My latest painting

 

This is where the grill goes

 

You can't tell, but this is where we grill those awesome barbecues. It's my deck, under the snow. I wonder whether the snow will be gone by Memorial Day.

You Australians--now do you feel sorry for me?

This song really, really annoys me

but I wouldn't kill anyone for singing it.

However, if they sang New York, New York....

Campaign worker dies from lack of health insurance

or maybe not.

I've had five friends who have had breast cancer. All had insurance. All of them went to the doctor when they felt a lump.

Four of them died anyway. Health insurance doesn't guarantee results. It just guarantees treatment.

Life isn't fair.

This is what 24 inches looks like

 

 

Views from my upstairs windows.

John Edwards joins Michael Vick in unpopularity

hits terminally ill wife.

What next? Puppy stew? Stealing crutches from the disabled?

Two Americas! one for the normal people and the other for despicable ones like John Edwards.

My psychic experience

I never did get my palm (tealeaves, cards) read, but mother did have lots of friends who did. Once we visited a fortune teller with a couple of mother's friends--just for fun. Most of her friends after she got divorced were single or divorced women and I don't think the psychic had to be too psychic to figure out what they wanted to hear. I imagine that such people are pretty good backyard psychologists anyway, having heard the same story over and over and facing the same kind of clientele every day.

I know that we who worked in the library faced patrons whose problems we could anticipate before they opened their mouths, and I imagine the fortune tellers have the same experience.

My fortune-teller came at me from a different and somewhat circuitous route. I parked my beaten up old car in the supermarket parking lot one day, and when I came out a man offered to fix the car body in my driveway. I agreed, and he told me to order the part from a dealer, which I did. When the part came in, I called him.

The man could have been sent from central casting; he looked exactly as a gypsy is supposed to look: dark complexion, dark eyes, and wearing a lot of gold in the form of chains. He called me and asked me to come to his house, so I did. The house, on a formerly residential but now heavily traveled commercial street, had a big sign in front advertising a psychic. I had driven by it many times and often wondered about it.

He called me back with a price and suggested that cash would suit him fine. So I took my body part and went over. While he fixed my car, I sat in the kitchen with his wife. To pass the time, she offered to tell my fortune at a very reasonable price and I agreed, to pass the time. Her reading revealed nothing new or startling and I spent the remaining time watching her husband whack and bang my car back into shape.

I'm assuming they were gypsies; at least they lived up to the stereotype. So if they weren't, I offer my apologies. I paid the asking price in cash and never saw them again.

I will say that, gypsy or not, he fixed the car at a reasonable price and didn't overcharge me as various dealers have over the years. I can't feel too sad over the sad plight of said dealers, judging by the way they treated me. The gypsy was a pleasure to deal with, in comparison.

As I was driving home from the doctor's the other day

I noticed some boys skateboarding. They made it look easy and effortless, like sunfish sailing in the wind, except they weren't being driven by the wind, just moving by shifting their balance from side to side. They reminded me of birds, so smoothly did they soar.

I was filled with wistful envy, as I am whenever I see people performing with great skill, violinists perhaps, or dancers. I couldn't do something like that to save my life. It was all I could do to ride a bicycle as a child.

Homage to Tim Blair

I borrowed a lot of his readers. They brought (fictional but highly welcome) beer, wine, hard liquor, barbecue, flowers and chicken soup with the chicken still swimming in it.

It was greatly appreciated while it lasted.

I love Australia.

Not watching the SOTU

Not watching it drunk, not watching it sober. I actually settled down with a glass of seltzer and a couple of pain pills (post-surgery) to watch it. But then I started to notice Joe Biden's head going up and down like a hairplugged, toothcapped bobble doll. I gave up. Recovering from surgery should be easier than this.

I watched the assorted riffraff come in and take their seats. They were all maneuvering for face time with The One. I remembered the last SOTU I had watched, when the same parties struggled to be photographed with Bush and then went home and called him a war criminal. And worse. These Congresspersons are always either at your feet or at your throat.

Looking at all the crooks and liars standing and cheering, I realized that I had changed. I used to give these guys the benefit of the doubt, even a year ago. Good will to men (and women) was my mantra. Now the mask has been ripped off, and I see them for what they are. Crooks and liars, until proven otherwise.

Looking at this bunch makes you doubt the validity of the theory of evolution. Humanity has evolved into this?

