Come On People, Get a G-word!

President Obama, who is himself a black man, in discussing racism in America, used the N-word! Oy! The news media is going crazy! They bleep it out when they show him saying it!  Following the massacre of nine people in a church in Charleston by an F-wording M-word, the president said "nigger" while discussing the sad reality that racism still exists in America despite all the progress that has been made since the days of slavery. But the fact that he actually uttered that six-letter word does not mean he hates black people! He is one! His wife and daughters are also!

Obviously the world has gone C-word over the N-word. People are A-words, and getting D-worder and D-worder every day. Honestly, I am embarrassed to be alive in this I-word country full of B-word-D-worded M-words.

R-word.

How Stupid Can You Get?

Growing up I had a first cousin a few years older than me who I always loved. Allen's mother and my father were siblings. I loved his mother almost more than any other relative, and his sister was great too. They were a grand bunch, and I was always happy to see them. Later on, as adults, Allen and I reconnected from time to time, usually over the death of a family member. Eventually Facebook kept us in touch, and we chatted happily on the phone every few months.

I visited with Allen and his wife a couple of years ago on a trip to Florida and it was a heartwarming reunion, if nothing else. We had become different people, still our childhood ties and deep affections remained strong. But then I wrote a blog post that said something negative about a Democrat -- what else is new -- and my cousin's grown daughter, a knee-jerk liberal (and I do mean jerk) who I never met took offense and left a nasty comment. I returned her serve and next thing you know, Allen decided he could have nothing more to do with me because he had to "side with his daughter."

I often wonder if Allen, no spring chicken even then and not in the best health, is still alive. It's a shame that we were denied the opportunity to share our Golden Years because of petty differences about silly politicians to whom we mean nothing. For example, I'm pretty sure that Hillary Clinton will not be attending Allen's funeral. And now, neither will I.

Why I'm Not Running for President

Being president seems like a drag because: 

I would never make empty promises written by other people.

I hate getting dressed up and fixing my hair every day.

I'm used to paying my taxes every year.

I could never have anyone killed.

I have never bribed anyone for my own personal gain.

I would hate having people following me all the time.

I find constant travel silly.

I couldn't stand hanging around with all those old coots in Congress.

I would hate living in the White House.

I like cooking my own meals.

I avoid fancy parties whenever possible.

I like driving my bright red Audi.

I need a lot of down time.

I would never be a guest on any TV show.

I cannot stand Oprah Winfrey.

On the other hand:

I would kvell to have brunch with Benjamin Netanyahu.

It would be fun to meet the Pope and ask him why he dresses that way.

I could have Jackson Browne over to the house for a private concert.

I would have Louis CK open for Jackson Browne.

Flying on Air Force One seems a lot better than the middle seat in coach.

It would be fabulous to have a private movie theater in my home.

I would have high tea with David Cameron and invite Helen Mirren and Mick Jagger.

I would nuke all the countries with branches of ISIS.

I would tell Netanyahu I was planning this over that brunch.

Make Better Choices

Some things in life are not optional; we have no say, like it or not they will still happen to us. These include hunger, sleep, all the usual bodily functions, and of course death. Everything else we do is a matter of choice.

Imagine making only good choices! Don't eat that crummy junk food that will gunk up your insides, eat this healthy stuff instead and improve your digestion. Don't watch that scary movie that will keep you up nights, see an inspiring one that will help you be your best self. Don't go boating in a thunderstorm, check for ticks after a walk in the woods, take your medications on schedule, avoid taunting pit bulls, don't try heroin even once, steer clear of shark-infested waters, take a map and a candy bar, always meet the parents, etc, etc.

But for some unknown reason, I and many people like me make horrible choices and then complain bitterly about the vicissitudes of life. This behavior must stop right now. The clock is ticking.

Right or Wrong, We're All Gonna Die

Dark Check Homing Pigeon

Who cares what you think? And who cares what I think? There are billions of people covering the planet and they all have their own opinions. Is any one of them more valid than another?

