Blog #118

I pick on my wife a lot in my blogs, especially last week, but this week I promise I’m not going to pick on her.  Last Tuesday was our 52^nd Anniversary.  Carol is a beautiful and special partner who has given me a spectacular family and a glorious 52 years.  She is the sunshine of my life! So, Honey, in honor of our anniversary, I won’t pick on you this week.

There, that was easier than buying a bunch of flowers, wasn’t it?  Seriously, Carol and I have had a wonderful marriage, although sometimes I feel like we have failed to share things equably.  For instance, we have, between us, two holes-in-one.  She has both.  And we have, between us, 112 wrinkles.  I have them all.

Hi there and welcome back.  I hope you are feeling well.  Let’s see what’s shakin’, bakin’ and quakin’ around here.  Last night, I settled into bed and put on a movie I had taped – The Miracle Worker about Helen Keller.  Ten minutes before the end, Carol reached for a box of tissues and I grabbed a handkerchief.  We knew what was coming, and we knew we couldn’t watch the last scene without crying.  We sobbed and bawled and carried on like babies.  It was great!

ITEM:  Jeff Bezos, CEO of Amazon, received a salary from Amazon in 2018 of $86,000.  That seems low, doesn’t it?  He must have gotten some stock options or something in addition.

ITEM:  Jeff Bezos, CEO of Amazon, just purchased a condo on Fifth Avenue in New York for $80 million.  See, I told you.

ITEM:  James Holzhauer, the Jeopardy guy, finally lost, and the ratings for the show have plummeted.  On his last day, the viewership was 13 million.  On the next day, the show was watched by a drunk sleeping at a bar in Scranton and two of the contestants’ mothers.

ITEM:  Last week the country celebrated the anniversary of D-Day, and I was thinking that I bet less than 10% of Americans know what the D in D-Day stands for.  I’ll tell you later.

ITEM:  In a public relations gesture, a resort in the Dominican Republic has offered special rates to anyone surviving the disastrous climbing season on Mt. Everest.  The offer includes free drinks from the mini-bar.

I just took a break to read my e-mails.  Each week I get a lot of e-mails from you, mostly complimentary.  Things like you’re very funny and I never knew you were that funny.  Dave Barry said, “Being funny, when it’s your job, is work.”  I suppose it is, but it’s fun.

Among my other e-mails, I get ads from all the places I shop.  Today I got one from eBay.  ANTI-AGING PRODUCTS, it said.  GET THEM WHILE THEY’RE HOT.   I think it should have said, GET THEM WHILE YOU’RE STILL WARM.

Are you manic-depressive?  😊 ☹  I am, a bit, but I notice the depressive side seems to win most days.  I don’t ever recall waking up and feeling so happy that I run around stuffing roses up my nose and helping some old ladies cross the street.  Take this morning, for instance.  I woke up and lay in bed taking inventory, making sure all my moving parts were still moving.  I finally got all my organ-systems working in a semi-coordinated fashion and was reasonably confident I could get out of bed and impersonate a functional human being.  At least long enough to find some old ladies to help me cross the street.

I’m like everybody else – on those days when my Moon is not in the Seventh House, I tend to bitch.  That’s really why I have you, you know.  I mean, who else can I complain to?  My wife?  It’s unsatisfying to complain to a woman who is reading a book, watching Jeopardy, playing Words With Friends and cooking all at the same time.  Oops, I promised not to pick on her.  My bad. Sorry, Honey!  And yes, she cooks.  And very well, I might add.

Anyway, I started this blog so I would have somebody to complain to.  Aren’t you lucky?  Suck it up!  Here goes:  

I’m limping around like a clown

I struggle to just get around

I’m getting so feeble

If I were a Weeble

I’d be the first one to fall down.

I am, however, not too feeble to drive 13½ hours for my grandson’s high-school graduation in North Carolina.  On the road, we stopped for lunch at – wait for it!  I know you all said McDonald’s, but you would all be wrong.  We stopped at Hardee’s.  What?  You’re a McDonald’s guy.  Yes, I know, but I just felt adventurous.  That’s sad, isn’t it.  The adventure in my life is eating at Hardee’s.  Not Sir Edmund Hillary climbing Mt. Everest, not Charles Darwin exploring the Galapagos, not Lewis and Clark reaching the Pacific Ocean.  Just Carol and Michael reaching a Hardee’s somewhere in Indiana.  Pathetic. 