Vindication for the National Inquirer

They nailed John Edwards.

Now how about getting something on Eric Holder?

Blogging for love

I once contributed my thoughts, such as they are, to s blog group which will remain nameless. I sent them my stuff, they published it, I got comments, everyone was happy. Then I started to write reviews. One or two were published in boston.com, which I admit was fun for me.

I sent in more reviews, generally of books. They published them for a while, then started critiquing my work, finding flaws and making suggestions. I complied at first. More criticism ensued. The editor seemed to think she was editing the high school year book at a school for the mentally challenged. She had an unpleasant way with words, combining pomposity with pretentiousness.

One particular sort of criticism caused me to re-think my position. I submitted a review which was, in the opinion of the editor, too brief. Too brief for who? I am a person of few words; when I've said my say, I have no more to say. Plus, and this was the clincher: they're not paying me! So I get to say what I want. If you pay me, you get to tell me how to write. Otherwise, not so much.

Nobody has to read my blog. So far as I know, no one has had my blog assigned as required reading by a teacher. It does not appear in any list of recommended fine writing.

I blog mostly for myself. Anyone who wants to come along for the ride is welcome.

Surgery tomorrow

So--I'm having surgery on my right arm tomorrow. Possibly I will be typing soon, probably not. I already know what to expect, if this is like any other surgery: pain, tedium, frustration, tedium, pills, blood leaking from bandages and trying to take a shower with one arm in a plastic bag. (It doesn't really work. The arm, or leg, or knee, or foot, gets wet anyway.) Sort of.

I've always wanted to do what Tim Blair does. Talk among yourselves, you readers. Please use English, good grammar, proper spelling, and all the political incorrectness you can muster.

Gee, the French like us much better

since Obama became president. Feel the love.

What if you bought a new car...

and a truck drove up to your house, leaving in your driveway...

a large box, which you had to get a neighbor to help you get into the garage, where with difficulty you could open it, to find:

Lots of cardboard, plus foam, and 1 steering wheel, two axles, four wheels, four tires, a transmission, a motor, a collection of body parts, and a box of nuts, bolts, hinges, screws, etc.

and a manual, in several languages, all of them badly translated from Japanese, and printed in very small type, with teeny-tiny illustrations, PLUS:

very poor directions for putting the thing together by yourself.

Imagine, further, that you had problems assembling the thing, and called or e-mailed the Whatsit Motors website, only to be informed that, for really helpful help, you had to pay.

Imagine, therefore, that you decided to pay someone to come to your house to assemble it, and it cost about one third of the purchase price of the car.

Would you feel frustrated?

Welcome to my cell phone world.

New cell phone

Let me back up a bit. My GPS got lost or stolen, and it costs $200 to replace, so I got a new cell phone with built-in GPS free. It also has internet, texting, and a camera that's not too bad.

I figured out the camera, not that I need another camera. I think I transferred my address book. But I haven't figured out how to set up the GPS or how to connect to the Bluetooth device I bought for the car. Or how to mount the phone in the car. So I have to read the manual(s).

I can't tell you how much I hate these manuals. The first page tells you what all the parts are--that I understand. After that promising beginning, confusion reigns. It's my fault--my mind does not work in a 21st century way, I'm stuck back in the 20th century. Maybe the 19th. Anyway, I approach these with trepidation, frustration and an overwhelming desire to lie down and have a long cool drink of something while placing an ice pack on my forehead.

A highly flattering view of Americans, from a Brit

It's nice of him to feel we are wonderful.

I love England myself. I think it belongs to us as Americans in a very special way. The United States is an outgrowth of English law and custom, and we Americans are more at home there than we are in other places in Europe. Another neat thing: they speak English.

I don't think the English are less friendly or polite than we are. They just have less room to move around. It's a crowded country, and the English have learned to protect their private space. They are awfully good at crowd control and at lining up in an orderly fashion.

We, on the other hand, have an enormous country to move around in. So we can afford to be expansive.

Harry Reid's racist remark

Pretty damn mild, for a racist remark.

I'm an ardent Reid non-supporter. I believe he's far from the sharpest knife in the drawer, but if this is as racist as he gets, I say we should forget about it. I sort of understand what he was trying to say, and so does everyone who has lived beyond the age of twelve. He did not express himself well, but then he never does.

