Blog #186

 

Last Sunday evening, Carol and I watched our Temple’s streamed Yom Kippur services.  Yom Kippur is the Jewish day of atonement where each Jew asks God to forgive his-or-her sins.  And God forgives us.  My question is – Can we forgive God?  Can we forgive God for the wholesale death and suffering brought on by Covid, for the disastrous forest fires and hurricanes, for the pervasive hatred that has infected our society and threatens to destroy friendships and families.  Can we?

 

Message from Shakespeare: Well, heaven forgive him! And forgive us all! Some rise by sin, and some by virtue fall (Measure for Measure).  Meow!  How did I get involved in this heavy stuff?  I’m just a cat.  Every time my man mentions God, all I see is dog spelled backwards.

 

Hi there and welcome back.  Glad you could make it.  Sorry for the somber beginning, but those were the thoughts going through my mind during the service, and I like to share everything with you.  I hope you’re feeling well today and paying attention.  There are a lot of things going on out there and I have been paying attention.  Well, someone has to do it, so I’ll report a few things I have noticed recently.

 

Have You Noticed that it’s October?  October is an exciting month.  There’s Columbus Day with parades and macaroni and pizza.  No?  No Columbus Day this year?  Oh, I forgot, Columbus was a Racist piece of ziti who enslaved Indigenous Peoples.  Well, there’s always Oktoberfest where thousands of people get together for beer and bratwurst and polka.  No?  Not allowed this year?  Well, there must be Halloween with little children running around wearing masks.  No?  They call that school now?  Damn!  Well, let’s all go out and tear down a statue.  Welcome to October.

 

Speaking of cars – this is called a segue --I just got my new license plates.  My dark-gray Corolla looks like half the other cars in the parking lot, but I could always find it because I knew my license number.  Well, I used to.  They changed my numbers and now I have to memorize something new.  I’m miserable.

 

My new license plate is a shame

I wish they had left it the same

Now the numbers are new

I don’t know what to do

I can barely remember my name.

 

They should never change numbers on a senior citizen.  I suppose I should just get a vanity plate that says RAVEN or ISHMAEL or how about OYSTER?

 

Did you watch the Debate?  Of course you did.  The debates are useless.  We’ve known both these men for 40 years.  We know who they are; we know what they’ll do.  Do we watch so we can hear about their energy policy or the Paris Accords?  No, we want to sit there and scream at the one we hate the most.  You liar!  You fool!  I hate you!  I hope you make mistakes and look like an ass and fall down and have a stroke!  The debates are an anachronistic and hateful display of schadenfreude and a waste of time.  Carol made popcorn.

 

Weekly Word:  Schadenfreude is a word you need to know, especially during these argumentative and hate-filled times.  Schadenfreude, (pronounced shah-den-froid-uh) is the pleasure you get from seeing someone else suffer.  Like the joy you got Tuesday night when the other guy made made himself look foolish.  Shame on you!  Us! 

 

Have You Noticed that every time you go to a doctor’s office, they take your temperature?  When I was little, the nurse would stick a glass tube up my you-know-what.  Later they graduated to putting the glass tube under my tongue.  Gee, I sure hope it wasn’t the same glass tube.  Now, they just wave some gizmo at me and tell me my temperature is 37.  I know that’s Centigrade, but I wonder why.  I’m not in France or Guatemala or Abu Dhabi?  I’m in the USA, where the meteorologists tell us the forecast in Fahrenheit.  Where every recipe, every oven, every toaster contraption is calibrated in Fahrenheit.  Where water freezes at 32 and boils at 212.  So why is the nurse trying to confuse me?  If the medical community wants to conduct its affairs in the Wonderful World of Metric, great.  I don’t care.  But I would like to know what my temperature is.  Being a math nerd, I can do the conversion (9/5+32), but what if I couldn’t or if I made a mistake?  Then she told me my weight was 74.  Now that I didn’t mind.

 

I am now going to solve a serious problem brought about by the Covid Pandemic.  The problem occurs when you are taking a walk and another walker is approaching you on the same sidewalk.  The question is, which one should move into the street?  Well, you can’t just pass each other by as if it were 1 BC, the first year Before Covid.  You have to maintain the magical Six Feet of Separation.  Besides, there isn’t enough room for two people to tiptoe simultaneously around the multitudinous splotches of ever-present goose excrement.  Don’t you love when I talk dirty?

