Three Days Out of This World

Lately I've been having thoughts of suicide. I find myself jealous of the people who had the courage to get the hell out of here. I lack that courage and thus will be stuck in this mess until God takes me, or I get shot walking down the street in Chicago. (Note to self: Stay out of Chicago.)

Last weekend I went to Monhegan Island, a magical place off the coast of Maine, 10 (or 12) miles out to sea. My husband and I spent three days forgetting all the bullshit going on in the world, except for the face masks on most people. Still, when you left the populated areas and got out into the woods and on the trails, masks were stashed and you could breathe the glorious fresh air and smell the heady scents of nature.

I cried that I didn't grow up there and wished desperately to stay there forever, even though there is no doctor on the island which makes me nervous considering the pack of physical ailments I hold at bay that could explode at any moment. Still, I can't imagine a better place to die. Following are some photos that barely capture the beauty of the island.

The Breakdown of Society Is All But Complete

I think I figured out why sophisticated fashion designer Kate Spade killed herself back in June of 2018. She just couldn't handle living in the totally classless society America had become. A pretty woman who was fastidious in hair, makeup and dress, Kate was committed to creating beautiful things that were affordable to the middle class. It must have been hard for her to accept the lack of personal pride on display at every turn. I'm no fashion designer, still I am nauseated daily by the low level of acceptable public attire. Heck, I check the mirror before I go out to get the paper at the end of our driveway. But then, I come from another time.

As a child growing up in the New York suburbs, and well into my teens and early twenties, it was de rigueur to dress up when you went to the theater, or took the train into Manhattan, or boarded an airplane. Dining out anywhere but a fast food restaurant required at the very least a suitable outfit and decent shoes. But these days one no longer dresses up for anything, except of course the Oscars but that's not exactly real people going about their real lives. Otherwise, the accepted "look" is whatever you damn well please, requiring a minimum of effort, and nobody raises an eyebrow. Flip-flops at the symphony! Shorts and tank tops at fine restaurants! Had my mother not been cremated, she would surely be spinning in her grave.

Yesterday I went to the CVS pharmacy to pick up a few things. While waiting for my prescription, a young woman walked up to speak with the pharmacist. (See photo.) I was stunned for two reasons: First, we were not at the beach, and there is no beach within at least ten miles, so even if she had come from the beach she had plenty of time to put on what is called a "beach coverup," an article of clothing that exists for just that purpose. Second, that someone with such a bad body was unashamed for anyone to see her sagging paunch and crinkly thunder thighs blew me away. (I keep my own covered as much as possible.)

At least she wore a mask. Thank God, because she might have been ugly too. 

AOC: A Woke Yokel

AOC action figure: Yours for $20.

Thank God I'm old already. I would hate to be around when the current crop of baby politicians get their hands on some real power. For example, there is a Facebook page entitled "Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez for President." On it, many of the young woman's misguided admirers praise her and say we need her youth and energy in the White House. As Molly Shannon would say on SNL, "Don't even get me started."

My dour mood might have something to do with the fact that the Brown-tailed Moth, which makes its home in Freeport, Maine for several months each year, has kept me from sleeping the past two nights. Instead I have lain awake doing a variety of things, including weeping, sobbing, itching, scratching, applying creams and lotions, standing in a cold shower and cursing God. No wonder I'm grumpy.

Still, let's not forget that Alexandria Whatever-Whatever, the youngest woman ever elected to Congress, is the one who nixed Amazon moving its headquarters to her district in Queens, NY,  which would have brought thousands of jobs to the depressed area. What a yokel! But she's woke, and that seems to be all that matters these days to that segment of the population that thinks saying "colored people" is racist, but saying "people of color" is politically correct.

The Democrat Gestapo

Last Thursday the CEO of Goya Foods, the largest Hispanic-owned food company in the United States, attended a White House dinner where he announced the launching of the White House Hispanic Prosperity Initiative with a donation of a million cans of chickpeas to America's food banks. In his speech, Bob Unanue said, "We're all truly blessed to have a leader like President Trump who is a builder. We pray for our leadership, our president and our country that we will continue to prosper and to grow."

