Blog #190

 

My granddaughter-Charley dragged me down in her basement the other day to show me her video games.  All the kids love to play their games on the Wii or the X-Box or on their phones.  “Look Poppy,” she said, and showed me a new game character she had created.  He was called Poppy and wore a yellow shirt (my favorite color) and had gray hair.  He also had an impressive collection of wrinkles.  I turned to Charley and asked if all those wrinkles were necessary.  She examined my face closely, smiled and said, “Yes.”  That’s ok, a grandfather is someone with silver in his hair and gold in his heart.  I watched her play a game with the new character.  There he was, wrinkles and all, limping around the course and taking all the wrong exits.  Go, Poppy!

 

The grandkids, of course, don’t understand how frightening getting old is for us.  They are different; they want to get older. 

 

Kid:  Yay! Another year closer to getting my driver’s license. 

Grandparent:  Oy! Another year closer to losing my driver’s license.

Kid:  Yay! Another year closer to moving into a home of my own.

Grandparent:  Oy! Another year closer to moving into a home.

Kid:  Yay! I’m getting taller. 

Grandparent: Oy! I’m getting shorter.

Kid:  Yay! I’m growing up so fast.

Grandparent:  Oy! She’s growing up so fast.

 

Last week, I went to an antique show and someone bid on me.  Well, my motto is, You can only be young once, but you can always be immature.

 

Message from Shakespeare, Part 1:  Youth is full of sport, age’s breath is short; youth is nimble, age is lame.  Youth is hot and bold, age is weak and cold; youth is wild, and age is tame (The Passionate Pilgrim).

 

Hi there and welcome back to my asylum.  I’ve got a lot to talk about, so strap yourself in.  I hope you’re feeling well.  Do you realize that in a few days, monstrous villains and ghouls will be out in the streets wearing masks and scaring the bejeebies out of you?  No, not Halloween, I’m talking about Election Day.

 

But first is Halloween.  Are you ready?  Do you have your Halloween masks picked out?  Oh, I forgot, you’re already wearing a mask.  When this whole thing is over and we can all get together again, I’m not sure I will recognize you without a mask.  That same granddaughter, Charley, is having her Bat Mitzvah next month.  The Bar Mitzvah (for a boy) or Bat Mitzvah (for a girl) is a Jewish coming of age ceremony which requires years of study and the performing of religious services in English and Hebrew.  Family and friends are invited and receive a yarmulke (a cap worn by Jewish men during prayers) inscribed with the child’s name and the date of the ceremony.  I have four different ones from the four of my grandchildren who have already been Bar or Bat Mitzvah’d.  This time, instead of a cap, the guests will receive a mask inscribed with the name and date.  A mask!  My, how our world has changed.

 

Message from Shakespeare, Part 2:   I’m Jewish, you know.  My full name is Shakespeare Catz.  When I grow older, I’ll invite you to my Cat Mitzvah.

 

And I guess Halloween-2020 will be a bit different as well.  I’m not really sure how the world is going to celebrate.  Nobody wants to receive goodies that may not have been sanitized or greet germy little children at their front door.  And Covid is not the only thing to worry about.

 

The candy they thought would just thrill us

We tested for Covid bacillus

Then x-rayed as well

But hey what the Hell

The sugar will probably kill us.

 

Carol and I have our costumes ready.  I’m going as Mitch McConnell and she’s going as Nancy Pelosi, and that makes sense.  My nonpareil wife is certainly the Speaker of Our House and I’m just a crotchety old fool.  At first, Carol wanted to go as Joy Behar, but I told her that was too frightening.

 

Weekly Word:  Nonpareil means without equal; there’s no comparison.  Didn’t there used to be nonpareil candy?  Little round chocolates with white sugar dots on top?  They came in a vertical box stacked up like Pringles, but I liked the ones without the sugar dots.  I’ve forgotten what the brand name was?  Anybody remember?

 

Halloween will be a small distraction, but I still have a lot of free time now as all my previous activities remain suspended.  I know what I’ll do.  I’ll start a rock band for old people.  I don’t read music, I don’t play an instrument and I can barely sing.  Perfect!  First, we have to pick a name.  I have a few in mind: The Grand-Mamas and the Grand-Papas -- Peter, Paul and Methuselah -- The Rolling Kidney Stones -- Sonny and Wheelchair.