 

It’s easy to say the younger walker should move into the street, but not so easy to determine which is the younger, especially if you are old and your eyes aren’t what they used to be or if you have had a lot of plastic surgery and your eyes aren’t even where they used to be.  Maybe it should be the one who is walking faster or wearing the cutest hat, but that doesn’t work.  Should a man step aside for a lady?  Not in today’s world.  No, none of those things works, but the solution is simple.  Just carry a half-dozen everything bagels with you while you walk.  Not only will the other person move into the street at first whiff, but I think the smell kills coronavirus as well.

 

Have you noticed that this blog is too long?  I’ve been a little loquacious today, but what the hell else do you have to do?  Order more pills?  Stay well out there, my loyal readers.  Count your blessings and show patience to those with whom you disagree.  And come back to me next week; we need to talk.

 

Michael                                    Send comments to:  mfox1746@gmail.com

 

 

Blog #185

 

I was recently asked to pick a famous couple that my wife and I resemble.   One of those pointless wastes of cranial energy we call a Carol Question.  Like -- “Would you rather be an ugly tall-person or a beautiful midget?”  That one kept me up all night.  Anyway, famous couple.  Let’s see – George and Gracie?  I hate cigars.  Lucy and Desi?  My wife doesn’t have red hair.  Bill and Hillary?  Pants suits are out.  Brad and Angelina?  Who am I kidding?  I finally decided we most resemble Rocky and Bullwinkle.  Carol would be Rocky of course.  Rocky the Flying Squirrel was small and fast and smart and made all the decisions.  Bullwinkle J. Moose was loyal and steady and goofy, always getting it wrong, always getting in trouble, always getting lost.  What does a moose eat?

 

Hi there and welcome back.  Did you have a good Summer?  Well of course you didn’t!  You didn’t go to the movies.  The closest thing you got to eating out was to picnic in a park with two friends and every fly in North America.  You didn’t get your hair cut.  You couldn’t hug your children or grandchildren.  All you could do was sit on your couch gaining weight, trying to figure out how to Zoom and watching all 80 episodes of Schitt’s Creek.  The only people who had a good Summer were the looters and the fly-swatter manufacturers.  Well, Summer is over and now you can have a lousy Fall staying six feet away from people of your own political party and twelve feet away from people of the other party while everybody goes psychotic over the Supreme Court and the election.  Are we having fun yet?

 

Well, since you’ve had a lousy Summer and about to have a calamitous Fall, let’s see if maybe I can make you smile a little.  First, I apologize for mentioning a midget earlier.  I’m not sure why, but in today’s world it’s best to apologize for everything.  And in that vein, The Academy of Motion Picture Arts & Sciences, in a typical fit of inanity, has just announced new criteria for being nominated as Best Picture.  First, the plot must be about minority groups and their struggles and, second, the movie must star a designated proportion of, and I’m quoting here: Asian, Hispanic, Black, Indigenous, Native American, Middle Eastern, North African, native Hawaiian or other Pacific Islander, women, L.G.B.T.Q.  Got it?  It’s a complicated algorithm, but one thing is certain – the chances of the award being a male figurine named Oscar are about the same as Nancy Pelosi going back to that same hair salon.

Now, to qualify for the award and to take advantage of the charged political atmosphere, all the studios are remaking old favorites.  Here are a few re-done flicks you will be seeing soon: No Country for Old White Men, Broke-Black Mountain, Gangs of Portland, a biography of Donald Trump entitled Dr. Strange-Hair and, of course, The Good, the Bad and Joy Behar.

 

Well, as Ishmael tells us in Moby Dick, There is no folly of the beasts of the earth which is not infinitely outdone by the madness of men.  Maybe they could re-make Moby Dick.  All they’d have to do is make Moby a black whale and change Captain Ahab to a Middle Eastern Hispanic female from Hawaii named Captain Maria Fatima Kamehameha and cast RuPaul to play her.  Then they’d be a shoo-in for Best Picture.  Shoo-in, by the way, is a horse-racing term used when jockeys agree to allow a pre-selected, inferior horse to win the race by holding back their own horses and shooing the pre-selected horse to the finish line.  The shoo-in horse was a certain winner.

 

Have you had your Flu Shot yet?  I got mine last week.  I felt I had to get mine early so I could talk to you without spreading germs.

