The Truth About Being Old

The worst part of growing old is that most of your friends are doing it too. I say most, because a bunch of them are already dead. In fact, that's the real drag. And while you can certainly make new friends, you can't make new old friends.

The other thing about aging is that you and your also-old friends spend most, if not all, of your time together catching up on everyone's ailments, surgeries, treatments, hospital stays and doctor visits. This at least has one benefit, which is finding out that someone else has it worse than you, or just as bad, which lets you stop thinking, "Why me?"

Hollywood stars are hiding the truth of their lives behind facelifts, tummy tucks, liposuction, body sculpting and Botox injections, but believe me, they're all in the same boat. You can bet that new hips and knees go along with those more glamorous elective surgeries. 

And that's it. Otherwise being old is just like being young, only quieter.

St. Valentine's Day Ripoff

I went shopping for a Valentine's Day card for my husband, even though we both agreed beforehand no cards. Or gifts. Since it's a dumb holiday and brings to mind a mob shooting in Chicago in 1929 known as the Saint Valentine's Day Massacre. Very unromantic.

Anyway, I was in the CVS and there were aisles of cards, candies, stuffed animals, wrapping paper, ribbons, balloons, and lots of trinkets in pink and red that basically took over half the store, so I decided to check out the cards. I found one that I liked well enough but it was priced at $8.99! 

Are they kidding or what? A card is read, looked at once more, set aside and then tossed in the trash a day or two later. I decided my husband would rather have the nine bucks. (Maybe I'll put it in a pink envelope.)

Nightmare in the ER

Last night I had the misfortune of spending fours hours in an emergency room. I was ready for it, having read Dante's Inferno in college -- the ER was the 10th Circle of Hell -- but still it was shocking. Naturally I was in a crabby mood, feeling sick enough to go there, but my mood worsened considerably when I saw the other patients. It was like a meeting of Weight Watchers, but without the hope. Everywhere I looked I saw incredibly out of shape bodies. One of the very fattest belonged to a male doctor who waddled around the place like a penguin. The whole scene was nightmareish.

An image burned into my brain that I'm hoping will go away soon is of an elderly man sitting directly across from me, hooked up to an IV pole. He looked like hell but was eating a Whopper and pulling French fries from a greasy paper bag positioned on his lap. In my delicate condition, extremely nauseous and thinking I was having another heart attack, the food odor totally grossed me out. Here he was in the ER, on an IV drip, and chomping down a burger and fries. Is that even legal?

Two women in their twenties were having a great time together, laughing and scrolling their cell phones as if they were at a singles bar. Neither one seemed the slightest bit sick, unless they had gone there for obesity: the thinner one with the hospital bracelet probably weighed in at 210, while her friend may have hit 250. I wanted to ask why they were there but my husband thought that was in poor taste. 

Most of the other people were quiet and despairing, staring into space or nodding off. I fell into that category. 

I left early, after all my tests but before I got the results, which I was told would take about another hour. I went home and went to sleep and woke up this morning and was thrilled to see that I had not died. I also understood that our health is the only true treasure we have that must be guarded at all costs. To that end, having seen the obvious correlation between obesity and health problems, I may never eat again.

Age Is (Not) Just a Number

Painting Donald Trump as a geezer just like Joe Biden, a front-page headline on today's New York Times reads, "Views Are Split On Candidates Of Similar Age." All I can say about that is, "Oh please." For starters, Trump is 77 and Biden is 81, a difference of four years. But their energy, body language and behavior makes them seem at least a decade apart. Where Biden appears skinny, old and frail, Trump looks burly, tan and ready to rumble.

Being 77 years old myself, I am not "of similar age" to Joe Biden in any way.  Besides walking several miles daily, I work out with a CrossFit trainer twice a week -- lifting weights, doing planks, using a rowing machine, running on a treadmill and riding an Assault bike. Biden can hardly climb a flight of stairs without tripping.

Trump runs round the country, holding rallies where he talks non-stop for hours. He meets and greets his fans as often as possible, between court dates of course. He is often seen on TV talk shows and giving interviews to the press. In fact, he is nothing if not in your face. He plays golf regularly and appears fit, albeit a bit too robust. 

Meanwhile, Biden hides out at one of his three homes. He does not give interviews. He does not meet and greet the public. On those rare occasions when he finds himself in front of a microphone on a podium somewhere, usually inside the White House, he fumbles and mumbles and makes a general mess of the situation.

Several reputable physicians have recently stated that Biden has some sort of senility or dementia, possibly early Alzheimer's, and has worsened considerably since he took office. They agree that there is no possibility of his condition being cured, or even slowing down. A recent report described him as "an elderly man with a failing memory." Who knows how long he will last.

Face it: A vote for Joe Biden is a vote for Kamala Harris, and God knows my cat Lurch could do a better job.

