Blog #403                                          November 28, 2024

 

I am going to define a word for you.  This will not count as the Weekly Word.  The word is doofus.  A doofus is someone who drives half an hour to have lunch with a friend, then drives a half hour home where he discovers that he left his credit card at the restaurant and has to drive 30 minutes back to retrieve it and then 30 minutes back home.  Any similarity between the character described in the previous definition and anyone who writes to you on Thursdays is purely coincidental.

 

I was driving down the street this morning, noticing that the multi-colored magnificence of early Fall foliage had disappeared, replaced now by the withering drabness and decaying litter of approaching Winter.  I felt low.  Then I remembered a quote from an author named Anthony D’Angelo – Wherever you go, no matter what the weather, always bring your own sunshine.  And I can think of no better way of bringing sunshine than to wish all my friends and loyal readers a wonderful, happy and delicious Thanksgiving.  Turkey, dressing, mashed potatoes and brown gravy, apple pie, loving friends and family.  It’s my favorite meal and my favorite day.

 

Hi there and welcome back.  I hope you are feeling well on this Happy Thanksgiving.  I have so much to be thankful for on this day.  There’s my wife (yes, this week I’ll say something nice about her: she’s special and wonderful and I adore her).  And there are my children, my grandchildren, my children-in-law, my friends.  I’m thankful for my health and I’m thankful for the opportunity to talk to you every week.  Count your blessings, everyone. 

 

I know many of you are troubled by the state of the world, your constant struggle to stay healthy, the frustration you feel about politics, and the cost of nearly everything.  But today we must be thankful for the food we are fortunate to share and the people we can share it with.  Enjoy your holiday.

 

Thanksgiving Message from Shakespeare:  I can no other answer make but thanks, and thanks, and ever thanks (Twelfth Night).  Thanks to Nonnie and Pops for adopting me so I wouldn’t have to be an orphan.  And thanks to you for letting a cat talk to you every week.  You’re pretty weird.  Purr.

 

 

And speaking of politics, we recently went out with some friends, and during the evening some of the Democrats among us and some of the Republicans entered into a heated exchange.  And that is when I, your bastion of reason and even-measured calm, your representative of peace and good will, your dispatcher of grace and lovingkindness took charge in an effort to diffuse the paroxysm of this rancorous atmosphere.  I calmly took control by emphasizing that the person who gets upset at the results of an election is only hurting his own well-being, and that arrogance and aggression have no place in a friendly encounter.  Here’s what I said:  

 

Now whether you’re Blue or you’re Red

Don’t fight, just be peaceful instead

‘Cause if you’re not calm

I’ll raise up my palm

And slap you all upside the head.

 

There, that should calm everybody down.  Besides, we shouldn’t complain.  The world has an over-abundant supply of self-pity, and we really don’t need to add to it, although the truth is that we seniors have plenty to complain about.  Prescription prices, aching backs, boredom, isolation, unwanted updates to our phones, the View – but what can we do about it, riot?  We’ve certainly seen enough of those in our long lives, but there’s an innate problem with Senior Riots.  Can you just picture a bunch of old people marching the streets chanting:  WHAT DO WE WANT?  WE FORGOT.  WHEN DO WE WANT IT?  WE FORGOT THAT TOO.

 

Now let’s do our real Weekly Word.  No, it’s not doofus; it’s paroxysm which is a sudden, strong and uncontrollable expression of emotion.

 

Back to politics: In the news this week, the newly-elected Trump Administration has rounded out its cabinet with the following appointments:

 

·        Mick Jagger as Drug Czar

·        Mickey Mouse as the Secretary of Cheese

·        Tom Brady as Secretary of Offense

·        And in charge of helping Mr. Trump get rid of all his legal cases and come out scot-free -- Jussie Smollett

 

You know, each week I bring you my collection of little musings and stories like a pet dog dutifully brings dead squirrels to the front door.  The dog actually thinks his master is going to love them.  Well, I’ll keep trying.  Here’s one that might ring true.

 

If Dante were writing The Inferno today, I’m certain that his choice for the location of Hell would be the space underneath my desk.  There are enough wires down there to reach Mars and enough plugs to populate Daddy Warbucks’ head. There are eight “things” plugged in.  There’s a router and a modem and a computer and a printer and a lamp and my iPod and two other things that could be nuclear warheads for all I know.  I am so technically hapless that I could screw up a nail file, so it’s a sure bet that if it has a wire, I’m guaranteed to put it in the wrong place.  I’m amazed that I have children.  And stop laughing.  It probably looks the same under your desk.