 

I got my new shot for the flu

Because it’s the right thing to do

‘Cause the flu’s a disease

That could cause me to sneeze

And spread all my flu germs a-choo.

 

Happy New Year to all my Jewish friends and readers.  In the Jewish calendar, it is now Year 5781.  The Jews have certainly been around a long, long time.  Maybe that’s why the matzo is so stale.  Yes, we Jews have been around a while.  Moses and I were that close.  In fact, I begged Moses to include Thou shalt not argue with your wife as one of his Commandments, but he rejected it.  As Will Rogers said, “There are two theories to arguing with a woman.  Neither works.”  I also tried to get him to include Thou shalt not slice, but he rejected that one too.  I was talking about golf, but Moses thought I was talking about circumcisions.

 

Message from Shakespeare:  “I am a Jew. Hath not a Jew eyes? . . . If you tickle us, do we not laugh? If you poison us, do we not die?”  (Merchant of Venice).  I am a Jewish cat, I suppose.  I celebrate Puss-over and I’m studying for my Cat-Mitzvah.  But I still think the matzo is stale.

 

Our Weekly Word is algorithm, which is a series of steps or instructions which leads to a solution or decision.  Are you ready to blow your brains out yet with all these definitions?  Are you ready to blow my brains out?  I’d better stop. 

 

I have to go now anyway.  I have to clean up the house before the cleaning person arrives.  Do you do that?  Why do we all do that?  We hire someone to clean the house, then clean the house before the cleaner arrives.  It makes no sense.  It’s like cooking your own dinner and taking it to a restaurant.  It’s like cutting your own hair before you go the barber.  It’s like directing your digit up your derrière while driving to your proctologist.  It’s like writing your own blog instead of reading mine.  Don’t you dare do that.  I’ll handle the blogging, thank you very much; you handle the laughter.  Please stay safe, count your blessings and try to find some fun in this crazy world.  See you next week.

 

Bullwinkle                                         Send comments to:  mfox1746@gmail.com

 

 

 

Blog #184

 

Do you think my blog is too political?  Some people do and have voiced their complaints.  Well what isn’t political these days?  Limerick Oyster makes fun of me, my wife, my cat and anyone or anything that tickles, astounds or infuriates me.  So, let me be clear.  I hereby officially refuse to stop making fun of Donald Trump or Joe Biden or the stupidity that is rife on both sides.  If you want something humorous that ignores what’s going on in the world, I suggest that you watch a Looney Tunes cartoon.   If you want topical and smart and humorous, read on.  Th-th-that’s all, folks!

 

Hi there and welcome back.  Are you feeling alright?  Are you keeping busy?  Are you fed up with this Covid shit?  I apologize for the profanity, but I’m beginning to feel like Edmond Dantés scratching himself out of the Chateau d’If.  Is this ever going to end?  Are my grandkids ever going back to school?  Am I ever going to a movie?  Am I ever going to see what the new checker at the grocery store looks like?  She has nice eyebrows.

 

One thing I can do during Covid is walk.  I take a walk every morning around our neighborhood, and almost every morning I see a charming couple.  They are in their 80s, I guess.  They walk slowly but steadily and each wears a floppy hat, a long-sleeved safari shirt and long pants.  The charming part is that they hold hands continuously.  Do you know the difference between continuously and continually?  Continuous is non-stop, happening every microsecond.  On a beautiful day, the Sun shines continuously.  Continual is often, but off and on.  A person with a sore throat coughs continually.  Am I not just a bottomless cornucopia of useless what-nots?  Don’t worry, there won’t be a quiz. 

 

Today, Carol and I left at the same time to take our walks, but, unlike the couple holding hands, we don’t walk together.  In fact, we don’t even leave the building from the same door.  She goes upstairs and leaves from the main entrance like the aristocracy and I go downstairs and leave by the side door where the trash dumpster is.  And the recycling.  I guess I could be recycled.  There are plenty of unattached women out there and I can drive at night.  But I’m not interested because my wife still makes me horripilate.

 

Now, I have a few readers out there who say they are never stumped by my Weekly Words.  They know all of them – so they claim.  But if you tell me you know what horripilate means, you are, as Joe Biden would say, a lying dog-faced pony soldier.  And they call him the high-class candidate!  Ok, I won’t keep you in suspense – horripilate means to get goosebumps.  That’s it.  So the next time a server at a restaurant is so attractive you get turned on, just say to him or her, “Oh, you’ve made me horripilate.”  Then see how your soup tastes when it comes out.

