Old Habits Die Hard

Today I drove to the Maine Department of Motor Vehicles to renew my driver's license. Wanting to avoid a wasted trip since the website instructions were confusing, I called ahead to find out exactly what documents were needed to complete the task. An earnest-sounding young man answered the phone and told me to bring the following: Birth certificate or passport, proof of insurance, existing driver's license and proof of residency (utility bill or mortgage statement).

I dutifully rounded up the required documents, which took some doing since I had to rummage through several wastebaskets to find the remnants of a paid utility bill, and off I went. When it was my turn I handed all my papers to the clerk, who said she only needed my driver's license. "No need to see those other things," she explained, waving them away.

This bummed me out so much that when I got home I polished off the peanut butter cookies my son made me for my birthday, despite promising myself that today would be the start of a diet. Such is the life of a reformed compulsive eater.

Slanted News Hurts Everyone

It's become almost impossible to find out what's really going on in the world. Every article or oral report reeks of bias, sometimes in very subtle ways that are barely noticeable and sometimes blatantly so. A repeated example of this trend are recent headlines about Robert Kennedy Jr. doing well in the polls despite his being an "anti-vax activist" or an "anti-vax Democratic candidate" or an "anti-vax conspiracy theorist." I wondered, does the man have any other interests or is he just blindly focused on not liking vaccinations? Turns out he does. 

A quick look at Kennedy's Wikipedia entry tells a broader story about this environmental lawyer and champion of just about every liberal cause that ever came down the pike. Over the years of his career he has advocated for the protection of waterways, indigenous rights and renewable energy. In 1999 he founded the Waterkeeper Alliance, a non-profit environmental group. This excerpt from Town & Country magazine shows another side of the man:

"Today, as the Waterkeeper Alliance—of which Kennedy remains president—the organization has more than 350 waterkeepers in 45 countries, patrolling and protecting nearly 3 million square miles of waterways. 'Bobby’s the kind of guy who walks over to the creek and goes and talks to the first fisherman he can,” says Gary Wockner, the Waterkeeper on the Cache la Poudre River in Colorado. 'He gets into long conversations about the health of the creek, what kind of fish are biting.'"  

Lest we forget, Kennedy saw his uncle Jack (JFK) killed on TV when he was nine years old. When he was 14, he saw his father murdered, also while watching him on TV. Despite that, he remains committed to entering politics and do what he considers to be the best for his country. Being against forced vaccinations should not make him a pariah.

Flags Are Not Enough! What Is?

Maine's 1901 state flag recently updated with rainbow stripes.

In a rare moment of relevancy, the current issue of The Northern Forecaster, our bi-weekly local paper -- 20 pages filled with news of interest to almost nobody but the people written about -- contains an article of national interest. Under the headline, "Yarmouth to celebrate its first LGBTQ Pride Month," the author celebrates the fact that "the Yarmouth Town Council unanimously passed a resolution declaring June as Pride Month and residents have backed it as well. " Some local businesses started showing their support by flying Pride flags this month.

The article goes on about how great this development is, and how it's about time, and how Yarmouth is influential and special and solidarity and awareness and feeling safe and being supportive and more like that. But at the very end, Town Councilor Heather Abbott is quoted as saying, "There is so much more that can and should be done, but this is one way that Yarmouth can make it clear that we are proud to have a vibrant LGBTQ community here."

This got me wondering about just what more can and should be done. Should all local residents have sex with someone of their own gender to show their support? Should everyone host a gay or lesbian or bisexual or transgender person for dinner? Just once or on a weekly basis? Should we have Drag Shows in the elementary schools? How about in churches and synagogues? Perhaps an annual LGBTQ Festival to replace the popular Yarmouth Clam Festival? 

What, exactly, can and should be done? What will be enough to stop the deafening cacophony of gay pride and parades and pronouns and drag queens and transgender surgery and which bathroom and what sports team we now all contend with already to placate this small segment  -- estimated %7.2 -- of society? 

Just tell us and we'll do it. Anything to quiet the noise.

Rush to Judgement Is Often Wrong

Today I read a disturbing chapter in Malcolm Gladwell's 2019, "Talking to Strangers: What We Should Know About the People We Don't Know." Actually every chapter is disturbing, as the author explains how and why so many bad outcomes result from a simple miscommunication between strangers. For example, back in 2015, 28-year-old African-American Sandra Bland ended up dead in a jail cell three days after being stopped for a missing blinker light by a white traffic cop who made wrong assumptions about her, and she about him. 

