Blog #443                                September 4, 2025

 

If you are my age, or thereabouts, and have grandchildren, I’ll bet this happens to you.  We go to babysit for a few days while the parents go on a short vacation.  We get instructions – the school bus arrives at 7:38, put out the recyclables on Wednesday, Zoey has a piano practice Tuesday night, Austin has soccer games Saturday and Sunday, there’s baba ganoush in the fridge.  What?  I always thought baba ganoush was a weapon of mass destruction.  But, ok fine, we’ve got it.  Then they ask if we have any questions and we always have the same one: “How do you turn the television on?”  Am I right?  When did we lose control of the thing we used to call “television”?  Now it’s not even called that.  It’s cable or streaming or smart-TV.  And not only are the TVs smart, but there are smart phones, smart cars, smart houses, even smart toilets.  Every time I get near something that’s “smart”, I feel dumb. When did the world pass me by?  And which clicker do I use to change the channel?

 

Futzing around with the smart TV, I somehow found myself on a Saudi Arabian station.  Go figure!  They actually have some interesting and familiar sounding programs.  Here are a few:

 

Malcolm in the Middle East               Oil in the Family

America’s Got Taliban                       How I Bought Your Mother

Sonny and Sharia                               Jimmy Camel -- Live!

 

Hi there and welcome back.  I hope you’re feeling well.  We all rely on our doctors, but did you ever think you could rely on your doctor to be a matchmaker?  My wife has a new cardiologist, and she told me one of her friends, a widow, uses the same doctor and that he fixed her up with a couple of his male patients.  You know me well enough to guess how I reacted to that piece of information, don’t you?  There’s a limerick there!  I remember when my grandkids used to ride around with me searching for Pokémon characters.  Stop, Poppy, I think there’s a Pikachu.  You knew it was there, you just had to capture it.  Well, that’s what limericks are, little ephemeral wisps hiding out in a phrase or a thought.  You know it’s there.  You know you can find it. Oops, there it is --- almost --- ok, I’ve got you.  A cardiologist being the perfect matchmaker? 

 

Well now that I’ve looked at your chart

I can see you can use a fresh start

So I’ve found you a match

He’s a pretty good catch

And I know that he has a good heart.

 

I wonder if Taylor and Travis had a matchmaker.  Probably not, it was such a perfect fit -- a simple guy who likes his girls skinny and a wholesome girl who likes her ends tight.

 

How about ephemeral for our Weekly Word?  It means lasting a very short time.

 

This year, the Zoo has installed security scanners at both of the entrances.  They work very efficiently and cause very little delay.  As I was working, in the spirit of just having a friendly kibbitz, and also perhaps to find funny things to write about, I asked one of the security officers what was the weirdest encounter he had experienced.  The security officer changed twice during my shift, so I got to ask three different people.  Here were their “weirdest things”.

 

·        A “support” lizard on the guest’s shoulder.  Security politely asked him, and his reptile, to leave.  I guess they call that “reptile dysfunction”.

·        A dozen uncooked hotdogs and buns.  Can’t explain that one.

·        A lady guard refused to tell me her “weirdest”.  She said it was unmentionable.  I guess some more reptile dysfunction.  Always fun at the Zoo.

 

That evening, I was back at the Zoo for Volunteer Appreciation Night, an annual event including dinner, awards presentations and a sea-lion show.  The star of the show was a 600 lb. male sea-lion name Robby who could do more tricks than Houdini.  It was very enjoyable.

 

Message from Shakespeare, the three-legged cat:  He smells like a fish, a very ancient and fish-like smell (The Tempest).  Wait, a sea-lion?  Are you kidding?  C’mon, Pops, which would you rather have sitting on your lap – 600 pounds of wet, fish-smelling blubber or 8 pounds of soft, adorable fluffiness?  Besides, that blubber-belly was called Robby, which is a stupid dog name.  My name is Shakespeare.  I rest my purr.

 

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.

 

A mile has 5,280 feet.  My strides are not as long as they once were, and I estimate each step to be about two feet.  So, if my math is correct – hold it, my math is always correct.  I was a Math Major at Washington University in St. Louis and a math teacher at both the high-school and Junior College level.  Not to mention the County Prison.  So what’s with this “if my math is correct” business?  Anyway, 5,280 feet divided by two feet per step means I can walk a mile in 2,640 steps.  Round that to 2,500 steps in a mile and I need to walk four miles a day to get to my 10,000.  The problem is, if I do my four miles every day for a week, I’ll be 28 miles from home.  You were waiting for that one, weren’t you? 

 

And now I bet you’re waiting for the next blog.  Sorry, not til next Thursday.  Until then, stay well, count your blessings and hug your tight ends.

 

Michael                                    Send comments to mfox1746@gmail.com