Spoiler Alert: Not For the Faint of Heart

I recently saw a disturbing video posted online that has stuck in my brain, like a song you hear that you can't stop playing over and over in your head until you want to scream. It wasn't a monster video, or one depicting the horrors of war, or even a clip from an adolescent comedy starring Will Ferrell. Oddly enough, it was a homemade video showing a recipe for a dessert, allegedly one that is "quick and easy" and "very delicious." Sounded promising, so I clicked.

The ingredients were appalling and I should have stopped there: 1 large bag of Ruffles potato chips, 1 large can of sweetened, condensed milk, 2 large bags of Tollhouse chocolate chips, and 1 large bottle of caramel sauce.

The chirpy young woman making the video instructed you (me) to crush the chips and spread them into a pie plate, then pour on some milk, add a bag of the chocolate chips, repeat the process and then bake it in the oven, and after it cools, cover the top completely with the caramel sauce. Then eat it, like a pie.

Only when she cut into it to get a slice, it all just mushed together like a big, messy pudding. I wondered, why go to all that trouble? Why not just pig out on potato chips and chocolate and milk and caramels? And of course then I wondered, why do that? Could this be a joke, one of those videos you see that go on forever and involve laundry soap and cake batter and sprinkles and glitter and you never see the end result? So I commented, "Looks gross, is this a joke?" 

Judging by the return comments I received, and am still receiving, you'd think I had written, "Your mother sucks cocks in Hell!" The videographer was outraged that I could be so mean and heartless and unfeeling, not just to her but to everyone on the comment stream, a.k.a. "my viewers," who did not deserve to see such harsh words. You need therapy, she said. You must be mentally ill, she said. 

I'm telling you, young people today are simply not ready for adulthood. Anyway, I keep seeing that mushy mess in my head. I might have to seek therapy.

Must-See TV

Is anybody out there taking the impending presidential election seriously? Or, to put it another way, am I dreaming or is this really happening?

The Republican candidate, younger at age 78, is known to twist the truth to fit the situation and is currently on trial for hush-money payments he made to a porn star with whom he had an affair more than eight years ago. The Democrat candidate, a frail 82-year-old showing signs of dementia, is accused of accepting huge sums of money from a foreign government while he was a sitting Vice President.

The two are set to debate the serious issues facing the country in a televised fiasco airing on, and thus controlled by, CNN, a known left-wing cabal likely to throw the whole thing into question as to its validity.

Definitely must-see TV, the debacle is scheduled for June 27th. Invite your friends and plan your menu, it's gonna be a hoot.

Humanity's Downward Spiral

He's not kidding!

I am 77 years old. I wish I weren't but since I was born in 1946, that's how it adds up. Despite that I'm in good health and work out with a personal trainer and feel relatively strong and healthy most of the time, so it's no big deal. Anyway, that's not the point here. What is the point is that yesterday, for the first time in my long life, and after doing lots of sketchy things years ago and hanging around with plenty of druggies and alcoholics in my youth, somebody called me a cunt!

Actually it was in a comment left on this very blog, and the person wrote it as CUNT! I was stunned, but not necessarily wounded, mostly because it's a stupid thing to say. I am not a vagina! While I do have one, thank God, I am not one, and besides, vaginas are good things. All human beings arrive here through the vaginal canal, and most men, at least the heterosexual ones, and all gay women absolutely love vaginas. All they want to do is get near one and have their way with it. So, okay, it's not much of an insult, like say, being called fat.

But it brings me to my main point, which is that humanity is on a deep dive to the garbage heap of history. The Internet has sped up the process, allowing total morons and idiots to directly interact with people of strong morals and greater intelligence, attempting to drag them down into the muck with them. I shudder to think how humankind will look in 30 years, if it has not yet become extinct through nuclear or environmental disaster or simply wrong thinking by the growing number of unfortunate decisions made by dumber and dumber elected officials. (See illustration.)

Why I Won't Be Running for President

Mayor Bowser spent $270,000 refurbishing the Black Lives Matter street mural. 

There was a time when I thought it mattered, but I no longer care who is "president." As far as I can tell, anyone who seeks the office is certifiably nuts from the get-go. First of all you have to live in Washington, which has turned into a racist hellhole since NotReallyPresident Biden took office and DC Mayor Muriel Bowser defaced the main drag downtown with her Black Lives Matter paint job. But that's another story.