 

It’s been a very busy week.  So much to do, so little time, so little talent.  And one of the problems is that I’m not good at multi-tasking.  My wife, however, can do two or three things at once and can easily pack 48 hours-worth of activities into any 24-hour day.  The only multi-tasking I can do is to be lost and poorly dressed at the same time.  It’s a gift.

 

Well, loyal readers, on this Thanksgiving Day I am grateful for many things, and one of them is the opportunity to be with you each week.  Enjoy your turkey, stay well and count your blessings, because every day should be a day of thanksgiving.  And remember what Mother Teresa said, “The good you do today may be forgotten tomorrow.  Do good anyway.”  See you next week.  That’s me who will see you next week, not Mother Teresa.  Oy, if you see Mother Teresa next week –well, I hope they get Limerick Oyster in Heaven (or wherever you go).

 

Michael                                             Send comments to mfox1746@gmail.com

 

 

 

 

 

Blog #402                                         November 21, 2024

 

You know, they’re still burning American flags in Iran.  I’ve never seen Americans burning Iranian flags, or any foreign flags for that matter.  I guess we’re too busy burning our own flag in protest of something or other.  I wonder if American flag companies make two versions, flammable and inflammable.  Well of course they don’t, because flammable and inflammable mean the same thing.  Like habitable and inhabitable or ravel and unravel or caregiver and caretaker.  Who invented this language, Homer Simpson?

 

I remember the time when Carol lit a Yahrzeit (memorial) Candle for her mother.  She did not want to leave it out where Shakespeare could knock it over, so she put it in the guest bathroom and closed the door.  It promptly locked itself and no-one could get in.  She asked me to fix it.  Asking me to fix something is like asking Ray Charles to thread a needle.  It’s like asking Donald Trump to be humble.  It’s like asking Dr. Oz to run Medicare.  The knob had no keyhole, only a little tiny pinhole in the center.  I tried a bent-up industrial sized paper clip for an hour.  No dice.  The candle burned within.  Then I went to play bridge where one of the guys suggested I use an Allen wrench.  “What is an Allen wrench,” I queried?  He went to get one from his toolbox.  An Allen wrench turns out to be a bent-up industrial sized paper clip.  He lent it to me, and when I got home I tried it for an hour.  The candle still burned within.

 

I wasn’t getting anywhere with all these little tools, so I decided to use a big tool – Carol’s brain.  She determined that the locking mechanism was too far in to use a paper clip or Allen wrench.  How she knew this bit of mechanical trivia escapes me, but I switched to a long, wooden shish-kebab skewer and Open Sesame, it worked.  What a woman!  She cooks, she sews, she shops, she plays bridge, she plays golf, she shops, she plays mahjong, she gets her toes done, she shops, she reads, she gets her hair done, she shops.  What a woman!

 

Hi there and welcome back.  I hope you’re feeling well.  Have you noticed that Christmas songs are already appearing on the radio?  Here are some new ones for this year:

 

·        You’re a Mean one, Mr. Gaetz

·        Oh Kamala Faithful

·        There’s No Place Like Noem for the Holidays

·        Gramma Got Run Over by a Trumpster

·        He’s got Tulsi and Vivek and Oz and Stefanik

Marco and Hegseth but please do not panic

‘Cause do not forget

The most famous reindeer yet

Elon, the Richest Reindeer.

 

Message from Shakespeare:  The bird of dawning singeth all night long (Hamlet).  My favorite Christmas Song is All I Want for Christmas Is a New Left Leg.  Purr.

 

And speaking of Elon Musk, he has certainly been in the news a lot lately, what with his closeness to the Trump campaign.  Whatever you may think of his politics, you have to admit he’s a prescient genius.   I mean, he has his own spaceship company which eventually will take you on interplanetary vacations.  It’s called SpaceX.  Just think of the miles!

 

If spaceflight is what you desire

Come fly with us – higher and higher

You’ll visit the stars

Get suntanned on Mars

Plus six trillion miles – Frequent Flier.

 

Prescient is a good Weekly Word.  It means having or showing knowledge of events before they take place.

