Blog #435                                         July 10, 2025

 

After dinner most nights I begin my evening activities, which mostly consist of finding a room in which my wife is not watching television.  Oops, too late.  She has both televisions blasting on different channels.  I searched for reasons not to blow my brains out and I found one – writing to you.  I like it, and you do too, I guess.  So, let’s get started

 

I am considering coming out of retirement and becoming a Marriage Counsellor.  You see, I have a unique ability to view a domestic conflict from both sides.  A few years ago, I had a cornea transplant and the donor was a 62-year-old woman from Kansas City.  Thus, my left eye is female.  My right eye, therefore, gives me the male perspective while my left sees things from the feminine point of view.  Hence, the marriage counselling gig.  “Yes, Mr. Smith, I can see with my right eye that you are a dedicated and caring husband.  But with my left eye I see that you always get lost and wear linen in November.”  The first candidate for my transplant was a 50-year-old man who had died of a heart attack.  They told me that was great because the guy was healthy.  Healthy? I asked.  How long had he been healthy before he died of a heart attack?  We switched to the lady from Kansas City.

 

The eye surgery was performed by a local physician named Dr. Blinder.  Seriously!  Now what perverse sense of fate would lead someone with that name to that profession?  My Cardiologist is named Dr. Sewall, which is pretty close to See-Well.  He should have been an eye doctor.  Anyway, I have mentioned the odd coincidence to friends and have been rewarded with other doctors who maybe should have chosen a different specialty.  Apparently, there is a dentist named Dr. Payne and a surgeon named Dr. Butcher.  Someone told me that in Florida resides a plastic surgeon named Dr. Pricey.  In Texas, there is a urologist named Dr. Dickey and an OB-GYN named Dr. Fingers. Unless my friends are fibbing to me, these are all real.

 

But you wouldn’t fib to me, would you?  Hi there, and welcome back.  I hope you’re feeling well and that you had a nice Independence Day holiday.  You know, I really think that the Founding Fathers made a huge mistake.  They should have put the Fourth of July in the middle of December.  That way, the fireworks could start at 5:00, when it gets dark, and everyone could be in bed by 9:00.  In July, it gets dark so late that by the time the fireworks start, I’m drowsy.  Just a thought.

 

Here’s another thought.  What’s all this kerfuffle about P. Diddy?  Who is he anyway?  The first time I heard “P. Diddy”, I thought it was a diagnosis from a urologist.  Aren’t there more important things to worry about?  Politics, the Big Beautiful Bill, Iran, Israel, what Oprah wore to the Bezos wedding.  Those are important.  But P. Diddy?  Enough.

 

And even more preposterous and puerile is the hotdog-eating contest that many of my friends were talking about.  I don’t give a flying frankfurter about some clown eating 70 hotdogs in ten minutes.  It’s disgusting and stupid and insulting to all the hungry people in the world.

 

Ok, I’d better calm down.  Let’s talk about puerile, the Weekly Word.  It means childishly silly and trivial.

 

Message from Shakespeare:  Unquiet meals make ill digestions (Comedy of Errors).  That hotdog thing must have been won by a dog.  If you put a truck-full of hotdogs in front of a dog, the silly thing would eat until it exploded.  A cat would just walk by and order some salmon paté.  Purr.

 

Now back to doctors.  I visited a doctor recently, Dr. Hand, to get a shot for trigger finger.  I love this guy; he’s so entertaining and friendly.  But he’s also late.  He made me wait 45 minutes this time, and I decided to give him some advice.

 

Now talking with you has been great

But it makes your appointments run late

You should know that your patients

Do not have much patience

And we would prefer not to wait.

 

I actually did say that to him, albeit not in rhyming form, and he responded with a smile and said, “I don’t care; I like talking to my patients.”

 

I got a call the other day from some marketing company that wanted to pay me fifty bucks to participate in a 2-hour focus group on radio preferences.  Why not?  I have time between taking pills, reading books, writing letters to my kids, writing a blog, taking pills, doing my errands, visiting doctors, writing a limerick, playing with Shakespeare and taking pills.

 

I even had time to start writing a book about old people.  I got as far as coming up with some potential titles.  Here they are:

 

·        The World According to AARP

·        Rheumatism at the Top

·        To Kill an Early Bird

·        Cataract on a Hot Tin Roof

·        A Clockwork Prune

·         A Tale of Two Colonoscopies

·         Atlas Limped

·         Into Thin Hair

 

Back to the radio marketing.  They started by asking my age, and as soon as they found out I was older than Methuselah’s uncle, they booted me. They don’t care what radio stations old people listen to.  Seniors probably just listen to NPR and Golden Oldies.  And anyway, who cares about old people in general?  They clog up the highways by driving slowly.  They waste our country’s medical resources by taking too long to die.  They pester their children about the simplest technological task.  Who needs these silly old people anyway?  Unless you’re a four-year-old or six or eight or ten, and you want a really cool bedtime story about dinosaurs and princesses and silly old men who fall all over themselves and make you giggle and who never stop loving you no matter what.  That’s ok, I didn’t have time for the stupid survey anyway.

 

Besides, it’s bedtime now, so goodnight to all my grandchildren.  Sleep well, my darlings.  And to all my loyal readers, don’t get all jealous on me.  I’ve told you plenty of stories already, and I’m pretty sure some of them have put you to sleep.  So goodnight, Gracie.  Stay well, enjoy your Summer and count your blessings.

 

Michael                                    Send comments to mfox1746@gmail.com