Tampon Tim's Tall Tales

 

Tim in heels!

Just in case you haven't heard, "Tampon Tim" is a nickname given to Minnesota Governor Tim Walz by his critics after he signed a state law requiring public schools to stock menstrual products, i.e. tampons, in the bathrooms of boys as well as girls in grades 4 to 12. (Like so many boys get their periods, as we all know.)

Let that one sink in for a minute.

Okay, that was bad, but his latest dumb, insulting comment was worse, likening the situation in Minnesota to the Nazi regime during World War II. Walz said, "Children are now hiding in their houses, afraid to go outside. Many of us grew up reading that story of Anne Frank."

Really, Tim?

Film Review: SKYSCRAPER LIVE

The 11th-tallest building on the planet is located in Taiwan and is called Taipei 101, named for its 101 floors. In this film, famed free-soloing rock climber Alex Honnold attempts to fulfill his lifelong dream of summiting it without the use of ropes or any other equipment. Will he make it or will he plummet 1,677 feet to his death?

When first aired, Skyscraper Live was live-streamed on Netflix, meaning the audience did not know whether Alex would live or die as they watched. In fact, there was a 10-second time delay built in because it's illegal to show someone die on TV. Now that he has survived, you can watch his breathtaking ascent without fear, in the comfort of your own home. 

Despite knowing that all ends well, watching Alex scale heights beyond one's imagination is still nerve-wracking, spine-tingling, blood-curdling, and in my case, somewhat nauseating. Still, in the end it's very inspirational, making one rethink their own fears and self-imposed limitations. I'd say it's a must-see, especially if you are an anxious scaredy-cat wimp.

The Vanishing American Doctor

I recently visited my cardiologist, someone I've seen only fleetingly and annually since my heart attack in 2016. Silly me, I thought that after a heart attack a person would rate more time with a doctor who specializes in keeping people from having heart attacks in the first place, and certainly from having another one. But no, I'm just another statistic: The American Heart Association’s update revealed that as of 2025, approximately 5% of adults had been diagnosed with coronary heart disease, meaning millions of Americans are living with this condition. 

Still, even though I have plenty of company, it's not nothing -- at least, to me. So I was annoyed when I received a text the day before my annual checkup saying I should prepare for my upcoming "20 minute appointment with Dr. Thomas."

It takes me half an hour to drive to the doctor's office, and that's with no traffic. I've waited a year to see her, and maybe I have some questions. But 20 minutes is all I get? I figured it was just an expression. But then, about ten minutes before the appointed time as I was pulling into a parking spot at the medical center, I got another text saying that my "20 minute appointment with Dr. Thomas" was nigh.

Beginning promptly at 11:00, the first eight minutes were spent with a nurse who took my blood pressure, performed an EKG and asked a lot of questions to update the information in my chart. Then the doctor arrived, listened to my heart and lungs with her stethoscope, and told me how I was doing according to the results of her examination. Glancing at her watch,  she slowly backed towards the door. At exactly 11:18 I said I had a question, and she said I should "make it quick." I did, and she was out the door at exactly 11:20, saying,"See you next year."

Fortunately I didn't have a heart attack right there, as she certainly had no time for that kind of nonsense.

Celebrity Owies, Beckham-Style

Yesterday, listening to the news on my car radio, I heard a little blurb about "something going on with the Beckham family."  Since I arrived at my destination and didn't even know who the Beckham family is, I never heard more. Then this morning on the TV news there was a mention about "what's going on inside the Beckham family." They promised to discuss it after the commercial, but I turned it off and went to the gym.

Later, while checking my email, I saw a headline from Vanity Fair magazine promising a "detailed timeline of the whole Beckham family drama." That did it! I had to know just who these people are and what is their problem.

So I googled it and found out that David Beckham is a retired soccer player married to Victoria Beckham, a dress designer. They have four children and their oldest, named Brooklyn, married a woman that Victoria doesn't like. So Brooklyn, who is 26, is crying all over the media that his mommy is very mean to his wife. That is it.

Give me a break with these celebrities who think their having a hangnail is like a non-celebrity getting a terminal cancer diagnosis.

Bring Back Mister Rogers

First thing this morning, happily chomping on my healthy non-gluten toast with peanut butter and half a banana, I read a disturbing article in the Wall Street Journal about a man who makes Jeffrey Epstein look like Mister Rogers. A multi-millionaire and married father of three by the time he was 40, the sick, twisted individual named Howard Rubin maintained a ritzy Manhattan penthouse apartment with two bedrooms, one of which was outfitted as a soundproof sex dungeon painted red. There he enslaved and tortured equally depraved women, using electric shocks and severe beatings, who were willing to offer him sexual gratification in return for a fat paycheck. 

The dungeon was stocked with whips, handcuffs, chains, manacles and worse. But here's my question: Not what's wrong with that guy, who is currently locked up in a Brooklyn jail awaiting trial, or his "secretary" who scheduled all of his dates with those misguided women willing to undergo his beatings and humiliation -- not to mention rape and sodomy -- but what's gone wrong in our society that such people are created by it?

There are so many sickos roaming our world, one wonders how and why they got that way. Surely we cannot blame "bad parenting" for Jeffrey Dahmer's desire to murder young men and then dismember them and eat their body parts. And he was just one of too many to mention here. Circa 2026, tales of horror and psychological depravity rule the day on TV and in books and films. No wonder so many people end up nuts. 

My advice is to stay away from all that shit. Just as you are what you eat, you are what you see, watch and hear. Treat yourself well, as if you are your own mommy. Unless your mommy was crazy because her parents were certifiable, in which case you're on your own. Maybe start watching reruns of Mister Rogers' Neighborhood.  

