What's In A Name?

I finally figured out what is wrong in my life. No, it's not my gender, I actually welcome sitting down to pee. Rather, it's my name. It' so boring and ordinary, although not all that common. Still, it reeks of the old days, when names were normal and just made up of letters of the alphabet strung together. But I want to be with it, now and somewhat funky. So I'm testing out the following:

AN'drya

Awn-dray-A

Raya

A+N/dryiiia

An/dreee'A

Rhoda

I think Rhoda Rouda has a nice sound to it. Sort of a familiar ring. 

Hopefully someone will weigh in.

Is It Something In the Water?

Is this the best they've got?

Seriously, what is wrong with the Democrats? 

Once again they are rallying the troops behind Cackles Harris, former Veep laughingstock and subject of late-night comedy upgraded to presidential candidate after the Loser-in-Chief was exposed on national TV to be a bumbling dunce in need of a nap. 

Is it solely because Harris is half-Jamaican, half-Indian and thus has brown skin? What else does she offer the American people? I am honestly confused.

Even worse -- not that anything could be worse -- if Harris chooses not to run, the next two clowns poised for the nomination are Governor Hair Gel of California and Pete Buttsex, former mayor of a small town in middle America.

According to recent polls and telephone surveys, half the country is brain-dead. I wonder how they got that way. Is there not one decent, smart, non-bizarre Democrat willing or able to serve? Why not? Is it genetic? Are they doomed from birth? 

#1 Worst Career Decision

Quick -- what do Jennifer Aniston, Kevin Bacon, Ice-T, Vince Vaughn, Owen Wilson, Ted Danson, Jeff Goldblum, Jane Seymour and Jeff Bridges all have in common? They are all super-rich actors who drive luxury automobiles, fly in private jets, live in Hollywood mansions with homes in other cities as well and can afford private security, yet they lower themselves to hawk goods in TV commercials. 

Not only are they taking lucrative
work away from struggling actors who need the money to pay rent and eat, they cheapen their own reputations. Apparently being wealthy means never having enough money. I say boycott whatever it is they are selling, including their movies and TV shows.

Dumb and Dumber, Black Version

You can't call a black person "low IQ" even if they have a low IQ without incurring the wrath of the Woke People. So what I'm about to write could get me in a heap of trouble, but here goes: Democratic Texas Rep. Jasmine Crockett is stupid. 

She recently claimed on the House floor that Environmental Protection Agency (EPA) Administrator Lee Zeldin took $750 in donations to his campaign for Governor of New York State from none other than the infamous Jeffrey Epstein. However, public records show the donations came from a completely different person, a doctor named Jeffrey Epstein, and that the donations were made a year after the pervy Epstein died in prison.

Crockett said her "team" did "a lot of digging" to find out that bit about the donations to Zeldin. So she also hires stupid people. Hilariously, I recently heard a journalist on CNN say that Crockett is the current "head of the Democratic party" and plans to run for president in 2028. 

Oh my God, LOL and give me a break. That makes as much sense as Whoopie Goldberg announcing she would "like a job in government" after she leaves The View and hopes to be appointed as a United States Ambassador. 

Hey Whoopie, I think there's an open slot in Haiti.

The Box is Nice, But How's the Pizza?

Corporate America must have a really low opinion of the typical American consumer. I can't say I blame them, but still it's insulting. For example, an article in the Business & Finance section of today's Wall Street Journal reports on how Domino's Pizza aims to lure new customers with its first rebrand in 13 years. 

Before I go further, let me say that I asked my focus group of Domino pizza-haters, a.k.a. my husband, what it would take for him to change his opinion. Mitch was ready with quick answers: "Free delivery. Two-dollar pizzas. Better pizzas. And meatballs."

"You mean a meatball pizza?" I asked in order to clarify. "No, just meatballs. I like meatballs," he replied. With the exception of the last one, his answers made perfect sense. But that's nothing at all like what Domino's is planning. 

Their rebranding will consist of brighter colors on the pizza box, a new jingle in their ads featuring country music star Shaboozey, and a thicker font in their logo. And if you order a pizza with a stuffed crust, it will arrive in an "upgraded, elegant black and gold box" instead of the ordinary red, white and blue they've used until now. 

Anyway, as I said at the beginning, it's insulting. Like they think we care what color those used pizza boxes encrusted with melted cheese and grease are for storing our family heirlooms and important papers. Also, I hate thick fonts and I never heard of Shaboozey.

TV Series Review: THE MORNING SHOW

When it premiered in 2019, The Morning Show was a fun series that mimicked the fallout surrounding TV's favorite morning show anchor, Matt Lauer, who was discovered to be a sexual predator while on the job. Starring Jennifer Aniston, Reese Witherspoon and Steve Carrell, it had a lot going for it and kept my attention throughout the first two seasons. After that it got sort of crazy, as if the writers were making it up on the set, possibly while sniffing cocaine.

