Blog #221

 

I don’t make any money writing these blogs, but I do get something very valuable, and that’s the generous and complimentary comments I receive either in person or by email.  They make me feel good, and sometimes, if I’m out to dinner and a few people tell me how much they enjoy Limerick Oyster, I feel sort of like a rock star in my little circle of seniors.  Oh-oh, I feel a list coming –Songs for Aging Rock Stars:

 

Wheelin’ in the Years -- Limping Jack Flash -- I Wanna Hold Your Cane-- Let’s Get A Physical -- I’ll Be In The Home For Christmas --The Day The Bridge Group Died – and, of course, – Stayin’ Alive.

 

Sorry about that; sometimes I just can’t help it.  Anyway, thank you for taking the time to tell me you liked or disliked.  Actually, I occasionally receive a tangible gift from readers as well.  Once, I mentioned that the only thing better than a friend is a friend with chocolate and the next day I had lunch with a very good friend and loyal reader, and he brought chocolate!  That was special.  Then recently, another very good friend and loyal reader gave me a gift that was apropos of something I had written.  Hey, maybe I’m on to something here.  I could use a new Mercedes.  Anybody listening?

 

I have an old car.  I like it.  I know where everything is and what everything does.  If I want something to happen, I push a button.  If I want something different, I use a different button.  I borrowed my daughter’s new car the other day and you know what I found?  A screen.  No buttons, just a screen.  And every time I tried to turn the radio on, I somehow activated the seat warmer.  I couldn’t get the radio to work or the A/C or the fan -- just the seat warmer, so by the time I got to McDonald’s, my tush was as warm and tender as a pot roast.  I basically know only two things about cars – the pedal on the right makes it go and the pedal on the left makes it stop.  Or is it the other way around?

 

It is not only seniors who send me comments.  Last week, I made some reference about early sex-education leading to children being sexually promiscuous at a younger and younger age.  My 18-year-old granddaughter instantly jumped in with a comment informing me that I was wrong.  The female members of my family are expert at telling me that I’m wrong, but in this case, I really couldn’t argue with her.  First, she’s smarter than I am.  Second, she was a state-level debater in high school.  Third, she’s all over the internet, learning everything that goes on in our society, and I’m basically a hermit.  And fourth, she sent me an article which bolsters her case in several thousand words.  In the article was the following sentence: “Polyamory is a household word.”  Seriously?  I live in a household.  You live in a household.  How many times did you use the word polyamory today?  I thought maybe it meant growing up with a crush on Polly Bergen.  Or maybe somebody who likes parrots.  But no, polyamory, which I am reluctantly choosing as our Weekly Word, is the practice of engaging in romantic relationships with more than one person.  Or parrot, I suppose.  And now that you know, you can start using it in your household.  What would you do without me?

 

Message from Shakespeare:  That ever this fellow should have fewer words than a parrot, and yet the son of a woman (Henry IV Part 1).  What a useless pet a parrot is.  It might be colorful, but it’s not soft or cuddly.  It doesn’t rub your face or bite your arm.  Cats are the best.  Purr.

 

You may not have known what polyamory meant, but I’m sure you know what HIPAA is?  It stands for Health Insurance Portability and Accountability Act.  You sign some HIPPA form every time you see a doctor and that ensures that nobody in the world knows you went to the doctor or any details of your condition.  Unless they talk to you, of course, because at every opportunity, you are more than eager to tell all your friends and almost any stranger each bloody and boring detail of every procedure, test, inflammation, pimple, sexual dysfunction and irregular bowel movement it has been your displeasure to experience.  So much for privacy.

 

Tuesday was the event of the month, Senior Day at Walgreen’s.  It was a bright and festive gathering, with crowds of giddy seniors limping in the aisles and toasting their cardiologists with glasses of Ensure.  The special of the month was a weight-loss treatment called Bystrictin.  It is risk-free (they’re all risk-free) and proven (sure).  Trust me, my friends, if the product says it is “risk-free” and “proven”, stay away from it like it was sarin gas.  Believe it or not, you drink this Bystrictin, whereupon it expands to 50 times its volume in your stomach, taking up all the room so that you cannot eat as much.  Please tell me there is not a person so gullible as to buy some liquid that is going to explode in his or her stomach.  Oops, sorry!  I didn’t know you used it.  You look great.

 

And I hope you’re feeling great as well.  Hi there and welcome back.  How was your Memorial Day?  We played golf twice.  Golf is fun to play.  But not so much fun to watch in person.  Carol and I once went to a U.S. Open in Pinehurst, NC and sat for hours in a grandstand at the green of a par 3.   We watched the players hit the ball; we watched them walk to the green; we watched them putt; we watched them walk away.  Over and over and over.

 

They walk on and putt – what a bore

They walk off and here come two more

They’re putting and chipping

My eyelids are dripping

And soon I’m beginning to ZZZZZZ

 

Ok, wake up!  Sorry I put you to sleep.  I have that effect on people.  Thanks for dropping by.  Stay well and count your blessings.

 

Michael                                    Send comments to mfox1746@gmail.com