And of course we listened to three hours of Dr. Laura, the radio psychologist.  Have you listened to her lately?  She has a new phone number:  1-800 BITCH.  I mean, she is the cruelest, most brutal woman on Earth.  These poor women call in wanting help with an emotional problem, and leave wanting an overdose of arsenic.  I think she’s caused more women to commit suicide than the Trump election.  She even has a catalog of Suicide Merchandise – guns, poisons, ropes.  They have a Family Special this week on nooses, two for the price of one, for when you and the spouse want to hang out together. 

Ok, the D in D-Day is the D in Day.  You see, in military-speak, D-Day means the day chosen for some major event.  They also use H-Hour to designate the time of the event.  I suppose they would use M-Minute as well.  Kind of disappointing, I know, but true.

Time to go.  But I’ll be back next week, so stay well, count your blessings and do something adventurous yourself.  Here’s a suggestion -- I just heard that a hole has been found in the wall of a nearby nudist camp.  I think you should look into it.  Don’t hurt yourself.

Michael                          Send comments to:  mfox1746@gmail.com

Blog #117

Fifty-two years ago next week, the 11th of June, my wife and I were married and all our hopes, aspirations and dreams were combined into one – hers!  We made the normal vows – to love and to cherish (that was my vow), to honor and obey (I think that was mine too).  She must have made some vows, but I forget what they were.  I think she vowed to stay dry.  What I do remember vividly is the marriage bargain I insisted upon, that I would go with her to the Temple of her choice on the two highest Jewish holidays each year and that she would go with me once each year to the Circus.  Fifty-two years now, and the score is 104-0.  That’s right, she has never, not once, been to the circus with me.

They don’t do real circuses anymore with lion tamers and elephants, and I can’t argue with that.  The last circus I attended was in 2005.  I only had two grandchildren then, both in North Carolina, but when a friend said he was taking his grandkids to the Ringling Brothers and Barnum & Bailey Circus – The Greatest Show On Earth, I asked if I could join.  It was great!

They had a dog act, a pony act and some trained goats performing in the three rings at one time.  There were clowns, a magician, trapeze acts and beautiful white horses prancing and cavorting.  And all the while the Ringmaster, in black tie and tails, was announcing the acts in his microphone like the Are you ready to RUMBLLLLL guy.

I was the only adult there without a child or grandchild -- well, maybe one of the goats didn’t have a kid – so I spent the intermission eating hotdogs and cotton candy and buying cheap garbage to send to my two little grandbabies.  I was having so much fun!

The second half was even more exciting than the first, with motorcycles whizzing inside a huge globe and jugglers and, of course, lion tamers and elephants.  Everybody ate, everybody cheered, the children laughed and the elephants avoided stepping on anyone.  I still have the ticket stub.  November 20, 2005.  I sat in Row N, Seat 1. 

Hi there and welcome back.  I hope you are feeling spunky today.  I’m sorry to bore you with that little bit of circus nostalgia.  Actually, I think all you men out there enjoyed my memories of the circus, and all you girls are mad that I picked on Carol.  (I don’t care what age you are, you’re still girls to me.)  Actually, you should thank me for picking on my wife every Thursday.  If your husband reads the blog, then he will realize that his wife (that’s you) isn’t the only one who won’t go to the circus.  I can hear you now – Don’t yell at me, Carol does the same thing.

Should I do a limerick now?  I guess I should, Limerick Oyster and all, but I don’t feel like it this week.  How about if I tell you how to do it and you can write your own?  It’s really not that hard.  All you have to do is follow the rules:

A limerick’s not hard to do

Just five little lines and you’re through.

Line 3 and Line 4

Must rhyme, and what’s more,

Line 5 rhymes with Lines 1 and 2.

There, now that I’ve taught you how to do it, go for it.  The ball’s in your court, the pen in your hand, the brush on your palette, the song in your throat and the Brussels sprout in your mouth.  Take it away!  Thank goodness I don’t have to write one this week.

My granddaughter had a soccer tournament over the weekend.  Mrs. Nevergotothecircus and I were both in attendance at the last game, where Charley played well and the team won. The weather was perfect until 60 seconds after the game ended, when the skies threatened to open up with a biblical deluge.  Carol said, give me the car keys, and hightailed it out to the Ark like an impala fleeing a cheetah, leaving her limping husband to drown on the concrete path.  She made it to the Ark, although she had to kick a couple of Unicorns out of the way.  By the time I got there, I was as wet as Lloyd Bridges and she was as dry as a matzo.  I can hear you girls now – Don’t yell at me, Carol does the same thing.

