Some Lives Are Better Than Others

Real people live here year-round.

I follow a family on Facebook that lives on Mohegan Island, a paradise located 12 miles off the coast of Maine. I've been going there in summer since 1970. Once I stayed for two weeks, but usually it's only for a few days, maybe four. Then it's back to real life. But the family I follow online lives there year-round, along with 90 other hardy souls, and their Facebook posts fill me with those feelings we're never supposed to have: envy and jealousy. It's just that their lives are so much better than mine, and yours, and just about everyone who doesn't live on an island 12 miles from the mainland.

Today's post from Mohegan is a long one, since they write a Spring Letter each year instead of a Christmas letter. It's full of news about the children playing outside in the warm sun and the birds returning from their winter havens making nests for the new babies and early flowers popping up from the newly-softened soil and the sun smiling on the burgeoning wildflowers in the meadows dotting the island. It describes a life so filled with beauty and nature and so far removed from mine, it's almost too hard to read about.

I would never describe the details of my daily life for fear the reader would fall asleep before the third sentence. For example, after I finish washing my paintbrushes I am going to an acupuncture appointment because despite a recent MRI, Western medicine hasn't a clue about the pain in my knee I've had for six months. After that I will stop by my dentist's office to get some teeth whitener. And then .....

See what I mean?

No More Boosters for Me, Thanks

Another booster? No thanks, I'm good. (No -- I am not a conspiracy theorist, even though I do think that Clinton Death List is fairly suspicious.) While I don't want to contract the coronavirus in any of its ever-changing forms, I'm also not eager to introduce additional viral materials into my body for maybe a few months of protection. It's not that I think a booster will harm me, although it might, it's just that I doubt it will do much good. And if I haven't caught Covid in the last two years despite being with others who have, I probably won't.

And then there's my friend Kay, a 50-year-old healthy, happy woman who became mysteriously ill the day after receiving her first vaccination almost a year ago. Since then she spends her life in one or another doctor's office -- she's seen too many to count -- or on the Internet reading everything written about the vaccine and its effects worldwide, searching for any clue to her debilitating condition.

Kay's list of symptoms is long and depressing, including balance issues, neuropathy in her feet, fatigue, mouth sores, hearing problems, headaches and general body pain. She's been tested and retested for many things, all of which come back with no answers besides "it must have been the vaccine."

One doctor prescribed prednisone and since Kay can't exercise -- she's too exhausted -- she's put on quite a bit of weight. Like anyone in her situation, she's often depressed. Had she passed up the vaccine and contracted the virus last year, she likely would have been fine in a week or two and it would be a dim memory by now. Instead, every day for her is a living Hell.

So no thanks. No more boosters. I'm good.

Don't Ask, Don't Tell, Who Cares

A certain group of teachers in Florida are having hissy-fits over the recent Parental Rights Bill that passed last week, which says that sexual identity and transgender issues cannot be discussed in kindergarten through the third grade. Somehow this has caused a rash of teacher resignations in that state because the law allegedly keeps them from "being who they are."

I have never understood why being gay becomes the major fact about gay people. Like really, who cares who you sleep with? Does anybody? Do you do other things besides have sex with your chosen partner? 

Gays, and all the rest of those letters, should just shut up and do the jobs they are paid to do, bearing in mind that their sexual appetites are not important to an 8-year-old. 

Instead of "Don't Say Gay," everyone should just go back to Bill Clinton's advice regarding the military years ago, with an added kicker: "Don't Ask, Don't Tell, Who Cares."

No Secrets, Some Lies

This morning I entered my own name into a search engine to see what information is online about me. It was downright sickening. I found my home address, my home phone number, my age and of course marital status, my personal art website and every article I have ever written for any publication, not counting the ones I wrote before the Internet was invented. 

Even worse, there were a few dastardly lies about me sprinkled among the mostly true facts. I decided that the only sane reaction was to return to bed and pull the covers over my head, which I did. That worked for awhile but then it was hard to breathe so I came out and decided to write this blog post. 