 

Recently, I had dinner with Carol and two other lovely ladies.  As we sat down, I grabbed their attention.  “I just want to say what a pleasure it is to be with three beautiful women, and since I am sitting here with three women, this will most likely be the last words you hear from me tonight.”  With three women at the table, getting a word in edgewise is harder than making Mike Pence smile.

 

Two of the women were widows.  In our age group, there are many unattached women and unattached men who would like to be recycled.  And so they engage in – well, there’s no other word for it -- courting.  I remember when I was in high school and the question was always, “Did you get to first base?”  “Second base?”  And so on.  I was never precisely sure what arriving at those plateaus actually involved, but we all had our own ideas.  Now, at our age and especially during this time of Covid, the definitions are different.

 

Getting to First Base now means driving together in the same car.  Second Base means driving together in the same car without masks.  Third base means showing each other the political stickers you bought but are afraid to put on your bumper.  And a Home Run is sitting on a comfortable couch, watching Netflix and eating out of the same bowl of popcorn without surgical gloves.  Fairy tales can come true if you’re young at heart.

 

Another thing I can do during Covid is play bridge on line.  I signed in the other day and I was asked if there was anyone I would prefer not playing with.  I replied. “Joe Biden.  All he ever says is No Trump!”  It is a sadly grotesque commentary on our society that each person would be happier if his favorite Presidential candidate would never open his mouth.  Think of that.  You Trump fans quiver in fear every time The Donald begins to speak.  And you Biden fans feel the same way about Joe.  How have we come to this pitiful position?   Maybe we shouldn’t let them speak at all.

 

Those two men should not say a peep

Just leave all the words to their VEEP.

‘Cause one, with each breath,

Just scares me to death

And the other one puts me to sleep.

 

Message from Shakespeare:  There have been many great men who have flattered the people but whom the people never liked (Coriolanus, modern text).  I don’t like any of the candidates, but I always vote Demo-Cat.

 

I tawt I taw a puddy tat!  Cats are so different from dogs.  When you walk toward a dog, it will move out of your way.  But if you walk toward a cat, you get a look that says, Where do you think you’re going, old man.  This is my space.  I may have only one paw, but it is armed and dangerous.

 

Ok, it’s time for me and Shakespeare to go.  Stay well, count your blessings and come back next week – all of you -- Democrats, Republicans, Socialists, Progressives.  If you’ve still got a sense of humor, Limerick Oyster will make you laugh and maybe even horripilate.  But if you’ve lost your sense of humor, well, th-th-that’s all, folks.

 

Porky                              Send comments to:  mfox1746@gmail.com

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Blog #183

 A few years ago, we learned from the media that eating salmon four times a week would increase your life expectancy.  Around the same time, we learned that sex four times a week would increase your longevity as well.  That’s when our wives came to the conclusion that these two things were interchangeable and that salmon could be the greatest invention since the headache.  “Honey, can we have sex tonight?”  “No, you’re getting salmon.” 

 

Your plans you had best re-examine 

For tonight you’ll have sexual famine

Just settle for fish          

For you won’t get your wish

                             I am not tonight’s dish – it’s the salmon!

 

I believe that’s the first limerick I have ever written (and I’ve written almost 1,300 of them) that uses the triple rhyme at the end (fish-wish-dish).  I liked it.  It gave me a smile, but it doesn’t make up for the bad day I had yesterday.  Every decision I made turned out to be wrong at best and stupid more often than not.    I won’t go into details, but my spirits were low.  I drove by the place where my Low Self-Esteem Support Group meets, but a sign said – Please Use the Back Door.

 

So I went to my wife for support.  “You have other fine qualities,” she said.  I asked her to name one.  “You’re easy.”  I was looking for handsome or talented or maybe even smart.  At the least I deserved efficient.  Hell, even my high school yearbook said I was punctual.  But no, all I got was easy.  She said I was easy to handle.  She makes dinner – I like it.  She makes a reservation – I don’t care where we eat.  She makes a date – whoever, I don’t care.  She cooks salmon – I get the message.  So, from now on you can call me Mr. Easy.  Stupid and Lost and Easy.  What an epitaph:  Here Lies Michael; He Was Easy.

 

Last night, Carol and I had this actual conversation. 

 

M:   Honey, I want to ask you something.  Tell me if I’m wrong.