A friend of mine is retiring.  “I’m afraid,” he told me, “that I won’t be able to fill up all the hours.  What am I going to do all day?”  Well, you’ve come to the right old man, I told him.  Here’s what you do:

·        First of all, you’re going to need more doctors.  You used to be able to get by with a Dr. Doctor, a Dr. Tooth and maybe a Dr. Eye.  But now you’re going to need a Dr. Heart, a Dr. Skin, a Dr. Back, a Dr. Hand, a Dr. Pain and a Dr. Asshole.  That’s the technical term for a proctologist, but can, on occasion, be used for other individual doctors as well.  Much of your week will be taken up finding, making appointments with and waiting for your doctors.

·        Part of your time will be occupied with filling up your weekly pill dispenser, both A.M. and P.M. sections, and with ordering refills from Canadian or Indian pharmaceutical companies so that you can save $32 a year.

·        A large portion of your time will be determining how you can access NETFLIX for free by leeching off your children’s subscription and then determining which buttons on which of your three remote devices will actually let you watch something.

·        You will spend a significant number of hours going to your grandchildren’s gymnastics tournaments and oboe recitals.  You must do that or they won’t teach you how to get NETFLIX.

·        By the time you have dealt will all that, it will be time to watch Jeopardy, take a nap and get to the early-bird special.

·        And each Thursday, you have to read Limerick Oyster.

Don’t you dare miss it.  Till then, stay well, stay busy and count your blessings.

Michael                          Send comments to:  mfox1746@gmail.com

Blog #116

Did you have a nice Memorial Day?  Hotdogs and burgers and hockey playoffs!  Memorial Day is the traditional start of the Summer Season.  The swimming pools are open and everybody’s out playing golf and tennis.  My tennis career is over because of my back, although I have played Pickle Ball recently.  Pickle Ball is tennis for dwarfs, but it’s a terrific game.

And golf?  Well, golf for my generation is an exercise in frustration.  The equipment gets better and better and you get worse and worse.  It is a sign of old age when you’re leaving the house to play golf and your wife doesn’t say, have a nice game.  She says, don’t hurt yourself.  It can be torture sometimes.  In fact, a few years ago I came up with a terrific idea and sent it off to the Pentagon. I suggested that golf be used on the detainees at Guantanamo.  I mean how much more torture could there be?  Ok, Mahmoud, tomorrow you play 36 holes.  No, no, Effendi, I tell you anything you want.

Plus, my generation no longer can play in the really hot weather we get in St. Louis.  But I find a way to tolerate it – I play in the shade.

Now golf at a hundred and three

Is never a problem for me

Yes I’ve got it made

I play in the shade

My ball’s always under a tree.

The last time we played, my wife and I played with another couple.  When she saw our bags were together on one cart, she said, “On a scale of one to ten, how much do you want to ride with me?”  Translation from female to male:  I want to ride with the other girl; you wanna make somethin’ of it?  Hey, not this poor dumb schmuck.

Hi there and welcome back.  Last week, as I’ve told you, we had tornado warnings.  Everything came out well, but my wife was extremely distraught.  You see, the first weather interruption on the television was during Jeopardy.  Carol started to have a puppy!  She would rather have the whole building destroyed than miss James racking up another $80,000. 

So what’s in the news:

ITEM:  Michael Avenatti has been charged by Federal prosecutors in New York with defrauding Stormy Daniels.  Ms. Daniels immediately tweeted:  It wasn’t Michael Avenatti who defrauded me.  It was Billy Folger in the back seat of his Chevy when I was sixteen.

ITEM:  I wrote a song for a friend to perform at a party and she sent her thanks.  I wanted to wish her luck, so I replied break a leg, but then I erased it.  You know, at our age maybe that’s not such a good thing to say anymore.  I stuck with Good Luck.

ITEM:  A recent study showed that 54% of teenagers have anger issues.  It also showed that the other 46% were furious that they were in the minority.

ITEM:  Nancy Pelosi called President Trump a liar, a criminal, a lunatic, a bully and a traitor just ten minutes before meeting with him to work out a bi-partisan infra-structure plan.  When it was suggested to her that insulting someone was not the best way to promote cooperation, Congresswoman Pelosi replied, “Insult him?  Those were the nicest things I’ve said about him in two years.”

It makes me infuriated and truly sad to see the behavior of our politicians.  Doesn’t it bother you?  Doesn’t it just make you want to sit on the floor with your favorite stuffed animal and watch re-runs of Captain Kangaroo?  Me too.

My Grandchild #1 (Zach) is 17 and graduating high school in a couple of weeks.  I had this conversation with Carol the other day:

C:  I grabbed a picture of you as a teenager and compared it to a picture of Zachary to see if you looked alike.  You don’t.

M:  What picture of me?

C:  The one of you as a teenager that was hanging next to your sister’s picture.