Uh-oh. That's all it took for the Gestapo-like Democrats to spring into action! Representative Alexandria Whatever-Whatever (D., NY) immediately called for a complete boycott of Goya Foods. After all, the man who runs the company dared to say something nice about Trump! The funny thing is that Alexandria Whatever-Whatever is Hispanic herself! Apparently allegiance to "The Party" beats out ethnic heritage.

So all you Democrats out there, drop that garbanzo bean right now! And I certainly hope the hot sauce Hillary Clinton claims to carry in her purse at all times is not one of Goya's. Tell your friends, too, to boycott Goya or else. Or else what? You will be harassed, humiliated, excoriated, shunned, possibly fired from your job and eventually shot dead in the streets if Biden wins next November.

The Truth About Tinker Bell

In Disney's version she's a size 8.

I just woke up from a dream in which the singer Johnny Mathis had transitioned into a woman, at the age of 84. In the dream I was stunned that such an old person had decided that he had lived his whole life in opposition to his true self.

They say that our dreams represent our subconscious and that we are all the characters in them, that each person we dream about represents another aspect of our personality. So I concluded that, while I am totally at peace with my gender, I must be doing something really big, really wrong.

I then got out of bed and looked at my email, checked Facebook, skimmed the newspaper and was immediately and severely bummed out by the things I read. Then it hit me: that's what I'm doing wrong!

So as of today I will no longer look at the news or get sucked in to any nasty political Facebook streams, and are there any other kind? Instead I will read every book on the shelf in our library and take more walks. Right now I am reading "Peter Pan" and it's a hoot! Who knew that Tinker Bell as described by the book's author J. M. Barrie was actually a bosomy babe on the plump side? Disney slimmed her down for the movie. (Once again, fake news.)

An Alternate Universe in Alabama, Y'all

Brenda and some biscuits.

I have recently started watching cooking videos online, posted by an exuberantly cheerful woman who lives in Alabama. Brenda Gantt is a really sweet lady who looks as old as the hills but I found out today she is actually a year younger than I, so kill me now. Anyway, the point is that where she lives, in a town called Andalusia, nobody seems to either know about or care about Covid-19.

Naturally Brenda doesn't wear a mask alone in her own kitchen while she is cooking, but during the course of the videos many other people wander in: her grandchildren, a few random neighbors, a couple of friends. None of them wear masks or keep their distance from one another, and all of them hug when saying hello or goodbye. It's like the good old days, only it's now.

I was so confused I wondered if the videos were old, but turns out they are current and she posts a new one every day on her Facebook page (Cooking With Brenda Gantt). So then I looked at the stats for the virus where she lives, and found out that there have been 399 new cases since last week, and 11 deaths. And in the entire state there have been 1,032 deaths out of 46,424 cases since the pandemic began.

Somehow Brenda and her good ol' friends down there in 'Bama don't give a hoot. So what's with us uptight Mainers who put on a friggin' mask to go inside an empty post office to get the mail? No wonder Brenda seems so much happier than I feel. For a good time, watch Brenda in her kitchen and feel like it's 1959, y'all.

I Don't Hate Trump, What's Wrong With Me?

I don't know how I got this way, but I'm different from others of my species. For starters, I don't hate Donald Trump. That doesn't mean I will vote for him or have ever voted for him, it just means that I don't hate him, in fact I think he's smart and funny! My life does not revolve around finding fault with Trump or his lovely wife and run-of-the-mill children, an activity which seems to fuel so many people these days. Should I be worried?

Another way I'm different is that I think the show Hamilton sucks. Out loud. My husband loves the music and so last weekend, lemming-like, he streamed the recorded Broadway show from Disney while I kept my distance in another room. Oh my God, it sounded just like every other Broadway show that I slept through years ago and hated, like Les Miserables and Cats. They should just mash them all into one show and call it Hamilton's Miserable Cats. All the white roles would be played by black performers, all the cats would be played by dogs and all the French people would be played by Hispanics. Now that would be a crowd-pleaser.

