Blog #168

Last Sunday we ate dinner at my daughter’s house.  We ate in the garage, Carol and I on one side and Abby and her family socially distant on the other.  Abby made a wonderful dinner and it’s always great to see the grandkids, but it wasn’t the same.  Not like the Good Old Days.  And by the Good Old Days, I don’t mean the days when Bill Clinton was not having sex with that woman. 

Sunday has always been the day for family gatherings.  Even the Cavemen (sorry, I should have said Cave-People) would relax from their quotidian* routine to enjoy a Sunday evening get-together.  The men would barbecue a Woolly Mammoth while the kids played Hunt and Gather in the clearing nearby.  The women would fetch water and discuss the latest fashion in leg hair.  It was a simple and primitive time.  And how, you might ask did they even know it was Sunday?  That’s easy – the Chick-fil-A was closed.

Hi there and welcome back.  I hope the sunrise has found you where the sunset left you last and you are feeling spiffy and bright and anxious to get back to all the things you’ve missed over the last two months.  Everybody’s trying to reopen their businesses, parks and sporting events, and in response, Major League Baseball has announced its intention to have a partial baseball season this year.  And it has released new rules.  One of these rules eliminates the oldest, most highly revered and universal tradition of the sport – spitting.  It’s the truth!  No more spitting!  No more can grown men, millionaires all, walk around the field vomiting seeds, tobacco and spittle from their mouths like month-old babies.  Finally, a new baseball rule that I like.

Everything is changing.  If it doesn’t change, it dies, right?  Retailers are doing everything imaginable to attract customers back into their stores.  Costco has actually test-marketed the sale of caskets.  Why not?  They sell everything else.

At Costco we give so much more

From cradle to grave we’re your store

From diapers to casket

And if you should ask it,

We’ll bury you in Aisle 4.

But that’s not for everybody, or should I say every body.  I have always been of the opinion that golfers should be cremated and buried on the golf course.  A few ashes don’t take up much room, and we could always inlay a small commemorative plaque at the spot.  Your humble blogger has volunteered to write the plaques.  Here are two examples:

Underneath is Harry Black

Perished from a heart attack

Shame his ticker was a bad one

We had never thought he had one.

All the way from tee to cup

Rose McGee would not shut up

Now she lies beneath our toes

It’s so peaceful without Rose.

Costco also announced a sale on special orange jump-suits monogrammed on the back “If Lori can wear one, so can I”.  Yes, Lori Loughlin is about to be forcibly sequestered for two months after participating in an especially egregious display of the arrogance of wealth for paying a $500,000 bribe to get her two daughters into UCLA.  Now she and Hubby will pay fines of another $400,000 and their daughters are still not in college.  But don’t worry about poor Lori.  She’s worth $90 million and has already pulled some strings to get herself on the San Quentin Rowing Team.

I admit, I’m getting a little antsy at home.   My major excitement the other day was having a can of sardines for lunch.  At least it was easy to open.  Sardines come in those oval cans and you used to have to open them with a can-opener.  Well, half the time the opener would just make a partial sliver before giving up and leaving me trying to wedge open the can with a knife while dripping olive oil onto my hands, the sink, my shoes and the cat.  But now, of course, all cans, including the ones where the fish are packed in like – well, like sardines – come with a pull-top, and everyone is happy.  Except the sardines.  By the way, does anybody still have a can-opener?  What do you use it for?

I even got so bored this week that I watched some old movie on Turner Classic Movies.  It was called Japanese Story with Toni Collette, and I don’t remember much about it except that it was really slow.  At least the first three weeks of it.  I’ve seen stalactites grow faster.  It was glacial.  It was viscous.  Get the picture?  Well don’t get this picture.  It was slow.

I did go grocery shopping – me and my gloves and my mask and my list.  The young woman checking me out was very talkative.  She told me she was working there to make enough money to go to college.  Oh, I said, what did you get on your SATs?  “Soy Sauce”, she replied.  Well, maybe she can go to college in China.  There are 11,000 Americans attending Chinese colleges.  In contrast, there are 360,000 Chinese students attending American colleges.  We don’t need to worry about them stealing our secrets.  We’re teaching them all our secrets.

Weekly Word:  Quotidian means ordinary, something that occurs every day.  Like shaving or putting on makeup used to be.

Message from Shakespeare:  Some are born great, some achieve greatness, and some have greatness thrust upon them (Twelfth Night).  You know what I think are great? Presents.  Every week or so, some place called Amazon sends me a present.  My Pops unwraps it, clears out whatever junk is inside, and then it’s all mine.  A beautiful empty box to play with!

This blog has come to an end and you can go back to your exciting life of not cutting your hair, not putting on makeup and not getting out of your pajamas until after lunch.  It was at least a proper mathematical blog, as the Carpenter aboard the Pequod mused.  It started at the beginning, reached the middle midway through and came to an end at the conclusion.  We’ll try again next week.  Be there!  That’s an order!  Until then, be safe, stay well and count your blessings.

Michael                                    Send comments to:  mfox1746@gmail.com