M:  That’s not me; it’s my brother.

C:  Oh.

Now, honestly, there is no picture of my wife at any age – three months, six years, thirteen – where I cannot immediately recognize her.  Without fail!  But me?  Well, she has, over the years, variously mistaken me for my brother, my sister, Charlton Heston, Mohammed Ali and J. Fred Muggs.  Perhaps if I put my picture next to her mirror, she might get a glimpse of me once in a while.

One of the doctors who thinks the pain in my knee is from my hip or the pain in my hip is from my back or the pain in my back is from Ethiopia – one of those august gentlemen – suggested an aural steroid.  But, this wizened charlatan warned, there are side effects you will need to watch out for.  And what might those be? I asked suspiciously.  First, he said there might be mood swings – ok, sure, I’ll watch out for those.  How could I tell?  I’m already as bi-polar as two white bears.  Then there are nervousness, increased appetite, loss of appetite, water retention, dehydration and thoughts of suicide.  Let me ask you this, Doctor, is one of those side effects that the pain goes away?  He didn’t know.  I wonder if another side effect might be thoughts of murdering your doctor.

On the holiday weekend, my Grandchild #5 (11-year-old Charley) had a soccer tournament.  I saw the first game Saturday morning but skipped the afternoon game.  Naturally, that’s when she scored a goal.  I asked my son-in-law for the video.  No video.  What?  How can that be?  You can’t blow your nose outside without someone having a video of it.  Your cat can’t spit up a hair ball without a video.  You can’t take a Sweet’N Low from a restaurant and put it in your purse without security cameras flashing your image to the FBI.  But my granddaughter scores a goal and there’s nothing!  I was unhappy.  I guess I’ll have to go to the next game.

And speaking of the next one, on a scale of one to ten, how much do you want to come back next week and read another episode?  Don’t depress me.  Just be here!  Until then, stay well and count your blessings.

Michael                          Send comments to:  mfox1746@gmail.com

Blog #115

More gas stations, more Burger Kings, more landfills!  What have we done to our planet?  In the sage and prescient lyrics of Joni Mitchell, we’ve “paved Paradise and put up a parking lot.”  The trash on the streets, the casinos, the 32-screen multiplexes!  But what can I do?  Can I solve all the pollution and the greed and the thousand natural shocks that flesh is heir to? (Shakespeare, not Joni).  Surely not.  So, I look out for my family, try to be honest with my friends and relish the time I have with those I love.  (You know who you are.)  And I write to you each week.  Sometimes you even listen.  Hi there and welcome back.  I hope you’re feeling strong and healthy today.

One of those thousand natural shocks is my back.  I had some X-rays taken.  Can I get a copy to send to my son-in-law?  I mean, what’s the point of having a loving and wonderful radiologist son-in-law if I can’t ask him to drop everything he’s doing to tend to my problems?  The clinic said no, they could not give copies to anyone but my doctor.  But it’s my back!  Nope, it’s against the Privacy Act.  And I’m paying for it!  Nope.

I had two courses of action.  I chose the Yosemite Sam chasing Bugs Bunny with a shotgun course.  Are you crazy?  Get a grip on freaking reality, people.  You cannot deny me a copy of my own medical records.  Can I speak to someone with an IQ higher than my shoe size?  It worked.  I’m not proud, but it worked.  Take that, you flea-bitten wascally wabbit!

A few weeks ago, I told you I was helping some friends plan a trip to Africa.  You can’t just go to Africa like it was California.  Africa is a very dangerous place and you have to get shots and take pills and the right clothing and passports.  I guess it is like California!  One thing you have to be very careful about is malaria.  One million people die every year from malaria, and 90% of those are in Africa.  So I told my friends to be sure to take their pills.

This bottle of pills should take care o’ ya

And keep you from getting malaria

Cause one momentito

You meet a mosquito

And next momentito they bury ya. 

What was God thinking about when He created mosquitos? They are horrible, disease-infested creatures.  There was a cartoon movie some years ago in which Chris Rock is the voice of a mosquito.  When the movie ends, Chris is asked what his plans are for the future.  I think I’ll become a lawyer, he says. I’m already a blood-sucking parasite.  All I need is a briefcase.” 

ITEM:  The countries of Guatemala, El Salvador and Honduras have officially notified the International Olympic Committee that they will not be sending teams to the 2020 Tokyo Olympics.  It appears that all the people in those countries who can run, swim or ride a bike have already made it to California.

ITEM:  It has just been learned that Gokul Venkatachalam and Vanya Shivashankar, co-winners of the 2015 Scripps National Spelling Bee, were awarded their victories on the strength of their ability to spell their own names.