 

Is all this politics and Covid making you crazy?  Some of you, I think, were crazy to begin with.  And others of you have let your anger and frustrations take over your lives.  That’s not healthy.  The Bible asks, “Who of you by worrying can add a single hour to his life?”   If I may be allowed to give you some humble advice, you can’t let the politicians and the media and the pandemic destroy you.  Find a place in it, love your families, tolerate your friends.  The election is next Tuesday and your side might lose.  Deal with it.

 

“In an American election, there are no losers because whether or not our candidates are successful, the next morning, we all wake up as Americans.  And that is the greatest privilege and the most remarkable good fortune that can come to us on Earth.”

 

John Kerry said that in 2004, the year he lost to George W. Bush.  Whoever wins, count your blessings and concentrate on making yourself and your loved ones happy.  That’s my recommendation.  I’ll send you a bill.  Or maybe I’ll just send you next week’s blog.

 

Until then, stay well and, no matter who wins, get your spirits up and ready for some more fun next week.  You’ve been with me for 190 weeks; you can make one more.  Oh, and count your blessings.  It never hurts to say it twice. 

 

Michael                          Send comments to:  mfox1746@gmail.com

 

 

 

Limerick Oyster

Pearls of Senior Wisdom

Wednesday, October 21, 2020

 

Blog #189

 

Well, I really can’t think of anything to say.  Is this it?  Has the Muse left me?  Have my creative juices dried up like a runny nose on Claritin?  I guess I’ll just say goodbye for now.  But first, I have one or two things to tell you.

 Did you see Martha Stewart last week?  She was on the Today Show making some cakes or something.  Every time I see her, I just can’t believe she was sent to prison.  I don’t even remember what she did.  What crime could you possible send this exemplary homemaker to prison for?  Drunk and orderly?  Driving while perfect?  Baking and entering?  I’ll bet she was the only person who ever looked good in stripes. 

 Hi there and welcome back.  I hope you are feeling well and staying safe.  Are you tired and aggravated with being locked up and locked in and living in a mask?  Of course you are.  My week used to be packed with fun things to do -- teaching math at the jail, teaching my ESL class, working at the Zoo, a poker game and three bridge games.  Now all of that is gone because I’m not supposed to be with people.  The kids can’t go to school – wait, now they can go for two days – wait, maybe not.  Wear a mask – oops, masks don’t help – oops, yes you have to wear one.  Only 50 people can get together – oops, only six people can get together – oops, you shouldn’t even be with your family.  Stay six feet apart, stay twelve feet apart.  What are we supposed to do when even the experts keep changing their minds? 

 

I no longer work at the Zoo

And all of my card games are through

And old Dr. Fauci

Is making me grouchy

Because I don’t know what to do.

 

Ok, I feel better now that I’ve rhymed Fauci and grouchy.  What else is going on?  Well, many of our Senators have spent the last week trying to convince us that Amy Coney Barrett will take away our health care, drown our puppies, make us eat kale and cancel Dancing with the Stars.  Well I’m already on Medicare and I don’t watch Dancing with the Stars and I don’t have a dog.  But I emphatically refuse to eat kale.  I might have to move somewhere where they don’t have kale – like Texas.

 

Or China.  Do you even realize how big China is?  If the population of China walked past you in single file, the line would never end.  Let’s check that one out.  Let’s assume one Chinese citizen can walk past you every five seconds.  That’s 6,307,200 pilgrims a year.  For those of you who think a square root is a turnip, just trust me on the math. There are 1.4 billion Chinese and during the five seconds it takes you to meet one Chinese, three more will be born.  This presumes, of course, that the Chinese can copulate, conceive and give birth while standing in line.

 

On my walk today, I noticed a little, fuzzy caterpillar – rust-colored and black, about two inches long and fat.  He was crawling along the top of a concrete barrier about three feet tall.  I stopped, took a picture and went on my way.  I came to the end of my path, turned around, walked some more and came back to the caterpillar.  He had made some progress along the barrier, but was not going to reach any vegetation in the near future.  Wait, you’re not going to get all pronoun-frazzled about a caterpillar, are you?  No, I don’t know whether it was a he-pillar or a she-pillar, but I’ve chosen to treat him as masculine because the poor thing was obviously lost.

