Blog # 470                               March 12, 2026

 

I received a Saliva Collection Kit ordered by Dr. Heart to check my DNA for some genetic something-or-other.  I had to spit into a tube, seal it, place the tube in an enclosed bag, label it and send it to San Francisco.  Most Major League Baseball players are proud if they can disgustingly expectorate three or four feet from their dugout.  My spit is going all the way to San Francisco.

 

The directions to this high-tech exercise were slightly longer than War and Peace and were repeated in English, Spanish, French, Italian, German, Portuguese, Danish, Dutch, Norwegian and Swedish.  I guess if you don’t speak one of those, you’re out of luck.

 

Enclosed is your personal kit

Please send your saliva in it

Except if you speak

Either Polish or Greek

Then, Brother, you ain’t worth a spit.

 

Hi there and welcome back to my world of humor, stories and, at least today, spit.  I hope you’re feeling well and not angry with me for being a day late last week.  Carol and I were on a cruise ship.  It was a lovely vacation with many good friends and new friends.  The one disappointment was that the G’s, who were supposed to join us, could not.  Besides greatly missing their company, we had to rearrange a car trip to the docks in Miami, another from the docks to Naples, Florida, a place to stay for two nights and a subsequent ride to the airport.  But here was the silver lining.  All our friends aboard jumped right in to fill the gaps.  I will not mention all your names, but thank you for the many, many offers of lodging and transportation.  It was a heart-warming display of loyalty and friendship that I truly appreciate.

 

The ship (not boat) on which we cruised was the Wonder of the Seas, and it was the size of Luxembourg, only taller.  To get from your cabin (not room) to the dining area, you had to take an Uber.  It had 18 decks (not floors) and included every diversion, restaurant and entertainment you could imagine and many you couldn’t imagine.  We had a great time, but I just have to mention something, and I know you will agree.  I’m going to have a little talk with God here.  Bear with me.  God, I know You’re omnipotent and omni-everything-else, but You need to create an 11^th Commandment, and I have humbly written it out for You.  It should read: Thou shalt not enter an elevator until the people on it have exited.

 

We would be in a packed elevator and when the doors opened, twelve basketball players, their wives and 42 children started pushing their way in without letting us out.  I’m sure it has happened to you.

 

Want a quiz?  I know you love quizzes.  This one is about State names.  If you remove all the vowels, Mississippi would become MSSSSPP and Colorado would become CLRD.  Here are the names of four states with all the vowels removed:  HW – TH – DH – H.  What are those four states?  Answers later.

 

Things end.  Empires end, love affairs end, Breaking Bad ended, even microwaves end.  Ours ended.  More than that, it committed suicide in a pyrotechnic flash worthy of the Olympic Opening Ceremony.  So, we measured the space and measured again and took our measurements to Best Buy, where we purchased a new microwave that was sure to fit.  We measured, didn’t we?  Any three-year-old baboon can use a tape measure, so it goes to reason that two graduates of Washington University in St. Louis, one with a major in education and the other in mathematics, can be counted upon to use a stupid damned tape measure!  We brought it home and it fit into the opening perfectly.  We were proud.  So, we re-attached the metallic molding around the opening and guess what?

 

I know you can guess what happened.  I know for two reasons.  One, it’s probably happened to you before and two, you know how useless I am with intricately difficult machinery like a cloth tape measure.  The actual microwave door was too big to fit through the opening in the molding and we took it back.  We now have Frequent Microwave Mileage at Best Buy.  But every cloud has something or other and Microwave 2.0, though a little small, opens, heats and beeps.  It only took a month.  Where was I when they handed out the Competency Gene?  Probably reciting The Raven.

 

I need a fairy tale to cheer me up.  Once upon a time, in the mythical kingdom of Chesterfield, lived a beautiful Queen named Goldifox.  One night, Goldifox went to an enchanted restaurant, named The Enchanted Restaurant, accompanied by her stalwart protector, Jewishhusband.  When they arrived, the Wicked Witch of the Restaurant seated them at a table.  “This table’s too big,” cried Goldifox, and the witch moved them to a different table.  “This table’s too square,” moaned the Queen.  Suddenly Goldifox spotted her friend, Susie Bayer, standing with her husband, also named Jewishhusband, and their son Yogi.  And Goldifox and the three Bayers found a perfect round table and ate happily ever after.  Sound familiar?

 

Here are the state answers:  HW=Hawaii, TH=Utah, DH=Idaho, H=Ohio.  I know you got them all right.

 

Message from Shakespeare: ‘War gives the right to the conquerors to impose any condition they please upon the vanquished.’ (Julius Caesar).  I’m sad we have a war with Iran.  I have friends who are Persian pussycats.  One is named Mew-hammad.  Purr.  Or should I say Purrsian?

 

I don’t want to get political, but I feel I should say something about the war.  Now I’m not the smartest person in the world, nor am I a naif, but it seems to me that we have been in a tacit war with Russia, China, North Korea and Iran for decades, and learning Esperanto, building windmills and serving sugar-free donuts at the United Nations Breakfast for Peace will not be enough to keep us and the rest of the world safe. 

 

But I want you to be safe, and to stay well and to count your blessings.  Do all that and come back next week.  Remember when I said Things end?  Well, even this wordy schmatta has ended.  Bye!

 

Jewishhusband                         Send comments to mfox1746@gmail.com

 

Oops, the Weekly Word.  A naif is a naive person.