Last week I had dinner with a small group of women, all of us former newspaper writers and editors. In conversation I said something about how I would "hone in on" something. One of my dinner companions corrected me, saying that what I meant to say was "home in on." She followed up with an email the next day, explaining "you can hone your skills, meaning sharpen them, but you home in on something (think of a homing pigeon--that's what it's from)." Fine, that was her opinion, I thought. I kept mine to myself. I did it again when she corrected me about Google, which I recalled as a completely made-up word the first time I heard it while she said it was already a real word, obviously confusing it with "googol," which means 10 to the 100th power, whatever that is. Still, she was sure of herself and I was not.

Then this morning, my husband, a former Editor-in-Chief of several serious publications for about 20 years, recounting an anecdote used the term "hone in on." I asked him about it. He validated my opinion. Aha -- vindication! But you know what? Who cares. My life is unchanged whether I was right or wrong. And yes, here I am writing about being right. Still, my days are numbered either way.

Brooklyn Genes

The original Nathan's in Coney Island, site of my kidnapping at the age of four but I love it anyway.

If only I had been born somewhere else, I'd be so much healthier today. For example, using data culled from the World Bank and the World Health Organization, Qatar has been rated the healthiest nation in the world, sharing the Top Ten Healthiest Nations spotlight with Japan, Australia, Sweden, Norway, Austria, Iceland, Switzerland, Luxembourg and Singapore. Alas, I was born in Brooklyn, which while not technically its own country, should be.

Living in Brooklyn contributed early on to my poor health with establishments like fabulous pizza parlors on every corner, Junior's Cheesecake which is unparallelled on any planet and Nathan's French fries and hot dogs, a legend in their own time. While I only lived in that famous borough of New York for the first year of my life, my parents lived there for many years before my birth and surely had dedicated fat cells well established to accommodate these foods. Naturally they passed those on to me. While I'm not fat, I have plenty of other things wrong with me, likely dating back to infancy and the abuse of my otherwise perfect cells starting on Day One.

If I could do it all again I would be a baby vegetarian and have kale smoothies in my bottle. But I can't, so instead I take three kinds of medications daily which haven't really done much in the way of curing what ails me. Frustrated and tired of not feeling better, I recently began seeing an acupuncturist and just returned from my third treatment. Before I went today, my blood pressure reading was 206/95. When I got home it was 104/66.

In case you wondered, acupuncture does not hurt, not even a little. It is very relaxing. The cost is covered by some insurance plans but not all. Besides making you feel better instantly, you get an emotional boost from feeling open-minded and brave and a tad cutting edge. It's only about a thousand times more satisfying than going to see a traditional doctor and leaving with a prescription for something that might make you feel worse even while it makes you better. On the down side, it does not taste as good as a hot dog and fries and pizza and cheesecake. But then, nothing does.

When It Comes to Horror, You Can't Trump Donald

"I am worth over eight billion dollars."

Oh God. Donald Trump, who makes Sarah Palin look like a Rhodes scholar, has announced that he is officially running for president in 2016. This makes me sad for my son and my as yet unborn grandchildren. Not that Trump will win, certainly, but that there are living, breathing people who are cheering him on. That he thinks he can do it. That's how low the office of president, in fact all of politics, has been dragged down. Not pointing any fingers at which White House occupant has done the most dragging, but you all remember I'm sure.

Donald does have his good points, I suppose. He's rich enough without us forking over a dime, in fact his campaign slogan is "I don't need anybody's money." He speaks his mind. He's brash and aggressive. He never shuts up. I can imagine that after he takes office in some nightmare scenario and is beheaded by ISIS who will surely find his hair objectionable and go after it, he will probably keep right on talking.

Ordinary People

I have not yet changed my gender and don't plan to. I have never lost any limbs to sharks and gone on to live an exemplary life. I have not been held captive in a basement by a madman for years and lived to tell the tale on "The View." I was not sexually abused by a priest as a child, or in fact by anyone, at any age. I've always had a roof over my head, suffer no debilitating diseases, and unless you count my first marriage, have not overcome any unusual hardships. I am ordinary, thus unsung. I assume I will remain so. This bugs the hell out of me, because I feel so extraordinary much of the time.

For example, I seem to be the only person who refuses to say "at this point in time," believing it means nothing more than saying "now," or even "at this point." I have never said and will never say "It is what it is." That is just plain dumb, yet very popular. Even some people I am married to say it in earnest and not in jest, like it actually adds something to the conversation.

