Blog #348                                November 9, 2023

 

This world is a total mess.  I don’t need to tell you that.  You watch the news just like me, and it is painfully clear that something needs to change.  The problem is that the world is run by men.  Men are useless.  We can’t dress.  We’re always lost.  Every decision we make is wrong (at least that’s what Carol tells me).  Let’s turn the World over to women.  If we do, we won’t need the UN or NATO any more, just the A Group and the B Group.  And there wouldn’t be any more wars.  Women don’t make war.  It would just be: “I’m not calling France.  I called last time and she didn’t call back.  It’s her turn to call.  Oh, and there was a tsunami in Sri Lanka?  Send a tray.”

 

Those men never know what they’re do-N

They totally messed up the U-N

To deal with Iran

We don’t need a man

They’re not good for much except screw-N.

 

Hi there and welcome back.  I hope you are warm and healthy and not hungry.  If you are, you won’t be after you listen to this.  Have you heard of Feet Loaf?  It was a popular main dish at Halloween parties and consisted of cooked meatloaf molded into the shape and size of a human foot, complete with sliced onions or radishes for toenails.  I would not make this up.  It’s revolting!  Is that what we have come to?  Dinner made to look like human body parts?  I mean, what are they going to do with Rump Roast?  I can see a whole meal composed of Toe-mato soup, macaro-knee, with chocolate-hip cookies for dessert.  We could

serve it all with some fava beans and a nice Chianti.

 

As much as I hate technology, some of it is pretty amazing.  Under my bed is a machine the size of an apple pie that is connected to my Pacemaker by radio waves.  My Pacemaker, besides making paces and threatening to whap the crap out of me should I need it, records my heart activity on a continuous basis.  Wait, I had to stop there and think about the difference between continuous and continual.  Continuous means non-stop without interruption.  The Moon revolves around the Earth continuously.  Continual means over and over again.  My wife continually criticizes my driving.

 

So, the thing under my bed continuously records my heart activity.  Every three months, without my help or knowledge, it transmits a record of my heart activity by telephone to Dr. Rhythm.  Easy-peasy!  But there is also an option where I can manually transmit to the doctor.  Last Thursday and Friday, I noticed some twinges that felt to me like the pacemaker was doing something.  The method for manual transmission is so simple, a hamster could do it.  You pick up the mouse-like device from the machine, press the button, put the mouse over your pacemaker, wait, put it back, you’re done.  Then I called Dr. Rhythm, and you know what?  It worked!  They received the transmission and it showed no episodes of activity.  Everything’s good.  Have a nice day.  Pet the hamster.  

 

Message from Shakespeare:  Not a mouse shall disturb this hallowed house (A Midsummer Night’s Dream.)  Wait, did he say there was a hamster in the house?  And a mouse too?  Where are they, Pops?  Maybe they would play with me.  Purr.

 

We had dinner recently with some old friends, a judge and his wife.  We had a very nice time and really didn’t discuss any judginess.  I just made that word up, which makes it a neologism, a newly coined word or expression.  We’ll let neologism be our Weekly Word.  What we did discuss was all the people we knew and what widow was dating which widower, who had what medical condition and so on, something we call Jewish Geography.  Jewish Geography used to be easier when our memories were a little sharper, but now --- well, I think we need a little help.  Wouldn’t it be nice to have an app to remind us of the things we used to know?  We’ll call it Hoozat. You just point your phone at the familiar-looking woman in the green blouse and say Hey, Siri, Hoozat?  And Siri will immediately respond: 

 

That is Lois G. -- University City class of ’59.  Her husband died four years ago.  She dated a man named Frank for a few months, but he wanted sex, so she dumped him.  Don’t mention her daughter Roberta who hasn’t talked to her in thirty years.  And don’t mention her weight; she’s gained twenty pounds since the last time you saw her, which was at her granddaughter’s bat mitzvah in 2020.  That little bitch never sent you a thank-you note, did she?

 

Now that’s what we need to know!

 

I just heard my wife talking on the phone with one of her friends.  The friend must have had a juicy tidbit of local gossip to relate, because I heard the phrase “just between you and me.”  I had to smile, because I know what that means between girls.  Just between you and me translates into you’re the 19^th person I have told since breakfast and I’m only up to F in my contacts.

 

I am a big Stephen King fan, having read 61 of his books.  When King, in an introduction, speaks to us, his loyal fans, he calls us constant reader.  I have my own wonderful readers and they often send me comments.  I got one this morning from one of my lady readers, who called herself one of my groupies.  Groupie?  I have groupies?  That could be the most exciting thing I’ve ever heard in my life – next to Carol saying I do and the doctor saying It’s a girl, It’s a girl and It’s a girl.  Suddenly I feel like a rock star.  Later, I ran into a friend who looked glum.  What’s the matter, I asked?  I have shingles, he said.  You may have shingles, but I have groupies.

 

Well, that’s it, little Groupies (I just love that).  I’m finished, but I’ll be back next week.  You don’t have to do anything.  I’ll have my people call your people.  Until then, stay well, count your blessings and pray for Israel.  And remember: this is just between you and me.

 

Michael                                             Send comments to mfox1746@gmail.com