 

Have you been to a movie lately?  We almost went to one last week.  I got an email ad offering a Movie Watcher Reward which would give me $1 off on the purchase of a combo.  That sounded good, so I looked up what a combo included, and discovered it was a large popcorn, large soda, a 12-inch long Snickers bar, three pair of Levi’s and a Toyota mini-van.  If I bought all of those, I would get the $1 discount.

 

Instead, my clever wife has decided we’re better off just watching movies at home.  Yes, my 21^st Century Fox has put together a list of movies specifically for old people.  Here are a few:

 

·        The World According to AARP

·        Rheumatism at the Top

·        To Kill an Early-Bird

·        Cataract on a Hot Tin Roof

·        Dude, Where’s My Car

·        Cleopatra, Queen of the Senile

 

Alright, enough of this foolish folderol; let’s talk about something important. Next week will be Thanksgiving.  Let me give you a few tips.  First, mellow out.  I know Uncle Peevish is a bore and Cousin Itt’s hair is too long, and the brother-in-law voted for You-Know-Who, but hey, families are like fudge –mostly sweet with a few nuts.  And take a little extra time in planning the seating arrangement.  You wouldn’t want to make a mistake.  Think of it this way -- if Paris had not been seated next to Helen, there wouldn’t have been a Trojan War.

And most important, please don’t spend Thanksgiving Day complaining about the life you live and the world you live it in and who was elected President.  Nobody wants to hear you bitch on a day set aside to being thankful.  Even in this difficult world, you can still find a way to be positive!  You have a whole week to come up with a list of things you and your family can be thankful for.  Here are some helpful suggestions:

·        Be thankful for your health.  It could be worse. 

·        Be thankful you live in a world with FaceTime, Zoom, X and email so that you can be in touch with your family.

·        Be thankful that the election is over. 

·        Be thankful we don’t elect a President every two years.

·        Be thankful you have something to read on Thursday mornings that makes you laugh.  That would be Limerick Oyster, in case you have fallen asleep already.

·        Be thankful this blog is almost over.

 

I’ll bet you’re prescient and know something that will take place in the future.  You know that next Thursday there will be another Limerick Oyster, don’t you?  So stay well and count your blessings.  Don’t just count them, write them all down and read them next week on Thanksgiving.  I’ll talk to you then.  For now, I’m done!  Turn me over and baste me, because this bird is outa here!

 

Michael                                    Send comments to mfox1746@gmail.com

 

 

Blog #401                                November 14, 2024

 

And speaking of plungers.  Were you speaking about plungers?  I wasn’t speaking about plungers.  We have a plunger.  Everybody has a plunger.  I have no great place to put it, so I just keep it in a corner.  But I noticed that it had accumulated some mold or slime or some je ne sais quoi (it’s a French plunger), so I asked my wife to give me her Martha Stewart advice.  Should I soak it in bleach?  How much bleach should I use?  Can I use the bucket?  Do we have a bucket?  How long should I soak it?  I figured she would know what to do.  And she did.  She looked at it for two milliseconds and said, “Throw that disgusting thing out and buy a new one for three dollars.”  Simple enough.  Why didn’t I think of that?

 

And speaking of plungers (sound familiar?), are you going to celebrate World Toilet Day?  Yes, World Toilet Day.  It’s next Tuesday.  Look it up.  I’m not exactly sure what we are supposed to do in celebration, so I did what I do best.  I wrote a limerick.

 

Yes, World Toilet Day, this is it!

So I went to my toilet to sit

But I just didn’t care

And was bored sitting there

‘Cause I really did not give a shit.

 

I apologize for that, but sometimes the Limerick Muse just grabs me by the throat and makes me write things I shouldn’t.  I bet all you plumbers out there liked it though.  I respect plumbers.  They’re the people who actually do know shit from Shinola.

 

Do you have an Alexa?  Of course you do.  Everyone has an Alexa or an Echo Dot or some silly cylinder that doesn’t understand what you’re saying.  I really don’t get along with our Alexa, but Carol tries to use her sometimes:

 

Carol:   Alexa, play some Barbra Streisand music.

Alexa:   I cannot find a movie of that name near you.

Carol:   No, Alexa, play some Streisand music.

Alexa:   Ok, connecting you to the Albanian Embassy.

Carol:   Damn it, Alexa, PLAY BARBRA STREISAND!

Alexa:   Getting directions to the nearest Bar-be-cue restaurant.

