God Works In Mysterious Ways

I have always believed in God. Not some old guy in a white robe with a long beard standing at the Pearly Gates, but definitely some sort of Being In Charge. However, lately not so much.

In fact, today was the day I stopped believing when I read about a nursing home in Pennsylvania where there was an explosion and two people died. Some sort of gas leak, or whatever. But anyway, two days before Christmas these people, ill and nearing the end, being cared for or so they thought, died violently, not peacefully, in an explosion. If there is a God, then in light of this and of course other heinous recent events, one must conclude that He/She/It is not very nice. 

Now I've got to go and find Something Else to believe in, because if we are all just here running our own independent shows, that's very bad news.

Annual Christmas Letter

The Price of Vanity

Thanks to the wonders of modern technology, this morning I was able to read about a 33-year-old mother of three who is currently near death in a coma after contracting a flesh-eating virus following her nose job and eyelid surgery in Vietnam, and a 34-year-old mother of two who died after having a butt lift and tummy tuck in Turkey. Both had travelled from their native countries to save money on the procedures.

Photos accompanying these articles show that both women were very pretty before they opted to make themselves even prettier, but on the cheap. Now one is dead and the other, if she survives, will be dealing with necrotic tissue on her hands, feet and face for "a very long time."

Somehow, many young people today value looks over substance. Still, I wonder why those two cared so much about their looks despite being married women with children. What was the goal -- a good selfie?

Reconsidering Parenthood

Apparently my husband and I really lucked out as parents. We had one child, now an adult, who has not slit our throats, shot us while we were sleeping, trashed our home or robbed us. Instead he is consistently loving and kind, calls and visits often, brings us gifts and wishes us only well.

Killing one's parents is called parricide, a crime that occurs approximately 20 times every year in America. Experts who study such things have concluded that the typical offender is an unmarried white male in his 20s or 30s, unemployed and living with his parents at the time of the offense. 

Besides that heinous outcome of parenthood (recently suffered by entertainment icon Rob Reiner and his wife Michele), there is a growing presence of mothers online who are estranged from their adult children. Several of these women are profiled in today's Wall Street Journal, all claiming that despite having been perfect mothers their children despise them. More and more of them are coming out, posting videos on TikTok and even writing books on the subject.

Cats are nice. Or maybe get a puppy.

Brian Wilson, From the Great Beyond

With apologies to Shakespeare, I must say that the Internet is full of tales told by idiots, often signifying nothing. For example, Brian Wilson died on June 11, 2025, yet he's alive and well online six months later. 

You'd think AOL would have heard that he died, being one of the first American web portals and online service providers based in New York City, and a brand marketed by Yahoo! Inc. What started out as an email provider has morphed into a trash collector where you can still get mail and where I do still get my mail because A, who cares where you get your mail and B, I never get any mail anyway. So I see their trash stories frequently, and they are more laughable every day.

Like today's, about how famous musicians stay fit well into their later years, including Mick Jagger, Paul McCartney and Tony Bennett. And, believe it or not, Brian Wilson, about whom they write: 

"Brian Wilson, the creative force behind The Beach Boys, has openly faced significant mental health challenges throughout his life. His ability to sustain his musical output and creativity relies heavily on proactive psychological care, incorporating regular therapy, structured routines, and personal practices (including specific types of meditation or calming activities) designed to manage anxiety and depression."

"Proactive attention to psychological well-being has fostered the emotional stability necessary to sustain his creative output and productivity over decades. His journey proves that addressing mental health is a foundational requirement for long-term artistic and personal endurance."

It must work for him since he's dead yet is still doing interviews from the Great Beyond. Talk about personal endurance!

Not Exactly Joy to the World

Suddenly there is very bad news everywhere you look. Not that there has been such good news anywhere of late, but in the past couple of days society seems to be exploding, with shrapnel impaling all of us.

The recent shootings at Brown University in Providence, RI, and the terrorist-style antisemitic massacre on Australia's Bondi Beach were enough to make anyone fearful of setting foot outside. But then today we woke up to the news that a beloved Hollywood actor, director and comic genius was murdered, along with his wife, by their own son in their own home, pointing out that staying in isn't always safe either.

Making matters worse, those horrific slayings of Rob and Michele Reiner have brought to the forefront the possibility that our President is losing his mind, as Democrats have been saying about him for years. Being a Republican who has voted for Trump and agreed with his policies, I have often excused his bad behavior as typical political mudslinging. But Rob Reiner wasn't a politician, and thus Trump's heinous tweets on X about his death (Google it) seem cold-hearted and highly inappropriate for anyone to say, most of all a world leader. 

Despite this being the season of Hanukah and Christmas, a time of happiness, joy and peace on Earth, much of humanity is spinning out of control. All we can do as individuals is find something that makes us feel better -- be it faith in God, a gym workout or an Entenmann's chocolate cake -- and hope that cooler heads will ultimately prevail.