The good news is that my weight was not shown anywhere. Ha! At least something of mine remains private.

The Devil Goes to Hollywood

Now I've heard everything! Denzel Washington, an actor I once adored who now seems off his rocker, not to mention a lot less handsome with his bright-white fake choppers, has come forth with his take on the Smith/Rock slap-story that refuses to die: "The Devil made him do it." (See Satan at left, dressed for his walk on the red carpet.)

Seems all of Hollywood is on steroids, meth, cannabis or alcohol, so nothing they say or do makes any sense. All actors should just say their scripted lines, then go back to their mansions and stay there until their next job.

Call Me Freaky

I read in today's paper that passport applicants will soon have the option of identifying as neither male nor female but rather as a freak of nature, the result of a lawsuit by a human being that calls itself Mx. Zzyym. My husband, who was clearly male when I met him but now I can't be sure, thinks this is great, claiming there are "many people" like Mx. Zzyym who are neither sex. (It's about 1.7% of the population.)

That must include me, since even though I have female genitalia I don't wear pointy-toed high heels, push-up bras, false eyelashes or dangly earrings like Judge Jeanine and the rest of those ladies on the TV news shows. I have never had a pedicure. (I've had a few manicures but found them soul-crushing.)

I abhor "lunching" with girlfriends and shopping for clothes. I also don't count on "men" to do things that need doing, like painting the living room, taking out the garbage or moving heavy furniture. I reject most popular human pastimes altogether, including riding roller coasters, watching Jeopardy and DWTS, rooting for sports teams and eating Mexican food. (I see no difference between a fajita, a burrito, a taco and an enchilada.) 

So starting today my pronouns will be grouchy/grumpy. My current passport photo reflects this.

Will Smith, Chris Rock and God Almighty

Today is Friday. Six days ago a meaningless event occurred that has dominated the Internet since then. It's embarrassing that the petty, inconsequential and possibly fake altercation between two "actors" who earn millions by "pretending" is still being discussed. Exactly who got hurt in that silly little incident?

Are we supposed to feel sorry for Jada Smith for having a disease that causes her to lose her hair and her sense of humor? It's not painful like cancer or arthritis or so many other serious diseases, and she looks pretty good as a bald person. Also, she could choose to wear a wig like many people do, even those with lots of hair. (She could borrow one from her son for sure.) 

Should we feel sorry for Will Smith, whose wife he "defended" has revealed proudly over the years that they have an open relationship and Jada has sex with other men? I wonder, does Will ever slap any of those guys? Maybe in the future he will hit them on the head with his brand new eight-and-a-half pound Oscar; now that would do some damage.

Should we weep for Chris Rock, the comedian who was unscathed by a limp-wristed slap on the cheek and who since then gave a sold-out concert in Boston where his ticket prices were cranked up to $1,000 because of all the publicity he earned getting slapped for a "joke" that was hardly a joke at all?

We actually should feel sorriest for God, who made us all in His image and with the highest hopes. Mankind is surely a major disappointment to Him.

Sick of the Gay Thing

All we can control is our own behavior. Even the parents of very young children can only try and then hope that their stern words and actions will cause bad behaviors to change -- forget about it when the kids are grown. And yet the world is full of people who think they know what's best, and spend their time insisting, cajoling and imploring others to do as they do and think as they think. In many cases they resort to lying in order to make their case.

The woke Democrats do this in spades. The current brouhaha over Florida's Parental Rights Act is a perfect example. Calling it the "Don't Say Gay" bill when the word "gay" does not appear even one time in the seven-page piece of legislation is intentionally misleading. Now some dodos who run FOLX Health, a digital queer and trans telepathy provider, are peppering the landscape with billboards in cities across the South with the message, "Say Gay." What's next -- lawn signs saying "Gay Lives Matter"? (I guess black lives stopped mattering since you hardly see those signs anymore.)