 

Men are so stubborn about asking directions.  I used to see it at the Zoo all the time.  Some guy is looking over a map while his companion (wife? girlfriend? parole officer?) watches.  I walk up and offer my services.  No, the man says, I have it figured out.  I then turn toward the distaff half and say, “Men never accept directions.  Come see me when you’re lost.”  C’mon, men, you know I’m right.  We never take directions. “Siri be damned, I know how to get there.”  Really?  You don’t know where your reading glasses are.  You barely know where the bathroom is.  And how many times have you lost your car in the parking lot?  We, as husbands, have learned how to say yes to everything.  Yes. Dear.  Yes, Honey.  Whatever you want, Cupcake.  Except, “Let’s ask directions.”  We would sooner be spayed than ask directions.  I’m a man!  I know what I’m doing!  And what do we do when we finally and inevitably get lost?  We start yelling at our wives, as if they had anything to do with our galactic idiocy.  I’d better stop; my wife is calling.  Yes, Dear.

 

Anyway, I picked up the lost little caterpillar and laid him in the grass.  As Martin Luther King said, “The time is always right to do what is right.”  Besides, I like little fuzzy things.

 

Message from Shakespeare:  One touch of Nature makes the whole world kin (Troilus and Cressida).  I am very glad he likes little, fuzzy things because I’m little and fuzzy too.  Actually, I think he likes any creature that starts with C-A-T. 

 

I hope you don’t believe everything Shakespeare (the cat) has been telling you all these months.  He’s a bit of a mythomaniac, someone who lies all the time.  That’s our Weekly Word, of course, and you have my permission to use it to describe the politician of your choice.  As Gabriel Garcia Marquez said, “One must not believe demons even when they speak the truth.”  In any event, take whatever Shaky says with a grain of catnip.  And speaking of mythomaniacs, don’t miss tonight’s debate.

 

I, however, your fearless blogger, am not a mythomaniac.  Everything I tell you is true, almost true, mostly true, or just kidding around, and there will be more of it next week, so don’t miss it.  In the interim, stay well and count your blessings.  Well look at that -- I guess I did have something to say after all.  What a shock!  Bye for now.

 

 Michael                         Send comments to:  mfox1746@gmail.com

 

Blog #189

 

Well, I really can’t think of anything to say.  Is this it?  Has the Muse left me?  Have my creative juices dried up like a runny nose on Claritin?  I guess I’ll just say goodbye for now.  But first, I have one or two things to tell you.

 Did you see Martha Stewart last week?  She was on the Today Show making some cakes or something.  Every time I see her, I just can’t believe she was sent to prison.  I don’t even remember what she did.  What crime could you possible send this exemplary homemaker to prison for?  Drunk and orderly?  Driving while perfect?  Baking and entering?  I’ll bet she was the only person who ever looked good in stripes. 

 Hi there and welcome back.  I hope you are feeling well and staying safe.  Are you tired and aggravated with being locked up and locked in and living in a mask?  Of course you are.  My week used to be packed with fun things to do -- teaching math at the jail, teaching my ESL class, working at the Zoo, a poker game and three bridge games.  Now all of that is gone because I’m not supposed to be with people.  The kids can’t go to school – wait, now they can go for two days – wait, maybe not.  Wear a mask – oops, masks don’t help – oops, yes you have to wear one.  Only 50 people can get together – oops, only six people can get together – oops, you shouldn’t even be with your family.  Stay six feet apart, stay twelve feet apart.  What are we supposed to do when even the experts keep changing their minds? 

 

I no longer work at the Zoo

And all of my card games are through

And old Dr. Fauci

Is making me grouchy

Because I don’t know what to do.

 

Ok, I feel better now that I’ve rhymed Fauci and grouchy.  What else is going on?  Well, many of our Senators have spent the last week trying to convince us that Amy Coney Barrett will take away our health care, drown our puppies, make us eat kale and cancel Dancing with the Stars.  Well I’m already on Medicare and I don’t watch Dancing with the Stars and I don’t have a dog.  But I emphatically refuse to eat kale.  I might have to move somewhere where they don’t have kale – like Texas.

 

Or China.  Do you even realize how big China is?  If the population of China walked past you in single file, the line would never end.  Let’s check that one out.  Let’s assume one Chinese citizen can walk past you every five seconds.  That’s 6,307,200 pilgrims a year.  For those of you who think a square root is a turnip, just trust me on the math. There are 1.4 billion Chinese and during the five seconds it takes you to meet one Chinese, three more will be born.  This presumes, of course, that the Chinese can copulate, conceive and give birth while standing in line.