I'm sick of all this petty stuff. Obama continues to play golf when an airplane is almost blown up. So what? He had a telephone and staff with him didn't he? If he needed to know something or decide something, he could do it. If he wanted to have a press conference or make a statement, he could do that.

Some things are important and speak to character. Ben Nelson's sellout of Nebraska was deplorable and reveals a lack of moral compass. That's important, and serious.

But the most deplorable action any American political figure has taken in my lifetime was Ted Kennedy's leaving a woman to die in Chappaquiddick. Liberals give him a pass because he did so much that was good for the country, in their eyes. But it was an indelible moral stain on his character. Other politicians have performed illegal actions and made idiotic remarks, and of course most of them are stealing us blind. That's a given. But no one died as a result.

Let's deplore what's really deplorable and forget about Michelle's clothes and Harry's remarks and whatever other gotcha moments that come up.

Rural post office

This story was featured in the Delaware newspaper and online:

I thought it had an offbeat charm.

All the blather about global warming/nuclear winter reminds me of this poem:

Some say the world will end in fire,
Some say in ice.
From what I've tasted of desire
I hold with those who favour fire.
But if it had to perish twice,
I think I know enough of hate
To say that for destruction ice
Is also great
And would suffice.

Robert Frost

and while I have your attention, another poem by the same poet:

Provide, Provide




The witch that came (the withered hag)
To wash the steps with pail and rag,
Was once the beauty Abishag,

The picture pride of Hollywood.
Too many fall from great and good
For you to doubt the likelihood.

Die early and avoid the fate.
Or if predestined to die late,
Make up your mind to die in state.

Make the whole stock exchange your own!
If need be occupy a throne,
Where nobody can call you crone.

Some have relied on what they knew;
Others on simply being true.
What worked for them might work for you.

No memory of having starred
Atones for later disregard,
Or keeps the end from being hard.

Better to go down dignified
With boughten friendship at your side
Than none at all. Provide, provide!

Robert Frost

Inmates want to remain in Cuba

Looking out the window here, I must say Cuba is looking rather good right now.

It's not snowing there, right?

Amaryllis

We saw beautiful amaryllis at Longwood Gardens, in a splendid array of colors, and I was reminded of a song: either by Thomas Campion or by anonymous, depending on which source you believe, about sweet Amaryllis, a wanton country maid.

One of my peculiarities is that I remember the words to every song I've ever heard, if they are clearly enunciated. This one goes:
I care not for these ladies
That must be wooed and prayed,
Give me kind Amarillis
The wanton country maid,
Nature art disdaineth,
Her beauty is her owne,
For when we court and kiss,
She cries forsooth let go
But when we come where comfort is
She never will say no. (and so forth)

I wish I could figure out how to include a song in this post, but it's late at night, and I can't. However, if you click on the heading you will find a lot of o songs that are available for copying.

Amaryllis is a pretty, old-fashioned name. Along with Phyllis, it is featured in a lot of old songs, because it is a musical name and sounds pretty when sung.

Why are some names for children popular while others are not? Emma, for instance, is at the top of the list of girls' names. As a name, it's just okay, nothing special. Some old-fashioned names are making a comeback, like Phoebe and Olivia, others, like Mabel and Florence, not.

Then there are the truly awful names, among them Destiny. If Destiny, why not Epiphany? If Grace, why not Hope and Charity? If Brittany, why not Bethany?

Boys' names are not quite as fanciful. Baby boys born nowadays tend to have Irish-sounding names: Brian, Kevin, Aidan; or biblical: Adam, Benjamin, Jacob. Sometimes they have the names of English kings: Henry, James, Charles, Edward.

Solve your drip and drool problems

Honestly.

Frightening

It reminds me of the drunkenness problem in the 18th century:

The Gin Craze was a period in the first half of the 18th century when the consumption of gin became popular with the working classes in Britain - especially in London. There ensued an epidemic of extreme drunkenness that provoked moral outrage and a legislative backlash which some compare to the modern drug wars.

This was the direct inspiration for Hogarth's Gin Lane. A popular saying was: "Drunk for a penny, dead drunk for tuppence."





Binge drinking in the UK.

Go read it and look at the pictures.

Via Instapundit.

Airline security, part III

A very good discussion, which however contains the following sanctimonious remark:

Racial or religious profiling is morally wrong and likely to be counterproductive by radicalizing those subjected to it.

