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.