Celebrity Owies, Beckham-Style

Yesterday, listening to the news on my car radio, I heard a little blurb about "something going on with the Beckham family."  Since I arrived at my destination and didn't even know who the Beckham family is, I never heard more. Then this morning on the TV news there was a mention about "what's going on inside the Beckham family." They promised to discuss it after the commercial, but I turned it off and went to the gym.

Later, while checking my email, I saw a headline from Vanity Fair magazine promising a "detailed timeline of the whole Beckham family drama." That did it! I had to know just who these people are and what is their problem.

So I googled it and found out that David Beckham is a retired soccer player married to Victoria Beckham, a dress designer. They have four children and their oldest, named Brooklyn, married a woman that Victoria doesn't like. So Brooklyn, who is 26, is crying all over the media that his mommy is very mean to his wife. That is it.

Give me a break with these celebrities who think their having a hangnail is like a non-celebrity getting a terminal cancer diagnosis.

Bring Back Mister Rogers

First thing this morning, happily chomping on my healthy non-gluten toast with peanut butter and half a banana, I read a disturbing article in the Wall Street Journal about a man who makes Jeffrey Epstein look like Mister Rogers. A multi-millionaire and married father of three by the time he was 40, the sick, twisted individual named Howard Rubin maintained a ritzy Manhattan penthouse apartment with two bedrooms, one of which was outfitted as a soundproof sex dungeon painted red. There he enslaved and tortured equally depraved women, using electric shocks and severe beatings, who were willing to offer him sexual gratification in return for a fat paycheck. 

The dungeon was stocked with whips, handcuffs, chains, manacles and worse. But here's my question: Not what's wrong with that guy, who is currently locked up in a Brooklyn jail awaiting trial, or his "secretary" who scheduled all of his dates with those misguided women willing to undergo his beatings and humiliation -- not to mention rape and sodomy -- but what's gone wrong in our society that such people are created by it?

There are so many sickos roaming our world, one wonders how and why they got that way. Surely we cannot blame "bad parenting" for Jeffrey Dahmer's desire to murder young men and then dismember them and eat their body parts. And he was just one of too many to mention here. Circa 2026, tales of horror and psychological depravity rule the day on TV and in books and films. No wonder so many people end up nuts. 

My advice is to stay away from all that shit. Just as you are what you eat, you are what you see, watch and hear. Treat yourself well, as if you are your own mommy. Unless your mommy was crazy because her parents were certifiable, in which case you're on your own. Maybe start watching reruns of Mister Rogers' Neighborhood.  

Bimbo Broadcasting, Barbie-Style

 The women pictured above are flesh-and-blood news anchors at major TV stations, except for the one who is the official spokeswoman for The White House. Below is a photo of their role model, a plastic doll named Barbie.

Bagel Love, Jewish Hate

Line of people waiting to get into Utopia Bagels in Manhattan.

" A bagel is a bread roll originating in the Jewish communities of Poland. Bagels are traditionally made from yeasted wheat dough that is shaped by hand into a torus or ring, briefly boiled in water, and then baked." -- --Wikipedia

Some statistics: It’s estimated that 205.34 million Americans consumed bagels in 2024. The total U.S. sales of bagels in grocery stores in 2021 was $1.54 billion. In the U.S., around two to ten million bagels are sold every day.

I present you with two indisputable facts: A, Everyone loves bagels and B, bagels were invented by Jews. Yes, Jews -- those people the world loves to hate, mock and smear (not schmear, although they do that too), not to mention slaughter, gas, denigrate, demean and attack. Despite that, billions of people across the planet, and possibly on other planets as well, wrap their lips around a bagel at least once a week, if not more often than that. 

Antisemitism reigns while Jewish bagel purveyors rake in the dough, no pun intended, catering to an audience of goyim who secretly and sometimes openly detest them. 

Go figure.

How Much Do You Matter?

An article in today's Wall Street Journal shines a light on the darkest corner of retirement. It's called "mattering," meaning being seen by others as adding value and worth to society. "Sustaining a sense of mattering has become a defining challenge of aging," the author explains. Apparently the loss of this feeling is responsible for most of the depression experienced by retired seniors, which is widespread and growing. 

I have not mattered to society for so many years, I can hardly remember the last time. What I do remember clearly is my conversation with a young woman almost 15 years ago when I was volunteering at Portland Museum of Art here in Maine. A blizzard had been predicted for the next day I was due for my twice-a-week shift at the museum. I told the volunteer manager that I hated driving in snow and thus might not show up since I lived a half-hour's drive away, but that I would call that morning if I wasn't able to come in. Her response was swift and cutting: "Oh, no problem -- you never have to let us know if you're coming in, it doesn't matter."  