Now into Season Four, the plot is meandering but still totally off the wall. The writers may now be tripping on acid. Steve Carrell is long gone, as is any semblance of reality. I doubt anyone involved can explain what's happening, but working as a journalist at a TV station has very little to do with it. 

We watched one episode last night, and all I can say for sure is that Jennifer Aniston, once considered one of the most beautiful women in Hollywood, if not the world, is slowly morphing into Andy Rooney. I wonder, did she ask her plastic surgeon for that result? (See photos below.)

Andy

Jennifer

One Less Turkey

After countless years of getting out of bed early to stuff a turkey and bake two kinds of pie and fix cranberry sauce and green beans and stuffing and mashed potatoes and sweet potatoes and eating the same thing as everyone else for dinner for some reason I don't understand and which isn't even based on reality -- apparently the Pilgrims did not have turkey when they feasted on Plymouth Rock or wherever they feasted -- I am not doing Thanksgiving this year. It's enough already.

I am happy and sad about this simultaneously. Happy because I'm free at last, but sad because I only do it for my son to give him memories of a happy family dinner after I'm gone, but it's never happy. In fact, our biggest blowouts have often happened over this meal. So he'll have to content himself with memories of all the other Thanksgivings I've made since his birth 38 years ago.

Besides, my own mother never made a Thanksgiving meal, not once. She was a terrible cook and would not even know which end of the turkey to stuff and I still loved her anyway. (Fortunately my grandmother could whip up that meal in her sleep, so I was not deprived of this ritual as a child.)

Perhaps if we lived somewhere other than Maine we would be invited to dinner at a friend's house. Alas, that has not happened in 15 years here, where family is all that matters and strangers are considered strange. Anyway, one less turkey will be eaten this year. At least that's something.

Some People Never Die

On the porch at The Island Inn, Monhegan ME, 1970

Today is my dead ex-mother-in-law's birthday. Why I remember the date confounds me, especially when I cannot remember what I had for dinner last night. But then, she was an exceptional person who left a mark. Most people do not.

To begin, Francis Swett Whiting was a fabulous cook. Her idea of a tuna salad sandwich involved first grilling a filet of fresh tuna, then whisking up some homemade mayonnaise and serving it on melba toast she baked from a loaf of extra-thin Pepperidge Farm white bread. 

With that in mind, you can imagine what Christmas was like at her beautiful home in Bedford Village, NY. She got started in mid-September, beginning the long process of making hard sauce for the plum pudding and hand-stringing garlands of popcorn and cranberries for the tree. Fran loved to knit, so each year she created fabulous gifts for her entire family. One year she made cable-knit fisherman's sweaters for five people, myself included.

Besides being very beautiful until the day she died at age 64, Fran was super-smart. Her Smith College education benefitted all who knew her, although she never had a paying job. She won every Scrabble game and finished the daily New York Times crossword puzzle in record time.

She was hysterically funny, with a dry sense of humor that was lost on many. I visited with her a few days before she died of stomach cancer, and she gave me the following instructions: "The day after I die, Lucia Faithfull (widow of her husband's deceased law partner) will come to the door with a casserole for Dick, to console him. She's been hoping for years that I would go first so she could snag him. Don't let her in. And whatever you do, certainly don't eat that casserole -- she's a terrible cook!" Sure enough, Lucia showed up around noon the day after Fran died, casserole in hand. I politely took it from her and said that Dick was resting and not seeing anyone. She left unhappy.

Happy Birthday Fran, wherever you are! I still miss you.

Tell Me Something I Need to Know

I'm so confused. I need answers to the following questions: 

Why should I care about the habits of Jeffrey Epstein, a man who died in prison six years ago and never even held public office? 

Why should we all fret over his private island, his private jet, his sexual deviance, or his friends, whoever they may be? 

Why does a sexually twisted dead man dominate the news, on TV and in print, when so much unrest roils the globe? 

Who cares if anyone at all had sex with underage girls, yesterday or decades ago, besides the parents of those girls? 

How does this story impact the world or our country's national and international policies? 

How does knowing the names of Epstein's associates feed America's starving families, pay their rent and medical bills or further their education?

Looking On the Bright Side

For the past couple of days my husband and I have been moving things out of our bedroom in order to have new wall-to-wall carpeting installed. Included are two large closets full of our clothes and shoes and other stuff we didn't know what to do with. Our son helped us move a queen-sized oak bed, two heavy wooden dressers, two wooden end tables, a large easy chair with ottoman, a TV and a bench. And of course all the art on the walls, not only in the bedroom but up the stairs and along the hallway to our bedroom -- perhaps 50 pieces in all, plus a few mirrors. (We're into decorating.)

