Blog #148

Since the last Oyster, I’ve had a birthday – 74.  But I’m not depressed.  It’s just another candle on the cake, another notch on life’s belt, another nail in the ever-closing coffin.  I thought getting older would take longer. But, as God said to Methuselah, “If you can make it to 800, your chances of reaching 900 are pretty good.”  Still, old is old.

·        I’m so old, they’ve discontinued my blood type.

·        I’m so old, I found a picture of Cleopatra in my Yearbook.

·        I’m so old, I have an autographed Bible.

·        I’m so old, I walked into an antique store and people started to bid on me.

Is that enough?  The only consolation I have is that many of you out there are older than me.  Sorry about that.  But you look marrrrvellous!  I’m not so certain about me, however.  On my birthday, I took a hard look in the mirror and tried to count my wrinkles.  I stopped counting at Oh, my God and told Carol I wanted to get my eyes done.  She looked at me, the sweet, sugar-tongued, considerate woman that she is, and said, “I like you wrinkled.”  That made me feel so much better. 

Hi there and welcome back.  You really do look great.  I hope you had a lovely New Year’s Eve and are itching to read more Limerick Oysters in 2020.  Well, here we go.  Oh, by the way, my granddaughter Zoey, who is 16 and spending her Junior year of high school in the Netherlands has started a blog.  She takes after her Poppy, and I’m very proud of her.  Check it out at walkwithus.family.

When I was in California last week, I of course went to a McDonald’s. Everything is different in California, and the difference at McDonald’s was that they have a problem with homeless people occupying the store all day.  They have tried to solve the problem by limiting the amount of time you can stay.  Each soda cup has a code on the bottom.  When you put the cup into one of these new-fangled, handy-dandy, 212-flavor soda machines, it flashes a message: Two more refills in the next 60 minutes.  If you get a refill 15 minutes later, it flashes: One more refill in the next 45 minutes.  Well, you don’t have to be Tonto to follow that trail.  They don’t want you hanging around all day, sucking from their sweet, carbonated teat.

If you want to hang out at our store

We’ve cut down the drinks you can pour

If you’ve got no home

Just go out and roam

Cause McDonald’s don’t want you no more.

Maybe the sucking line was a little over the top.  Sorry.

When you Google something on your phone, you get a list of news stories.  I don’t know how Google determines the order in which these stories are listed, but last Saturday, the #6 story was that the United States had assassinated a top Iranian military commander.  That was #6.  The #1 story on Google News was:  Modern Family star Ariel Winter dons thong bikini for New Years.  Now, I can’t blame Google for this national dyslexia.  I suspect the list reflects the number of hits these news items get, in turn reflecting that the American people, at least those who prowl and slink through Internet space, find Ariel’s tush more interesting than the fact that we are rapidly inching toward war with Iran.  What is wrong with us?

Television, however, is obsessed with the Iran story and is full of video showing Iranian street mobs burning American flags.  Where do they get all these American flags in Iran?  Where would you go to get an Iranian flag should you feel so juvenile as to burn one?  I am beginning to believe that the entire Iranian flap is being fomented by the guy who makes American flags.  His sales of American flags must be on fire.  And his sales of suicide vests are booming.

And then I heard George Stephanopoulos announce on ABC that in the month of December, one American serviceman was killed in Afghanistan.  I didn’t hear him say that in the same month, 90 people were killed by gunfire in Chicago and 37 killed in St. Louis.  It is apparently much safer to live in Afghanistan than in an American city.  What is wrong with us?

Sorry about the serious stuff.  I know you come here to be amused, not depressed.  So, let’s do a movie review:

ROTTEN OYSTERS:  Movies and live theater are very different experiences.  In every war movie, the sight of a helicopter landing is inconsequential, but when the helicopter lands on stage in Miss Saigon, it’s epic!  Every super-hero movie has somebody who can fly.  It’s mundane.  But when Peter Pan flies in a live theater, it’s awwwwesome!  On Broadway, CATS submerges you in a strange and spectral feline universe which is enthralling.  And CATS, the movie, does a very capable job of recreating that feeling.  Although the movie received poor reviews, I liked it a lot.  Forget Rotten Tomatoes, and listen to me.  Go see it.  Have I ever steered you wrong?  Although I do admit Judi Dench looked a little too much like Bert Lahr.

Did you love the Golden Globes?  I didn’t watch it at all.  Award shows are sycophantic, narcissistic, anti-government and unentertaining publicity parties put on by people who think parading your butt in a thong bikini is a measure of talent.  And those are my good comments.  But my wife is glued to them.  She likes to see what all the stars wear.  Once, I heard her screech, “JLo looks like a package!”  And what’s with the JLo shtick?  Can’t she just call herself Jennifer Lopez without the cutesy-fruitsy nickname?  Does Judi Dench call herself JuD?  Did Charlie Chaplin call himself ChaCha?  Did Sophia Loren call herself SoLo?  Did Diane Keaton call herself DiKe?  No.

That’s enough for now, but I’ll be back in a week and I expect to see you here.  Until then, stay well, count your blessings and put that thong bikini away.  Trust me.

 MiFo                                      Send comments to:  mfox1746@gmail.com