Wait, there's more: Having re-read it as an adult, I think The Catcher in the Rye is a total waste of time and the paper it's printed on. No wonder Salinger never wrote another book and spent his life in seclusion; he was so ashamed! Anyway, in my next life I want to come back as a normal person who loves eating at The Olive Garden and plays video games and reads Harry Potter books and thinks The Catcher in the Rye is a brilliant masterpiece. And hates Donald Trump, who I'm guessing will still be president.

Lady Gaga, Fashion Plate?

Lady Gaga, a famous actress and singer whose real name is something normal, recently called President Trump "a fool." As the old saying goes, "It takes one to know one." Following are a just few of her sartorial choices for an evening out.

The red stuff is sliced meat!

I wonder, can she run in those shoes?

Stunning in its disarray.

Just in time for Covid-19!

How very sad.

Imagine sitting on the toilet in this getup.

I would hate sitting behind her at the movies.

Yes, those are frog puppets.

Just a simple frock, for a ghost.

Black Lives Ended by White Cops Matter

Last weekend in Atlanta an 8-year-old black girl was fatally shot by a stray bullet while she was riding in a car with her mother. Her name has not become a household word, like that of George Floyd, who was, let's remember, a criminal who did jail time more than once. This is because she was not killed by a white cop but by a black hoodlum.

Little Secoriea Turner did not become an instant hero known the world over. Al Sharpton did not eulogize her, there was no gold casket bearing her tiny body through the streets of the city, and there were no citizen protests. Not one painting of her image appeared anywhere.

Instead, people voiced outrage over a 25-year-old white woman in the National Women's Soccer League who did not kneel during the playing of the National Anthem last Saturday night. A popular player on the Chicago Red Stars, Rachel Hill chose to stand to honor her family's military history. This earned her a barrage of online criticism, causing her to defend herself --- for not kneeling! She also apologized for not being "diligently anti-racist." Meanwhile the Chicago gang murders continue every weekend, with growing numbers of dead black people going unsung by the press and the leaders of Black Lives Matter. I guess their lives don't matter until a white cop ends them.

Cooking to Stay Sane

According to those holier-than-thou news organizations CNN, ABC, The New York Times, and The Washington Post, college frat boys in Alabama, Arizona and elsewhere have been  have been holding "Covid parties" where they try to get infected, and the first one to get sick gets a cash prize. Naturally this is appalling. 

Only it isn't. What is appalling is that all of these stories are based solely on rumor and are not true, yet have been reported as facts by the aforementioned news sources. 

My advice is to stop reading news. Instead go make a pot roast or stuff a zucchini. Cooking is a much more uplifting activity than ingesting lies from airheads who are paid to sell advertising. Plus you can eat your results.

Country Living

A few weeks ago I planted three little sunflower seedlings in the garden just outside my kitchen door. It was fun watching them grow, knowing that soon enough they would be giant sturdy stalks topped with cheery yellow flowers. Alas, that's not to be; just a couple of days ago I awoke to find one of the stalks was headless. Was it the Taliban? No, just Bambi catching breakfast.

This morning I saw Bambi again, munching on the leaves of an apple tree in our backyard. I went right out there to give her a piece of my mind and she didn't flinch. We had a staring contest, the whole time with her munching away. That really pissed me off.

Meanwhile, out in our front yard there was clear evidence that our porcupine menace from last year had returned. Broken branches, stripped of their leaves, were strewn around the base of our beautiful linden tree. He will do this daily until or unless we kill him, trap him, or he dies a natural death, none of which seem appealing to me except maybe the last one. (I wonder, can porcupines get Covid-19?)

While it's much better than fighting traffic or getting shot in your own living room by a stray bullet, country living is sometimes a pain in the ass.