ITEM:  In an interview, the winner of the 2018 Spelling Bee was asked what contributed to her terrific spelling talent.  She replied, “Because my name is so long.”  Oh, said the reporter, because you’re from Sri Lanka and your name has 34 letters?  “No, I’m from China and my name is So Long.”

ITEM:  Makers of the Standard Aptitude Test (SAT) have just announced that the scores high-schoolers make on the arduous exam will now be accompanied by an Adversity Score which will measure home and neighborhood conditions which may have affected the student’s upbringing.  Well, so much for Laurie Loughlin and Felicity Huffman!  Now, instead of bribing the school to take your little angels, the best way to get them accepted to a good school is to beat the crap out of them and make them live in a dumpster.

Last Tuesday, we had tornado warnings for most of the evening.  It just so happened that my three local grandchildren were eating dinner over, and whereas the boys were fine, Charley, the 11-year-old girl, was petrified.  Their parents were at an event, so they were stuck with us.  Charley made me take her to the underground garage where she climbed into the back seat of my car, curled up and began sending her mother texts like, I’m never going to see you again.  I felt really bad for her, and I hugged her.  She looked up at me and said, “Poppy, I can’t believe I’m going to die with my hair looking this bad.”   She takes after her Nonnie.  Her 9-year-old brother immediately said, “Charley, nobody dies looking beautiful.”  He takes after me.

Do you have more than one remote for your television?  Of course you do.  So do I, but I want it all in one device.  Televisions are supposed to be smart and simple. Changing channels should not be like deciphering the Human Genome or solving the Riemann Hypothesis!  All I want is to be able to turn my television on and off with slightly more ease than it takes to launch an aircraft carrier.  So I called the Dreaded Cable Company and they sent someone out.  How nice of them.  I was actually expecting them to say they only send help to new customers, not loyal 20-year customers.  But they sent a highly-trained Doctor of Clicker-ology.  He couldn’t do it.  Gave up.  That means I still have to use one remote to turn off The View and a different one just to change the channel.

Last Saturday, we went to a wonderful birthday party for a woman who has dealt with a disability for all of her 50 years – years filled with tenderness, warmth and happiness thanks to the incredible love and dedication of her entire family.  The whole evening was a testimony to love and to family and I found it a joy to be there.  Happy Birthday, Angie.

All right, folks, it’s time to say goodbye.  Have a safe Memorial Day.  Don’t get sunburned, stay well, count your blessings, stay away from tornados and come back next week.  I promise you we won’t be in Kansas anymore.

Michael                          Send comments to:  mfox1746@gmail.com

Blog #114

Have you noticed that anything which is childproof is also senior-proof?  Pill bottles are, of course, the obvious example.  In fact, my doctor told me I didn’t need to go to the gym anymore; just opening the pill bottles was enough exercise. When it got to the point that I was holding the bottle between my knees and squeezing the sides in with my hands while holding a wrench in my teeth – well, I just gave up.  I went to the pharmacist and asked for the Senior Friendly pill bottles.  I apparently was not the first one with such a request, for she knew exactly what I wanted.  Now, thankfully, I can get to my pills easily, but I’m still working on the pickle jar I bought three years ago. 

Hi there and welcome back.  I hope you’re all doing well.  There’s so much in the news to talk about., so let’s get started.

ITEM:  Speaker of the House Nancy Pelosi last week intimated that Attorney General William Barr and Treasury Secretary Steven Mnuchin deserved to be in jail but conceded that “if we were arresting all of the people in the administration, we would have an over-crowded jail.”  President Trump reportedly is worried about his own prospects for winding up in prison.

This job has been nothing but grief

They call me a liar and a thief

They think I’m so wrong

That they’re changing my song

And calling it Jail to the Chief.

ITEM:  A recent ad for an elderly-care facility, in attempting to attract new residents, announced that it would be showing the 1959 movie Gidget in the facility’s theater.  It just seems to me that if you’re old enough to remember Gidget, you’re too old to remember Gidget.

ITEM:  Actor Luke Perry, who died last month, was buried in a mushroom suit.  The company who makes the suit describes it as "made up of mushrooms and other microorganisms that together do three things; aid in decomposition, work to neutralize toxins found in the body and transfer nutrients to plant life."  It is my personal opinion that people who believe in mushroom burial suits are full of shiitake.

ITEM:  Pablo Diego José Francisco de Paula Juan Nepomuceno María de los Remedios Cipriano de la Santísima Trinidad Ruiz y Picasso, the Mexican Minister of Short Names, when asked about President Trump’s proposed border wall, said, “My people find the wall very discouraging, but they’ll get over it.”   (The long name I just used is actually Pablo Picasso’s complete name.)