 

On my walk today, I noticed a little, fuzzy caterpillar – rust-colored and black, about two inches long and fat.  He was crawling along the top of a concrete barrier about three feet tall.  I stopped, took a picture and went on my way.  I came to the end of my path, turned around, walked some more and came back to the caterpillar.  He had made some progress along the barrier, but was not going to reach any vegetation in the near future.  Wait, you’re not going to get all pronoun-frazzled about a caterpillar, are you?  No, I don’t know whether it was a he-pillar or a she-pillar, but I’ve chosen to treat him as masculine because the poor thing was obviously lost.

 

Men are so stubborn about asking directions.  I used to see it at the Zoo all the time.  Some guy is looking over a map while his companion (wife? girlfriend? parole officer?) watches.  I walk up and offer my services.  No, the man says, I have it figured out.  I then turn toward the distaff half and say, “Men never accept directions.  Come see me when you’re lost.”  C’mon, men, you know I’m right.  We never take directions. “Siri be damned, I know how to get there.”  Really?  You don’t know where your reading glasses are.  You barely know where the bathroom is.  And how many times have you lost your car in the parking lot?  We, as husbands, have learned how to say yes to everything.  Yes. Dear.  Yes, Honey.  Whatever you want, Cupcake.  Except, “Let’s ask directions.”  We would sooner be spayed than ask directions.  I’m a man!  I know what I’m doing!  And what do we do when we finally and inevitably get lost?  We start yelling at our wives, as if they had anything to do with our galactic idiocy.  I’d better stop; my wife is calling.  Yes, Dear.

 

Anyway, I picked up the lost little caterpillar and laid him in the grass.  As Martin Luther King said, “The time is always right to do what is right.”  Besides, I like little fuzzy things.

 

Message from Shakespeare:  One touch of Nature makes the whole world kin (Troilus and Cressida).  I am very glad he likes little, fuzzy things because I’m little and fuzzy too.  Actually, I think he likes any creature that starts with C-A-T. 

 

I hope you don’t believe everything Shakespeare (the cat) has been telling you all these months.  He’s a bit of a mythomaniac, someone who lies all the time.  That’s our Weekly Word, of course, and you have my permission to use it to describe the politician of your choice.  As Gabriel Garcia Marquez said, “One must not believe demons even when they speak the truth.”  In any event, take whatever Shaky says with a grain of catnip.  And speaking of mythomaniacs, don’t miss tonight’s debate.

 

I, however, your fearless blogger, am not a mythomaniac.  Everything I tell you is true, almost true, mostly true, or just kidding around, and there will be more of it next week, so don’t miss it.  In the interim, stay well and count your blessings.  Well look at that -- I guess I did have something to say after all.  What a shock!  Bye for now.

 

 Michael                         Send comments to:  mfox1746@gmail.com

 

Blog #188

 

I lay in bed this morning very still.  I was comfortable, neither cold nor warm, and I had nowhere to go, nothing special to do.  Every day is pretty much the same when you’re retired.  It was so quiet I could hear my beard grow, so I lay there and I thought:  Why stir things up?  If I get up and start moving things like my eyeballs or my knuckles or my tongue – well, anything could happen.  Every morning at this time, I feel like the Tin Man from Wizard of Oz.  Oil can, oil can, he begged Dorothy, and that’s exactly what I need -- a few squirts of oil to loosen up my parts.  Now I’m up and the sun is shining and everything seems to be fine.  Now, if I only had a brain.

 

Hi there and welcome back.  I hope you’re feeling well and alert.  Are you wearing your mask?  Please take it off so I can see who you are.  There, that’s better.  You look great.  We have to do something about these masks.  I have trouble recognizing people with half their faces covered.  Maybe we should get masks with our names printed on them (large print please).  That would help, I suppose, but if I see a mask with Susan printed on it – well, I personally know 32 Susans.  I have come up with another solution.  You knew I would.  I think we should staple a list of all our medications onto the front of the mask.  I would recognize you in a second.  Oh look, Honey.  There’s two Lipitors and a Warfarin.  I know who that is.

 

Did you have a nice Indigenous Peoples’ Day?  It was Monday.  You might have thought that was Columbus Day, but Columbus was a colonialist pig who opened up the New World to European exploitation and, as a result, has lost his eponymous day.  I have never understood why descendants of English, French, Italian, German, Russian, Polish and Swedish Europeans are called White Privileged Racists, but descendants of Spanish Europeans are called Hispanics.  Anyway, now we celebrate Native Americans, which is appropriate

 

My generation grew up thinking “Indians” were bad.  We watched Hopalong Cassidy and John Wayne and played Cowboys and Indians and bought plastic Colt 45s.  We learned that the only good Indian was a dead Indian, except Tonto of course.  They never told us that Kemosabe really meant Ridiculous-Looking White Boy or that the Lone Ranger wore a mask because he had Covid.  We only got one side of the story, and that was mostly misinformation.  