This all took a heavy toll on us, specifically our arms, legs and backs. But hey, the old carpeting was stained and starting to buckle, and the new one would be much nicer.

This morning at eight the carpet people arrived to start what was sold as a job that would end tomorrow morning. We planned to sleep in our small guest room, along with clothes and pillows and lamps, etc., just for tonight. But no. What happened instead was the carpet guy, who looked old enough to be somebody's great-grandpa, causing me to question his suitability for carpet-laying, worked for 90 minutes laying down the soft pad that goes under the carpet before going outside, getting in his truck and driving off without a word, never to return. 

We received no phone calls explaining his mysterious departure, but through our constant calls to the Paul White Company in Portland, Maine, we finally learned that the installer left because he had or was having or was about to have a heart attack and is now in the hospital.

Apparently Paul White had no backup plan so there's no telling when we'll ever get back to our regular life. Until then we'll be in the guest room on a smaller, full-sized bed with Mitch's feet hanging off the end. It's not fun and we are pissed about it. Looking on the bright side, I went for a chest x-ray two days ago and learned that I do not have lung cancer, or even pneumonia -- just a lingering cough from the bad cold I had about six weeks ago. 

The Little POS Called Mamdani

Zohran Kwame Mamdani was born into a $28 million trust fund, grew up on the Upper West Side of Manhattan, and attended high school at the fancy preparatory Dalton School, which has a tuition of ranging from $61,000  to $64,000 per year. He then got a free ride at Bowdoin College in Maine because of his ethnicity. 

His rent is free as his rich mother pays for the $14,000/month Tribeca loft. His private security is provided by two off-duty NYPD police officers-- the same ones he wants abolished -- who stand sentry outside his door 24/7.

In 2024 he flew in private jets 47 times while lecturing subway riders about climate change. Just last week he said, "No one should own a second home," in a video filmed inside his third Hamptons property.

Film Review: PICNIC AT HANGING ROCK

What they wore to school in 1900 in Australia.

Quite possibly the absolute worst movie I have ever slept through, Picnic At Hanging Rock defies further description other than the words I just wrote, except that the music is so horrible you've got to keep the sound down low. Or better yet, just shut the damn thing off. There is no reason at all to see it, yet it has been named the best film of all time in Australia where it was made by director Peter Weir and released in 1975, winning all sorts of awards at the time. 

Australia is now off my bucket list.

New York, New York, A Helluva Town

Well, it's official: New York City is now Hell on Earth populated by at least 2 million miscreants, morons and malevolent Mamdani-loving mental midgets who voted for him. The city of my birth, once so glamorous and glittery, has fallen to a pack of snarling dogs bent on its deconstruction. I for one shall never set foot in it again until the newly-elected Muslim mayor leaves office, whether it be by the vote of the people or an act of God or someone who thinks they are God.

What I find most amusing is that the Democrats who elected him are the same ones wailing that President Trump is a "threat to Democracy," yet they have anointed an avowed, unabashed and untested Socialist. Following are two definitions to consider:

Democracy: A form of government in which political power is vested in the people or the population of a state. In a representative democracy, the people cede the authority to deliberate and decide legislation to governing officials. 

Socialism: A theory or system of social reform which contemplates a complete reconstruction of society, with a more just and equitable distribution of property and labor. In popular usage, the term is often employed to indicate any lawless, revolutionary social scheme.

Loners Anonymous Meeting 2025

Our Leader Tom Hanks in "Castaway"

We have not met for quite some time but I know you are all out there -- or rather in there -- and I salute you. While being a loner in today's world has a negative connotation, we all know that it's the only proper way to live. As William Shakespeare said, "To thine own self be true," and blah blah blah. Trying to please others is a losing game. So continue doing your own thing, and above all avoid reading the news, it will only bring you down.

For example, a letter to the editor in today's Wall Street Journal about the White House ballroom now under construction that is getting lots of negative press contains the following sentence: "I don't suppose a President AOC will complain about hosting galas in the new digs next store." It's very frightening to consider that scenario. Hopefully, should that come to pass I will be dead by then. 

Anyway, stay strong, stay home, don't answer the phone and especially the door, and Happy Holidays!

Ballroom, Shmallroom -- What About Mamdani?

The charred remains of the World Trade Center, September 1, 2001

I lived in Washington DC for 30 years. During that time I worked as a graphic designer and had many government agencies as clients. I dated a Secret Service agent for a brief period and a White House press photographer who took me as his date to the annual White House Press Photographer's Dinner. I also was employed by the Democratic National Committee for over a year and attended a barbecue at the official home of the Vice President at that time, Walter Mondale. 

