way."

"Why not?"

"It's boring."

"You know, when I was little I liked going shopping for food with my mom. I thought it was fun."

He was silent for about 15 seconds, then he said, "Yeah, but you were practicing. I don't need to."

Swerving to avoid a head-on collision with a FedEx truck, I wondered where I had gone wrong. Studiously avoiding sexual stereotyping from day one, I painted Zack's nursery yellow. Risking divorce, or at least a bad night, I boldly dressed him in pink when he was a baby. (OK, it was rare, but it happened.) I didn't freak out if he chose to play with dolls when he was a toddler, and I never bought him guns or war toys. And now this!

I was stunned. But then, out of the darkness came light. That must be why my husband can't go grocery shopping -- not enough practice! When I asked him if he ever accompanied his mother to the market as a child, he replied, apparently confused, "Why would I?"

He should have. It's a skill that could come in handy on those difficult days, like when I'm in a body cast or delirious with 104-degree fever. In all fairness, I'll admit that on days like that, my husband cheerfully volunteers to pick up a few things at the market.When he does, unloading his grocery bags is like entering the Twilight Zone: everything is normal, yet nothing looks familiar. He refuses to buy the brands we commonly use. I ask why and he says it's more interesting.

"We're in a rut with this Grey Poupon, so I got this instead."

"But we like Grey Poupon," I replied. (Okay, I whined.)

"You're in a rut! Life is too short to have Grey Poupon all the time."

"My point exactly - my life is too short not to have it. And my life is shorter than yours since I'm older. What if I die before we have it again? A jar of mustard is around for quite a while -- anything could happen between jars."

Mitch makes the point that he might have been killed on the way home from the store, and I might at this moment be down at the morgue or at least the emergency room, so I should quit complaining and count my lucky stars.

Our arguments often escalate into discussions of existential proportions, dwarfing the issue of who buys what. It's a basic tactic he uses to make me forget the problem at hand, which is how I am supposed to make a meal out of this stuff.

He brings home vegetables that defy identification. I can't even figure out how to cut into them, let alone what to do once I've achieved that. There's usually some dangerous-looking fruit with spikes, two or three canned foods with names I can't pronounce, and the biggest offender, whole milk instead of skim.

"I asked for skim."

"Oh, lighten up."

"That's what I'm trying to do!"

I keep foraging. I asked for Saran Wrap, he got Handiwrap.

"So what?" 

"Handiwrap doesn't tear off clean. I have to spend about 15 minutes looking for the start of the roll."

"You know, I wondered what you do all day."

A few weeks ago, I gave him this list: skim milk, eggs, broccoli, apples, bread, mayonnaise, juice, turkey. He came home with whole milk, jalapeno peppers, WD-40, star fruit, egg rolls, a bag of sour gummy worms, hot garlic stir fry sauce, Diet Snapple and batteries.

"What is this? Where are all the things on the list?"

"Oh, I left the list in the car. When's dinner?"

"I think what's dinner is more the question."

For the welfare of my future daughter-in-law, I devised a plan. Now when my husband goes to the market, I insist that he take our son with him for practice. And it's working. Today they brought home skim milk, ground beef, spaghetti sauce, broccoli and orange juice. Just what I wanted! Still, my son was apologetic. "Sorry we forgot the WD-40, Mom."

He's learning.