Imagine spending your days surrounded by armed guards in suits and ties and with little squiggly things coming out of their ears, who never smile, at least not on the job. (I dated a Secret Service guy for awhile who was a hoot on his days off.) Also, you hardly have any down time, except for Joe Biden who is always down, but again, he is not really the president. Actual presidents are always in the public eye, their tiniest misstep plastered on the front page of the New York Post. You have to get dressed nicely every day -- certainly as President you cannot go to the post office to pick up your mail wearing PJs and slippers, something I do here in Maine, where I look like everyone else in their LLBean attire. (My PJs are plaid.) 

I know, you're thinking, "But Andrea, the President doesn't have to pick up his mail. Someone gets it for him." Okay, admittedly that would be nice; I do so enjoy it when my husband gets the mail. Also, that private plane with a shower on board and lots of free coffee and probably even a Caesar salad if you ask nicely are definite perks. And never having to go food shopping. But none of that outweighs the threat of assassination, and despite those guys I mentioned earlier hovering about, it could happen. (And has.)

To some, “heroine” seems to imply that “hero” is the norm and “heroine” a secondary variation. They think “shero” is the perfect feminine equivalent of “hero,” even though the “he” in “hero” has nothing to do with maleness.

Worst of all, everyone gets mad at you for things outside your control. Like in Israel, now many of Bibi Netanyahu's former supporters have turned on him for not yet getting all the hostages freed. At the same time, they hold him responsible for the deaths of so many enemy civilians, even though the only way to get the hostages out is through them. What's a President to do?

So all this hoopla and rigamarole over the upcoming election seems like a waste of time and money to me, since the winner will just be another self-indulgent nut job. Until normal, everyday people win elections, things will remain the same. For example, last night I watched a Netflix documentary about 9/11 in which Congresswoman Barbara Lee (D., Cal.) lauded the brave "heroes and sheroes" who entered the burning buildings to save lives. Fact is, of the 343 firefighters who died on 9/11, none were female. Besides, a hero can be any gender -- jeez Barbara, look it up. 

Pinning My Hopes On Fox Pee

I am not a murderous sort. At least, not until today. But now I want to go on a rampage against, of all things, chipmunks, those adorable little Disney-esque creatures I have always thought were so cute. 

Not anymore. My lax attitude around a bird feeder in our yard opened the floodgates and now they are everywhere. It's similar to the Southern border where the immigrants are sneaking through every available hole. I say enough is enough concerning all of them --  immigrants included!

This is not coming out of the blue. My friend Michael told me months ago that they were bad news when I saw him stationed at his kitchen window with a slingshot and a box of BBs. I asked what he was doing and he said, "Killing the little bastards!" I thought that was extreme and begged him, tearfully I might add, to stop. Now I'm begging him to come over and do his dirty work at my house. Alas, he is leaving town for awhile and this can't wait.

A professional landscaper friend suggested fox pee. Yes, you heard me. I already ordered some, pre-packaged for use. (Thank goodness I don't have to get it directly from the source.)

Throwback Thursday: Donald Trump Is Child's Play

While the Democrats are all hot and bothered over a one-night stand between Donald Trump and Stormy Daniels, threatening to imprison him for election interference, let's take a walk down memory lane just to put things in perspective:

Former President and Democrat idol Bill Clinton has been publicly accused of sexual assault and/or sexual misconduct by several women: Juanita Broaddrick accused Clinton of raping her in 1978; Leslie Millwee accused Clinton of sexually assaulting her in 1980; Paula Jones accused Clinton of exposing himself to her in 1991 as well as sexually harassing her; and Kathleen Willey accused Clinton of groping her without her consent in 1993. The Jones allegations became public in 1994, during Clinton's first term as president, while Willey's and Broaddrick's accusations became public in 1999, toward the end of Clinton's second term. Millwee made her accusations in 2016.

And who could forget Gennifer Flowers, with whom Clinton had a 12-year extramarital affair leading up to and including his time as Governor of Arkansas, and Monica Lewinsky, the young White House intern with whom he had oral sex in the Oval Office while he was our sitting President?

Those were the good old days.

Low Crimes and Miss-Demeanors

I haven't tuned in to watch any of the trial coverage for Donald Trump's latest non-crime case, but I have heard snippets on my car radio about the testimony of Stormy Daniels, the slut/call girl/porn star he had a fling with 18 years ago. Some of the the things that the news editors have chosen to highlight reveal just how serious the matter is:

Stormy asked Trump about Melania and he said, "Don't worry about her, we don't even sleep in the same room!!!!" 