                  

 

 

Blog #469                                March 5, 2026

 

It was Ash Wednesday a couple of weeks ago, and I made a note to write to you about it because the Catholic Church has come up with a fantastic idea.  This is the news from a St. Louis suburb:

 

SUNSET HILLS, MO — People are heading to churches this Ash Wednesday to get their markings. If you are a little short on time some churches are making it as convenient as possible to get your ashes.  They're offering a drive-thru service.

 

Now that’s clever!  Drive through services!  Get your divinity in your Infinity.  We’ll get you to heaven in your Porsche Nine-Eleven.  They should have hired me to do their ads:

 

If you’re on the fast-track to Hell

Come drive up and ring the church bell

Just roll down the glass

And we’ll save your ass

And rotate your tires as well.

 

Drive up your Hyundai on next Easter Sunday.  Now that’s what I call a Service station.  I forget the name of the church.  I think it was Our Lady of the Catalytic Converter.  The Catholic Church definitely needs my services (pun intended) to help with their messaging.  Today I passed a cemetery with a sign in front that read: St John’s Cemetery – Non- Sectarian.  Non-sectarian?  St. Johns?  Why don’t they just name it St. Johns Holy Catholic and Papal Cemetery of Jesus Christ, Our Lord – Non-Sectarian? 

 

Hi there and welcome back.  Thank you for being patient and waiting until Friday for your Limerick.  It gave me an extra day to write, so this blog should be the best of them all.  I hope you are feeling well.  Do you like Chinese food?  We like to order in Chinese food every once in a while.  It’s delicious.  You know, the Chinese civilization is about 3400 years old.  But the Jews have been around for 5700 years.  That means for 2300 years my People could not order in Chinese food.  I wonder what Egyptian carryout was like.   Probably Egg Foo Camel, Tut Stickers and General Ramses’ Chicken, I guess.  Or Sweet and Sour Sphinx? 

 

How about a quiz to test your memory?  Are you ready?  Ok, who lives at:

 

1.     1600 Pennsylvania Ave.

2.     124 Conch St, Bikini Bottom

3.     221B Baker Street

4.     #10 Downing Street

5.     The cupboard under the stairs, 4 Privet Drive

6.     Wayne Manor, Gotham City

7.     446 Bonnie Meadow Rd, New Rochelle

8.     4222 Clinton Way, Los Angeles

It’s March! Change your calendar page.  Do you still have paper calendars with pictures of fuzzy little cats or waterfalls or grandchildren?  Or do you just do all your planning on your smart phone?  If I know my audience, I’m betting on the fuzzy cats.  My calendar has pictures of my grandchildren.  Which brings up a story.  If I’ve told you this before, forgive me.  Who can remember!

 

When Zachary, my first grandchild, was born, my office desk began to accumulate pictures of him sent by my daughter.  Some were in little frames but most were just lying helter-skelter on the desk.  We went to visit Baby Zach in North Carolina and, when I returned, I found something new on my desk.  My partner had taken all the Zachary pictures lying there and had them framed in a lovely collage to hang on my wall.  Wasn’t that nice?  I looked at all the pictures and smiled with pride until I came to one in the bottom row.  “That’s not Zachary,” I said.  “Well, who is it?” my partner queried.  “It was on your desk.”  And that started an intense investigation culminating in the conclusion that the little boy in the bottom row was the display picture that came along with one of the little frames I had.  I still have the collage – 15 pictures of my little boy Zach and one of someone else’s little boy.  I’ll bet his Grandfather loves him.

 

If you have flipped your calendar page, you will notice that March is full of interesting stuff.  First comes  Day, the 14^th of March.  You see, March 14 is otherwise written as 3/14 and since π starts out 3.14, some mathematically inclined and otherwise unoccupied clown decided it would be a good day to celebrate π.  I don’t exactly know how they celebrate, but I’m guessing they eat pecan π and πnapple and all kinds of sπcy foods. 

 

Right after π Day comes the Ides of March, the day when Brutus brutally (see the connection?) stabbed Julius Caesar.  Anyway, on the 15^th of March, watch out for anybody named Brutus.  Then on the 17^th, watch out for little green men.  Yes, the 17^th is St. Patrick’s Day.  So, in the short space of four days, you could get a π in the face, a knife in the back or an Irishman passed out on your couch.  March is a great month!

 

Answers:

1.     The President of the United States

2.     Sponge Bob

3.     Sherlock Holmes

4.     The Prime Minister of Great Britain

5.     Harry Potter

6.     Batman

7.     Rob and Laura Petri

8.     The Brady Bunch

 

Message from Shakespeare, the three-legged cat:  Let the doors be shut upon him, that he may play the fool nowhere but in’s own house (Hamlet).  My turn.  Who lives in a tree in Wonderland?  Think “cat” now.  That’s right, the Cheshire Cat. Purr.

 

Carol and I just went out to dinner and ran into two couples we knew.  They both read my blog and gave me lovely compliments.  How nice.  One man said, “Take care of Shakespeare and don’t pick on your wife so much.”  I always take care of my little Shakespeare.  He is, as I write, sitting on my desk, making sure I don’t say anything bad about him.  He has sharp teeth.  And my wife?  I didn’t say one thing about her this week.  She has sharp teeth too.  Love you, Honey!

 

Better go now before I get into real trouble.  Oops, I knew it!  Now she’s mad that I didn’t mention her this week.  There’s an old canard that says there are only two ways to deal with a woman – and neither one works.  Stay well, count your blessings and c’mon back next week, when the blog will be back on Thursdays.

 

Oh, the Weekly Word is canard, which means a belief or rumor that isn’t true.

 

Michael                                    Send comments to mfox1746@gmail.com