 

Life is too complicated.  Alexa and Siri and cell phones and – well, just getting dressed.  It’s all a mystery to me.  The following is a true story.  While I was still working, Carol went to Disneyworld with two of the grandchildren.  I was home alone and surviving tolerably until I realized I had a fancy-schmancy bank party to go to after work.  I was the bank’s biggest customer, so I had to make an appearance.  I found a black and gray houndstooth jacket and black pants, a white shirt and a snappy little paisley yellow tie and wore these to work.  As soon as I walked in the office, Amanda, my loyal and wise associate, grabbed me by the paisley.  Foxy, she said, you can’t wear houndstooth with a paisley tie.  You look like a dime-store kaleidoscope.  She removed my tie and threw it on the floor.  Thirty minutes later, I had a meeting with a representative of a different bank.  As soon as he sat down at my desk, I noticed he had a very nice, solid gray tie.  I buzzed for Amanda to come in.  How’s that tie? I asked her, pointing to the banker.  She decided it would work.  I need that tie, I told him.  He instantly removed it and handed it over.  I was his biggest customer too.

 

One day, my partner walked into my office with a scissors and cut my tie in two.  I laughed, of course.  The next day, he brought me six new ties.  And that’s the truth.

 

It is astonishing to me that a man so inept at dressing or operating any device more sophisticated than a rubber band has survived this long.  I am consistently wrong, lost or mismatched, and cannot fathom why so many people ask me for advice.  I am good, however, for a few limited things.  As an example, one of my grandchildren needed some information about the characters in Moby Dick.  And who do think he called?  If you answered Ghostbusters, I’m not sending you any more blogs.  He called me, of course, the only person in the Northern Hemisphere to have read the book six times.  I am definitely the right person to call if you have any questions about Moby, The Raven or Paradise Lost.  But not about fashion.  Stevie Wonder dresses better than I do.

 

Hi there and welcome back.  I hope you’re feeling well and have calmed down since the election.  My wife and oldest daughter are going to a spa in December, and she asked me to print out her schedule.  Included were activities such as Soul Journey Meditation and Cardio-Drumming.  Cardio-Drumming?  It sounds to me like somebody banging on your chest, or maybe it’s just playing the drums at a rapid pace to make your heart beat fast.  We have a lady friend who has a drum set at her house.  What if Carol likes it and brings a drum set home?  I’m telling you right now that if she does, Shakespeare and I will be moving in with you.  I hope you have a comfy chair for my crepuscular reading and an extra room for the cat toys.  Shakespeare won’t be any trouble.  He’s a good boy.

 

Message from Shakespeare:  Unbidden guests are often welcomest when they are gone (Henry VI, Part 1.)  And I need two water bowls and two food bowls and a night-light.  And get Pops a soft blanket.  He likes that when he reads.  Pops won’t be any trouble.  He’s a good boy.  We’ll be over in an hour.  Purr.

 

I know you’re waiting for me to tell you what crepuscular means.  It’s our Weekly Word, of course, and means relating to or happening at twilight.  You’d be surprised how often that comes up in conversation.

 

Well, it’s Wednesday evening and the crepuscular darkness is invading the sky.  See, I told you.  Anyway, that means it’s time to say goodbye.  Please stay well and count your blessings.  And one of those blessings is that even if the election has made you as depressed as Venus de Milo’s manicurist, you’re still living in America.  Life will go on, and I’ll see you next week.

 

Michael                                             Send comments to mfox1746@gmail.com

 

 

 

Blog #400                                November 7, 2024

 

I overheard my wife talking to a friend who was recovering from surgery.  Carol, the kind and caring person that she is, offered to bring her some dinner. “No,” the friend said, “I don’t want you to go out.”  Don’t be silly, my wife said, I’ll just send Michael out to do it.  Send Michael out to do it?  What am I, the Chinese butler in Auntie Mame?  I’ll send Hop Sing out to do it.   I’ll tell Hop Sing to go to the store.  Oh, Hop Sing, can you drop me off at the door; it’s raining.  Oh, Hop Sing, can you get me a mocha frappe while you’re out?  Oh, Hop Sing, go on Amazon and buy me a new shirt.   I dug out our marriage contract just to review exactly what I had promised 57 years ago, and there it was – love, honor and obey.  At least that’s what my copy said.  Hers said – push, wheedle and control.