 

Do you believe what you hear on TV nowadays?  Voting by mail is bad.  Voting by mail is good.  Trump has recovered.  His doctors are lying.  Melania has bad boots.  Kamala has good boots.  It just depends on what channel you watch.  But this kind of misinformation has been going on forever.

 

Take The Gift of the Magi for instance, that heart-wrenching short story by O Henry. You know the plot.  A young married couple is very much in love but also very much in poverty.  For their first anniversary, she wants to buy him a silver chain for his cherished pocket watch, but she has no money, so she cuts her long, beautiful hair and sells it to a wig maker to get the money for the chain.  Meanwhile, he wants to buy her a set of large ornate combs for her long hair but all he has is the watch.  He sells it and buys the combs.  A classic and sad tale.  But wait – there’s the misinformation.  It’s not sad at all.  Not one bit.  Just fast-forward six months.  The girl’s hair has grown back and she still has the combs.  Plus, she returned the silver watch chain and got her money back.  So now she has her long hair and the combs and a fist full of money.  And the boy, the poor dumb schmuck, he doesn’t even know what time it is.  But he’s happy.  He has a loving wife with a fist-full of money and beautiful hair – and big combs.

 

Message from Shakespeare:  Why, but there’s many a man hath more hair than wit (A Comedy of Errors).  My man does have a lot of grey hair, so he obviously has more hair than wit.  The only thing I know about hair is that when I swallow enough of mine, I have to spit up a hairball.  I know that’s gross, but, hey, I’m a cat.

 

On the health front, I had my annual physical with Dr. Doctor.  The good news is –I’m the picture of health.  The bad news is -- I’m showing my age.

 

I went to the doctor today

He said everything was ok                     

“You’re the picture of health”

He said so himself

“But the picture is Dorian Gray.”

 

Do you like cucumbers?  Now there’s a non sequitur for you.  A non sequitur is a statement that does not logically follow the previous argument or statement.  We’ll use that as our Weekly Word or, actually, our Weekly Two Words.  Where was I?  Those non sequiturs get me confused.  Oh yes, cucumbers.  I don’t like them.  Why is it that some people like cucumbers and some don’t?  Animals aren’t like that, are they?  Do you think there’s a lion somewhere that doesn’t like wildebeest?  Hey, fellas, I’ll pass on the gnu tonight.  I think I’ll have a salad.  They just don’t agree with me.  No gnus is good gnus.  Or a chimp that doesn’t like bananas?  Too much sugar there, Cheetah.  I’m cutting down on the carbs.

 

Carol and I (or, as I sometimes like to say to my friends from Arkansas, me and the missus) had dinner outdoors at a friend’s house and they had dug up some old pictures of us – 40 years old.  I can always predict what people will do when they see pictures of themselves from decades ago.  The women will always say, “Oh my God, look at my hair!”  And the men will say, “I still have that shirt.”

 

Well, I guess I’ve overstayed my welcome.  Besides, I have to go find that shirt, so Shakespeare and I will say goodbye for now, but we’ll be back next week.  Please stay well and count your blessings.

 

Michael                          Send comments to:  mfox1746@gmail.com

 

 

 

 

 

 

Blog # 187

 

“What a world, what a world.”  Famous line from a famous movie – can you guess who said it?  It’s true though.  Just reflect on what’s going on.  The world is infested with a horrible pandemic.  People are afraid to go out, to shop, to breathe.  Schools are closed and parents have to rethink their whole lives.  It’s an election year.  One of the candidates is a President that is hated by 75% of his own country and the other is an old man whose abilities are in question.  Ruth Bader Ginsburg died.  The economy sucks, with people on unemployment and small businesses closed and people’s lives ruined.  And now the President contracts Covid and the Media is figuring out how this will make Nancy Pelosi president.  Then the President recovers and the media is outraged that he didn’t have the common decency to die.  We need Dorothy to toss a bucket of water over this whole mess like she did to the Wicked Witch of the West, who responded by saying, as she melted away, “What a world! What a world!”