 

The Future Looks Grim

Writing this blog is a daily challenge, one that I often pass on when no subject seems interesting enough to be a worthy read for a wide range of people. Apparently the chief editors at the Wall Street Journal do not suffer from the same restriction: Today's paper contains an article about the unexpected pleasures of not wearing high heels, written by a woman recently diagnosed with foot problems and advised to wear only flat shoes forevermore. 

As a former newspaper writer I skimmed it with my mouth agape, shocked that this silliness was deemed appropriate to print. Who is the intended audience? Possibly transgenders with no history of high-heel wearing, but that's about it.

The dumbing down of our country continues apace, with every day bringing new evidence of how the national IQ is dropping faster than CNN's ratings. A perfect example is my husband's employer, a 200-plus organization that employs no African Americans and only two Jews, yet they have a designated Diversity Officer and an annual, all-staff, mandatory "Diversity Training" day. (Just in case, I guess.)

Maybe it's the national pastime of playing pointless video games -- there are currently 831,00 of them available -- or the increasing consumption of stuffed-crust pizzas and White Chocolate Mocha Creme Frappucinos (550 calories) that's eroding our brain cells and enabling a frail, demented old man to remain as POTUS. Whatever it may be, I implore today's parents of young children to jump in and turn the tide. Our future is in their hands.

These Snowflakes Are All Alike

The old adage that no two snowflakes are alike is true about the ones that fall from the sky, but the other kind -- people who became young adults in the 2010s -- are all cookie-cutter reproductions. I recently felt the sting of one of those, and found her to be like the other members of her generation: easily offended, overly sensitive, emotionally fragile and unabashedly self-righteous. 

This one was a receptionist at a professional organization where I went for a job interview as a writer/editor. About 28 or 30 years old, she was wildly out of character for the position, with long, wild hair, tattoos covering both arms and on her neck, lots of sparkly bling and piercings, and a very low-cut blouse that showcased her cleavage and an ample bosom that was all but spilling out. An unbuttoned cardigan sweater over her blouse added to the studied outfit. She looked great and I told her so, greeting her with,"You look fabulous! You look ready to go out clubbing!"

She thanked me for the compliment, almost gushing as she said, "Oh well, I just threw this on and came to work."

My meeting went well and the two people I would be working with walked me to the front door. We all greeted the receptionist, and I again said, "She looks great, doesn't she look ready to go clubbing?" They agreed, and she laughed. Then I thought better of my comment and said, "Oops, maybe that's not a good thing at work?" Shrugging, she said," Oh well, what can I do?" I was only half-joking when I said, "You could always button up that sweater."

I forgot the incident by the time I reached my car in the parking lot. Then this morning, the man I had met with called. He began by saying how much he had enjoyed our meeting and looked forward to us working together. The he got to the reason for the call. After I left, the receptionist had gone crying to her supervisor to "report" my "telling her to button up." Apparently she was quite upset about it!

It reminded me of an incident last weekend, when a woman of roughly the same age was offended as I tried to reach my seat at the theater. Instead of moving to let me pass, she remained with her legs stretched out, then said innocently, "Oh, are you trying to get by?" I answered laughingly, "Or else I'll have to sit in your lap!"  Both she and her date were horrified. The guy said, "That's a very rude comment!" I was confused  and surprised and he repeated it, all but shaking his pudgy finger at me.

I'm telling you, the day they killed Joan Rivers ten years ago, comedy died with her. I wonder, do young people even laugh anymore?

Great is Good In My Book

I never liked Joe Biden, even when he was young. Hardly anyone did. How could you? He's always been a lying, cheating racist! Yet here he is, holding our highest office in the land and making a mockery of our country. The old geezer actually said just yesterday, in a rare TV appearance, that the "entire trouble at the border" is the fault of Donald Trump! 

Of course he also said he spoke with a dead French President Mitterand just a few weeks ago, so you can't really take the guy at his word. Yet much to the amazement of everyone, the Democrats have nobody ready to replace him, unless you count California's Governor Hair Gel, whose sanctuary state is a hornet's nest of problems and evidence of his dubious leadership abilities, or Vice President Giggles, whose expertise in absolutely nothing is on display daily.

Hey, here's an idea: How about we elect someone with a sound history of success in many ventures, including running the country, who wants to make America great again? Sounds good to me. After all, great is what we all want to be, right? Except for the Democrats, who somehow see it as a negative. I wonder what they want to make America?

Facebook Beauty Pageant

This morning, while checking my Facebook page, I saw that I had received a "notification," which usually means a comment from someone about something I had posted. It might be positive or negative. This time it was pornographic -- a message from some sleazo I didn't read because it was accompanied by a photo of a woman's ass, huge butt cheeks glowing and legs spread wide, her vaginal area barely covered with a thin strip of fabric. I almost threw up my breakfast.