Oh yeah? Does this mean that every black man who can't get a taxi because of his skin color will become a terrorist? I don't think so. Ny New Jersey neighbor (black) told me his teen-age son was always being stopped by cops, but though he regretted it, he saw where the cops were coming from. My grandson, a young but dark man, has been stopped on more than one occasion but has not become embittered or radicalized.

As a minority myself, albeit not a readily recognizable one, I've heard remarks about Jews which I considered offensive. They were offensive. But all it caused me to do was lose respect for the person uttering the remark. You can't always react to every offense. Sometimes it's better to let it go.

Lose-lose proposition

I have been awfully cranky lately. Everything seems to be breaking. The washer, which cost about $400 a couple of years ago, broke. No sense repairing it, which would cost maybe $200. So I bought a new one. My computer! the non-functioning CD burner made it impossible to download the software for my new camera so I tried to get Nikon to download the drivers, but they couldn't do it, because the computer was 64 bits, apparently something which had not ever happened in the history of the Nikon company and they were sorry but it was getting late and customer service wanted to go out for a cigarette anyway, so I sent the camera back to Amazon. I must admit I felt a twinge of satisfaction when I got rid of it. Take that, Nikon!

The small television/DVD player that cost $300 and will not recognize a CD inserted in it any more is at the repair shop. It would cost too much to replace, as well as too much to fix. Heads you win. Tails I lose.

Did I mention the hinge on the dishwasher which is causing the door not to close properly unless you twist it to the left? Probably not. Another appliance that costs too much to fix and too much to replace, so that whatever I do--get a new one or fix this one--I feel like a sucker.

I'm not claiming that manufacturers are deliberately making things that are so shoddy they break down. It's not a conscious decision on their part; it's just the result of them all taking their I Don't Care pill every day upon arising. They're hoping it won't break, but if it does, so what? Not their problem--the warranty just ran out.

The rocky road to Dublin

Mr Charm has decided that he will no longer attend movies in theaters. He says the music, particularly in the previews, is way too loud.

I saw Sherlock Holmes on Christmas Day. The music was way too loud. There ought to be a ban on drum rolls in movies, along with cimbals, trumpets, and the little thing they hit with a stick. Does the guy who plays the little thing you hit with a stick have to audition? Just thought I'd ask.

I only liked one thing about the movie, the song The Rocky Road to Dublin.

It sounded like it was sung by Tommy Makem, but I could be wrong. And it was played way too loud.

Oh, and to be fair, London looked nice too, but awfully crowded, more like Calcutta than London.

Lower depths

So I am driving around downtown Wilmington, looking for a place to drop off my broken DVD/television, and I suddenly notice a complete change of neighborhood. I have stumbled into a rundown, treeless, charmless low rent industrial area. Broken sidewalks. Boarded-up stores. Signs in Spanish. Storefront churches. Polish Catholic schools. My first thought was: I'm in New Jersey! Delaware had morphed into some lowdown industrial area, say Paterson, New Jersey on a bad day.

It's not a bad neighborhood, necessarily. There are lots of businesses that appear to be going concerns, manufacturing or wholesaling some necessary but utilitarian product--floor tiles, maybe, or plumbing supplies. It's just an area totally bereft of charm, right off--of course--Martin Luther King Blvd.

It was interesting to see the seamy side of everyday Delaware. By this I mean the underpinning of society: the place where cars get new body parts, plumbers get pipes, homeowners get flooring. This is where it all comes from. Without this area, there would be no gardens, no historic houses, no big box stores. The beautiful parts of Delaware are just the surface.

Someone said I should put up a more recent picture of myself

So here goes:


In all fairness, my skin isn't really that green.

Potemkin flight security

Airline "security" doesn't work. Nor is it intended to. It isn't about security. It's a jobs program, and about pretending to do "something." The federal government is trying to hire every man, woman and hermaphrodite over the age of 18, who will then practice "security" on each other. This will make the economy work, the same as if everyone earned a living by taking in each others' laundry, only not as messy. And they all get a chance to be officious and come over all nannyish, which is lots of fun. Just ask Mayor Bloomberg.

I once flew to Italy and back with a box cutter in my purse. It was after September 11, 2001. My purse is full of odds and ends which I usually only clean out when I change purses.