 

I just want to hide in a cave and shield myself from it all.  I want to read and talk to you all and play with Shakespeare, but the world is too much with me.  I want my psychiatrist back.  That was in 2007.  I’m not even sure he was a psychiatrist, maybe a psychologist, but he helped me stop drinking and stop listening to Alice’s Restaurant and I enjoyed talking to him. 

 

Do you know who the first psychiatrist was?  It was Snow White.  It’s true!  Snow asked her first seven patients if they were Happy.  Only one of them said yes.  Well, she felt sorry for them and asked all seven to come live with her.  Snow was a little kinky.  Her house was tiny, so to fit them all in she used one of her Snow White Privilege magic potions to make them smaller.  And that is why, to this day, psychiatrists are called shrinks.

 

Message from Shakespeare:  When we are born, we cry, that we are come to this great stage of fools (King Lear).   They are all fools -- the politicians, the reporters, most dogs and certainly my Man.  But he feeds me and keeps me warm.  I guess I’ll keep him.

 

Hi there and welcome back to your refuge of insane humor and general goofiness. You’re Special!  That’s what the little pamphlet that was hidden in my library book said.  It went on with some religious stuff, and that’s ok, but it was just nice to be told that I was special.  So, listen up – you’re special.  You take the time each week to read my silly ramblings and that makes you special to me.  I’m glad you’re here and I hope you are feeling well.  Are you ready for a tricky little thought-question?  

 

Three small lifeboats are stranded with no food, five days from shore.  Boat One has ten Socialists.  They will surely starve.  But they would never choose to eat one of their companions.  That’s barbaric!  Disgusting! Not fair to the one who is chosen!  We’re all in this together.

 

We’re starving and all in a panic

We feel like we’re on the Titanic

But I’d rather die

Than munch on your thigh

My God, you’re not even Organic!

 

Five days later, Boat One drifts into shore with ten altruistic, but very dead Socialists.  Boat Two has ten Capitalists faced with the same dilemma.  That’s barbaric!  Disgusting! Not fair to the one who is chosen!  We’re all in this together.  Who should we eat?  So they draw straws and, five days later, drift into shore with nine well-fed, self-serving Capitalists and a grease spot on one of the benches.   But they have good consciences, although, as Steven Wright said, “A clear conscience is usually the sign of a bad memory.”

 

Boat Three has ten Antifa members.  They do not starve.  They drown because, after ten minutes at sea, they start to protest their situation by setting fire to the boat.

 

Which boat would you choose to be on?  As Ishmael said in Moby Dick, “Better sleep with a sober cannibal than a drunken Christian.”   Sorry, that whole boat thing was a little weird, wasn’t it?  Don’t pay any attention to me.  Some forms of madness are better left undisturbed (Kapka Kassabova).

 

Weekly Word:  an altruistic person is someone who is unselfish and shows a great concern for the well-being of others.  An altruistic person wishes that every person with Covid makes a full and speedy recovery.  Even HIM.   

 

Like last week, I have spent this week paying attention to our challenging and disturbing world so you wouldn’t miss a thing.  Here’s what I found:

 

Have You Noticed that each day seems like every other day?  I can only tell what day it is by looking at my pill-box.  If Tuesday is the last empty cubical, then it’s Wednesday.

 

Have You Noticed that every week there is a drug bust where the Police find $400,000 in cash and $500,000 worth of drugs in a car that was pulled over for not replacing a $29 tail light?  Maybe the drug dealers should use Uber.

 

Have You Noticed that the mail is pretty much all junk?  Cruise-line catalogs, hearing-aid ads, health insurance promos, invitations to wealth-management seminars. My mail today consisted of two pieces, and this is the absolute truth – one was a large envelope addressed to me with the return-address spot filled by large, black letters spelling out DONALD J. TRUMP.  The other was a similar envelope, similar size, same large, black letters, but these spelled NANCY PELOSI.  I cut out the Trump name and mailed it to Nancy and mailed Pelosi’s name to Trump.    

 

Have You Noticed that anytime a Democrat dies, he-or-she was a Cultural Icon, but anytime a Republican dies, he-or-she was a Controversial Figure?

 

Well, I am certainly a controversial figure, as many of you have stated in your comments (I love your comments), so I’ll stop now and let you put me in my place.  But not before telling you to stay well, count your blessings and come back to see me next week.  My place will be right here next week.  Make sure it's yours.  And don’t forget, it’s Breast Cancer Awareness Month. 

 

Michael                           Send comments to:  mfox1746@gmail.com