And speaking of dodos, the three female hosts of the recent televised Academy Awards ceremony incorporated that same sentiment in their childish monolog, gleefully singing, "Gay, gay, gay, gay, gay, gay!" in front of an appreciative audience of insanely wealthy gays, drunks and likely a few druggies. 

Well, I'm not gay and I don't care if you are. It means nothing to me, or to anyone else except maybe your mommy and daddy. The fact that men like to play with other men's genitals and women enjoy doing the same to other women impacts my life not at all. So why has it become so important in our society to recognize the people doing those things? And not only recognize them, but congratulate them for their bravery? And what the heck are they so proud of -- is engaging in gay sex some sort of worthy accomplishment?

Despite having several very close gay friends and a few relatives (who thankfully keep their bedroom activities out of my life), I have grown tired of gays and the other sexual mavericks who go by the letters L, B, Q, A and T. Someone should tell them there is more to life than who you fuck, or don't fuck in the case of the ones who feel it necessary to broadcast their asexuality. Like, what do you do for a living? In what way do you contribute to society? What are your interests? Do you have any hobbies? Is there more to you than your genitalia? Let's hear about that for a change.

Florida Passes "Don't Say Straight" Bill

 TV heterosexuals Ward and June Cleaver, with kids. 

Heterosexual teachers in Florida are up in arms over the recent signing by Governor DeSantis of what is being called in some circles the "Don't Say Straight" bill. The controversial legislation restricts conversations about gender and sexual orientation in kindergarten through third grade public school classes.

"It's not fair!" said one Orlando kindergarten teacher who asked to remain anonymous. "I like to be able to talk to the children about what my husband and I did over the weekend, and now I can't!" Other teachers echoed her complaint, saying it kept them from describing many common home activities like putting up drywall, laying brick paths, adding a room over the garage and other renovations so important for young kids to know about at an early age.

Another complaint came from male teachers who wished they could describe how sexy their wives look when they come to bed wearing sheer negligees. "These kids are missing out on some important stuff," said one third grade teacher. "How are young boys going to learn what it takes to please a woman, like how they need candy on Valentine's Day and flowers on their birthday?"

It's true that these days straight people get the short end of the stick when it comes to communicating the details of their alternative lifestyles. Kids will have to watch reruns of old TV shows like "MASH,""Leave It to Beaver," "I Love Lucy" and "The Brady Bunch" to understand relationships between men and women. Hopefully their parents will provide these educational tools and have these discussions with them at home.

Film Review: 15 MINUTES OF SHAME

This lively HBOMax documentary produced by Monica Lewinsky, an expert in the subject of being cancelled by the world for little reason, will convince you to never again engage with anyone on the Internet. Presenting shocking stories of people whose lives were completely ruined after their behavior was considered to be abominable by thousands of strangers, it will leave you shaken to your core.

Lewinsky was just 22 when her life became Twitter fodder for fat, ugly basement-dwellers with no lives of their own. Happily, at the age of 48, she has found her calling as a filmmaker and created something positive from her horrendous experience. Along with stories of everyday folks who became Internet pariahs through mistaken interpretations of their actions, there are face-to-face interviews with many experts in the fields of online crime, human psychology and Facebook's evil, inhumane policies.

The scariest part of the film is the history of public shaming dating back centuries, told through an appealing and amusing mix of animated illustrations and old photographs. Apparently hating someone you've never met for reasons or opinions you may know little about is nothing new. However, the facelessness of the Internet makes the merciless haranguing of a stranger much easier and far more damaging.

Watch it and beware.

The "Don't Say Gay" Bill Doesn't

If you wonder why I have often labeled liberals, progressives and Democrats a bunch of dummies, here's why. They all refer to the piece of legislation causing all the ruckus and just signed by Governor DeSantis as the "Don't Say Gay" bill. Here's what it actually says, verbatim:

“Classroom instruction by school personnel or third parties on sexual orientation or gender identity may not occur in kindergarten through grade 3 or in a manner that is not age appropriate or developmentally appropriate for students in accordance with state standards.”

Waddy know? The "Don't Say Gay" bill don't even say gay.