I always carry a box cutter, because I can't open packages, for instance chewing gum, without one. I truly meant to get rid of it before coming to Rome, but I forgot, and only noticed I still had it when we arrived in Sorrento. Then I meant to put it in my suitcase for the trip home, but it totally slipped my mind. I believe this box cutter is made of such crummy metal that it doesn't set off the metal detector. I have a knife like that, which does not adhere to my magnetic knife rack. The box cutter, however, did contain a sharp razor blade.

However, in defense of Homeland Security, they did make me throw out a perfectly good tube of toothpaste once. I should have carried it in my crotch. No-one would have noticed.

If this went smoothly....

What would she characterize as "going roughly"?

Maybe this?

Non-denominational and subtly understated Christmas decorations

 

 

 

 

The snowflake is my favorite.

Your country has limited resources...

What activity would you prefer to have the government engage in, if you had to choose one: keep track of terrorists--or prevent the addition of caffeine to beer?

Remember, you can only choose one.

Have a holly jolly Christmas

 

Too many people work for the government...

if it is someone's job to ban caffeine in alcoholic drinks.

Which it apparently is.

After the snow

 

I couldn't resist showing this picture of a typical day in Upstate New York.

New developments at Duke

concerning the 88 professors who rushed to judgment:

[N]one of the 88 guilt-presuming professors has publicly apologized.... Many of the faculty signers -- a majority of whom are white -- have expressed pride in their rush to judgment. None was dismissed, demoted, or publicly rebuked. Two were glorified this month in Duke's in-house organ as pioneers of "diversity," with no reference to their roles in signing the ad. Three others have won prestigious positions at Cornell, Vanderbilt, and the University of Chicago.

Actually, signing this document was the most astute career move any of them could have made:

Among the most prominent signers of both the ad and the letter were Karla Holloway, an English professor, and Paula McClain, a political science professor. They also slimed the lacrosse players in opaquely worded, academic-jargon-filled individual statements full of innuendo.

This disgraceful behavior apparently did not trouble Duke's Academic Council, which in February 2007 made McClain its next chairwoman -- the highest elected position for a faculty member.

Three of them moved on to better jobs:

The three Group of 88 signers hired away by other leading universities are Houston Baker, Grant Farred, and Charles Payne.

Vanderbilt was so proud to have signed up Baker, a professor of English and African and African-American studies at Duke, in April 2006 that it prominently featured a photo of him on its website for months. This was shortly after Baker had issued a March 29, 2006, public letter pressuring the Duke administration to dismiss the lacrosse players....

If you eat right, don't smoke, wear your seat belt, and watch your weight....

you will live forever, right? Wrong. Well, at least you'll live longer--right? Yes, but--the race is not always to the swift, or the battle to the strong, nor is good health something you can assure by rational behavior. But the theory of "preventive care," which our President seems to think will actually prevent illness is actually just that--a theory.

A member of my family died not too long ago of Lou Gehrig's disease at the age of 51. He ate properly, rode a bicycle to work, blah blah. Died anyway. No-one knows why.

Having lived a long time already, I know that our bodies have a sell-by date. I am not the person I was at 25. I am less.

We are genetically programmed to wear out and die. Some of our illness can be prevented, some can be alleviated. Doctors and other health professionals work very hard to put off the inevitable, and that is as it should be. But the idea that annual checkups will catch disease in its earliest stage--that you can "take the blue pill" and be all right--is simplistic garbage.

Me

 

Getting to know the Sheridans

We changed our phone number recently. For one reason, we kept getting calls for the Pattersons. Some of the callers even got surly about it and thought we were covering up for the Pattersons. Honestly, no. We would have gladly put any and all Pattersons on the phone, had they been handy.

So we got a new phone number. All was peace and harmony for a long time. We received calls only from Happy Harry telling us our prescription was ready to be picked up and the occasional chat from Rep Mike Castle.

Then the Sheridans entered our lives. I don't really want to discuss them, having been worn out by the Pattersons' wide circle of friends and relations. However, if your name is Vicky Sheridan, you'd better start paying back your student loan!

Happy holidays from Joe Biden

brought to you by the Teamsters.

Scaredy cat

 

That's me as a kid. Looking back from my currrent viewpoint, I must have been a bit of a trial. I was scared of everything. I was scared of the merry-go-round. The ferris wheel--I don't think I went on that until I was twenty. I was scared of dogs, especially if they were bigger than me, which most of them were. I was scared of the animals in the zoo. I was too timid to go to a birthday party.