He Said, She Said

Regardless of what anyone may think, I work hard to make these blog posts interesting, accurate, fun to read and most importantly, grammatically correct and free of typos. I do it because I love to write and for ten years worked under a diligent Washington Post editor who didn't miss a trick. Then I moved to Maine and found nothing of the sort, so now I write for my own pleasure and act as my own editor.

Thus I was dismayed, disheartened and distraught when The Powers That Be at Google opted to "unpublish" yesterday's post entitled "Transgenderism Explained," for reasons I can only guess. 

Naturally I'm pissed! But lesson learned: Never mock people who change their sex because you never know who's really who.

Stretching the Truth

A news story about a fatal car accident made headlines today because the deceased had acted in a few minor roles on television. Apparently if you are in show business your life is seen as notable regardless of what else you may ever have done.

Sad but true, a 60-year-old customs agent at JFK International Airport was killed in Manhattan last night as she was crossing Broadway at 53rd Street. The 61-year-old male driver who was making a left turn remained on the scene but was not charged in her death. We learned from news reports that he was driving a Cadillac, as if that meant he was rich, careless and with money to burn. Would they have mentioned the make of the car had it been a Toyota Corolla?

The victim had a bit part in one episode of a hit TV series and some appearances in a few others, but had not had an acting job since 2023. Yet the headlines described her as "an actress who starred in The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel", most likely to earn clicks from the show's fans and somehow translate into more money for someone. 

I wish journalists would stick to the truth without stretching it to fit a particular narrative.

Film Review: JAY KELLY

George Clooney and Adam Sandler

I was really looking forward to seeing the new Netflix film Jay Kelly, mostly because I love Adam Sandler in almost everything he has done and he's already received critical acclaim for his role in this one. Once again I learned that professional critics can be wrong, or else they can be bought, I'm not sure which applies in this case.

Full disclosure: I had to shut it off a little more than halfway through. My decision was based on several things: First, George Clooney, the star portraying the fading star of the movie's title, was totally unconvincing, mostly because he can't really act, he just looks the part. 

Next, even the ones who can act, like Billy Crudup as an old friend with a grudge from Jay's past, are awful, because the script is awful. Written by Noah Baumbach (and his wife), it's as usual overloaded with the AUTHOR'S MESSAGE throughout. Okay, we get it -- actors aren't around for their kids when they are little. And yes, they live pretend lives and thus miss out on their own. 

Okay, anything else to tell us? That Hollywood is full of preening vapid people more concerned with making deals on their phones than living real life in the moment? Check. That people in Hollywood live in luxurious homes and fly in private jets? Check. That Laura Dern is very unappealing as whoever she was supposed to be? (It was not made clear.) Poor Adam Sandler as Jay's agent was lost in this mess. 

So was I, so I turned it off.

Once Upon A Time

Once upon a time, people answered their phones without knowing who was calling. Now it's considered rude to call someone without texting them first, since calling is seen as too invasive.

Once upon a time, Americans dressed up to travel, go out to dinner and attend the symphony or theater. Now they wear bedroom slippers and pajamas anywhere and look like total slobs most of the time.

Once upon a time, people accepted themselves the way they were born without a second thought. Now they go to doctors who will cut off their healthy body parts that they think don't fit the way they feel inside.

Once upon a time, there were institutions, or hospitals, where mentally ill people could live safely in a community, getting medical care, hot meals and a bed to sleep in. Now they roam the streets of big cities alone, sleeping in parks or doorways and stabbing strangers in the neck for no reason.

Once upon a time, family physicians wore special white coats to telegraph they knew more than their patients. Now they wear jeans and plaid shirts and don't know as much as A.I. 

Once upon a time, people took responsibility for their actions. Now they just take Ozempic.

Once upon a time, Dinosaurs ruled the Earth. Now it's Man, but for how much longer?

Modern Medical Malpratice

Dear: Andrea This is a courtesy reminder that you have an up coming appointment at Dermatology Associates on 12​/11/2025 at 11:00 AM EST in our PORTLAND office. Please log on to the patient portal for more details. If you need to cancel or reschedule your appointment, please call our office at 207-775-2527. I received the message shown above in my email this morning. Okay, fine , it's two days from now and they want to make sure I'm coming. That's reasonable. But wait -- it's not really fine, since just yesterday I got a phone call from the very same doctor's office reminding me of the very same appointment.  That call came a few days after I received a text reminding me of that appointment. Which followed a text I received about three weeks ago reminding me of the same appointment. A similar onslaught of reminders comes to me from every one of my doctors and my dentist. It's annoying as hell and I believe it to be a form of medical malpractice. So why do they do it? Are more people forgetting to cancel their appointments more often these days or have physicians hired staff to handle their "social media" and this is it? I always confirm when asked to confirm for fear that my appointment will be given away to someone worthier who will confirm. But one of these days when I'm feeling particularly healthy, I might just confirm and confirm again and confirm for a third and fourth time and then just not show up.  That'll fix their wagon.