C:   You’re wrong. 

M:  You’re probably right.

 

And that was the end of the conversation.  My wife would make a great Parole Officer.  She never lets anyone finish a sentence.

 

Message from Shakespeare:  The two rivers are as alike as my fingers are to my fingers, and there are salmon in both (Henry V).  I would love a few bites of salmon right now, but I cannot compare the fingers of one hand with the other because . . . well, you know why.

 

Hi there and welcome back.  I hope you’re feeling well, using your masks and reading all my blogs.  Volunteers are still not allowed at the Zoo during the Covid, and my Adult English as a Second Language classes will not be meeting in-person for a while.  I miss both of those activities, but it gives me more time to be with you.

 

Last week, I gave you the results of our straw presidential poll, and, all of a sudden, I began hearing from many readers who are Trump supporters. “I didn’t vote,” they tell me, “because you already knew I was a Trump supporter.”  I do not read minds.  I entertain.  One reader was so outraged that I was apparently entertaining so many liberals, that he unsubscribed.

 

I received 50% more comments last week than the second highest week, the week of my hip surgery.  Can you believe my hip replacement was a year ago?  Tempus does fugit, doesn’t it?  And how do I feel?  Well, I can’t kick.  Actually, my hip is terrific.  Thanks for asking.

 

Have you heard the new crisis controversy of the week?  When an American pharmaceutical company comes up with a Covid vaccine, should the first 300 million doses go to Americans or should it be shared around the world?  Many Americans, I believe, would say we should vaccinate our own people first and share what’s left.  The WHO (World Health Organization) says it should be shared with every country in the world.  That’s to be expected – they are, after all, the World Health Organization.  They’re also the people who just decided that dogs cannot catch the virus and do not need to be quarantined.  That’s right, WHO let the dogs out.  I think we should let every person decide for themselves.  If you want to save yourself, get vaccinated.  If you want to save someone in Tashkent, Timbuktu or Marrakesh – nice knowing you.

 

Those three perhaps unfamiliar names are cities in Uzbekistan, Mali and Morocco.  Are you geographically challenged?  Have you ever headed toward the bathroom and wound up in the kitchen?  Did you think Cleopatra was swimming when they said she was in denial?  Do you know of which state Portland is the capital?

 

Do you use eBay?  I recently sold some stuff on eBay and they gave me, as a promotion, a $50 certificate that I had to spend in three days. Well, what should I buy?  I mean, it’s the World of eBay!!  Every possible item made or conceived or saved or dug up by the human race since the dawn of civilization is on eBay.  I have my choice from vast and unlimited selections of electronics, art, fashion, household items, sporting goods, vacations, automotive, jewelry, collectibles, investments, antiques.  You can buy Twinkies, false teeth, rubber bands, ANYTHING!  So what did Mr. Exciting decide to buy from this unbounded emporium of riches, this cyclopean cornucopia of wonders, this magnificent market of marvels?  A year’s supply of fiber pills.  It is a sad and curious life, isn’t it?  Fiber pills!

 

Alright, let’s wind down.  The Weekly Word is cyclopean which means vast or immense, as was the Cyclops in The Odyssey.  Oh, and Portland is not the capital of any state.  I told you you were geographically challenged.  You should have collected stamps as a kid like I did.  Now I just collect wonderful readers like you.  I expect you back next week.  You don’t even have to read a map to get here.  So stay well, count your blessings and take your fiber pills.

 

Easy                     Send comments to:  mfox1746@gmail.com

 

 

 

 

 

Blog #182

 

Yesterday was a bad day.  First, I played golf.  I was horrible.  Second, when I got home the garbage disposal broke.  I don’t know whether it was when I fed the putter into it or the 7-iron.  Oh well, there’s always darts.

 

Message from Shakespeare:  You can’t lose a game if you don’t play the game (Romeo and Juliet).  I think I’d like to play golf, although I’m not sure how I would hold the stick.  They say you can get a birdie.  I would like a birdie.

 

Hi there and welcome back.  I hope you are feeling well, staying safe and getting ready for Labor Day which you cannot celebrate because the swimming pools are closed and you can’t eat a bratwurst with your mask on.  Labor Day is a significant day for me because it marks the threshold after which I am not allowed to wear “summer” clothes.  My wife texted me the new rules that will go into effect after Monday:

 

Those tangerine shorts just won’t make it

No white – it’s the law and don’t break it

And if you wear linen

You’re certainly sinnin’

You might as well just go out naked.