ITEM:  China’s top trade negotiator, Liu He, met with Treasury Department officials to try to work out a new trade deal.  I think they’ve come up with a solution.  We give them a thousand tons of wheat and they give us two anesthesiologists and an order of Sweet ‘n Sour Pork.

ITEM:  From the USA Today – ONE IN 20 U.S. ADULTS LACK BASIC ENGLISH SKILLS.  It should be “lacks”, not “lack”.

All older men have bad backs.  It’s God’s punishment for our ancestors’ arrogance in thinking they could walk on two legs.  So what do we do?  We get CAT scans and X-rays and MRIs, then we go to Dr. Pain and get a shot.  Simple enough, unless, like me, you have Whiney Baby Reaction (WBR).  There’s actually a medical name for it – vasovagal syncope – but I think Whiney Baby Reaction is sufficiently descriptive.  I can get through normal shots or drawing blood, but for shots in the back the needle is in you for a long time and I am a big, slobbering baby.

They try talking me out of it.  It’s nothing.  It’ll be over in a second.  Doesn’t work!  It’s like teaching a snake to knit.  You can talk all you want and nothing happens, except you annoy the snake.

But I have a method to get through it.  Instead of pretending to be macho and saying “I can handle it” and then winding up curled up in a fetal position on the floor with my thumb in my mouth, I take the opposite strategy.  I tell the doctor that I’m going to faint, call 9-1-1, set up an IV, alert the media, get me a pillow, call my wife – and by the time I finish telling him all that, it’s over.

I have something to say about Medical Marijuana.  I have something to say about most everything, as you’ve learned by now, and, usually, when I start pontificating in the company of others, Carol just says, “Oh that’s just my husband.  Don’t worry about him.”  Just my husband?  That’s what she calls me?  Come to think of it, Just Carol’s Husband makes me a pretty lucky guy.

Here’s the opinion.  We in Missouri will be getting medical marijuana soon.  I’m sure marijuana, cannabis, and hemp in all its forms – oils, brownies, gummies, bongs – has therapeutic benefits.  But why is the pot business so complicated?  For any other medicine, my doctor prescribes and Walgreens delivers.  For Oxycodone, the most dangerous and addictive drug there is, the doctor prescribes and Walgreens delivers.  But not pot.  Only certain doctors, Dr. Pot, can prescribe marijuana and related products, which are available only at special state-regulated dispensaries.  My own Dr. Doctor, who has treated me and taken care of me for decades cannot prescribe it.  It just smells like a money scam to me.  If it’s good for you, make it legal.  If you want to regulate it, let any doctor prescribe it and let Walgreens dispense it.  Okay, that’s it.  I’m sorry if I bored or offended you.  If you want to complain about me, call my wife.  She’s sure to agree with you.

Ok, it’s time for me to get back to my reading, so I’ll leave you.  I'm reading a book about Anti-Gravity and I just can't put it down.  Stay well, count your blessings and stay away from needles.  Oh, and don’t forget - There are three kinds of people, those who understand math and those who don’t.  I hope you’re not one of them.  See you next week.

Just Carol’s Husband                         Send comments to:  mfox1746@gmail.com

Blog #113

Most animals are not social.  They are solitary or live in family groups.  The thousands of bees in a beehive are all sisters.  A pride of lions are all related, as are packs of wolves or groups of chimpanzees.  When an outsider invades the family territory, there is violence.  Humans used to be wary of social integration as well, living in small family groups and warring with outsiders, but we are now a social species.  We leave our house every day and react with many other humans.

And what do we get for it?  Hurricanes, floods, measles.  Car jackings, gang violence, David Duke.  School shootings, synagogue shootings, cable companies that offer a discount to new customers but not to loyal ones.  Each day it is getting scarier to leave the house.  And how has our society reacted?  By staying at home. 

We don’t really need to go out anymore, do we?  We can already work from home, get books on line, have groceries delivered.  Amazon will deliver anything, anywhere in the world.  Pizza is delivered, Chinese food is delivered, the newspaper is delivered.  There’s no reason to leave home. Even Limerick Oyster is delivered to your phone every Thursday morning!  And here we are.  Let’s get started.

Hi there and welcome back.  I hope you’re feeling well.  The only things I can not get at home are my grandchildren.  I was with Grandchildren #5 (Charley, she’s 11) and #6 (Austin, he’s 9) the other day.  I was telling Charley that she had her Nonnie’s genes and so would grow up to be beautiful, fast and would hog all the closets.  Then Austin said, “And I have your genes, Poppy, so I’ll grow up to be a wrinkled, old smart guy.”  He loves me!  Austin actually said those exact words.  Grandchildren are brutal, but wonderful!