Bimbo Broadcasting, Barbie-Style

 The women pictured above are flesh-and-blood news anchors at major TV stations, except for the one who is the official spokeswoman for The White House. Below is a photo of their role model, a plastic doll named Barbie.

Bagel Love, Jewish Hate

Line of people waiting to get into Utopia Bagels in Manhattan.

" A bagel is a bread roll originating in the Jewish communities of Poland. Bagels are traditionally made from yeasted wheat dough that is shaped by hand into a torus or ring, briefly boiled in water, and then baked." -- --Wikipedia

Some statistics: It’s estimated that 205.34 million Americans consumed bagels in 2024. The total U.S. sales of bagels in grocery stores in 2021 was $1.54 billion. In the U.S., around two to ten million bagels are sold every day.

I present you with two indisputable facts: A, Everyone loves bagels and B, bagels were invented by Jews. Yes, Jews -- those people the world loves to hate, mock and smear (not schmear, although they do that too), not to mention slaughter, gas, denigrate, demean and attack. Despite that, billions of people across the planet, and possibly on other planets as well, wrap their lips around a bagel at least once a week, if not more often than that. 

Antisemitism reigns while Jewish bagel purveyors rake in the dough, no pun intended, catering to an audience of goyim who secretly and sometimes openly detest them. 

Go figure.

How Much Do You Matter?

An article in today's Wall Street Journal shines a light on the darkest corner of retirement. It's called "mattering," meaning being seen by others as adding value and worth to society. "Sustaining a sense of mattering has become a defining challenge of aging," the author explains. Apparently the loss of this feeling is responsible for most of the depression experienced by retired seniors, which is widespread and growing. 

I have not mattered to society for so many years, I can hardly remember the last time. What I do remember clearly is my conversation with a young woman almost 15 years ago when I was volunteering at Portland Museum of Art here in Maine. A blizzard had been predicted for the next day I was due for my twice-a-week shift at the museum. I told the volunteer manager that I hated driving in snow and thus might not show up since I lived a half-hour's drive away, but that I would call that morning if I wasn't able to come in. Her response was swift and cutting: "Oh, no problem -- you never have to let us know if you're coming in, it doesn't matter."  

Naturally, I never went back. Since then I have taken more than a dozen volunteer positions, bearing in mind each time that whether I showed up or not didn't matter to anyone other than my pets, who of course preferred me to stay at home with them and see to all their needs. 

Sadly, older people don't matter much except to their children, especially those with kids of their own who rely on them as babysitters. Since I have no grandchildren and I'm down to one cat, my life has less value than ever before. Fortunately I'm an excellent cook, so my husband values me quite highly. Other than him, I could probably vanish into thin air and nobody would notice.

How about you? Do you still matter?

The End of Men

Little Timmy

Even though I feel pretty good and still have all my marbles, I am sometimes sad to be my age, mostly because 79 is pretty old and the end is closer than the beginning. But then I take a good look around and see that society is crumbling and worsening day by day, in every way. One really major way in which things are bad is that men are disappearing, and I really love men. Or at least I have in the past.

Beginning in my childhood and continuing until about 10 years ago, Hollywood served up the best men. Thankfully I was alive to see incredibly sexy and handsome actors such as Robert Mitchum, Paul Newman, Steve McQueen, Harrison Ford, Humphrey Bogart, Jimmy Stewart, Clark Gable, Cary Grant, Laurence Olivier, Marlon Brando, Robert Redford, James Dean, Christopher Plummer, Jack Nicholson, Gregory Peck, Al Pacino, Bruce Willis, Robert Duvall, Warren Beatty and James Caan. Most of them are dead now, but their movies live on. (Thank god for British actor Idris Elba, the only real "hunk" acting today.) 

Meanwhile, today's Wall Street Journal reports that actor Timothee Chalamet, that wispy, anorexic-looking slip of a boy who recently won a Golden Globe for something, is, according to Vogue magazine, "The most influential man in fashion." 

Timothee's photo makes me glad to be old. It also explains why so many women today are lesbians. And no, he is not in costume for a movie, he is appearing in his real life on the Red Carpet at an awards show.

Sez Who?

Yesterday I received a comment from Anonymous calling me a "regular moron." This bothered me on two counts. First, it was annoying that the person chose not to self-identify. And second, if I'm going to be considered a moron, I'd like to be a world-class moron, or a big, fat moron, not just a regular moron.

The practice of hurling epithets at strangers online is very popular these days. I do it myself, although I always use my real name and it's only in dire cases, for example when the person is a big, fat moron. I wish we could all do it IRL, like at a party where you're stuck in a corner with someone yapping away with no breaks and you're desperate to escape. That's when a nasty epithet would really come in handy.

So, to the person who called me a regular moron -- please come forward and tell me who you are so I can see just what kind of moron you are.

Stranger In A Strange Land

By all accounts I am not normal, at least here in America. I'm out of the loop, on the sidelines, not in the game. It's not because I'm old, but it's because of something. Possibly it stems from my mother telling me at about age five that nobody knows more about me than me.

Following is a list of things I've never done, have no interest in doing and continue to ignore, making me unable to engage in small talk at parties I don't attend.

I've never heard a podcast, do not follow any influencers and avoid football. I've  never heard a song by Taylor Swift, or Adele or K-Pop or whoever is "it" right now.

I've never read any Harry Potter books or seen any Harry Potter movies. I don't watch late-night TV so have never seen John Oliver, Jon Stewart, Jimmy Kimmel and Conan O'Brien try to be funny.

I have no tattoos and have never had a smoothie, kale or otherwise. I couldn't pick an acai berry out of a lineup and have never had chai tea. I have never questioned my gender and don't understand how anyone does. 

God only knows what has happened to people.