Naturally, I never went back. Since then I have taken more than a dozen volunteer positions, bearing in mind each time that whether I showed up or not didn't matter to anyone other than my pets, who of course preferred me to stay at home with them and see to all their needs. 

Sadly, older people don't matter much except to their children, especially those with kids of their own who rely on them as babysitters. Since I have no grandchildren and I'm down to one cat, my life has less value than ever before. Fortunately I'm an excellent cook, so my husband values me quite highly. Other than him, I could probably vanish into thin air and nobody would notice.

How about you? Do you still matter?

The End of Men

Little Timmy

Even though I feel pretty good and still have all my marbles, I am sometimes sad to be my age, mostly because 79 is pretty old and the end is closer than the beginning. But then I take a good look around and see that society is crumbling and worsening day by day, in every way. One really major way in which things are bad is that men are disappearing, and I really love men. Or at least I have in the past.

Beginning in my childhood and continuing until about 10 years ago, Hollywood served up the best men. Thankfully I was alive to see incredibly sexy and handsome actors such as Robert Mitchum, Paul Newman, Steve McQueen, Harrison Ford, Humphrey Bogart, Jimmy Stewart, Clark Gable, Cary Grant, Laurence Olivier, Marlon Brando, Robert Redford, James Dean, Christopher Plummer, Jack Nicholson, Gregory Peck, Al Pacino, Bruce Willis, Robert Duvall, Warren Beatty and James Caan. Most of them are dead now, but their movies live on. (Thank god for British actor Idris Elba, the only real "hunk" acting today.) 

Meanwhile, today's Wall Street Journal reports that actor Timothee Chalamet, that wispy, anorexic-looking slip of a boy who recently won a Golden Globe for something, is, according to Vogue magazine, "The most influential man in fashion." 

Timothee's photo makes me glad to be old. It also explains why so many women today are lesbians. And no, he is not in costume for a movie, he is appearing in his real life on the Red Carpet at an awards show.

Sez Who?

Yesterday I received a comment from Anonymous calling me a "regular moron." This bothered me on two counts. First, it was annoying that the person chose not to self-identify. And second, if I'm going to be considered a moron, I'd like to be a world-class moron, or a big, fat moron, not just a regular moron.

The practice of hurling epithets at strangers online is very popular these days. I do it myself, although I always use my real name and it's only in dire cases, for example when the person is a big, fat moron. I wish we could all do it IRL, like at a party where you're stuck in a corner with someone yapping away with no breaks and you're desperate to escape. That's when a nasty epithet would really come in handy.

So, to the person who called me a regular moron -- please come forward and tell me who you are so I can see just what kind of moron you are.

Stranger In A Strange Land

By all accounts I am not normal, at least here in America. I'm out of the loop, on the sidelines, not in the game. It's not because I'm old, but it's because of something. Possibly it stems from my mother telling me at about age five that nobody knows more about me than me.

Following is a list of things I've never done, have no interest in doing and continue to ignore, making me unable to engage in small talk at parties I don't attend.

I've never heard a podcast, do not follow any influencers and avoid football. I've  never heard a song by Taylor Swift, or Adele or K-Pop or whoever is "it" right now.

I've never read any Harry Potter books or seen any Harry Potter movies. I don't watch late-night TV so have never seen John Oliver, Jon Stewart, Jimmy Kimmel and Conan O'Brien try to be funny.

I have no tattoos and have never had a smoothie, kale or otherwise. I couldn't pick an acai berry out of a lineup and have never had chai tea. I have never questioned my gender and don't understand how anyone does. 

God only knows what has happened to people.

Mark Ruffalo: Pedophile?

Rufflo seen grabbing random child shown texting for help.

I recently had a dream in which the actor Mark Ruffalo, who played a newspaper journalist chasing Catholic pedophiles in the movie Spotlight, was himself a sexual predator preying on young children. A close friend of mine who is a Hollywood scriptwriter familiar with many people in show business said he, "Wouldn't be at all surprised."

The actor recently used the televised platform of the Golden Globes to call President Trump "the worst person in the world." He publicly cited him as a rapist and pedophile, based on no evidence. I'm using that same yardstick to call Ruffalo a pedophile.

