Blog #143

I have not spoken to you since the morning of Thanksgiving, so I have not mentioned all my blessings.  Truly, it is unnecessary to tell you how much I have to be thankful for.  You already know that I have a wife precious beyond compare, three daughters as bright and lively as the stars, two sons-in-law as warm and loyal as long-time friends and eight grandchildren packed with beauty, smiles and love.  Like I said, it is unnecessary to tell you how much I have to be thankful for.  So I won’t.

And then there’s you, of course, and I am humbly thankful for a pack of loyal readers bored enough to listen to a silly old man’s musings every week.  I am often asked how I can come up with something to talk about every week.  Well, Rudyard Kipling said, “All the earth is full of tales to him who listens.”  And you think this is easy?  I had originally written that my sons-in-law were as warm and loyal as your favorite dog.  Then I re-thought the dog reference.  I wouldn’t want one of them to get rabid on me.

Hi there and welcome back.  I hope you’re feeling well and have recovered from Thanksgiving.  We had a lovely holiday dinner in North Carolina at the house of my daughter’s friend Amy.  Thank you, Amy, for a warm and delicious evening.

The next day was Black Friday.  I took my little honey to her favorite store where she shopped until I dropped.  I retired to the car to sit and read, but she continued.  She never drops.  She has more energy than Richard Simmons in his prime.  (Richard is 71.)  

Now let’s get right down to what’s important – the Royals.  In the news, Queen Elizabeth the Second has summarily cancelled a 60^th birthday bash planned for Prince Andrew, her second son.  Prince Andrew, Duke of York and currently 8^th in the Royal line of succession is in a royal pickle for gallivanting around with Jeffrey Epstein.  As punishment, Liz has changed his title to Duke of Porn and vowed that he’ll succeed as King when snakes learn to tap dance.

I kind of have a crush on Liz.  I was six when she became Queen.  She was 26.  And we’re both still here!  I saw her on TV recently.  She was attending some function, resplendent in her aquamarine suit, matching hat the size and shape of an airplane propeller and matching purse.  Why, I have always wondered, is she carrying a purse?  What could she possibly need to carry, the key to the palace?  Money?  For what?  Identification?  Puh-leez!  Perfume?  Who is going to smell the Queen of England?  Credit Card?  Does she need to petrol up the limo?  I wonder if Liz has ever stopped at a petrol station in order to use the loo. 

Pardon me, my name is Liz

I’m the wealthiest woman there is

But though I’m the Queen

I could use a latrine

For even a Royal must whiz.

I suppose that means I will not be invited to Buckingham Palace this year.  That’s ok, my wing-tipped collar is being starched anyway.  The truth about the purse is that the Queen carries a comb, a handkerchief, a small gold compact and a lipstick.  She is, after all, one of the girls.  And on Sundays she carries some money for the collection box.  Really!  I looked it up.

My goodness, it’s December already, and all the radio stations are playing Christmas music.  That, in itself, is not surprising, but I happened to tune in to what is normally a political talk-show channel and what did I hear?  Political Christmas songs!  Who would have thought of such a thing?  Me, of course.  Here they are:

• I saw Biden kissing AOC
• Trump's nuts roasting on an open fire
• It's beginning to look a lot like Fake News

        You'd better watch out and don't take a breath

         If he thinks your rich, he'll tax you to death

         Bernie Sanders' coming to town.

•  Rudy the red-faced lawyer
•   Ukraine Upon a Midnight Clear

 I even heard Nancy Pelosi herself singing:

                   God bless you Justice Kavanaugh

There’s nothing you can do

As soon as we are through with Trump

We’re coming after you

And the President’s version of that warm holiday classic, I’ll be Gone by Christmas.

I suppose that means I will not be invited to the White House either.  If I keep going, I might not even be let back into my own home. 

MOVIE REVIEW:  Knives Out.  Stay out!  It was a silly, twisted murder spoof, like some Agatha Christie thing on Quaaludes.  It was as tedious and convoluted as the Mueller Report. The acting was phoned in and Daniel Craig’s bullshit accent was annoying.  Other than that, Mrs. Lincoln, how did you like the play? 

While in North Carolina, we had my grandson Zach, home from Duke on his Thanksgiving break.  Well, we had him, but we didn’t see him.  There was one 48-hour period where I didn’t see him at all.  I thought he was up in his room or out with his friends, but who knows?  He could have been abducted by some aliens who fly around the Galaxy collecting rude teenagers.

On Sunday, we drove him back to Duke.  He was asleep in the back seat the whole time.  I love Zach.  He’s my first grandchild.  He’s the one who made me a Poppy, and all I wish for him is that, one day, he will have a beloved grandson of his own who ignores him, doesn’t return his phone calls and doesn’t want to spend any time with him.  When we dropped him off, I went in to look at his dorm room.  It was small and, as expected, cluttered.  On his desk I saw two framed photos.  Only two!  One was of a teenaged Zach with his parents.  The other was of a ten or eleven- year-old Zach hugging his old Poppy.  Such a good boy!  I love you, Zach.

And I love writing to you as well.  So be sure to come back next week and bring your reading glasses.  That print just keeps getting smaller and smaller.  And stay well and count your blessings.  Can you do all that?  Multitask!  See you next week.

Michael                                    Send comments to:  mfox1746@gmail.com