I think I can attribute this to a sense of impending doom, which I have noticed also in my brother the genius. He used to drive around Columbus, OH in a crash helmet. We bullied him out of it, but I think deep down he still would like to wear one if no-one were looking.

Friday the 13th took place on Sunday this year

but it was still horrible. Frustration with loading the software on the new camera, as the CD drive does not work. Tried to download software, but couldn't. I figured it was me, called tech support. The first "customer service rep" was downright rude and hung up on me. Customer service! The second told me that the software wouldn't download because I have a 64-bit computer, which I understand is the equivalent of wearing brown shoes with a tuxedo. However, she informed me my card reader would download the stuff anyway.

I asked her, why bother with the CD, then? She answered none too pleasantly. So...Nikon goes back in box, returned to sender. Another company boycotted.

I know my little private boycotts don't work. What does Dell care? Not at all. They are actually in the loan shark business with a computer company on the side. Nikon aren't losing any sleep either. But it makes me feel better. Consider it a placebo.

Next, went to a party last night. Beautiful house, with woodsmoke and two obese cats. The woodsmoke touched off my allergies, my friend--and driver--was allergic to the cats. Beautiful house, though. We got out of there after 45 minutes, just ahead of anaphylactic shock. Sneezed and coughed all the way home.

When I got home, I discovered that I had left my unbrella at the host's house. That's okay, because I only bring umbrellas with me for show. I never open them, it's not worth the trouble, except in London. When I got home, I discovered that I had left my gloves in my friend's car. Thought briefly about what an idiot I am, shedding my possessions as I move through life. So, what could I do.

Went to bed.

Michael Dell is the second richest man in America?

Or so I read somewhere. This happened, I believe, because his company made really good computers back in the day. Now, not so much.

My latest, purchased just a bit over a year ago, has some kind of problem with sound. Dell, of course, gives no customer service. You bought it, you took it out of the box, you're on your own.

The first time it ceased to produce sound, I took the speakers back to Best Buy. They tested them and declared them good. Dell, of course, was silent on the subject--as silent as my computer. But I did manage to find a bit of advice online somewhere: just restore the computer to an earlier point. I did, and the computer spoke again.

Lately, I have had to restore it on an average of every two weeks. But there is a new problem. I bought a new camera and tried to download the software. The CD drive doesn't work. I went to the Dell website and tried to download new drivers for it, but no success.

The damn computer is not two years old yet, so I don't want to replace it. It's too expensive to discard, but it costs too much to fix it. Mr Charm's new computer, on the other hand, is inaccessible because a password and username are needed to access it, and he has forgotten them, understandably, as he has been hospitalized or rehabbed for six months.

My family has had about eight Dell computers in the last 5-7 years. Small beer for some, I know, but for us, impressive. Now I am going to switch to HP for my computer needs, because they have good customer support. For now.

The situation reminds me of what happened to domestic cars a couple of decades ago. American auto companies got complacent and decided they could fob off any old thing on the public. They had a rude surprise when people started buying Japanese cars.

I sense a niche market here, for an idiot-proof computer. Surely there are more idiots like me around than there are techies?

I am wondering whether I am seriously weird...

I have a serious problem wearing socks that don't match. I found myself frantically looking for a matching pair of socks to wear, even though I was going to wear knee-high boots and no-one would see my socks.

As I fumbled through the drawer, I was scolding myself for this stupid attitude. It does not matter whether socks match or not. Stop this! You're wasting time!

Is this an offshoot of the idea that people must wear clean underwear in case they are in an automobile accident and someone in the hospital might see their underwear?

I finally found a pair that matched. What a relief!

carnations

 

Fried peppers

 

Is there such a thing as "Ameritrash"?

No doubt both of them--or the third one whose picture I don't have--were honor graduates from very selective institutions of higher learning and volunteered their time to care for the homeless as well as coaching softball for underprivileged girls.

This item is no longer available as a refrigerator magnet...

What a shame.

There is a woman at the gym I attend who has one of those 60's hairstyles. She is a normal-looking woman, but looks like she has a basketball for a head. Where did she find a hairstylist old enough to fix her hair this way? Or did she do it herself?

Somewhere a mop...

is missing its strings.

Holly berries, fallen leaves

 

Tree with orange leaves, blue lights, Longwood Gardens

 

On a misty November day.