Trump let Stormy try on his Super Bowl ring. And it was really big, she could fit two of her fingers inside it!!!! 

Trump wore silk, or maybe satin, pajamas one of the times she met with him in his hotel room!!!! 

Funny thing, I read an article in the Wall Street Journal the other day about how separate bedrooms are becoming more popular with the younger generations, and how they can actually be instrumental in increasing marital happiness. But 18 years ago it was different I guess; back then it apparently meant you should never be elected president. Anyway, I've heard enough. Lock him up.

Anatomy of A Bad Mood

The day starts out fine. There is no war going on outside my windows. We have plenty of food and water, and most especially coffee. The power has not gone out and nobody close to me died yesterday. So, aside from the fact that I'm Jewish and antisemitism is running rampant on America's college campuses, how did I get in such a frickin' bad mood before 8:30 a.m?  Let's see:

My cat, who is 16, used his litter box liberally overnight, only he missed. So there's that to clean up. And why did he miss his litter box? Is he getting so old that he can't even see it? Is he dying? 

The neighborhood gets very noisy very early. Investigating, I see a huge truck parked three doors down. It's a tree service that is spraying for the browntail moth in our neighborhood, a service we bought for $240. (Gotta keep the cat inside until the noxious chemicals dry.) They do the three houses across from mine, and I'm expecting them to pull into our driveway next so I close all the windows. Only they drive off without coming to our house. So I call the tree service company and say, "What's the deal?" and they put me on hold for like 15 minutes and come back and say they have "no idea but we'll look into it and call you back." So I let the cat, meowing noisily at the door, out.

Meanwhile, a woman I met once a month ago finally responded to my invitation to meet for coffee sometime, only her email suggested 9 a.m. at a place I have never been to that's a 30-minute drive (during rush hour) away from my home. Why would I do that for anything other than surgery? I email her suggesting we meet later, but jeez!

The tree guys finally show up at my house to do the spraying, and a few minutes later a different woman from the tree service calls back and says she is looking into why the crew passed by our property but maybe it's because they ran out of chemicals. As she promises to call back and let me know, the tree guys begin spraying in our yard. My bad mood now fully formed, I don't tell her. 

My cat is out there somewhere, I hope holding his breath.

An hour after our trees have been treated and the noisy truck is long gone, the first lady I spoke with at the tree service early this morning calls to say that the guys had run out of chemicals and they were filling up now and would return this afternoon to spray our property. 

You Are What You Eat

Here in Maine, it's fiddlehead season. Fiddleheads are baby ferns. If left undisturbed they would become adult ferns, like the ones you see growing in the forest or hanging in planters in office building lobbies. 

People here get all excited about them. They cook them and then eat them. I am not one of those people. I tried them once and was immediately sorry.

They are also popular in other parts of the world, like Japan, northern France, Indonesia and Russia.

Be on the lookout.

Getting Crude Over Crudités

Despite my best instincts, all too often I wade into the cesspool known as the World Wide Web. The very name bespeaks horror, bringing to mind creepy, crawly spiders or the CIA. Lately there have been videos called Reels invading my Facebook page which I try to ignore but sometimes get caught up in. (Sort of like a web.)

The other day I innocently clicked on one offering a recipe for a healthy alternative to a cheese board, the high-calorie appetizer platter currently "in" at fancy parties. This particular one featured sliced, raw veggies and peanut butter. One of the vegetables was celery cut into thin strips, much like is done when served with dips like salsa and hummus. Okay, fine, sounds good. But then I read the comments section and found that war had broken out! 

One person wrote that celery is not a food, it's a spice, and not intended to be eaten at all. In fact, "it's fucking gross," and she wouldn't feed it to her dog. Another wrote that her baby loves celery. The chorus descended upon her, aghast that she would feed her baby such stringy, stinky garbage! "What a bad mother!" Many people, like hundreds of them, were inspired to weigh in on this topic which matters not one whit. There were pros and cons, with lots of name-calling and insults hurled hither and yon. (Is calling someone an "asshole" because they like to eat celery ever appropriate?) I couldn't look away, sort of like when you see a train wreck.

