Blog # 449                               October 16, 2025

 

Monday was Columbus Day.  Remember Columbus?  He’s the guy who founded Ohio State University.  Nobody remembers Columbus anymore except a few old Italians.  They don’t even call it Columbus Day.  Now it’s Indigenous Peoples’ Day, as if the American Indians were here when the Earth was created.  They were here before Columbus, but they displaced other peoples and tribes who, in return, had replaced other people.  None of this replacing thing was ever peaceful, fair or equitable.  It was just the ineluctable survival of the fittest.  Now the America that Columbus bumped into is populated by roughly 65% Europeans, 13% Africans, 22% South Americans and almost no Indigenous People.  And in another 200 years, it will be 80% South Americans, a few Europeans and a few Africans.  Like sand through the hourglass – right?

 

I’ll bet you guessed that the Weekly Word is ineluctable.  It means inescapable or unavoidable.  Good word to remember, though remembering things gets harder all the time.  Sometimes I forget my doctor’s name.  Often, I forget where my keys are – or my wallet or my phone or my bathroom.  Sometimes I forget what day it is.  But I can still remember the lyrics to songs I heard when I was a kid.  When I was five (1951), the Four Lads had a song called Istanbul, Not Constantinople.  I know the words.  Carol knows the words.  I think that’s why I married her.  Anytime the word Istanbul ever comes up in a conversation, Carol and I break into an annoying duet which ends with the phrase – Why did Constantinople get the works? That’s nobody’s business but the Turks.  My children hate it.  They’ve heard us do it a hundred times – at home, in a restaurant, in a taxi -- and it embarrasses them.  Last week, my oldest daughter was on her way to Croatia, and I got a phone call from her.  “Where are you?” I asked.  “Oh” she said, “we’re on the plane about to leave from Istanbul.”  Big mistake!  Carol and I reflexively burst into a loud version of the melody we knew so well, but by the time the song was through, my daughter was gone.  Either the plane took off or she hung up on us.

 

And speaking of remembering old songs, I have a Movie Review for you. Well, it wasn’t a movie; it was a Broadway show called Beautiful about singer-songwriter Carole King.  Anybody my age who remembers music from the 1960s will love this show.  I knew every word to every song and had to stifle myself from singing out loud.  Really spectacular!

 

Message from Shakespeare, the three-legged cat:  In sweet music is such art (Henry VIII).  I remember old songs too.  Like What’s New Pussycat and How Much Is That Kitty in the Window.  Is that what it was?  Sometimes I forget too.  Purr.

 

Hi there and welcome back.  Or, as we used to say:  Hey there, hi there, ho there you’re as welcome as can be.  I hope you are feeling well.  We did another fast-food outing this week.  It was fun, we all laughed and enjoyed the company for two hours.  The food sucked, but at least I got a limerick out of it.

 

Let’s go eat fast food, everyone

It really will be lots of fun

We’ll meet and we’ll greet

Then sit down to eat

A whole lot of crap on a bun.

 

I just saw another crazy sign at a museum.  We’ll call it the Yummy Museum.  I am not making this up!

 

Diversity Statement:

The Yummy Museum is a community resource where all families raising young children are welcome. You are included without regard to race, age, gender, physical ability, sexual orientation, family structure, citizenship, or socioeconomic background.

 

Wow, it must have taken them a long time to decide which kinds of people they will not discriminate against.  I did not see a category for People who read Moby Dick.  Why do we have to make an endless list of differences for which we will not discriminate? Why can’t we just say everybody is welcome?  Or, in Yummy’s case, everybody is welcome if you have $5.00 admission and no nuts. (It’s a peanut-allergy thing. You have a filthy mind.)  Really, a simple “Everyone Is Welcome” sign in 47 languages and Esperanto would be just fine.  And what’s with the family structure item?  Do they think we expect to be rejected because our family has two fathers, six mothers, a crazy uncle and a camel?  C’mon Yummy, lose the guilt of the world and just say everybody’s welcome. 