Even Barbie Has Autism

Autistic Barbie

If you can believe it, Mattel just came out with Autistic Barbie. That's so all the autistic kids who play with dolls can feel better about themselves and feel included. Or that's the story the doll's maker is selling. But wait, can you tell someone is autistic just by looking at them? No. To compensate, this new Barbie has moveable elbows and wrists that can flap around and wears headphones that are supposedly noise-canceling. (What, no helmet for the head-bangers?)

Autistic Barbie joins Barbie in a Wheelchair, Curvy Barbie (she's supposed to be fat but looks about 10 pounds overweight, we are not talking morbid obesity), Blind Barbie, Down's Syndrome Barbie and of course Barbies of all skin colors. 

What about Muslim Barbie, dressed in a Burqa? Or Hamas Barbie wearing a bomb-carrying backpack? Or Jewish Barbie with a big nose? Transgender Barbie with a penis? A bald-headed Cancer Barbie, with an IV pole included? And don't leave out just plain Ugly Barbie with a paper bag over her head. Come on Mattel, if you want to be inclusive you've got to include everyone.

All Barbies are deaf, dumb and mute, so that's covered.

Film Review: THE BRUTALIST

Adrian Brody riding a bus.

The Brutalist won its star Adrian Brody a Best Actor Oscar in 2025, and thus has topped my list of must-see movies since then. The problem was finding the time to accommodate its 3½ hours without having to stay up until dawn. Finally we made a commitment to have dinner early some evening, and last night was it. We were psyched, especially since it concerns a Jewish architect right after the war and my husband graduated with an architecture degree and we are both Jewish.

Taking my cue from the title, it was definitely a brutal 3½ hours. Also depressing, often boring, sometimes gruesome and always hard to follow as the convoluted story jumps around willy-nilly in time and place. It's chock full of sex scenes that are highly invasive, what with close-ups of pulling on penises and licking of vaginas and anal entry and even male-on-male rape. And let's not forget heroin addiction. Sound good?

Beyond that, the film's young director (and writer and producer) Brady Corbet has apparently not yet learned how to use the editing tools that are surely readily available in his field. How else to explain so many long scenes with lots of talk but nothing happens, where ridiculously inappropriate music accompanies dark, indecipherable images, and where questions are raised but never answered. For example, what the heck happened? 

On the plus side, it's a Holocaust movie but there are no scenes in death camps, no open pits full of dead Jews and no Germans, so I guess that's a win. Despite that good news, you should see it only if you are strapped onto a gurney in a hallway of an ER without access to a remote.

Now that's brutal.

Marco Rubio Still Sane

 Rep. Rosa DeLauro of Connecticut, testifying in Congress. 

It's pretty clear that for many people, working in politics causes mental illness. There are plenty of examples, most notably our ex-president Joe Biden, who lost his mind publicly while in office, and his VP Kamala Harris, who certainly should be institutionalized before she hurts someone. Others of note who are apparently off their rockers are Reps. Jasmine Crockett, Maxine Waters, that woman with the purple hair Rosa DeLauro and Marjorie Taylor Greene, who thankfully resigned. 

Many others who have served in government in the past were also certifiable. Is it something in the water on Capitol Hill that makes them nuts? For instance, did Bill Clinton think it was a good idea to have sex in the Oval Office with a young intern less than half his age? Did Teddy Kennedy feel okay about leaving a woman to drown inside a vehicle after he drunkenly drove off a bridge in Chappaquiddick? And what was Secretary of Homeland Security Kristi Noem thinking when she wore her $50,000 Rolex on a visit to a hellhole El Salvador prison?

Now it seems that President Trump is going down that road, as evidenced by his recent bizarre act of sticking his name onto the Kennedy Center for the Performing Arts in our nation's capital. Even worse, he opted to put his name first, so it's now the Donald J. Trump and John F. Kennedy Memorial Center for the Performing Arts. For what purpose? And how come nobody close to him stopped him?

We can only hope and pray that the current Secretary of State and still-sane Marco Rubio drinks only bottled water.

Do You Have What It Takes to Be A Protester?

Yesterday, a 37-year-old woman with a six-year-old child at home decided it was a good idea to drive downtown in Minneapolis and join a growing protest against government ICE agents sent to keep the peace. She's dead now.

Hmmm .... this is a quandary. The whole thing seems wrong, since protesting against keeping the peace is at best counter-productive. Also, you could get killed, like that woman, making your child an orphan for the sake of some unknown Somalians. But hey, you hate the fucking Republicans and even though you never even met a Somalian in person and don't really want to, this is your chance to stick it to the man!

This happens all the time, as we know. In fact it happens constantly! Who are these protesters, and what the heck are they thinking? So to help you figure out whether you've got what it takes to be one, I have devised this simple multiple-choice quiz which will take just a few minutes to answer. 