Many of my daily interactions were with government employees. I often went to the Executive Office Building a few blocks from the White House for business meetings. My best friend worked at the Department of Health and Human Services, another one at the Department of Education. We would meet for lunch at their offices quite often.

I went to the Washington Monument, The Lincoln Memorial, The Jefferson Memorial, The Capitol, all the Smithsonian museums, the State Department and the Library of Congress countless times. Not once in 30 years did I enter the East Wing of the White House. I couldn't care less about the East Wing. It makes no difference to me what the heck happens to it. Surely all Americans who never even visited Washington, DC, who never had any doings with that building, feel the same way. 

The only people who care about Trump tearing down the East Wing to make much needed improvements to the White House are Democrats, especially those who work in journalism and in Congress, who spend every waking minute trying to invent ways to smear our President.

Ballroom, shmallroom -- who cares? All the Democrats who are currently wringing their hands over this apparently have forgotten a really bad demolition of a building, that of the World Trade Center in 2001 by Muslim terrorists, and are voting right now for another one to run their city as Mayor. Go figure.

What's Wrong With the Democrats?

I heard on the news today that the Democratic frontrunners for the presidency in 2028 are The Dumbest Loser, Governor Hair Gel and The Bartender From Queens. I'm sure everyone knows who those people are, but just in case I have included photos. (See photos.)

Please excuse me for saying this if you are not an idiot but still vote Democrat in this day and age -- and I know several who are quite intelligent otherwise. Holdovers from better days, they are mostly older folks who stopped paying attention to politics a while back and still think their party has some merit. To all of them I ask: Are you kidding? Do you know about nuclear weapons and that the President has the power to release them? What's wrong with you?

Loser

Hair Gel

Bartender

Staying Home

Before the Internet existed I had no idea how many stupid people there are in the world. Now it is all too obvious, and it's very depressing. Just stepping outside your home is opening yourself up to an encounter with a moron, or worse. 

If you have a home, you are a winner. Fix it up nice.

Potholes

Ira and me in the good old days, circa 1995.

The world today is so screwed up, it's hard to think of anything to write about that is not fraught with division. Apparently humor was banned long ago. (Although Mike Birbiglia is hysterical, check him out -- he has four specials on Netflix.)

 I recently lost a longtime, very close friend. When I say recently I mean on October 15 and this is October 23, so that's eight days ago. And when I say longtime, very close, I mean Ira and I met in 1986. The memories of all the fun times we shared since then are suddenly jarring potholes in the long and winding road of my past. 

I am waiting to "get over it" and will certainly find something amusing, or interesting, or stupid to write about soon. Like how everyone is up in arms because Trump is building a ballroom at the White House, when they should be considering the fact that everyone dies and their time will come, so don't sweat the small stuff. And if you ask me, ongoing construction at the White House is small stuff. 

I would like them to repave my road, however. I do care about that and it's really bad, with actual potholes, and frost heaves and the like.

Film Review: BAD SHABBOS

New on Netflix, Bad Shabbos is a witty and decidedly dark story about an interfaith engaged couple whose parents meet for the first time at the special Friday night sabbath (shabbos) dinner hosted by the Jewish groom-to-be's parents. Time flies by in this 84-minute farcical tale involving the accidental and somewhat gross death of one of the guests.

As a Jew myself I can say the depiction of the Gelfand family is right on the money. The passive-aggressive mother (Kyra Sedgwick) and her wishy-washy husband (David Paymer) typify so many of the Jewish, definitely Democratic, denizens of Manhattan's Upper West Side living in luxury within a stone's throw of Zabar's. Even the perfect challah on the table looks straight from Central Casting. 

I won't spoil things by relating the plot in detail like every other film critic does. Just know that hiding a dead man in the bathroom during dinner will certainly put a damper on your evening, as will emptying the contents of a soup bowl on a future in-law. Everyone except the goyish Catholic visitors from Wisconsin is culpable, including the old faithful Magical Negro* (Method Man) who saves the day. And while they all avoid prison, I'm thinking none of them are going to Heaven.

*The old-fashioned word "Negro" is used to imply that a "magical Black character" who devotes himself to selflessly helping whites is a throwback to racist stereotypes such as the "Sambo" or "noble savage".

Some People Crack Me Up

Honestly, you have to wonder about some people. Like what the heck happened in their life to make them the way they are. 

For example, I was just scrolling through some photos of Diane Keaton on Facebook. She was such a beauty throughout her entire life, yet in the comments section below one photo someone had written, "Whatever could Al Pacino have been thinking?" 