They shoot at my face with a gun

Drill holes in my toes when they’re done

They scream and they cry

And poke sticks in my eye

I never have had so much fun.

Speaking of Grandparents and Parents, next Sunday is Mother’s Day, the day we hug our Moms if they’re around and remember them if they’re not.  My Mom was very loving and very smart.  She taught me to play Bridge and Canasta and Mahjong and Hearts.  She taught me to look up a word if I didn’t understand it.  To the end of her life, if she and I disagreed about the use of a word, the night would not end without getting a call from my Mom.  She had looked it up in the dictionary and wanted to tell me who was right.  It was usually her.  She died when I was 49.  Hi, Mom.

I was her favorite, of course, but that wasn’t very hard.  My competition was a lovable, eccentric, artistic older brother who was probably gay, although none of us knew about such things back then, and a lunatic older sister.  My brother married a woman my mother hated, and the loveless marriage lasted six months.  My sister, when she was 45, married a 94-year-old man.  It’s a long story.  But her perfect child (that would be your loyal correspondent) gave her an absolutely perfect daughter-in-law and three adorable grandchildren on whom she doted.  Did I say hi, Mom?  Hi, Mom.

Now I have four mothers in my family, my wife and three daughters, and they are all fabulous.  In honor of Mother’s Day, I’ll give you one of those Rock ‘n Roll quizzes that you hate.  Just skip over it.  In what song will you find these lyrics?

1.     Mama Pajama rolled out of bed

2.     Mama Leone left a note on the door

3.     I told your mama that you’d be in by ten

4.     Mama, just killed a man.

Last Saturday, May 4^th was Star Wars Day.  Seriously!  May the 4^th be with you, right?  So, it’s Star Wars Day.  I celebrated by taking my two local grandsons to a movie.  There was no Star Wars movie out, so we saw Avengers: End Game.  Since it was such a popular flick, I decided I had to buy the tickets online.  What a hassle!  I could have gotten a CIA Security Clearance in less time.  I had to pick the theater, the time and the seats.  Plus, I had to let the computer god know that I had a frequent movie card so they wouldn’t add on a service charge.  This was high drama and made me as nervous as an ant at an aardvark convention.  Plus, while you’re picking everything out, there’s a countdown timer on the screen warning you that if you’re not completely finished in five minutes, you lose.  It was like the thing on the right side of every CNN program telling you how long it is till the next time William Barr gives Jerry Nadler the finger.

But I followed the directions assiduously and seemed, within the time limit, to have gotten everything I wanted.  I was as happy as a chimpanzee who had just locked the Zookeeper in.  On the morning of the movie, I checked the receipt on my phone four times to make sure I had the right date, time and theater.  I have a consistent history of messing this kind of thing up, and I was certain I had inadvertently gotten a reservation at a theater in Mumbai.  But we got to the theater and everything worked, except it was a 3D showing.  When did they ask me that?  Well, the boys loved the 3D and by the end of the three hours, I had gotten used to it.  You can get used to a lot in three hours.  Not a jack-hammer or Joy Behar, but a lot of things.

What a blockbuster!  It stars every actor in Hollywood and has made almost as much money as the Jeopardy guy.  We liked it.  Here are the answers to the quiz:

1.     Me and Julio Down by the Schoolyard – Paul Simon (1972)

2.     Movin’ Out – Billy Joel (1977)

3.     Wake Up Little Susie – Everly Brothers (1957)

4.     Bohemian Rhapsody – Queen (1975)

I guess I’m out of words, so let’s stop.  Stay well, count your blessings and come back next week.  And don’t forget to say hi to your mom.  Hi, Mom.

Michael                          Send comments to:  mfox1746@gmail.com

Blog #112

Thank God Whoopi’s back.  My wife loves The View and watches it religiously.  I watch it religiously too – I get down on my knees and pray that the cable goes out.  But now with Whoopi back, that means less Joy.  And less Joy gives me more joy.  Hey, I know many of you love The View, but it’s ok if I don’t like what you like, isn’t it?  I’m guessing there are plenty of things I like that you don’t, like Moby Dick and John Milton and those little canned wieners we used to call Vienna Sausages.  They’d come five or six in a can packed in some slimy goop.  You’d grill them on a piece of aluminum foil, turning them over after they started to blacken.  Then cut them in half and slice up pickles so the pickle was the same size as the wiener pieces.  Fork a pickle and a wiener together and plunge them into your mouth.  Carol would not touch them, thought they were disgusting.  Mmmm, delicious!