 

And don’t get all Funk & Wagnalls on me because the Chinese butler in Auntie Mame was named Ito.  I like the name Hop Sing better.  Hop Sing was the cook on Ponderosa. 

 

I have a question.  You’re sitting on the couch watching television, and somebody is next to you – your spouse, your grandchild, Jake from State Farm -- whoever it is.  You wouldn’t dream of grabbing a blanket and throwing it on them, would you?  But let them fall asleep, and you run to the nearest blanket and instantly drape it over them.  Then you turn down the volume on the TV and turn off the lights.  Why do we do that?  The person was supremely comfortable with the surroundings.  That’s why he or she dozed off.  So why do we immediately change their temperature and the sound and the light?  I admit not having an answer.  I don’t have all the answers, you know.

 

But I do have you.  Hi there and welcome back.  I hope you are feeling supremely comfortable.  Have you noticed that the weather is getting colder and Winter is on the way?  That means that the street repair season will finally come to an end.  I truly will not miss all those orange cones and steel plates and detours.  And, of course, Daylight Saving Time is over, and with the time change this week, you’ve had to wait an extra hour to get your Limerick Oyster.  I hope it’s worth the wait.

 

Did you have a nice Halloween?  Were you frightened by all the eldritch and vulpine monsters roaming the streets?  Did you give out candy?  I opened the door for the first Trick-or-Treater and he thought I looked so ugly, he gave me candy.   That’s an old Rodney Dangerfield joke.  I didn’t really give out candy.  I love candy and would have been eager to go trick or treating myself.  I could have dressed up like an old codger.  It would have been easy, I do it every day.  But, alas, some joys are relegated exclusively to children.  Besides, in this world, the candy can be dangerous, especially to old folks. 

 

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.

 

The election is over.  Carol and I voted.  You voted.  We have a new President.  It was a long, frustrating and vitriolic campaign, but it is finally over.  The majority has spoken.  For those of us whose candidate did not win, we need to accept the majority’s wishes and move on without poisoning ourselves with hatred and constant criticism.  Can you do that?  I hope so. 

 

I can’t decide whether the Weekly Word should be eldritch or vulpine or vitriolic.  You only get one, you know.  I wouldn’t want to overload your brain cells.  Let’s do vitriolic.  It means “with cruel and bitter criticism”. 

 

Missouri has early voting, which started two weeks before election day, and that’s how Carol and I voted.  We went to a local library and stood in line for about an hour, but that’s not what bothered me.  There were 43 candidates, propositions, amendments and judges to vote on, and for each one, you had to fill in a box completely with a black pen.  In this age of Artificial Intelligence, instantaneous communication all over the world, missions to Mars, watches that tell you how long you slept and frozen peanut butter and jelly sandwiches that taste delicious – why isn’t there a better way to vote?  It takes five to ten seconds to ink in each box so that no white shows (remember hanging chads?).  By the time you read all the candidates, propositions, amendments and judges and finish blackening each box thoroughly, it’s taken you twenty minutes.  Ridiculous.  Why don’t they give us a Magic Marker instead of a pen?  Why don’t they just let Amazon run the election?  Amazon can deliver a case of cat food anywhere in the country in four hours; they could surely run an efficient election.

 

Message from Shakespeare:  We are such stuff as dreams are made on; and our little life is rounded with a sleep (The Tempest).  I fell asleep on the couch while Pops was watching the election results.  The couch was soft and warm and perfect.  Then Pops turned off the television and threw a blanket over me.  And woke me up!  Purr.

 

Rotten Oysters:  We went to a movie theater.  Remember them?  This was an old- style theater with seats that did nothing.  They didn’t recline or warm your tush or give you a massage or take your blood pressure or do a rectal exam.  They just let you sit on them.  And while we were sitting there, we watched a movie.  It was called Conclave and was dark and pointless and disappointing.  Sorry.

 

As you probably have noticed at the beginning of this exercise, this is Blog #400. Wow, that’s an awesome and somehow frightening number.  We’ve been at this for 400 weeks.  Let’s see – 400 divided by 52, carry the leap year and figure in that a year is actually 52⅓ weeks.  Whatever it is, it’s been a long ride.  Thanks for being aboard.  Next week will be #401.  Be there.  Until then, stay well and count your blessings.

 

Hop Sing                                           Send comments to mfox1746@gmail.com