 

It seems like the more tolerant our society purports to be, the more we tend to cubbyhole everyone into racial, religious and sexual corners.  But what do I know?  I’m just an elderly, Jewish, third generation Russian-American, carnivorous, Midwestern, average height, Caucasian, married, straight, male United States citizen who can recite The Raven.  Pretty typical.

 

In any event, we had a wonderful time at the museum and by the time we left, my grandkids were happy and sleepy.  I guess that makes me Dopey and Grumpy.  And as Snow White used to say to all the dwarfs, “I do not discriminate on the basis of height or silly names.  But no nuts.”  Snow had a filthy mind too

 

I just heard a terrifying news broadcast on the radio that went like this:  Avalanche destroys Detroit; Flames burn Vancouver; Hurricanes rip through Florida; Lightning decimates Philadelphia.  My God, I thought, has the world come to an end?  I was relieved when I learned it was just the hockey scores. 

 

I have to go now.  I have to buy something from Amazon.  I really don’t need anything, but it’s so much fun.  Yesterday, I bought something from Amazon.   True story. The order was placed at 11:30; the item was shipped at 1:00 and arrived at 2:30. How is that possible?  Are they waiting outside with a van stuffed with things I might buy?  I think I’ll order something they can’t possibly deliver.  I’ll order a humorous and informative essay of exactly 1,066 words that has a Weekly Word and a message from a weird cat.  Let’s see them try to deliver that!  But if you want another one, I can deliver it to you next Thursday.  Stay well and count your blessings.

 

Michael                                    Send comments to mfox1746@gmail.com

 

 

Blog #448                                October 9, 2025

 

Stay well and count your blessings.  Wait, that’s what I say at the end of the blog, not the beginning.  I’m so confused.  I’m turned upside down, and it’s all because of my grocery store.  I always go in the entrance on the right, near the produce.  I start at bananas and end with bread and that’s the way it’s been for thousands of years.  It all started King Tut shopped 3,350 years ago at the local Yummy Mummy.  Well, Mrs. Tut probably did the shopping.  Her name was Ankhesenamun.  He called her Cupcake.  Anyway, Ankhe would start with bananas and work her way right to left and we’ve all been doing that for millennia.  But today they were doing some construction and the right-side entrance was closed.  I had to enter on the left side.  Well, you can imagine my disorientation.  I felt like an American trying to drive in London.  I felt like a breech baby.  I felt like the world was a tuxedo and I was a pair of brown shoes.  (Thank you, George Gobel.)  So, did I adapt?  Did I improvise?  Did I overcome?  No, I am maddeningly sclerotic, so I walked like an Egyptian down the length of the store and started at bananas.  You would have done the same.

 

Weekly Word: Sclerotic means rigid and unresponsive; without the ability to adapt.  I think that describes me, don’t you?  Hi there and welcome back.  The government is shut down, but Limerick Oyster is still in business, so wipe off your reading glasses and let’s get started.  I hope you’re feeling well and enjoying the beautiful Fall weather.  What is all this hullaballoo about Russia?  Why are we afraid of them?  And how could we ever have worried that X, Y and Z had colluded with Й, Щ and Э?  I don’t get it.  I’ve been to Russia and they have nothing to offer but a bunch of palaces built by cruel and horrible despots who killed their own people and stole all their money.  As I left Russia, I turned around, looked at their sterile, ugly and decrepit apartment blocks and their sullen, overdressed and impolite border officials and told them how I felt.

 

I’ve read about all of your Czars

I’ve tasted your strange caviars

I’ve taken your tours

And I’ve seen what is yours

And I really prefer what is ours.

 

Take that, Vladimir!

 

I get a physical exam every year with Dr. Primary, and of course they take my blood pressure. Wouldn’t it be great if Carol and I could just average our blood pressure?  Can you guess which one of us has high versus low pressure?  Isn’t it obvious?  Carol runs on so much energy, we used to call her Ethel, and I am so passive that last week I was reading at the library and somebody put lilies in my lap.  After the blood pressure, the nurse always gives me some kind of cognitive test.  What day is it?  Who’s the President?  Who’s your Daddy?  Who’s the leader of the club that’s made for you and me?  Then she asks me to write any sentence, and I always write, “I hate needles!”  Then she asks me to memorize three words.  The first time she did that, the words were – apple, penny, table.  Ok, I passed.  A year later I was back and she was back and the questions were the same.  When she said, “I have three words for you to memorize, I immediately said, “You mean apple, penny, table?”  She looked at me, then looked at her paper and said, “I guess you pass.”