But the one I found most upsetting was about 35-year-old Amanda Knox, then a young college student studying abroad when her roommate was found dead in their apartment in Perugia, Italy in 2007. Despite absolutely no evidence whatsoever connecting Knox to the crime, she was tried and convicted and spent four years of her young life in an Italian prison before DNA evidence set her free and the real killer was arrested.

According to Gladwell, Knox was guilty of not behaving in a way that was expected of most people in her situation. That's it. Police found her facial expressions "inappropriate" during questioning. She was seen buying "red underwear" the day after the murder was discovered. She didn't seem "remorseful enough," according to several of the investigators. Of course she had nothing to be remorseful about since she was innocent, and she was buying underwear because her apartment was a crime scene and all her clothes were locked up inside and beyond her reach. But no matter -- people saw what they wanted to see and the truth be damned. 

Sadly this happens quite often, and I know firsthand how a "bad resting face" can be interpreted incorrectly. It's possible that if everyone stopped thinking of themselves for just one minute when they encounter someone they don't know they'll stop coming to the wrong conclusions and the world will be a far better, and safer, place. And Sandra Bland would be alive today.

Improving Your Experience

A few days ago I went to the drive-thru lane at my bank to deposit a check. A cheerful young man behind the window greeted me and slid open the drawer into which I inserted the check and went off to do his job. About a minute later he returned with the deposit slip and told me to "have a good one!" I thanked him and drove off.

By the time I arrived home there was an email from the bank asking me to fill out a short survey rating my recent experience with them. Really, that was an experience? I ignored it. But the next day I got the following email:

"We recently sent you an invitation to provide feedback on your experience and we'd love to hear from you. We want to ensure we are meeting your expectations and providing you with exceptional solutions and service at KeyBank. Please take this short online survey to tell us how your visit was. It should take less than 4 minutes. Your feedback will help us improve the experience we offer our clients."

What I found annoying had actually been an invitation! And to provide feedback! I wondered, what could I possibly say that would improve someone else's experience at the bank drive-thru? As for providing me with exceptional solutions and service, they closed that branch of the bank which is two miles from my house the very day I was there, and now everyone in Freeport will have to drive seven miles to the nearest branch. Should I mention that? 

It's everywhere: Rate me, rate me, help me do better. I made a dinner reservation and the app asked me to rate the ease with which I was able to do so. Then the next day the app asked me to rate my dinner experience. The only person I never heard from was the chef, the one person to whom I had plenty to say.

You'd think with all this rating business going on things would be a lot better in this country. Too bad the White House doesn't send out those surveys. I'd fill that one out in a heartbeat.

The All Style, No Substance Generation

Last night I dined out with my husband and another couple at a new restaurant a few towns over. It's gotten lots of hype and despite knowing it's very expensive we decided to check it out since it would be my "birthday" dinner, even though my birthday is days away. Anyway, there we were at the Sicilian Table in affluent Falmouth, Maine, hoping for the best. Instead we got the worst.

I knew right away we were headed for trouble the minute I entered and saw the over-the-top decor. (See photo.) The place looks like a Cirque d' Soleil nightmare, or possibly the set of a Fellini movie. Giant fish sculptures hang from the ceiling, and weird string lights spanning over the crazy mix and match furnishings and wall coverings make for a stunning but almost blinding ambiance. Sadly they left the windows uncovered, exposing a bleak view of a parking lot and strip mall lined with neon-lit store signs and a gas station across the street. (Really guys, I hope the window shades are back-ordered.)

The food, in a word, sucked. I can and do make much better myself, and it doesn't cost a fortune. The prices at the Sicilian Table are ridiculously high, I assume to pay for the outrageous Vegas-style interior. I could describe what we all ate but I won't bother. Suffice it to say that today's young people love this sort of thing: a fun atmosphere for a date night where the food is secondary to the possibility of hooking up.

For a consistently great meal in down-to-earth surroundings, go to Buck's Naked Barbecue in Freeport instead. The simple food is always excellent, and their Caesar salad is fabulous, with crisp lettuce and a great dressing, unlike the limp greens I picked over last night at the Ritzy Millennial Palace. 

God Bless My Body

Why are so many people so messed up? How can anyone not be grateful just for having a body that works? For legs and arms and internal organs that do what they're supposed to do, without intervention? Why do they have to cut it up and move things around and chop off parts and have things implanted in order to enjoy the wonders of their brief time being alive? Can you not enjoy a sunrise or walk in a forest or swim in a mountain lake if you don't like your penis or hate your breasts?

