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. 

The Worst Person in America

Not only is she fat and ugly, she's stupid too. One-time comedian Whoopi Goldberg, whose real name is Caryn Elaine Johnson -- and she is not Jewish, she just picked a name she thought would get her some attention -- said on national TV that the reason for high food prices has nothing to do with Joe Biden or Kamala Harris or inflation, but it's because, "grocery store owners are pigs."

Way to alienate the little guy, Whoopi. I'm guessing you don't do your own food shopping, although it's obvious someone is doing it for you -- and a lot of it.

Now, didn't you promise to leave the country if Trump won -- again? If you need any help packing I'm sure hundreds of thousands of Americans would be thrilled to lend a hand.

Good Riddance to DEI's KJP

I'm quite happy Donald Trump won the election for so many adult reasons that promise me a better night's sleep, among them lower prices at the grocery and gas pump, fewer illegal drug lords, gangs and fentanyl crossing our borders, greater assurance of peace in the world and far less fear about World War III breaking out.

But there's another kind of reason that is less grown-up but just as big: No more Raggedy Ann at the White House press conferences! KJP, or Karine Jean-Pierre, or whatever the heck name you want to use, will be outta here! Not for long I suspect as she will surely follow in the footsteps of every other White House Press Secretary and end up as a talking head on some cable channel, spinning her insider knowledge into a million-dollar salary. But at least I won't have to watch.

My advice to KJP, who was obviously chosen by Biden's team because like Kamala, she is black and female (and with the bonus of being gay), is to do something with that hair! It looks like a wig and maybe it is, but it's so wrong for any human over the age of three, although perfectly fine for a plastic doll. Next, she should lose the sparkly eye-shadow that always matches the color of her clothing -- usually bright pink or bright orange or bright green or bright turquoise. 

Besides her looking like a child, KJP never came armed with much insight or information concerning the President, often responding to questions from the press with, "I have nothing for you on that." Hopefully Trump will pick someone with brains and an ability to reason and not another poster child for DEI.

The Politics of Personality

All the pundits and talking heads are busy yapping about why Trump won, wondering how a "twice-impeached convicted felon" could possibly sway the public and become the leader of the free world. Economists cite taxes and tariffs while opinion writers point fingers at Joe Biden's late exit from the race. They all miss the truth, which is simply that Trump has a great personality and his supporters love him. 

Arriving dressed like a garbage collector at one of his last rallies, Trump described how hard it was for him to climb up into the cab of the garbage truck. In front of thousands, he was self-deprecating and jolly, and uttered the phrase we all say all the time: "Oh, shit!" The crowd roared, and I realized right then and there that he would win the election. When he said he liked the outfit because someone told him it was "slimming," that sealed the deal. 

Despite his fabulous wealth and incredible life history, Trump has remained a real person with that great, outsized New York personality. He's often raucously funny and says what everyone's thinking, whereas Kamala Harris is one of those plastic manufactured dolls you find in toy stores, the kind with a string coming out of her back. Pull it and she says one of the following implanted phrases: "I grew up in a middle class family, I offer an opportunity economy, We have more in common than what separates us."

The sore-loser Democrats console themselves by thinking Harris lost because she's a woman, or because she's black, and America just isn't ready for that. They're wrong. Harris lost because she's a plastic dummy with an empty head. Lacking the ability to see herself as others see her, she laughs like a crazed hyena even when nothing is funny, perhaps to show off her only true asset: great teeth. 

Sour Grapes Never Tasted So Sweet

I couldn't manage to stay awake last night to see the election results, but when I went to bed Donald Trump was decidedly ahead. No matter, I told myself -- the very same thing happened in 2020, and when I woke up the next day I was shocked to learn that he had lost. Figuring they would just do again whatever they had done back then, I drifted off to sleep. But miracle of miracles, this morning I awoke to the news that Trump had won! 

I was happy, to say the least, especially because I would not have to see or hear that horrible harridan Harris anymore. Democrats are not happy, and today they are unleashing their bitterness on the world. Following is a tiny sampling of their very delicious sour grapes.

"People woke up this morning with a big dream. They are going to wake up tomorrow in a nightmare." -- Van Jones, CNN reporter

"This is why some of y’all states be getting hurricanes. I hate y'all bad.” -- Cardi B, rapper and linguist

“Fasten your seatbelts, it’s going to be a bumpy America.” -- Maureen Dowd, New York Times columnist

"It is hard to imagine a candidate more unworthy to serve as president of the United States than Donald Trump." -- New York Times editorial board

"I was so hopeful that a mixed race woman married to a Jewish guy could be elected president of this country, and I think that it had nothing to do with policy. I think this was a referendum of cultural resentment in this country. -- Sunny Hostin, co-host on "The View"

“Why? Give me your reasons why????? My child is sobbing because her rights as a woman may be taken away. And if you disagree, please unfollow me.” -- actress Christina Applegate, post on X

“The fact that the country would choose to destroy itself by voting in a convicted felon rapist and Nazi is a sign of deep nihilism. To put it mildly.” -- actor John Cusack, now-deleted post on X

No Matter Who Wins

For a few more hours, each of us can hold out hope that our candidate might win. It's a scary time. As one media person described it, people everywhere are feeling "nauseously optimistic." 

Today at the local polling place where I worked the early morning shift, there was no talk of politics. It was the first time in months that I didn't hear the word "Trump". Of course those were the rules we poll workers had pledged to follow: No political talk, keep an upbeat attitude, smile at everyone and report any suspicious activity.

Despite trying, I found it harder and harder to smile at everyone as the day wore on. Seeing hundreds and hundreds of members of the public parading by, stopping at my station to check if they were registered to vote, I saw clearly that the average American is really fat and unhealthy-looking. Even the young people looked old and gray. By the time I got home I was very disheartened, and not because of politics.

Moral of the story: No matter who wins the election, we all can and should strive to be our best selves. This means lose the fat, eat healthier, stop smoking, exercise often, and hug a Republican daily. 

The End Is Near (Thank God)

Okay, it's just 24 hours until an election takes place with so many available loopholes and avenues of deceit, only an incurable Pollyanna would think the results will reflect the will of the people. (Dead people mailing in ballots, mailboxes full of ballots set on fire, ballot boxes thrown in a river. Oh please.)

Nevertheless, tomorrow I will participate in the charade and work at our local polling place from 6:30 in the morning until 2 pm. All I ask is that nothing crazy happens, like for example Kamala Harris becomes the president. 

The good news is that it might finally be over and we can all get back to thinking about other things.