 

So how about if we give you a small cognitive test?  Can you say 60 words in 60 seconds without ever repeating a word twice or using a word that has the letter “a”?  Ready? Go!  I’ll get back to you later.

 

As I have told you, we went to a charity polo match last week.  I was sitting at a table, and I asked my wife to get me a Diet Coke at the bar.  She returned; I took a sip, and long before the vile liquid reached my stomach, I said, “This is Pepsi.”  She said that’s all they had and she hoped I wouldn’t notice.  What?  Not notice?  I have had a Diet Coke every morning for four decades.  Diet Coke is as different from Diet Pepsi as 7-Up is from motor oil.  Jeesh!

 

Someone asked me the other day what Disney character I most resemble.  I know, I can hear all of you yelling Dumbo.  That’s not nice.  But I thought for a while – there’s Captain Jack Sparrow, Aladdin, Prince Charming (somehow that always reminds me of years ago when we actually had cameras and we took the film to the camera shop to get it developed; then we’d sit around the house singing “Someday My Prints Will Come”).  I finally decided the Disney character I most resemble is Geppetto.   He’s the old man in Pinocchio who uses his experience and love to help mold little boys and girls out of their rough raw materials.  With three daughters and eight grandchildren, I like to think I’ve accomplished that.  Plus, it looks like my nose has grown a lot along the way.  So, what Disney character do you most resemble?  Sleeping Beauty?  No, most of you can’t sleep.  Cinderella?  No, you don’t do windows.  Aladdin’s Genie?  I’ve seen you in a bottle.  Goofy?  Just saying.

 

Message from Shakespeare, the three-legged cat:  What’s in a name? (Romeo and Juliet).  If Pops gets to be Gepetto, I get to be Gepetto’s little tuxedo cat.  His name was Figaro.  My name is much better.  And Tabby Cats are much handsomer than tuxedo cats.  Just purring!

 

Ok, the cognitive test about saying sixty words in sixty seconds without using an “a”.  Easy, peasy!  Just count from one to sixty.  There are no “a”s.  In fact, the first number that has an “a” is one thousand.  And the first number that has a “b” is one billion.  And the first number that has a “c” is one octillion.  How’s that for useless trivia?

 

I think I’m finished with all this silliness.  Thank you for coming back.  Stay well and count your blessings.  (I’ve heard that somewhere before.)  See you next week.

 

Geppetto                                           send comments to mfox1746@gmail.com

 

 

 

  

 

Blog #447                                October 2, 2025

 

Do you realize what an exhaustive effort goes into writing these blogs?  Have you ever tried writing a thousand-word essay every week?  I know you haven’t because you have very busy lives.  Me too!  I have to throw out the trash and squeeze the last droplet out of my toothpaste tube and do all my quotidian chores.  But I take this writing thing very seriously.  (That probably means there aren’t a lot of yucks to look forward to here.)

 

One chore I had to do this week was my Sirius call.  Every year, I get a message from Sirius Radio.  Your subscription expires on October 25 and we will begin to automatically bill you $23 a month.  Then I call and reach a person in the Philippines named Juanita and I tell her I’m only paying $7 a month now and want that to be my rate for next year.  She hesitates and fumfehs for a while and says she’ll have to talk to her manager and then comes back to tell me the $7 rate will be renewed.

 

This year was different.  I called and got this:  Hello, my name is Harmony, your Artificial Intelligence assistant.  How can I help you?  Harmony was wonderful, understood everything I said and renewed me for $6 month.  Very fast, very efficient, very sad.  What have we come to?  How is Juanita going to compete with Artificial Intelligence?  She’ll be out of a job.  What do we do when we make the world so wired up and efficient that no-one has a job?

