Blog #47

Politics!  Politics!  Politics!  It’s everywhere, and no matter what words any celebrity or politician says, the other side ridicules, vilifies and dissects every syllable ad nauseum.  For instance, suppose Donald Trump gave a speech that consisted of only five words: “Two and two are four.”  Pretty unremarkable, unobjectionable.  Who could find fault with that?  Well, I guarantee you that CNN would instantaneously embark upon a 10-hour marathon to convince the American public of the following:

·        Trump “says” he went to the Wharton School of the University of Pennsylvania.  Even if what he “says” is true, is that all he learned?

·        He must have skipped all his classes or else he would have said something intelligent, like E=mc².

·        He didn’t say E=mc² because Einstein was an immigrant and Trump hates immigrants.

·        Plus, Einstein was Jewish and Trump is anti-Semitic.

·        And Trump’s hair looks like the top of a baked Alaska.

·        And he’s drilling in Alaska!  What a pervert!

·        And he’s a pervert!

·        And anyway, it should be “two and two is four.”  What an imbecile!

Welcome back, everyone.  I hope you are feeling well.  Are you fed up with all the political squabbling?  I am, but let’s forget it all for a while and look forward to Spring.  That’s right, it’s February, and that means Spring is around the corner.  Which reminds me – tomorrow is Groundhog Day, and the world will be watching as Punxsutawney Phil peeps his furry little head out of his hole.  Let’s see if I remember the rules:  if Phil sees his shadow, it means six more weeks of Winter.  If he doesn’t see his shadow, it means an early Spring.  If he sees Donald Trump’s shadow, he’d better jump back in his s***-hole.  If he sees Harvey Weinstein’s shadow, it means he popped up in the French Riviera by mistake.  If he sees Kim Jong Un’s shadow, I guess that means we lost the war.

We all have medical issues -- my back, my pacemaker and so on – but my biggest concern has been my eyes.  I saw my father go blind from macular degeneration, so when I visited Dr. Eye I was particularly concerned.  The exam went well and he said I have almost no chance of getting the disease:

The chances are truly spectacular

That you will not suffer from macular

The disease is so slow

That before it can grow,

You’ll die from a big heart attacular.

It is a sobering fact to realize that the beating of my heart is controlled by a device assembled by the lowest bidder.  Plus, the defibrillator has an internal siren that sounds like a Nazi police car and comes out of my chest.   If I hear it, I should go to the emergency room.  They test it every once in a while, and, believe me, it is very spooky to hear that Gestapo sound coming from your own chest. I hate the Nazi siren.  I would rather have music; even Nazi music would be better.  

Oh no.  I knew this was coming! Now he is going to come up with some stupid, juvenile list of Nazi songs that he made up.  It’s bad enough we have to read his dumb limericks, now we have to suffer through this stupid thing.  Exactly!  Get over it.  Here they are – Nazi songs!

Well It’s Bad, Bad Eva Braun, We’re So Sorry Uncle Adolph, Hitler With Your Best Shot, and yes, I have a favorite: Come On Baby Light My Fuhrer.

I know -- I've gone Looney Toons again.  Just pad my cell and come visit me once in a while.  Bring books -- and chocolate.

The earlier limerick, believe it or not, was the 47^th limerick I have shared with you. That is certainly a lot.  If you lined up all 47 limericks end to end, you’d be bored for quite some time. 

I had lunch with a friend today.  Naturally I got there early and, as I patiently sat, reading my book and sipping a glass of water, a lady (my age I suppose) came in and sat at a nearby table.  She told the waiter, “I’m waiting for one more -- short, balding, glasses.”  Is that how we talk about our loved ones when they’re not around?  With some trio of defining characteristics?  Is that how Carol would describe me to a waiter – gray hair, bad back, Nazi siren coming out of his chest.  When I describe her, it’s always in glorious and adoring superlatives – I’m waiting for a beautiful dark-haired woman.  I would never say, “I’m waiting for one more – short, walks fast, won’t like the table.”  Anyway, when this lady’s husband came in, I knew him immediately from his wife’s description.  He was short and nondescript and lost and generally husband-looking.  I almost just waved at him and pointed him to his wife’s table.  But he found her.  We always do.

Carol is currently watching the Women’s Speed Skating Olympic Trials.  She would watch baboons play Chinese Checkers if there was an announcer.  I am just a grouchy old recluse and I love my quiet time so much that I don’t understand why other people (normal people, I suppose) like background noise.  In any event, it reminded me that the Winter Olympics are about two weeks away.  I enjoy the Olympics, but I must admit that some of the new events are too strange and silly for me.  Seriously, skiing should be one event – Downhill.  The one who gets there first wins.  I like things simple.  But now there is skiing with little zig-zags, skiing with big zig-zags, skiing over bumps, skiing over bumps while doing somersaults.  There’s skiing and shooting.  Now there’s an event that may come in handy, considering the Olympics are being held in the shadow of North Korea.

I never understood the skiing/shooting event (I think they call it the Biathlon).  You cross-country ski for a while, then drop on your belly and shoot a rifle at some targets.  Wouldn’t it make more sense if you shot at the competitor who’s ahead of you?   As I said, I like it simple.  We could change the name to the Die-Athlon.  The North Koreans wanted to change the format to skiing and firing a nuclear-tipped missile, but the contestants carrying the missiles kept sinking into the snow.  I would love to be in the Olympics.  When they get around to the event called Eating Popcorn while Writing a Limerick, I might have a chance.

I’d better go practice, so I’ll say goodbye for now.  Stay well and come back next week.   I’ll tell you all about what Punxsutawney Phil saw on Groundhog Day.

Michael                                             Send comments to:  mfox1746@gmail.com