For those who are not slaves to Hollywood gossip, Pacino and Keaton were romantically linked for a while, back in the days when they played a married couple in "The Godfather." But I guess this lady thought that Keaton was not worthy of him. So I checked out the commenter's page and her photo showed an old lady who never could have ever been at all attractive, even in the glow of youth on her best day, yet she's writing trash about Diane Keaton! WTF?

I wish I could understand what makes some people tick.

Old Enough To Die

The recent death of actress Diane Keaton has me upset for two reasons. One, she's dead. And two, she was 79, which is my age exactly. According to the outpouring of grief online, many people are mourning her passing, saying she was taken from us too soon and wondering what was the cause of her death. But many others are saying, "Hey, she was 79, and that's pretty old. That's almost 80! You can die for no reason other than old age, so everyone should just accept it and move on."  

I hope I last long enough to finish writing this post. Anyway, I would like to put the following celebrities on alert, all of them also born in 1946 and thus old enough to die for no reason:

Sally Field

Susan Sarandon

Candice Bergen

Steven Spielberg

Cher

President George W. Bush

Al Green

Eugene Levy

Dolly Parton

Susan Lucci

Cheech Marin

President Bill Clinton

Liza Minelli

Linda Ronstadt

Sylvester Stallone

Tommy Lee Jones

President Donald Trump

Film Review: THE FRIEND

Apollo, played by Bing.

If you love dogs or Bill Murray or Naomi Watts, you should definitely see The Friend, now streaming on Amazon Prime. It's a somber tale -- not at all funny despite the presence of Mr. Murray -- about a lovable Great Dane named Apollo who steals every scene he's in.

I'm not giving much away to say that Apollo is bequeathed to Iris (Watts) from her friend Walter (Murray) following his death. Only Iris cannot possibly take on this huge burden, and I do mean huge, since she lives in a tiny Manhattan apartment with a strict no-dogs policy, and the dog is the size of a pony. Her moral dilemma is the central theme of the movie.

Walter was a writer of some modest fame who had a large circle of friends, an adult daughter who entered his life fully grown, and several ex-wives, all of whom show up at one social gathering or another. We root for the dog, feel sorry for Iris, and cry like a baby for a few minutes here and there. But relax, it's not just some sappy dog movie -- it's more like Franz Kafka meets Old Yeller, but with a happier ending. Peppered with reflections on what defines a friendship and the meaning of life, it's deep enough to warrant a second viewing. 

In a nutshell: The musical score is quirky and interesting, New York City looks enticing and livable, Naomi Watts is once again brilliant, and Bill Murray got really old, really fast. Trust me, you'll love it. Especially Apollo.

P. S. Relax, the dog lives.

A Bright Star Is Extinguished

"I tell myself I'm free to do whatever the hell I want with my body. Why not? I may be a caricature of my former self; I'm still wearing wide-belted plaid coats, horn-rimmed glasses, and turtlenecks in the summertime. So what? Nobody cares but me."

Yesterday's shocking announcement of the sudden death of the awesome Diane Keaton, whose photo and quote appear above, has hit me hard. Just six months older than I, she seemed like a personal friend despite my never having met her. Keaton exhibited many admirable qualities, making her a role model for healthy aging and staying true to herself despite being 79 and living in Hollywood -- ground zero for plastic surgery and phoniness. Just a few of her unique qualities follow.

1. Unlike so many other Hollywood icons, she refused to hide her age or appear younger through Botox, surgery, lip injections, eye jobs or cheek implants. Instead she proudly displayed her natural wrinkles with grace, calling them her "battle scars."

2. Indifferent to passing fads, Keaton always dressed in her own quirky style, never caving in to the ridiculous fashion expectations demanded of superstars.

3. She never married, despite having longtime romantic relationships with some of filmdom's greatest stars: Warren Beatty, Woody Allen, Al Pacino and possibly Keanu Reeves, although that last one was never confirmed by either party.

4. She admitted to having no maternal urge to have a baby, but at some point decided it was a good idea and so adopted and raised two children.

5. She wasn't an alcoholic or druggie, never entered rehab and seemed completely sane, happy and down to earth despite the crazy world of show business she inhabited.

6. Unlike some of today's older actresses (Jennifer Lopez, Susan Sarandon, Goldie Hawn) who still show a lot of skin to stay in the spotlight, Keaton always remained a lady.

The skies above Hollywood are dimmer today.

One Mean Old Coot

He should change his name to Neil Old.

Singer Neil Young, who is now old and crabby, must be really dumb. He has pulled all of his music from Amazon because its owner Jeff Bezos supports our president. He also suggests that everyone BOYCOTT AMAZON!!!! (Like that's gonna happen.)