Tall people make us short people look ridiculous, don't they?

These short people would look a lot better without those tall people next to them.

I wonder who they all are?

Two limelight hogs

Bless his heart?

What does "Bless his heart" mean?

Whenever I tell someone how old my aged relative is, the response is: "Bless his heart!" uttered in admiration. I guess.

Anyone who has lived long enough is forgiven for everything short of murder.

Thousands don't have car insurance...

even though it's the law.

Why should they?

Think about it. Mandatory automobile insurance hurts the poor most.

States with higher poverty rates show a corresponding rise in uninsured drivers.... Simply put, people skirt car insurance when they can’t afford
it.

Poor people can't afford it, so they don't buy it. Apparently mandatory auto insurance doesn't make the roads any safer, either.

Nearly 40 years of car insurance mandates — which the insurance industry says have failed to make roads safer or lower auto insurance costs — raise questions about how well such mandates work.

They don't work. Mandatory auto insurance benefits only the insurance industry, and possibly not even them. I'm not an actuary, so I don't know the answer to that one.

I have car insurance, because I own assets, including property. I can't afford to be sued. Poor people, however, don't have anything to lose.

If everyone didn't have to buy this expensive and totally useless product, those who do want it--like me--could purchase additional coverage for accidents involving uninsured drivers for a nominal sum. That's the way things used to be before mandatory car insurance was instituted.

Then the poor people could spend their money on something they need and want, like food, for instance.

Of course, they don't need mandatory health insurance either.

People standing in the rain, watching fountains

 

Decking the halls, Longwood November 2009

 

Literally!

James Taranto takes John Kerry to task for misusing the word "literally."

First of all, remember when they kept telling us how smart Kerry was? The guy doesn't even know how to use the word "literally."

This is mean and completely unfair.

In political speech 'literally" means "sort of" or "not really, but close enough for government work." I am sure the Greeks had a term for this metaphoric use of words, but I don't know what it is and it's almost midnight so I really don't want to look it up.


Examples: "I was caught in a rain shower, I was literally wet from head to toe" means "I got some rain on me." "I ate so much I literally thought I was going to hurl" means "I ate a lot." Got it?

Other words that are used in this fashion are: "honestly," and "sincerely," "I swear!" all of which generally mean the speaker is lying.

Selling your house

The new mantra about how to sell your house concerns "staging." This is the art of turning your home into something impersonal. It's supposed to look like nobody lives there. Think motel room, or better yet, motel lobby.

Down come the pictures on the refrigerator. Off comes the wallpaper. Personal mementos: rent a storage locker. Antiques and collectibles: in the attic, or a friend's attic if you don't have one. You are allowed to keep your washer and dryer, but all laundry, clean or dirty, must be disposed of.

My experience of buying a home is different. Our first house: all I saw was the little oriental rug and fancy light fixture in the entrance hall, the landing halfway up the stairs with a window revealing sparkling sunshine, the strawberries on the wallpaper in the kitchen. These spoke to me, and I didn't notice until later that the bathrooms had been designed during the Hoover Administration, the stove purchased during Roosevelt's first term,the carpeting was threadbare, and the exterior paint was peeling. We had moved in before we noticed these things, and to make matters worse, the charming Oriental rug--I am allowed to say Oriental, am I not? had been removed by the previous tenant, revealing more shabby carpet.

Our second house featured harvest gold appliances, obviously from the sixties. The bathrooms had blue toilets, which you can't get any more, thank God, unless the sixties look comes back in vogue. The kitchen was papered with sixties daisies in a color similar to the harvest gold appliances, but a bit uglier. The bathrooms featured flocked wallpaper, even on the ceiling.

But it was Mother's Day, and the tableau of the cute young couple who were selling it, their presentable parents, and their winsome five-year-old boy gamboling on the lawn made it look idyllic. Also featured was a sunken garden, which contained an oak tree that must have been there in Alexander Hamilton's time. It gave a sort of secluded, private air to the place. Except in the winter, when the leaves fell off the trees, we had a good view of the Burger King down the road, which sort of diminished the rustic ambiance.

Our present shelter was sold to us because Mr Charm liked the the double green doors and the green trim at the front entrance. I liked the big screened in porch adjoining the patio. I could just imagine it filled with charming wicker furniture and charming guests sitting upon the same. A few potted plants, maybe some hanging ones. Laughter and jollity and good will all around.

