Too Sexy for the White House?

Last week I heard a conservative radio talk show host--one of the Rush Limbaugh wannabes--trashing Mitt Romney for his inability to connect with the people. "Come on, this guy never ate an Egg McMuffin in his life," Howie Carr railed. He then went on to explain/complain that, according to reliable sources, Mitt eats the cheese off his pizza and throws away the crust. This apparently means he is not a man of the people, who as we know eat the whole pizza and perhaps an order of fries on the side. Not that Mitt, though--he watches his calories. How elitist!

You'd think the fact that he is so trim and in such good shape at age 65 would win him favor, but it doesn't. Ditto his successful business career, his term as Governor of Massachusetts, his 43-year marriage to his high-school sweetheart and his 16 grandchildren. Plus, if I may go out on a limb and say that while he is not my type (too goyish), he is  handsome--dashing, even--with a fabulous smile and quite a set of shoulders.

For all these reasons, Mitt is despised by the liberals and intensely disliked by many in his own party. (I refuse to believe it has anything to do with his religion; after all, our current president comes from a murky background at best, and nobody is quite sure what his beliefs are.) Mitt is just too damn flawless--that's his problem. After all, if we want "a man of the people" to lead us, he'd better be a complete and total mess, just like us.

A Wolf in Sheep's Clothing is Still a Wolf

Among the letters to the editor in this morning's Wall Street Journal, one from a disgruntled reader complains about presidential candidates Santorum and Romney "going tieless during the day on the campaign trail" and appearing in jeans on national TV. He whines: "The Republican front-runners would do well to get their attire up to the standards of the station they seek."

This brings to mind several thoughts, including but not limited to:
1. I wonder what Bill Clinton was wearing when he employed that infamous cigar with Monica Lewinsky or soiled the infamous "blue dress," in the White House while he was President. I certainly hope he had on a suit and tie.
2. I wonder what JFK was wearing when the Secret Service ferried in all those mistresses to the White House during his presidency. I certainly hope he had on a suit and tie.
3. "Tieless" is not a word.

If only our President would ever keep us safe from harm, lower the country's outrageous debt, reduce our dependency on foreign oil, repair our abysmal economy, raise the level of employment and stop living the high life on the taxpayer's dime--complete with fancy jet planes and over-the-top state dinners cooked up by imported celebrity chefs-- I wouldn't care if he walked around in shorts and flip-flops.

Planned Grandparenthood

As I do from time to time for a good laugh, I recently purchased the February issue of Prevention magazine, one of the rare issues without Michelle Obama on the cover. Intrigued by how I could lose up to eight pounds in three days, and definitely interested in how to make myself heart-attack proof, what sealed the deal was the cover line, "Sexier at Every Age." Hey, who doesn't need help in that department, I asked myself. Once home, the groceries put away, I turned to the article, hoping I could accomplish whatever I needed to by the time my husband got home from work. "A sparkling sex life is something we'd all like to have, regardless of age," it began promisingly. The author went on to describe the advantages and the challenges of "having a sex life that soars" in your 20s, 30s, 40s, 50s.....the end. WTF?

I am in my 60s, so I guess those bratty Prevention editors assume I'm either dead or on life support. But hey--cut me, do I not bleed? I'm still here. How rude--not to mention disheartening. I was wondering how to break the bad news to my husband, until  this morning when I read that the Senate is about to vote on contraception. Huh? Apparently, Democrats argue that access to contraception is a basic right! As such, the current administration seeks to include coverage of contraception as part of all health insurance plans. Well, why stop there, I wondered; what about us aging baby boomers? What are we, chopped liver all of a sudden? In fairness to all, I think the government should insist that health insurance companies also cover the following necessary expenses:
1. Unlimited tubes of K-Y jelly
2. A reasonable number of scented candles per household per month
3. Wine, whiskey, port, or whatever it takes, in whatever quantities
3. Satin sheets, one set per household per annum
4. "Al Green: The Love Songs Collection" boxed set (Available for $13.99 plus S & H)
5. Medical marijuana brownies (Sugar-free and gluten-free when applicable)
6. DVDs of "Last Tango in Paris" and "Unfaithful"
7. Blindfolds

Should the insurance companies balk, they need only be reminded that us geezers no longer require contraception or abortions. Think of the savings.

Bottled in Norway for Maximum Freshness

Like many people my age, I'm falling apart. Fortunately there are savvy businessmen out there who understand this trend among baby boomers and cater to it, offering pills, potions and tonics to slow our inevitable deterioration. One of the more popular of these is fish oil. Fish oil is a hit! Every person on the planet who remembers the moment they heard Ricky Nelson died--or even that he lived-- probably takes it by now.

A daily dose of fish oil is advised by my doctor as an aid to flexibility and a weapon against that dreaded enemy, inflammation. And my own husband, still young from where I sit, is a confirmed user since his exercise cult pushes it on all their recruits, so the bottle is already on hand, taunting me each time I open the fridge. I've been reluctant, mostly because I already ingest so much medicine every day just to tread water, including but not limited to pills for high blood pressure, aspirin for a healthy heart and a handful of ibuprofen whenever the mood strikes me. Besides costing almost fifty bucks for a month's supply, I worried the stuff must taste as bad as it sounds. And how do they get it, anyway? Oil from where? Are the fish harmed in the process? It's just not for me.

But Maine winters are cold and arthritis hurts. Alone in the kitchen, I inspected the bottle. Stuck on top of the cheery yellow cap is a special yellow, lemon-shaped label proclaiming the product's "Great Lemon Taste!" On the front, another label shaped like a county fair Blue Ribbon announces that the International Taste and Quality Institute in Brussels awarded it the Superior Taste Award in 2010.  Lower down, on the bottle's main label, it reiterates Great LEMON Taste! (Notice the word lemon is in all caps this time.) In the small print, it mentions the "refreshing natural lemon taste" and suggests adding it to salads. And of course, natural lemon flavor is one of the listed ingredients.

Bottom line: I took it, it's gross. Not lemony at all, not great, not refreshing, in fact disgusting. Why can't they just say "Tastes Like Lemon Pledge" and leave it at that? What are we, children? I am reminded of when I was a toddler and my mother chased me around the house with a spoonful of that scary-pink Pepto-Bismol, much of it spilling so by the time she cornered me under the dining room table there was barely enough left to do me any good. Well, compared to fish oil, Pepto-Bismol is a walk in the park. (Oh yeah, add P-B to my list of meds.)

John Lennon imagined a world with no religion, no countries, nothing to live or die for. Sounds good, but I would add truth in advertising. Imagine. Anyway, I've taken fish oil every day now, and I must say that after two weeks it still tastes bad, but I am becoming a bit more flexible--I no longer hate Mitt Romney.