I do not want to remain unsung, but I also do not want anything bad, or even good, to happen to me to make me famous. In fact, the thought of becoming famous for anything at all is appalling. Still, I hate being average. Even more annoying, I'm pretty sure everyone feels this way.

Letter from Washington

Tourists enjoy a lot of options getting around the nation's capital city.

It's funny: Here I am with Washington at my doorstep, and all I want to do is hang inside my air-conditioned hotel room and write a blog. To be fair, I did venture out earlier to a nearby Starbucks for a hit of caffeine and a smattering of the local feel. Settling down among the well-heeled city folks, all on iPhones or iPads or computers, I leafed through a copy of Politico, a local newspaper dedicated to politics, natch. I read a lot about Hillary finally giving a speech, coming out with pithy things like, "I will do whatever it takes to keep America safe." Wow, that is wild--whatever it takes! Imagine. It's gonna be tough to top that. I guess a savvy Republican opponent could always say, "I'll do whatever it takes, and then some, to keep America safe."

When I first came to Washington as a college student in 1964 you could drive right by the White House, even pull over and park in front to snap some photos. Pennsylvania Avenue was just another street. Last night, as we drove around the city to see how it's changed, we were somewhat appalled at the Kremlin-like feel of the area surrounding the Presidential Palace today. Gates and cement barriers prevent cars from passing by the front or the back for several blocks, and parked police cars, their red roof lights blinking, hang out at every corner in all directions in the general vicinity. (How anyone would want to become president and live in that milieu is beyond me.)

What were once considered "bad" neighborhoods full of druggies and hoodlums and rapists have been transformed into spanking new "good" neighborhoods full of high-rise condos, trendy natural food markets, spiffy bistros, cool shops and of course affluent white people. I do wonder where all the former inhabitants have gone in search of new bad neighborhoods further out from the city's center, and just how and who got them to leave.

The Capitol dome under scaffolding.

Visually, things are awry right now in this usually beautiful city. The formerly grassy Mall looks like a giant's sandbox as work proceeds on installing a new irrigation system underneath it. An enormous new museum currently under construction directly in the shadow of the Washington Monument is in a particularly hideous stage, although I'm betting that when it's completed it will be just as hideous and even more enormous. And the lovely Capitol dome, that symbol of freedom we all know and love, is having something quite serious done to it and now resembles an adorable sixth-grader with head gear and a mouthful of braces.

The good news is that most of my best friends live here and I've been having a blast seeing them. For me D.C. truly is a great place to visit, but considering the daily afternoon thunderstorms almost phony in their intensity, like computer-generated special effects in an end-of-the-world movie, and the bumper-to-bumper traffic crawling from anywhere to everywhere else, and the recent influx of 150,000 yuppies who've arrived to join the government and devise new ways to spend our tax dollars, upping the housing costs to ridiculously unaffordable while they're at it, I'm pretty sure I no longer have what it takes to live here.

Too Damn Hot

I am in Washington, D.C., or at least the metro D.C. area, and I have to say it is too damn hot here. It is brutal. It is ungodly. This is probably why the politicians are at each other's throats all the time, or at least for more than half the year. If they moved the capital city to Maine, I bet the Democrats and Republicans would all get along a lot better.

It's just too hot. It fries your brains. That must be what happened to Hillary. And those pantsuits! They are really hot. How does she not put on a dress once in a while?

Tired of the Stupid

That's it, I'm through. Today I went to have a procedure I won't go into because I didn't have it, although I spent an hour and a half in the doctor's office leading up to getting it, and had many drops put in my eyes to dilate them wildly and for the rest of the day, requiring my son to take off from work to drive me there and home again, and had bright runway lights shined in my eyes, and several kinds of examinations, asking me to blink twice, now hold still and open wide, and look over here, and more drops for numbing, and more lights, and another kind of exam and a pressure test and now we're ready but hey, wait a minute.....oops, you don't really have what we thought you had. So never mind, come back in six months you might have it then, and would you like to schedule that appointment today, is morning or afternoon better for you?

From now on it's acupuncture, sweat lodges, herbal teas, eating dandelions, voodoo, whatever, but not any of those dummies with framed diplomas from medical schools hanging on the wall.