 

Wait, does your mask have to match your socks?  I think it does.

 

Wow!  You guys really stepped up to participate in our LOP (Limerick Oyster Poll).  You broke the record for number of comments in a week, and I had fun reading them all.  I am going to present the results in a completely anodyne fashion, eschewing any personal comments other than to say the totals were startling.  The results of the LOP turned out to be very LOP-sided, with Biden garnering 92% of the votes.  Here’s the breakdown:

 

Among Female Readers, Biden won 96% to 4% for Trump.

Among Male Readers, Biden won 87% to 13% for Trump.

And among White Suburban Women who have a loving husband and a three-legged cat named Shakespeare – well, she said it was none of my business.

Our Weekly Word is anodyne, which means deliberately inoffensive.  I promise you I shall now shift right back to being as offensive as always.  I know you like that better.

 

There’s a new trend called sologamy (rhymes with monogamy).  Sologamy is the practice of choosing yourself as a spouse.  That’s right, you’d be married to yourself.  I am very pleased and totally proud to say I don’t get it.  All I know is that if I had told my mother I was getting married to myself, she would have said, “That’s nice, Dear.  At least you’re marrying someone Jewish.”  What kind of gift do you give at a sologamous wedding?  A mirror?  Towels marked Mine and Mine?  Batteries?

 

My oldest daughter, Jennifer recently asked me to read an article by the humorist Dave Barry, so I pulled up the Miami Herald article on-line.  For me, reading an article on-line is like teaching a fish to play canasta.  First, there’s a white box in the upper left corner that says – The Miami Herald would like to track your location, search your house and take your temperature – rectally.  Plus, they want to do something with my cookies.  I hate when people mess with my cookies, so I clicked NO!  Immediately, an ominous black square covered the screen with the question – Would you like to subscribe to the Miami Herald?  The options were not Yes and No.  The options were Yes and Ask Me Later.  I clicked the latter, knowing full well I would have to deal with them for the rest of my lifetime, but at least I finally got to the article.  As I attempted to read, videos popped up in each of the four corners and in the center of the page, all trying at once to sell me everything from cat litter to a subscription to the Kale Recipe of the Month Club.  It was like trying to sleep with four spiders crawling on your face.  And even if you could force yourself to concentrate on the article, every second or two the line you were reading would suddenly jump up or down a few spaces on the page.  Did they actually want me to read this article?  Maybe they just wanted me to have something funny to tell you.

 

All that talk about cookies has made me hungry.  I am a serious cookie monster.  I’m not much for candy.  I don’t eat ice cream.  Donuts are fine.  But cookies --  yummy, especially Oreos.  Of course, we all know that cookies are bad for you.  But they’re so delicious!  An Oreo has two grams of fat and 40 calories.  And that’s just one!  But, of course, nobody could eat just one.  I could never eat just one – or three.  I’m rambling.  But rambling is what you pay me for, isn’t it?  Wait, are you paying me?  I’m rambling again.  Oreos, by the way, are not even close to the most poisonous cookies.  There are cookies you can buy that have more than twice the calories and twice the fat of an Oreo, and they are marketed by a very famous and ubiquitous agency.  And who, you might ask, is this monstrous, malign and maniacal megalith that is proliferating these preposterous, poisonous pastries?  You guessed it – the Girl Scouts.    Sinister?  Yes, but also superb, satisfying and spectacularly scrumptious!  As Oliver Twist remarked, Please, Sir, may I have S’mores?

 

And speaking of delicious treats, the other day, my granddaughter, Charley, a delicious treat herself, gave me and Carol each a Hershey’s kiss.  I ate mine instantly, all 22 calories.  My wife peeled hers, bit off the tip, just the little tip, and threw the rest away.  Who does that?  She barely got one calorie out of it.  It’s like licking a sirloin steak and then throwing it to the dog.  It’s like buying one chocolate-covered raisin.  She has done that too, you know. 

 

But that’s not how I roll.  With me, you get the whole Hershey’s Kiss, the whole steak, the whole bag of chocolate raisins.  Devour each morsel, spit out what you don’t like and come back next week for more.  I’ll be waiting -- me and my cookies.  Stay well, count your blessings (you still have some, I promise) and send me comments.

 

Michael                          Send comments to:  mfox1746@gmail.com