Blog #175

The Pandemic continues.  Day 4,722 or something like that.  You’ve stayed at home almost the whole time.  Even the trash has gone out more than you.  I bet you’ve been doing a lot of cleaning.  Even if you live alone, I bet you’ve been cleaning. Solitude is no excuse for sloppiness, said Armistead Maupin.  A funny name and a funny author.  Did you ever read his book, Tales of the City?  No?  Well, it’s too late.  The book is about the singles scene (gay, straight, trans) in San Francisco in the 1970s.  It is charming and full of laughs.  The problem is that it is full of 50-year-old references like Dorothy Hamill haircuts and the Bob Newhart Show.  I’m reading it now for the second time.  I’m weird.

So, what have you missed the most during the past four months?  For guys, I’m guessing you missed watching sports.  Some of the guys are now watching a new show about who can lose the most weight on the no-carb diet.  It’s called Starch Madness.

And for girls – shopping.  I know Carol misses it.  She approaches shopping like a lioness stalking a gnu.  (What’s a gnu?  I don’t know, what’s a gnu with you?)  To her, shopping is a two-day event.  Day One is hunting – locate your prey, mark it with your scent, withdraw.  Day Two is gathering – move in for the kill with a vulpine and hungry ferocity, zap it with your credit card, drag it home.  Men don’t have that shopping instinct.  They go to the store, grab the first thing they see and that’s it.  Wham, Bam, you know the rest.

Buying on Amazon just doesn’t satisfy the same sensory longing that a day in the mall provides.  The girls can’t smell the item or feel it or match it with their nail polish.  But Carol has adapted.  She’s found a new way of shopping.  It’s called “Michael, buy this for me”.  It works pretty well for her.  I either buy it online or actually leave the house, not daring to return until I have fulfilled her order.  Sometimes I have to go to more than one place.  The other day, I told her, “You know, I had to go the extra mile for you.”  She replied, “Going the extra mile just means you missed the exit.”  How did she know I missed the exit? 

Hi there and welcome back.  I hope you’re feeling well and wearing your mask.  Are you looking forward to Football Season?  There won’t be any more Washington Redskins.  When I listen to all the protest noise out there, I can’t tell which word is the most insulting, Redskins or Washington.  I hear Colin Kaepernick is forming his own team called the Pittsburgh Kneelers and his own league called the National Protest League.  Other teams forming now are the Louisville Looters, the Rhode Island Rioters, the Vancouver Vandals, the Colorado Cop Haters and the Mobile Mob.  What a world!

The other day, I heard a CNN reporter say, “The Washington football team has decided to change its name from a word which I refuse to pronounce to a less-racially offensive name.”  I’m serious.  I heard her.  Hey, that could be the perfect name – the Washington Not-Racially-Offensives.  Of course, that would just be for half the team.  The other half would be the Not-Racially-Defensives.  Now that we’ve got that solved, all we have to do is get rid of the name Washington.

Message from Shakespeare: What’s in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet (Romeo and Juliet).  And a Redskin by any other name would still come in last in the NFL East.  Maybe we should call them the Washington Roses.

And then there’s this craziness about statues!  I know you all love me and are probably planning to put up a statue of me when I go to that big McDonald’s in the sky, but I think I’ll pass.

A statue of me when I’m dead?

No no, I’d just stand there in dread

That a thug or De-Funder

Would tear me asunder

And pigeons would poop on my head.

Hey, pigeons, I apologize.  You know that I love animals.  I work at the Zoo because I’m an animal guy.  I love cats.  I love dogs.  They love me.  Rabbits snuggle up to me, turtles call my name, zebras follow me in the street.  So what animal could I possibly dislike?

Canadian Goose  (goosus obnoxifus).  The Canadian Goose is a large, feathered creature the size of a watermelon whose habitat consists of Canada and the little pond in our subdivision.  It is loud, messy and impolite, holding goose concerts at 3:00 in the morning and defecating exclusively on the sidewalks I like to use.  This activity begins in early February and lasts until I can get my hands around their scrawny, ugly necks and squeeze every drop of goose-pooping life out of the messy little bastards.  I’d talk about ducks, but I’d get in trouble with Quack Lives Matter.

Speaking of animals, I turned on National Public Radio in the car.  I know you all love NPR, but I must have bad luck, because every time I turn it on, they’re talking about something totally boring and esoteric*.  Today they were discussing Mandrills in Gabon.  Now if that doesn’t sound like something from Lewis Carroll – Twas brillig and the slithy Mandrills did gyre and gimble in Gabon.  Incomprehensible to be sure, but I, your constant guide to truth and light, shall explain.  A mandrill is a baboon, kind of, and Gabon is a country in West Africa, kind of.  That’s NPR for you.  I know not one person who cares about Gabon baboons (try that one five times).  I personally couldn’t give a Mandrill’s ass.

Weekly Word:  esoteric means understood by only a small number of people with a specialized knowledge or interest.  Kind of like my blogs.  Only very few and very special people can understand my goofiness.  Glad to see you on board.  Will you be here next week?  You know you’d miss me.  See you then.  Stay well and count your blessings.

Michael                                    Send comments to:  mfox1746@gmail.com