Sorry, I got carried away.  Where was I?  The View.  I think Carol plays it on purpose just to torture me.  It’s less messy than water-boarding.

The View is too horrid to mention

It’s hard to keep paying attention

To make this old boy

Watch Whoopi and Joy

Is against the Geneva Convention.

Hi there and welcome back.  Did you celebrate May Day?  You had two choices.  You could have celebrated May Day as a traditional Spring Festival by marching around the Maypole strewing flowers and singing songs.  Or you could have celebrated May Day as the Communist International Workers’ Day by going to a Bernie Sanders Rally.

If you missed celebrating May Day, there’s always Cinco de Mayo.  That’s next Sunday, and everybody in the United States will be out partying and drinking and celebrating this Mexican holiday.  How many people down in Mexico are out partying on July 4^th?  Not uno!  But we Americans will embrace any excuse to party and drink.  Tomorrow, actually, is National Two Different Colored Shoes Day.  I thought that was every day!  Seriously, tomorrow really is the day set aside to wear two different shoes, so put on a brown and a black and keep them on until Sunday when everyone will be too drunk to notice.

But the Cinco de Mayo thing, I think, is actually sinister.  Why should we, a country whose national language is English, be celebrating a foreign holiday with a Spanish name?  The way things are going, by 2030 Cinco de Mayo will be a national holiday in America.  By 2040 Independence Day will be called Quatro de Julio.  By 2060, my English as a Second Language class will be taught because our first language will be Spanish.   So feliz Cinco de Mayo, amigos.  Enjoy your Margaritas and Dos Equis and Coronas.  Oh, and I love your shoes!

Let’s see, what has happened this week?  Well, my friends Linda and Tom from Florida told me they were coming in town for a wedding that’s going to be held in a cave.  A cave!  Can you believe that?  I know some marriages are dark and airless, but getting married in a cave is a bad start.  If it’s a Jewish wedding, they’ll call it a BAT Mitzvah.  Even so, I imagine they’ll have lovely, romantic memories of the dark event.  I can hear them now, celebrating their 20^th Anniversary:  Hey, Marge, remember when you were wiping guano off your ear while the preacher said “I now pronounce you Stalagmite and Stalactite?”

I had my yearly visit with Dr. Pacemaker.  Everything’s great, but each time, when they start slowing down or speeding up my heart by pushing buttons on a computer on the other side of the room, it just makes me feel so . . . digital!  Like I’ve lost control of my actions – like Robbie the Robot or R2D2 or Howdy Doody.  Who knows what they could program me to do without my knowing it?  When I got home, Carol asked me how it went and a deep voice emerged from the left side of my chest.  It said “S’awright!”

Didn’t get that?  You must be under 70.  Just go to Google and type in “S’awright”.

The next day I went to Dr. Tooth, and she told me I needed to have a tooth extracted.  It’s the lower one on the extreme left.  I guess that means I won’t be able to eat at an Extreme Left restaurant for a few days.  All the Democrats are opening new restaurants, you know.  There are:

Col. Bernie Sanders' Socialist Fried Chicken

AOC’s Green New Meal

Elizabeth Warren’s Come On In And Pull Up A Cherokee

Mayor Pete’s Coffee

Even Joe Biden is starting one.  It’s called Squeeze n’ Sniff.  At least they have a variety.  All the Extreme Right has is White Castle.

Last week I was upset because my fortune cookie was empty.  Now I’m distressed because of this White Privilege and People of Color thing.  I’m not a Person of Color.  I’m an old white guy. Is that a bad thing?  At least give me a better label.  How about a Person With No Fortune and No Color?  It has a ring to it.

Plus, I have a bad name.  I mean Michael is a fine name that’s been around forever.  It’s the name of an Archangel, the name of a Saint and the name of such renowned and important superstars as Jackson and Jordan and Phelps.  It’s the name of a songbird (Bublé), a Monkee (Nesmith) and a snake (Avenatti).  But it’s just so normal and vanilla.  Why couldn’t I have one of those great names like Alfred North Whitehead or Genghis Kahn or Winston Churchill or Jawaharlal Nehru or Rudyard Kipling or Desmond Tutu?   Or the best name of all time:  Benedict Cumberbatch!

Well, whatever your name is, you made it through another one.  I’m proud of you.  Stay well, count your blessings, don’t drink too much on Cinco de Mayo and come back next week.  I have no idea what I’m going to talk about, so it’ll be a surprise to both of us.

Winston                          Send comments to:  mfox1746@gmail.com