Blog #153
We just arrived in North
Carolina on the last leg of our Southern Tour.
The drive from Florida took 10½ hours and three McDonald’s. I do all the driving, but my lovely wife is a
good companion. She presumes I will get
lost, so she does all the navigating.
She presumes I will fall asleep, so she entertains me with crosswords
puzzles and conversation and we laugh together at how nasty Dr. Laura is. At each McDonald’s stop, she exercises by
speed-walking around the interior of the restaurant, eliciting wide-eyed stares
from the patrons and a big smile from me.
I like driving with her.
See, I say nice things about
my wife. You all think I pick on her,
but it’s just the opposite. She’s the
one who picks on me. She picks on the
way I dress and the way I drive and the way I don’t know which glass of water
is mine. She taught me to make a little b for bread with my left hand and a little d for drink with my right, but sometimes I forget. How is it that none of my teachers ever taught me
that?
Maybe it’s me, because now I
get picked on by other women as well. In
fact, I’ve noticed something sinister happening lately. It appears that all the women we go out with treat all the men the same way, as if they were married to the
whole bunch. I have women, other than my
wife, telling me which way to drive, where to park, what chair to sit in and
what temperature to maintain in the car.
It’s as if all the remaining husbands have become a common pool of
obedient workers available to any nearby female. Like Uber drivers – whichever one is closest
gets to wait on them. Or like a bunch of
Queen bees and their pool of worker bees.
They don’t care which useless little bee drops her off at the front door
as long as she doesn’t get her wings wet.
Hi there and welcome
back. I hope you are feeling shiny and
bright and having fun. And now that
Trump has been acquitted, the fun will continue. C’mon, how much fun are we all having
watching our elected politicians play Clue up in our nation’s capital! Was
it Mrs. Peacock Pelosi in the chair with the paper shredder?
Was it Colonel Trump on the telephone
with the Ukrainian? No, it was
the Democratic Party in Iowa with the lead pipe up their
behinds. Seriously, do you know what would happen if the
Senate kicked President Trump out of office?
Mike Pence would become President and the whole country would fall
asleep faster than a drunken agnostic at a Joel Osteen Rally.
Before arriving here in
North Carolina with our daughter, son-in-law, grandchildren, grand-dogs,
grand-cats and grand-chickens, we visited West Palm Beach and Larry and Linda,
wonderful people whom we love. But they
sometimes have bizarre ideas of entertainment.
One day we went to Costco for free hearing tests. I don’t know; I’m not sure I want my hearing
to be tuned up. Do I need to hear Bernie
Sanders or Donald Trump or Nancy Pelosi LOUDER?
Do I need to hear everything my wife says? If I get hearing aids, I’ll never again be
able to use the excuse, “Honey, I didn’t hear you.”
And speaking of politicians,
you know the Iowa Caucus was a bigger disaster than the Titanic. So now the Democrats are promising that the
New Hampshire primary will be transparent – more transparent than the Half Time Show
at the
Super Bowl. I can’t wait.
I’m voting for JLo.
I guess I have to talk about
the Academy Awards. I really
have no interest in this cinematic folderol*, but I watched it because I know
all of you did. It’s a bunch of
ultra-ultra-rich people who dress in hundred-thousand-dollar clown suits, drive
$300,000 cars, live in $10 million houses, fly in their private jets to Cannes
for the Film Festival and believe this qualifies them to tell the rest of
America how to live our lives. It’s
preposterous and embarrassing. Why do we
watch? Because movie stars have always
been the royalty that we created to replace the English royalty that we fought
to get rid of. The British have Kings
and Queens and Dukes and Princesses. We
had John Wayne and Elvis -- The Duke and The King.
This year’s gala had its
high points. There was Brad Pitt’s
acceptance speech written by Adam Schiff.
And there was Joaquin Phoenix (sounds like a hike in the desert, doesn’t
it?) – there was Joaquin’s impassioned speech on behalf of cows that was
udderly ridiculous. Sorry.
Among the Best Picture
nominees, there were two I liked. First
was the horribly frightening disaster movie, Once
Upon a Time in Iowa and the
movie Parasite, about people who show up, become dangerous pests
and never leave. Sounds like a
documentary about Congress. Am I being
too hard on our politicians? They
deserve it.
And, by the way, here’s an
interesting fact to show you how ridiculous the Academy Awards are. Not one of the top ten grossing movies of
2019 was nominated as Best Picture. In
other words, the Academy doesn’t care what movies you liked. You
are ignorant, non-consequential rubes whose opinions mean nothing to us. We are elite intellectuals and we will decide
what is best. So there!
Oh-oh,
a News
Flash. Joachin
Phoenix was married today to his favorite cow.
Here is part of the ceremony:
It’s
time for the knot to be tied
You
lovers are now
Pronounced
Man and Cow
That’s
it -- you may now milk the bride.
They’re calling it a Civil Moo-nion.
All right, all of this being
funny and clever has tired me out. This
week’s WEEKLY WORD is folderol, which means trivial
or nonsensical fuss. Like my
blogs. But come back next week for some
more folderol so we can laugh together.
Until then, I’m counting on you to stay well, count your blessings and
hug a cow.
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