Can This Marriage Be Saved?

When I first met my husband he drove a motorcycle and I was a motorcycle freak, hopping on one at every opportunity even if I barely knew the driver. (It's a miracle I'm still alive.) He was the Editor-in-Chief of an architecture magazine for which I was the Art Director, which made him my boss. And he was a muscular body-builder with obvious pecs and abs and all the rest. We were both native New Yorkers who loved the city. We also both loved playing Scrabble. And we were both Jewish, meaning funny, smart and into Seinfeld.

That was all 40 years ago, and things have changed. Most notably, we got married. Then we had a baby, resulting in no more motorcycle. (After our son was born I refused to get on one, since finally I had a reason  to live.) No more architecture magazine -- in fact we are both retired and now I'm his boss. As for the pecs and the abs, I know they are in there somewhere but I have not seen them in years, if you follow me.

In many ways, we have grown apart. I refuse to go to New York City for fear of being set on fire or stabbed in the neck or pushed in front of a subway by an angry Palestinian. Mitch still loves New York and wishes I'd accompany him there. Or anywhere, since he lives to travel and I hate flying -- and packing and unpacking and visiting ruins.

Mitch is now heavy into his Jewish roots, even taking a weekly class on the wisdom of the Torah taught by an ultra-Orthodox rabbi. I don't do ultra-Orthodox Jews; any cult where the men dance with the men and the women dance with the women at weddings is too weird for me. Throw in the curly-haired sideburns and the little boxes they tie on themselves and count me out. Anyway, I don't take that class. And lately he's been playing bridge once a week with a group of senior citizens, about which I can say nothing that is not snarky so I'll leave it at that.

Mitch loves politics and thus participates in our local Freeport government, attending many meetings about traffic lights and building setbacks and how tall new construction should be. I do not care about any of that, and in fact avoid going into Freeport at all costs except for sushi.

What I am into is painting. That's it. So I guess you could say I am the most boring one of us. Still, that's the way it is. Notice I did not say "It is what it is." I would never say that. But Mitch says it often and it drives me nuts.

Our one common interest, besides sushi, is our son, for whom we each have undying devotion and adoration. He is now 38 years old and becomes more interesting every day.

So, waddya think--- do we have a chance?

This Year's Role Model?

Is this how young women should look these days?

The cost of a full-page color advertisement in the Wall Street Journal is approximately $327,000. Today the marketing team at the prestigious Gucci design house opted to print the photo above, showing a dazed-looking, anorexic woman, seemingly drunk or stoned and with clothes asunder, perhaps stumbling out of an all-night rave at some hot New York City club, to promote a pantsuit that likely costs almost as much.

Brain Rot

"The Scream" by Edvard Munch

Quick, what day is this? If you said Tuesday, you're wrong. It's Giving Tuesday, the day after Cyber Monday, which came after Small Business Saturday and Black Friday. I am not ashamed to admit that I have not partaken of any of these subliminally implanted "holidays."

More and more, life feels like a "Black Mirror" version of George Orwell's 1984. The Powers That Be, whoever they be, are always conspiring to make us do things, feel things, or see things, for reasons having to do with feeding their needs, not ours. 

For example, in last Sunday's Arts & Leisure section of the New York Slimes, there were full-page ads for five movies cited as "THE BEST!" by someone important, or at least self-important. Of course it follows that they are all also "Must-See!"

Well, I already saw one of those "must-sees" and although it was a successful diversion from real life for a couple of hours, seeing it was not essential to my health or happiness in any way, and in fact I already forgot most of it. But now I'm actually thinking I should see it again it it's so damn good -- maybe I missed something.

Not A Joke

It's not your imagination: Americans really are getting dumber every day. In fact, some teachers are as dumb as their students.

According to an article in today's Wall Street Journal, the one newspaper that still has a modicum of my respect, many teachers are hired despite having had only a C+ average while they were in college. Here are a few more grim facts to consider:

One in eight college freshmen lacks rudimentary math skills, including algebra and geometry. Many incoming students cannot do higher than 8th-grade math, like adding fractions and rounding numbers.

National teaching credential programs require only a C+ average in undergraduate studies. One result of this is that many teachers cannot do higher than 8th-grade math, and instead "rely on calculators and the internet."

Many colleges, like the University of California at San Diego (ranked sixth in the nation by U.S. News & World Report) have lowered their admissions standards to attract more students and thus make more money.

Last year, the College Board shortened their SAT exam to two hours from three to encourage more participation. It also eliminated "long reading passages that might strain TikTok attention spans."

Mediocre students regularly graduate high school with all As, making their parents "feel better about a public school education and easing political pressure for education reforms."

Don't wait for it. There is no punchline because this is not a joke.