 

That poor little Philippine sister

Was replaced by a sterile transistor

Now Juanita is gone

And the world travels on

Till we all realize that we missed her.

 

Artificial Intelligence frightens me a lot.  I mean machines named R2D2 and C-3PO were fine.  They were helpful and followed instructions.  But as soon as you give them human names like Harmony or Siri or Alexa, my pacemaker begins to heat up.  Remember HAL?  How’d that work out?

 

In honor of the Jewish New Year (5786) and Yom Kippur, which is today, our Weekly Word is the Yiddish word fumfeh, which means to mumble or speak unclearly.  I will try to hold my fumfehing to a minimum.

 

Hi there and welcome back.  I hope you’re feeling well.  Fall is here as well as the Jewish New Year, and Shakespeare is bugging me to let him say something about that. 

 

Message from Shakespeare, the three-legged cat:  O, call back yesterday, bid time return (Richard II).  I hear it’s the Jewish year 5786.  Those Jews think they’ve been around a long time, but we cats have been around much longer.  Do you know anybody named Katz?  They got that from us.  And, of course, we’re the ones who invented Yom Ki-Purr.

 

Thank you, Shakespeare.  I feel very simpatico with you today because I’m missing the use of one paw.  That’s because my left arm is in a sling.  On Monday, they sliced open my chest to replace the battery in my pacemaker and they don’t want me to pull out the stitches.  Please do not send sympathy cards.  A Mercedes would be nice or some Rolexes or maybe a Tiffany gift card.  Actually, I have recovered from the procedure quite easily and don’t need anything.  Well, the Mercedes maybe.

 

Speaking of sympathy cards, I visited Dollar Tree this week to buy greeting cards.  What, you think I spent $4.95 for that birthday card I got you?  Besides stocking up on some birthday and sympathy cards, I actually found a card congratulating you on your last colonoscopy which I guess is when you’re 75.  It reads: I ran into your proctologist the other day and your name came up.  He said “I never want to see that asshole again”.  Congratulations!   

 

When I approached the register to pay for the cards, there was an obnoxious young man arguing with the cashier about something.  He was rude and crude and I didn’t like him.  The only satisfaction in dealing with a young jerk like that is knowing that he has all his colonoscopies in front of him.  (Can you actually have one “in front” of you?  I guess not, but we have spent too much time on this subject, so let’s put it behind us.)

 

Do you have dreams?  I dream once in a while, and I always thought my dreams were different from your dreams.  But yesterday, I read a book where the author was describing a dream in which his dream person was in college and completely unprepared for an upcoming test.  Wait, that’s my dream!  How could he have my dream?  Does everybody have that dream?  Do you?  How about the dream where you are in a movie theater and discover that you’re naked?  Do you have that one too?  How about the one where the driver of a cement mixer gets out and beats you up?  Or the one with the tuba and the sheep?  Well, never mind about that one.

 

The other day I dropped my keys right between the two front seats – you know, the place where everything disappears forever.  I looked; I reached – nothing!  There I was, freaking out and reaching between the seats with two restless grandchildren in the back seat wondering what Oldilocks was up to.  I got out and felt under the front seat – nothing.  I pulled the driver’s seat as far up as it would go; then I went to the back seat to see what was uncovered.  Holy Buried Treasure, Batman!  There, in the revealed space formerly under the front seat, were nine colored markers, two straw wrappers, a Nilla Wafer, Jimmy Hoffa, the Cardinals World Series chances and a previously unknown Kardashian sister – and my car keys.  Whew!

 

This week we went to a charity polo match sponsored by the Old Newsboys Fund for Children’s Charities, a very worthwhile charity that helps children all over the area.  Did you know that all polo players are right-handed?  Did you know that I played water polo?  I only played once because my horse drowned.

 

Alright, I’m done with you now.  You can go back to your daily chores or dreaming about that sheep.  Just be sure to come back next week.  Please stay well and count your blessings.  See ya!

 

Michael                                    Send comments to mfox1746@gmail.com.