Naturally I deleted it and also reported it, if that does anything. But it reminded me of something that happened recently on Facebook wherein I was deemed the offending party and threatened with dire consequences left unnamed but hinted at. 

It was once of these Reels showing a sick, crying baby in a high-chair, snot dripping from her nose, face smeared with yogurt and bits of food. She was quite unappealing, and I commented, "Yikes! That would talk anyone out of having a baby!" Naturally someone responded to my comment, writing, "How dare you say that? You are a disgusting old woman!"

Now that hurt. I may be old and I may be a woman, but there is nothing about me that is disgusting. So I went to the commenter's Facebook page and saw her photo and folks, really, she was not an attractive woman, at all. So naturally, in defense I responded with, "Saw your picture, you're ugly." After all, she had called me disgusting!

Within seconds of posting my comment a note popped up saying I had "violated Facebook's community standards" and action would be taken unless I deleted the post. I let it stand. I figured if child pornography is permitted  all over Facebook, my saying someone is ugly was small change. And hey, she called me disgusting! Is that better or worse than being ugly? I'm betting that in a beauty pageant, an ugly contestant would win more votes than a disgusting contestant.

These are my thoughts early in the morning before that second cup of coffee.

Going Viral is Chickenshit

A man named John has been posting videos of himself eating raw chicken since January 19. He says he will continue to do so until he gets sick. So far all is well. At least in his tummy. In his head, not so well. Like, he's nuts. 

Raw chicken is known to cause all sorts of bad things, all of which require being near a bathroom. According to the CDC, " If you eat undercooked chicken, you can get a foodborne illness, also called food poisoning. You can also get sick if you eat other foods or beverages that are contaminated by raw chicken or its juices. Every year in the United States about 1 million people get sick from eating contaminated poultry."

My husband all but takes a shower after preparing a meal with raw chicken. To be honest, he leaves the job of handling the stuff to me since he's afraid he'll keel over and die just from touching it.

But this guy John is motivated by the desire to GO VIRAL!!!!! Going viral means lots of people you have never met, and never will meet, hear about you. Then two minutes later they forget about you. In fact, if John sickens and dies he will make a much bigger splash and end up not only in the morgue but on TV's national news.

I would like this post to somehow go viral so people would know that "going viral" is dumb. Instead they should volunteer at their local soup kitchen or do something positive, like stop eating chicken altogether, cooked or raw.

Congress Finds A Scapegoat

Parents hold up pictures of their children who died because of social media.

Go ahead, think of a brilliant and successful genius who is not hated by the general public. Take your time. Okay, now think of one who is. I'll help: Mark Zuckerberg. Steve Jobs (deceased). Elon Musk. Donald Trump. Bill Gates. Rush Limbaugh.

The ugly truth is that your everyday couch-surfing, snack-chomping, non-striving adult sees those who win, and win big, as mocking them, or proving them wrong, or as a threat aimed at them, when really they don't figure into it at all. Recognizing this fact helps to understand why all of Congress finally agreed on something and raked Mark Zuckerberg over the coals recently at a hearing that blamed him for the suicides of scores of teen and pre-teens. 

Supposedly many children were driven to their deaths by Zuckerberg's sloppy stewardship of his brainchild, Facebook (now Meta). Those poor innocents went online with trust in their hearts, then saw bad things or heard bad things and became frightened or depressed enough to end their lives. All because of Zuckerberg! And now Congress is asking just exactly what is he going to do about his invention, "a product that is killing people," in the words of South Carolina's Senator Lindsey Graham. 

The bigger question is what are today's parents of young children willing to do to keep their kids safe, healthy and aware of the potential dangers lurking on the World Wide Web. Nobody asked that. Instead, they heaped blame on the brightest guy in the room. After all, he's very rich and very successful so it must be his fault.

Who Is Our President?

Come on people, you know Joe Biden is not running the country. He's old, frail, feeble, forgetful and can barely utter a sensible sentence. Whenever he is on a stage, which is almost never, he needs help finding the way off. He is led around by his wife, his handlers, his Secret Service guys and God knows who else. Add to that his shady past, his tendency to lie and his involvement with his son's illegal foreign deals and he's a loser all the way. (Kudos to the Democratic Party for recognizing that.)

Then there is his Vice President, hand-picked for her skin color and her gender. Since taking office she has done nothing but giggle girlishly and avoid all responsibility. Are we to believe that if Joe keels over, Kamala will become our leader? Nobody thinks that. So who is running the country? My guess is Michelle and Barack Obama, with a little bit of Clinton thrown in. 

Trump hoped to "make America great again," whereas Obama promised years ago that he would "fundamentally change America." He has succeeded. Any day now, when you make a call the recorded robot will say, "Press 2 to continue in English."

I wonder, how do sheep "Baaaaa" in Spanish?