If more people would go and sit in a corner and meditate for 20 minutes every morning instead of seeking out dangerous surgeries to alter their God-given bodies, perhaps the world would be a tiny bit less screwed up. Until then, the crazies are running everything and ruining most of it.

There's No Such Thing as A Daddy Mommy

This morning I read an article about a "transgender man" who is pregnant and featured on the cover of Glamour magazine in the UK, and it made me want to throw up except I don't throw up because I find it so nauseating. 

But not as nauseating as the fact that some people are so moronic that they call themselves men after having a double mastectomy and taking male hormones and cutting their hair short and dressing like a lumberjack, but they still have ovaries and a uterus and a vagina and thus are capable of bearing a child.  

And that so many other people validate their insanity and laws are enacted to protect them and nobody just comes out and says these people are effing nuts! That really irks me.

Fact of life: If you are a Mommy you cannot be a Daddy.

Bluesky: The Latest Non-thing

Have pity for today's younger generations: they know nothing about real life and possibly never will, what with the insidious growth of AI and who knows what's next. All they know about and care about is what goes on inside their silly electronic devices, and Lord have mercy on them all when the power grid fails someday. 

The "latest thing" is a social media site -- as if that's a thing -- called Bluesky, which is the new Twitter founded by former Twitter co-founder Jack Dorsey. Everyone wants in, but this one requires special codes to join, which can only be handed out by users of the site. So if you know someone who is "in" you might have a chance. But what does being "in" Bluesky actually mean? It means you can write your little messages of a maximum of 300 characters each to other members. (Whoop-de-do.)

An article in today's Wall Street Journal states: "Stacy King, 52, a children's fantasy writer in  Toronto, said she wanted to join Bluesky after seeing others she knew sign up. 'I was starting to feel a little bit left out.'" And Alex van Possum, a 40-year-old who works in marketing, explained that the benefit of joining early was the ability to snag his preferred username, even if it's not his real name. "At least it'll be something original and not something with a bunch of numbers after it."

The article doesn't mention that Bluesky will not prevent you from getting cancer, assure you of finding love, keep you from having a child with an incurable disease, stop you from committing suicide, help you lose weight, strengthen your heart or clear up your acne, stop baldness, pay your taxes, pick you up at the airport, fix that nagging backache, teach you how to meditate, stop those annoying telemarketer calls, give you an orgasm, prevent debilitating depression or make you a better person in any way. 

Basically, joining Bluesky will do absolutely nothing to improve the quality of your life but will greatly enrich Jack Dorsey's. BTW, an early adopter is Alexandria-Ocasio Cortez, and that says it all.

What's Pride Got to Do With It?

A few of the proud in Jerusalem today.

Today an estimated 30,000 Israelis marched in the Jerusalem Gay Pride Parade. Having just returned from a week in that city I was somewhat interested and so read a few of the news articles online and watched some videos. What nobody mentioned was just what the heck they're  all so proud of.

I grew up with gays in my life and certainly am no stranger to the whole LGBT thing, with numerous friends and family members, male and female, who identify as gay. But I have never understood how pride is involved. I certainly don't feel proud that I am straight. (Should I be? Or should I be embarrassed?)

According to the dictionary definition, the very word has little to recommend it: pride n. A high, esp. an excessively high, opinion of one's own worth or importance which gives rise to a feeling or attitude of superiority over others; inordinate self-esteem.

Being gay doesn't make you better than not being gay. I wish they would all get over themselves and have sex with whomever they want and stop talking about it. Who cares?

Republican Dummies vs. Sleepy Joe

Orange Man wins against a bunch apples.

Despite Donald Trump having achieved much good during his administration, I simply can't take any more drama from Ivanka and Jared, Don Jr. and Eric, and even the beautiful but missing-in-action Melania. But with six Republicans already running for president and splitting the vote, Trump will surely win the nomination. Who among us can endure another sad contest between two seniors past their prime, if they ever even had a prime? 

The worst part is that in the coming months there will probably be more contenders announcing their intention to run, making a Trump victory even likelier. The latest to throw his hat in the ring is former New Jersey Governor Chris Christie, who is simply way too fat to win. After all, obesity is not a quality to be admired and he's morbidly so, even after his 2014 bariatric surgery for the condition. (I guess that doesn't work.)

Are there any grownups in the Republican leadership? If so, it's time they do some back-room politicking and pick one alternative to Trump who can win the nomination and put Sleepy Joe to bed for good.