Blog #249                                         December 16, 2021

 

It’s almost time for New Year’s Resolutions.  Carol announced hers early.  “My resolution,” she proclaimed, “is to be less controlling.  And yours,” she continued, pointing at me, “is that you will always do what I tell you.”  Yes, Dear I replied.  La Reyne le vault.  That’s a French phrase meaning the Queen commands it.  Sometimes I feel like she’s Shari Lewis and I’m Lambchop.

 

What I really wanted her resolution to be is that she will stop pouring pickle juice out of the pickle jar.  I bought a jar of Kosher Dill Spears, the long kind that they somehow get to stand straight up in the jar.  At lunch this week, I grabbed the jar and went to extract a pickle, when I discovered an inch of pickle juice was missing.  She does it every time.  She doesn’t eat the pickles, but she somehow feels the duty to drain off the top of the juice to make it less likely to spill.  I hate when she does that because then I get a three-inch pickle with the top inch dry and shriveled.  Don’t touch my pickle!

 

You know the joke about the man who comes home early from his job at the pickle factory.

 

Why are you home early, his wife asks?

 I got fired.  They caught me with my weenie in the pickle slicer.

Oh, my god, are you alright?

Yes, I’m fine.

Oh, good, but what did they do with the pickle slicer?

They fired her too.

 

Hi there and welcome back.  I hope you’re feeling well and staying warm.  Are you all in Florida yet?  If you’ve flown down to Florida or anywhere else, you’ve experienced airport toilets.  In this brave new world where everything seems to have become unfamiliar, public toilets are a prime example.  FIRST: What happened to flushing?  Is that one of those jobs that “Americans won’t do”?  Was it such a complicated process that we had to turn it over to an intricate and expensive sensor beam?  I want to flush when I’m finished, not when R2-Pee2 has decided I am far enough away from the seat?  SECOND:  I want some soap and water.  What happened to faucets?  They’re gone.  Instead, I have to wave my hands under a spout and wait for water to come out.  It doesn’t work the first time – or the second.  Sometimes, I have to conduct the entire 1812 Overture before a brief gush of water comes out.  THIRD:  I want a towel, not hot air.  I get enough hot air listening to talk radio.  And besides, the only thing that hot air does is turn the cold water on my hands into hot water on my hands.  What could be more simple than to have a bathroom with a toilet, a sink, some soap and some paper towels?  Instead, we have a fully-automated factory that whisks you in, flushes you down, soaps you off and blows you out.  I hate public toilets.

 

Message from Shakespeare:  Will all great Neptune’s ocean wash this blood clean from my hand? (Macbeth)  I use my litter box, and I never miss.  It’s always clean and smells good.  Pops cleans it out every morning.  And, every Sunday, he takes it to the garage and washes the box out with soap and water.  He’s such a good boy!  Purr.

 

And you know what else has gotten complicated?  Eating.  It has to be free-range, gluten-free, non-GMO, organic, without carbohydrates, vegan or vegetarian -- basically, a meal only a sheep could love.  You’ll notice not one of those categories will guarantee that it tastes good.  We have so much food that Americans will not eat that we could feed all the hungry people in the world, except that the food snobs won’t send the “unhealthy” stuff to the starving.

 

Now all of this food that we had for you 

We decided it really was bad for you

So we threw it away

And you’ll starve one more day

But you’re healthy and that makes us glad for you.

 

The other day, Carol was on the phone listening to a friend telling a story when I walked into the room.  She said into the phone, “Tell the story to Mark.  He just walked in.”  I turned to her and calmly, quietly and without rancor said:  WHO THE HELL IS MARK?  She’s known me for almost 60 years and all of a sudden I’m Mark?  It’s as unthinkable as if, after a quarter century on television, Ed McMahon had come out one night and said, “Heeeere’s Jimmy!” 

 

It looks like Sirhan Sirhan, the man who assassinated Robert Kennedy, will be set free soon.  He will then join the three living people who have attempted to kill a United States President, all of whom are free: John Hinckley who shot Ronald Reagan, Sara Jane Moore and Squeaky Fromme, both of whom tried to kill Gerald Ford. All four have agreed to appear in a new game show starting next Spring.  It’s called You Bet Your Assassin.  During a recent interview about Sirhan’s release, I heard one of Robert Kennedy’s sons say, “We’re Catholics.  We’re not haters.”  I guess they don’t teach about the Inquisition in Catholic School.

 

We have a Visa card associated with a big retailer.  I pass by one of their stores often, so each month I go in and pay the bill in person.  I am always waited on by the same lady who takes my payment.  She’s from Egypt, a grandmother, and wears a hijab.  I insist that she help me because she is very nice and she insists on it also.  Today, I brought her a holiday present – a big, round Christmassy-looking tin containing three bags of popcorn, one that’s plain, one that’s sweet and makes you sticky, and one that’s cheesy and makes you orange.  As I gave it to her, I said, “I’m Jewish and you’re Islamic and I’m giving you a Christmas present.  Joy to the world.”

 

And joy to all of you as well.  Our Weekly Word is rancor, which means bitterness or resentfulness, and I hope you don’t have any rancor after reading my blog.  Just keep your heart full of joy and remember: money can’t buy happiness, but it’s much more comfortable crying in a Porsche. Stay well and count your blessings.  I’ll see you next week. 

 

Mark                                       Send comments to mfox1746@gmail.com