What a dope. Doesn't Neil understand that perhaps half of his fans are Republicans and love President Trump? These celebrities who think the public cares about their political views crack me up! My advice to all of them is just play your damn music or read your damn lines and keep your silly opinions to yourself.

For the record, I never liked Neil Young, even when he was young. To me it was always Crosby, Stills & Nash, and forever shall it remain.

The First Old-Age Influencer

I recently read about a 36-year old female "lifestyle influencer" on TikTok who has earned tons of money telling people what to eat, where to eat and how to decorate their homes. She joins hundreds of other "influencers" who earn a living by posting videos online, sharing their expertise on certain topics, some of them imaginary. So I figured I'd jump into this crazy world and get rich by reporting what I know about growing older, in the hope that my 79 years of experience might help someone on the bumpy road to assisted living. 

Wrinkles Doctors urge young people to stop smoking with warnings about lung cancer, oral cancer, throat cancer, COPD and the like. They obviously have not succeeded since cigarette smoking continues to flourish; these days the average price for a pack of 20 is $8.00, and can be as high as $12.00 in some states. What doctors should be telling people is that smoking causes wrinkles. I smoked for 40 years, on and off, and now have the skin of an elephant, although thankfully it is not grey. I started using moisturizer in my 40s but that was too late; all it does is sink into the wrinkles.

Stiff Joints I am fortunate not to have stiff joints since I do CrossFit exercises several times a week, and was a runner for 20 years before I had to stop to have hip replacement surgery. So here's the deal: I ruined my hip by daily running, but now I walk and all is well. Exercise is the key, and the only route to a decent dotage. If you never started, boo hoo for you, but start now.

Dying Friends 
Old people die, there's no getting around that. So if you have a lot of old friends, eventually you will have a lot of dead friends. Even worse, you'll have to watch them die and attend lots of funerals. My advice is to befriend people who are about 20 years younger than you, and certainly marry someone at least 10 your junior. Otherwise you'll be hanging out with a lot of stiff-jointed, wrinkled old coots who can never do anything fun because they have a doctor's appointment.

Avoid Obesity Getting fat is the worst thing you can do to your body and will age you faster than every other bad habit, not to mention ruin your looks, if you ever had any. (Old and fat is a bad combo.) To avoid this horrible fate you must eat well, have tons of spinach and other vegetables, don't drink alcohol, at least not much, and stay away from cakes, pies, tarts, donuts, cookies, candy, pretzels, pizza, pasta, chips, dips, Chinese food and anything else that tastes fabulous.

Black Coffee Only Adding cream and sugar, or even just cream, to your coffee is dumb. It will add thousands of calories to your diet over the years, not to mention it's disgusting.

That's all for now. Follow me for more tips on how to stave off the Grim Reaper and look good doing it. Oh, and send me money.

Dummy Dems?

And of course there's Kamala .....

I have a few friends who are still Democrats that I consider to be very intelligent people. On the other hand, I have in the past had many friends who voted Democrat and were prepared to usher in Kamala Harris as their president, and they aren't so bright. I mention this now because earlier today I read a comment online that accused anyone who voted for Donald Trump of being "a fool and an idiot." Naturally I disagree since I did vote for him and believe strongly that I a neither a fool nor an idiot. In retaliation, a few true examples of my die-hard Democrat ex-friends follow.

N. T., a furniture sales rep and mother of a grown son, when asked what her source of news is since she seemed unable to carry on a simple conversation regarding current events, responded, "My husband reads the New York Times every day, and he tells me what to think."

J. R., a nurse in her late 60s and mother of two adult children, would leave wherever she was in time to get him and watch Rachel Maddow's nightly TV news show. She often said, "I get all my news from Rachel. She is the only one who knows what's going on and speaks the truth." (Coincidentally, J. R. was scammed out of $3,000 over the phone by someone claiming she owed outstanding parking tickets, which she proceeded to pay with a gift card per the scammer's instructions.)

M. M., part-time substitute school teacher and ski instructor with two grown daughters, complained bitterly during any burgeoning discussion of politics between us, "I can't talk with you, you are so much more informed than me. You read a lot of news and I am at a disadvantage."

C. B., former clinical social worker, mother of four and grandmother of three, whined mournfully during any discussion of  politics, "You always make me feel so stupid. I can't compete with you, you know more than I do about all this."

Yet all these people were adamant that the Republicans were a threat to democracy and the Democrats would save the day.

I'm No Marxist, But Capitalism Is A Bummer

One of my earliest jobs out of college was creating graphics in an advertising agency. I could tell within a few months that my soul was dying, so I quit. Undaunted, advertising still found me: there's no way to hide and nowhere to hide. The admen will hunt you down relentlessly, demanding you spend money for products you absolutely must have in order to have a fulfilling life.