If people are getting so infuriated and apoplectic over a root vegetable, then there is no hope for our country ever uniting around a political candidate, or anything at all. At the very least we should keep our shouting matches relevant, like about how dumb is Kamala Harris.

Where is Your Focus?

By now, most functioning adults should have realized two things: Joe Biden is a demented fool who is not really making any decisions for our country, and things were much better for all of us under Donald Trump. Anyone who has not yet come to that conclusion is either not paying attention or getting all their information from CNN. I know several people like this, and one even denser person who says she gets all her news from Rachel Maddow.

Another thing most thinking people should know (by now) is that the student riots taking place on campuses across the country have been orchestrated by outside agitators who hate America and are using the country's weakest link, college students, to foment more hatred. In case you don't know this, watch the news. And not just CNN, but all the different news sources available.

Last night FOX News aired several hours of incredible live footage of the campus unrest unfolding at many elite universities involving violence between the so-called "students" and the police. Meanwhile, over at CNN during the same prime viewing time, there was an hourlong special about the kangaroo court in NYC where Donald Trump is being tried for a non-crime, or at least no crime that anyone, even lawyers of any political affiliation can name. 

America's children are slowly being radicalized by Hamas-like infiltrators, but instead of delving into that hornet's nest, Anderson Cooper continues to focus his attention on Donald Trump's one-night stand with a slutty porn star, which took place before he was even in office! Where is your focus?

  

Somebody's Pies For Sale

As a pretty decent baker myself, I almost never buy a pie made by a stranger. I've sampled enough of them to know they are not worth the money or the calories, most of which come from corn starch which is how come they are so goopy. Exceptions have of course occurred, like a last-minute invite to a potluck party or shiva visit, or if I just don't like the recipient but can't go empty-handed. 

But there's a church in our little town that I pass by every day, and on Thursdays they put up a sign outside the front entrance: "Pies: Dinner and Dessert, 3-6 pm." I've been seeing this sign every Thursday for the last six or eight years, but have not gone in to investigate. Today I did. After all, if you don't do something unexpected every so often, what the heck is life for? 

Inside I found four elderly people, three men and a woman, the men in fleece vests, obviously devoted LLBean shoppers, and the woman in a drab raincoat, no label, sitting on bridge chairs having a grand old time chatting. Next to them was a poster-sized menu of their offerings, stating "100% of all net pie revenue goes to local missions." I did have to look up the meaning of "missions" and learned that it has to do with evangelism or helping people in the name of the Christian faith, so it's all good.

I inquired as to who makes the pies, and you'd think I had asked them to name all 50 state capitals. None of them knew, and all were perplexed by the question. Why did I want to know? I explained that I did not want to die of food poisoning without my family knowing who to sue. I was joking, but really, who would eat stranger food without having someone to blame later? Finding out was like pulling teeth, only harder. Finally one of them pieced together a story that led to a website that might lead to an answer. 

Anyway, the pies all cost $30.00 and are quite large. My husband and I are just two people wanting to get smaller. I left there and went across the street to a fancy market that sells smaller chicken pot pies for $16.99, with the name of the bakery right on the box, and bought one of those. Once back home, I googled until my fingers hurt but never found any website of any such pie-producer with the name I had been given. 

Do What You Want, Just Vote Democratic!

Desperate times call for desperate measures, as we've all been told. In their latest attempt to assure a win in November, should they not succeed in jailing Donald Trump before then, the Democrats are loosening laws to gain favor from anyone still breathing. 

First it was shoplifting, allowing gangs of rampaging looters to grab as much as they want up to a value of $900 (but who's counting?) without so much as a slap on the wrist. Then it was immigration, opening our borders to anyone that could swim, slither or crawl over them. And of course, who could forget abortions? Go ahead, kill that baby up to the day before it's born, no problem. As for voting, you don't need no stinking' badges! You don't even have to be a citizen -- just pull the lever for the Democrats and no I.D. necessary. 

"The DEA will move to reclassify marijuana as a less dangerous drug, The Associated Press has learned, a historic shift to generations of American drug policy that could have wide ripple effects across the country."

Now Joe's behind-the-curtain handlers have come up with a great way to get votes from a major portion of Americans: youthful drug users. Not only will they pay off their college loans, but suddenly smoking marijuana is no big deal. I happen to think it's a good idea and it's about time, but no doubt it's being done right now for political purposes.

Hopefully murder is still against the law, but who knows for how long. Decriminalizing that one would really put Joe over the top.