1. You are at home happily eating breakfast and scrolling the Internet when you learn about a violent protest just a few blocks from where you live. ICE agents are arresting Somalian immigrants in your neighborhood! What should you do?

a. Drop your bagel, grab your coat and drive over there immediately.

b. Finish eating, take a shower and check later to see if it's still going on.

c. Run to your bedroom, lock the door and hide under the bed until dark.

2. You're shopping in the grocery store a mile from home and notice that a crowd has gathered out front. People are holding signs and shouting. There are ICE agents arresting Somalian immigrants in the area! What should you do?

a. Continue shopping.

b. Finish shopping, pay for your groceries, put them in your car and then join the crowd of chanting protesters.

c. Leave everything, rush home, lock the door and hide in the basement until dark.

3. A friend texts you at work that there is a huge protest downtown, and suggests meeting you there. ICE agents are arresting Somalian immigrants and others in the streets! What should you do? 

a. Hurriedly grab a pre-printed protest sign from the supply cabinet, let your boss know you are leaving for a few hours, and get there as quickly as possible.

b. Tell your friend you can't go because you are on a deadline, but you would if you could.

c. Text your boss that you aren't feeling well, leave work and drive the six miles home, lock your doors and hide there until dark.

If, like me, you answered C to all the questions, congratulations -- you will remain alive and not in prison for the foreseeable future. If you checked anything else, get out there and protest to your heart's content, bearing in mind that it will accomplish nothing and you might die.

What Do You Care About?

I could never be a celebrity because the absolute last thing I worry/care about is what other people, especially strangers, think of me. Here's my list of things I do care about, in order of their importance.

1. My health

2. My son's health 

3. My husband's health 

4. My cousin Brian

5. The happiness of my cat

6. The health of my friends

7. The local weather

8. Mosquito bites

9. The state of the world

10. Local crime

11. How fat I am

12. My latest painting

13. My next flight

14. Getting food poisoning

15. Doing the laundry

16. Cleaning the bathrooms

17. My hair

18. What to make for dinner

19. Getting old

20. Car trouble

21. The health of Donald Trump

22. Bees

23. Dropping dead suddenly

24. The growth of antisemitism and ending up in a gas shower

25. What people think of me

Spending Time vs. Killing Time

It's ironic for me to suggest that you turn off your computer or cell phone or iPad or whatever the heck you are reading this on and go for a walk, or take a bath or read a book or do anything else for Christ's sake, since I am writing this on my computer so how else would you be reading it. But there it is. The sad truth is that technology rules the day, even though it is squashing our spirit, ruining our health, making us stupid and most probably fat. 

Take me, for example. In my younger days I would read a book at bedtime to relax, adding to my knowledge or understanding of the world in some way. Now I play Words With Friends like a heroin addict, telling myself "just one more" until an hour has flown by, or exchanging insults with strangers about politics, or scrolling videos of adorable puppies like a moron. 

Surely this cannot be good for me, especially at this point in my life. In six months I will turn 80, joining the fastest-growing age group in the U.S. (More than 12.7 million Americans are 80 or older.) Despite feeling younger, thinking younger and even behaving younger, the reality is I'm nearing the end. While I shake my head in disbelief at how the younger generations waste their time online, I'm no better.

Yesterday my friend Ted -- we have never met in person but still I consider him a good friend -- texted me that he was "taking a vacation from Facebook" because it was eating up too much of his time. I wish him well and hope he finds something worthy to fill all the hours he will gain. Still, I hope he'll keep reading this blog, although I'm not sure why it matters -- or even what matters. But surely going for a walk, reading a book or making a pot of soup are better ways to spend time, rather than killing it mindlessly online.

Good luck out there, Ted!

We're All in the Dark Together

Growing up, I can remember watching the news and believing every word of it. I never got even a whiff of how the on-air reporters felt about the things they said. In my teens, TV journalists appeared so honest and fair that I developed girlish crushes on a few of them. Garrick Utley was my favorite, but there was also Walter Cronkite, John Chancellor, Ted Koppel, Tim Russert, Jim Vance (local to D.C.), Chet Huntley and David Brinkley. I had no idea what their party affiliations were as they delivered the news without any spin.

Today journalists don't try to hide their feelings. News readers like Anderson Cooper on CNN, Jesse Watters on FOX, Judy Woodruff on NPR, and especially that most repulsive creature Caitlyn Collins on CNN make no pretense of which team they favor. Consequently I don't take any of them seriously. 