This ploy doesn't work on me. The only things I need for the rest of my life are food and drink, gas in my car, cleaning supplies for my body and my home, those little inter-dental toothbrushes -- so much better than dental floss -- and possibly surgery when required. Oh, and gifts for friends and family when appropriate. That's it. Yet everywhere I look, someone is selling me something. 

These days TV is little more than a constant parade of commercials hawking new cars, car insurance, life insurance, medication for any disease you have or might get, dog food, cat food, laundry detergent, storm windows, a car windshield, new tires, sleeping aids, bed sheets, weight-loss drugs, hair restorers, dry eye drops, toothpaste or retractable sun umbrellas and garden hoses, all of it on sale just for today and if you order two somehow it costs less than just one.

The Internet is even worse. Whatever you clicked on out of simple curiosity will come back to haunt you 100-fold for days and days. Last night I made the foolish mistake of looking at a pair of black boots online. Since then I have received no less than 30 or 40 ads for boots, all of them black, and it's just past noon.

The phone rings. It's either Spam Risk, Scam Likely or Probably Fraud, selling something, stealing something or asking for a donation. Pardon me while I sob uncontrollably.

Kids Do the Darnedest Things

"By engaging youth at an early age, Hamas establishes a pipeline for future combatants. Reports indicate that teenagers, some as young as 12 or 13, are recruited for various roles, including active combat.  

"This practice strongly suggests that the average age of Hamas fighters could be skewed downward, potentially aligning with the under-18 bracket."

Climate Change Sucks

Finally, it's October! Pumpkins, mums and the occasional stuffed scarecrow are everywhere you look. Halloween candy displays dominate all the stores, especially the CVS where two long rows are dedicated to masks, costumes and lawn decorations featuring monsters, cottony spider webs and styrofoam headstones. The leaves are on schedule,  turning red, yellow and orange. So why is it that right now, at three in the afternoon, on the coast of Maine just half a mile from the Atlantic Ocean, it's 76 degrees outside? And even worse, 73 degrees inside?

It's been autumn for more than two weeks now -- is it wrong to expect that I could wear a sweater and maybe a scarf once in a while? The mosquitoes apparently do not check the calendar. They're out there like it's July, along with the bees and the moths and the wasps, all doing their hateful buggy things. And I swear I got a sunburn while sitting outside with a friend at lunchtime earlier today. 

I have been recycling religiously ever since it became a thing to do. I bring my own cloth bags to the market, never buy food packed in boxes or plastic and walk instead of drive when it's reasonable. Despite these earnest measures, it keeps getting hotter outside and I'm pissed about it. I live in Maine for a reason and it's certainly not the people, it's the climate. Or at least the old climate. This new climate sucks. 

I'm done with it. 

Bullshit Friends

It's not too late to make changes in your life until you are no longer breathing. I am still breathing and so have decided to make some changes. For starters, I have eradicated the non-friends from my so-called "Friends" list on Facebook. The very use of the word on that app is an insult; it should be called Users.

I won't insult whoever is reading this with a textbook definition of friendship, but allow me a little reminder. If you haven't seen someone in the flesh in months, or ever, and they haven't posted recently on your Facebook page, or ever, and they haven't called you on the phone in weeks, or ever, they are not a friend. Chances are they became your Facebook friend just to increase the number of friends they have there, which is as sick and twisted as anything I have ever heard.

Right now one of my dearest friends for the last 38 years is dying of pancreatic cancer. This impending huge loss has put all of life in perspective for me and made me understand that the time I have left is not to be wasted. Not one second of it. Certainly not on listening to someone drone on about their life, their relationships, their disappointments and their health problems, without stopping to inquire about yours.

I'm done with it. And you should be too.

"Some People Did Something"

Muslim women waiting for a bus. (They can't drive.)

The world hates Jews, and I can't figure out why. The only thing I can think of is that Jews don't fight back, the Israeli army being the exception. But one-on-one, a Jew is not a fighter. 

Instead he's a thinker, a rational being, the type of person most hated by the dumb brutes of the world, i. e. Arab Muslims, who are essentially low-level primates who throw gays off rooftops, run over their own daughters for adultery and cut off the hands of petty thieves.

The latest antisemitic act to make headlines happened yesterday in Manchester, England. The attacker, named Jihad Al-Whatever, drove up to a synagogue and rammed his car into a group standing out front, then got out and stabbed someone. This occurred on Yom Kippur, a very big deal Jewish holy day, no doubt making his mother proud. The police were summoned and shot him dead, which is too bad since he deserved much worse -- perhaps a beheading after which his dripping head could be marched throughout the city streets on a spear. Now that would be something to celebrate.