The result is that nobody knows what the heck is going on anywhere, which is a contributing factor in the ignorance of the population, myself included. Yet each biased news organization has its devotees who swear that their truth is the real deal. The New York Times may be the worst offender, with an anti-Trump agenda so huge that it clouds any legitimate information they may present concerning world events. 

Alas, "we the people" know nothing for sure. Get that into your head and you will finally stop arguing with people with opposing viewpoints. We're all in the dark together, facing a common enemy, so we might as well play nice. 

Who Cares What You Think?

Thousands upon thousands of people post their random thoughts, political opinions and undying love for their kids/spouses/pets as if anyone gives a hoot about it or them. The same is true, of course, for this blog. I am under no illusions that what I think matters to anyone except perhaps my husband, and note that I say perhaps, if it is something that involves him. Yet the internet is awash in so much blather.

I write this blog so I can have something to read when I can't sleep and more importantly, proofread and edit, two things I love doing. I don't need anyone to applaud it or approve of it or most of all tear it down. Every so often I write something funny and maybe it makes someone somewhere laugh, and that's good. It also serves as a place to vent, rant and throw up on paper instead of in real life, which I need to do every so often but refuse to do because it is so repulsive. (Throwing up.)

Today I am feeling nauseous over being surrounded by people who are so lacking in so many things, most notably driving skills, deep thoughts, common courtesy and critical thinking. In my town the ditzy Democrats love transgenders, wallow in TDS and think our recent actions in Venezuela were not nice to Maduro, who after all was just minding his own business in his own country when the big, bad Americans came for him.

On the other hand, there is no traffic here and not too much crime, although it's been gradually increasing since the influx of all those peaceful undocumented immigrants. So, nothing funny today, except the cartoon. Actually that isn't even funny, it's too cynical. Here's a better one:

.

Living With FOM

Muslim women all dressed up with nowhere to go.

Some people have FOMO, which means Fear Of Missing Out, which I don't have because there is nothing worth having that I might miss out on by not attending, or listening, or watching anything. Instead, I have a shortened version called FOM, which means Fear Of Muslims. (I know they are vastly different conditions but I'm playing with the fact that they share the first three letters.)

Why do I fear Muslims, you ask? Mostly because so many of them -- not all of course -- are evil, sick and twisted, espousing the murder of every Jew on the planet. They throw gays off rooftops and chop the hands off of thieves and run over their own daughters in their own damn driveway if they engage in sex before marriage. (That actually happened in Maryland a few years ago.)

They wear sheets and towels and curtains as clothing and make their women cover their heads, faces, arms, and sometimes their entire bodies when out in public. They don't allow women to drive cars, let alone leave the house. They don't permit women to attend school and become educated. 

The misguided and dense Democrat New Yorkers, including the Jewish ones who buy bagels at Zabar's on the Upper West Side, just elected one of them to be their mayor. During his campaign he vowed to arrest Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu if he ever sets foot in that city. And on his first day in office (yesterday) he repealed a long-standing city law banning the boycotting of Israeli products. (I hope he doesn't rely on Waze, formerly FreeMap Israel, when he's lost somewhere in the Bronx or Staten Island, since it was made by an Israeli software company.)

I could go on I'm already worried this post will be "unpublished" by the bots at Blogger who probably also have FOM -- who doesn't? 

Kwik, It's Kwanzaa!

You say kenora, I say menorah.....

This morning as I hung up my 2026 calendar -- the only difference between this year and last -- I learned that not only is this New Year's Day but it is also the last day of Kwanzaa! OMG! Who knew?  Nobody, that's who. Did you ever once hear anyone say "Happy Kwanzaa" these last few weeks? Me either. 

The holiday was invented in 1966 by an African black separatist (how nice) named Maulana Karenga who believed that Jesus Christ was psychotic and that Christianity was a white religion that black people should shun. 

Some studies suggest that certain racial minority groups, including young Black Americans, may hold more negative views of Jews compared to other demographics, but this does not represent the views of all Black people.

-- Cambridge University Press 

Wait, it gets better. Rather than constructing their own handcrafted candleabra, God forbid a million times they should do something original, Karenga "forcibly removed two branches from a Hanukkah menorah which was then used to hold the seven candles. He called it a kenora.* (I wonder how he came up with that word.)

Karenga said his goal was "to give black people an alternative to the existing holiday of Christmas." So he invented a holiday for black people to celebrate themselves and their history, "rather than simply imitate the practice of the dominant society." * 

To all the black people reading this, get out there and celebrate yourselves today before it's too late! But please, no rioting.

* Wikipedia