Hey, I can't kill a fly -- really, one was bothering me last night and he's still here today in my kitchen -- but I might be able to kill a Muslim in order to save the world. Of course I'm sure lots of them are very nice. Like Rep. Ilhan Omar, a Muslim who has infiltrated our government and said after the airplanes crashed into the World Trade Center in 2001, "Some people did something."  

What a coincidence, all 19 of the people who did something were also Muslims. 

When Life Gets Boring

Many bored people climbing Mt. Everest.

Here's a tough question: What do you do when you're tired of living but you don't want to die? I find myself in this situation more and more lately. At the age of 79 I can honestly say "been there, done that" to so many things. And as far as the things I have not done, like changing my gender, piercing my labia or taking ayahuasca, they are not appealing. 

Something that is still appealing but is undoable is climbing Mt. Everest. It's very popular with bored people but out of the question for me, mostly because I hate to fly and the flight to Nepal from Maine is 32 hours and 23 minutes. No can do -- I still have jet lag from my seven-hour flight back from England a week ago.

One possible answer is to re-attempt some of the things I have failed at in the past, but this time succeed. So today I will once again open Virginia Woolf's 1927 novel, To The Lighthouse, and commit to finishing it this time. (I've never made it past page nine.) According to reviewers, the plot is secondary to its philosophical introspection, and I could use a little of that right now.

The Lure of Celebrity

My husband and I are great fans of the Amazon Prime series Clarkson's Farm. We watched it about a year ago and especially loved the show's setting: The Cotswolds in Great Britain. So when we made plans for a trip there, we included a few days in that rural area about two hours west of London, thinking it would be fun to stop at the Diddly Squat Farm Store. 

Assuming we would just walk right in, browse around for a few minutes and then go on with our day, we were unprepared for the wild scene we encountered. It was like Black Friday at Walmart. A never-ending stream of cars snaked onto the huge dirt parking lot staffed with men in orange vests directing traffic. A long line of people stood waiting to enter the tiny shop that was about the size of a gas station convenience store in the boonies. 

Having seen the show I knew what was for sale in there: soaps, trinkets imprinted with the show's logo, candles, and some fresh produce and meats from the farm, none of which we wanted or needed. Thus we chose to move on without waiting half an hour or so to finally get inside and buy a souvenir, especially knowing that Jeff Bezos, owner of Amazon, would get a piece of every purchase. 

Why all the commotion? Because Jeremy Clarkson (see photo above) is, or at least was, a TV star in Britain before he bought a farm and created the comic documentary series about his new life. I guess it's no surprise that people are drawn to celebrities like moths to a flame -- forgive the hackneyed expression but that's what it looked like -- even if they are fat old white men. But Jeremy wasn't even there! Still, throngs of people waited for no reason we could understand, and as we left the cars kept on coming. A few photos follow.

Most people stood in front of this sign and took selfies. 

The line of people waiting to enter the tiny farm store. 

Merry Old England

America is going to Hell in a hand basket. Silly as that sounds, since of course it would never fit, my husband says that all the time. And judging from the daily news, he is correct. 

Sign on a street in England for public restrooms.

Returning home after only 12 days in Great Britain, it hit me hard how screwed up things are here. As of August 31 there have been 309 mass shootings in the United States, resulting in 302 deaths and 1,354 injuries. And that's not even counting Charlie Kirk's assassination just three weeks ago, and the more recent shootings in Michigan, Texas and North Carolina.

It's not called "Merry Old England" for nothing -- I was noticeably happier there every day. Okay, sure, I was on vacation -- but since I don't have a steady job, that's of little relevance. What matters more is that their citizens appeared to be happier too, with punctuality and politeness seemingly built into their DNA. Plus they have only two genders, which makes life so much easier. (See photo.) 

Maybe it's all the coffee we drink, while they prefer a quiet cup of tea. In fact, the only negative during my British holiday was the inability to find a decent cup of coffee. But I'd give that up for feeling safe when I leave my home. As things are now, even a quick trip to the grocery store is cause for worry, which by the way does actually work: I recently read that 95% of the things we worry about never happen.

Goodbye

This is the end of this blog. 

Nobody reads it, nobody comments, not even any of my Facebook friends since Debra died more than three years ago. 

Unlike Kamala Harris, I can take a hint.

Eating in England

I have just returned from a vacation in England and from the internet, which is why there have been no new blog posts. To compensate, I'd like to share with my readers some of my experiences, starting with the culinary. While in London, being such an international city, we ate ethnic food daily -- Greek, Indian, Turkish -- and it was without fail fabulous. British food was less so, drab and plain, with the exception of their ubiquitous fish and chips. 

Following are photos showing some examples of how this tasty dish dominates that country -- in London, in the rural area known as the Cotswolds and on The Isle of Wight, off England's southern coast.