We forgot to notice that there was a steep flight of stairs leading up to the second floor. Actually, we failed to notice that there was a second floor. The floors were hideous and there were no cupboards. Most of our kitchenware had to be stowed in the basement, where it resides to this day. The porch is nice, however.

What I'm trying to say is that decisions to buy a house are not based on rational thinking. One couple of our acquaintance were afraid to look at the second floor of the house they were buying because they feared afraid the owners would be annoyed. A friend of mine recently moved into her new house and discovered there was only one drawer in the kitchen.

Choosing a house is sort of like picking up someone cute in a singles bar. He might be the man of your dreams. Or he might be the Boston Strangler.

Remembering the Gettysburg address

at Gettysburg, PA.

The Union Army's victory in the Battle of Gettysburg was a turning point in the Civil War. Lincoln delivered his brief but powerful speech while dedicating the cemetery on Nov. 19, 1863.

146 years ago on this day.

Commenting

Why don't I ever get any comments? Is commenting disabled? Or what? Or has this blog become boring?

Nobody even says "boo!"

For those who want to get a head start on Thanksgiving preparations:

It's not too early to post the picture of Bush with the "plastic" turkey, a perennial favorite bit of moonbattery. It's been proved over and over that the turkey is real, but that's not the point. The point is:

Bush lied, and people died!

Outrage

I am just heartsick at the thought of the five terrorists being brought to New York for trial. Quite aside from the problems of providing security and the inconvenience to its citizens, New York will be polluted by their presence there.

This is a politically calculated act, carefully designed to--what? Punish Bush and Cheney? Appease the unappeasable America haters? I cannot even comprehend the mindset that would devise such a loathsome action.

I hope the Republicans will take note of Eric Holder's activities, so when they are in power they can prosecute him for war crimes. They want to keep score? Let's us keep score, too. What goes around comes around.

Roses 11/15/09

 

He deserves a sign pasted on his posterior...

that says, "Kick me."

Some interesting local color

from Saudi Arabia, of all places.

Warty Bliggins

By Don Marquis.

I should explain that the following was written by archy, a cockroach, who composed by hopping from key to key on a typewriter. He could not operate the shift key, thus no caps. No punctuation, either.

i met a toad
the other day by the name
of warty bliggens
he was sitting under
a toadstool
feeling contented
he explained that when the cosmos
was created
that toadstool was especially
planned for his personal
shelter from sun and rain
thought out and prepared
for him

do not tell me
said warty bliggens
that there is not a purpose
in the universe
the thought is blasphemy
a little more
conversation revealed
that warty bliggens
considers himself to be
the center of the same
universe
the earth exists
to grow toadstools for him
to sit under
the sun to give him light
by day and the moon
and wheeling constellations
to make beautiful
the night for the sake of
warty bliggens

There's more, but you get the idea. Every time I witness our president preening, I am reminded of Warty bliggens.

Oxymoron

Fat-free half and half.

Very true.

and well put.

For those that have not been paying attention, Islamofacist terrorists declared War on America in the 1970s. In 2001, we finally declared war on them. As for Israel, these terrorists began their Jihad 1400 years ago. Israel has fought back brilliantly from a military standpoint. Yet from a public relations standpoint, it pains me as a Republican Jew to see the two worst marketed products on the planet be the Republican Party and Israel.

I thought Eric Cantor and I were the only Republican Jews in existence. Wow! Another one!

Read the whole article. There will be a quiz on Monday.

Non-news

At the gym, being a captive audience while riding the recumbent bicycle, I was treated to an interview with Gorbachev. Yes, that one. The fellow who stood by as the Soviet Union finally self-destructed. I suppose one should be grateful that he didn't turn his thugs loose on the rebellious citizenry. However, I don't know that his advice to President Obama is really of much use.

But there he is, bloviating, dispensing advice, a totally derisory figure who nobody in the world has listened to for oh, two decades. He probably works for a liberal think tank. Or maybe he's a professor at one of the Ivy League universities. He has a little of Al Gore in him, in the sense that he is obviously trying to use words of one syllable in order to be understood by the mental defectives who are citizens of this country.

Obama is a jerk, but he's never been chief jerk of the Soviet Union. All he aspires to be is First Citizen of the World, a kind of Pontifex Maximus --he does like to pontificate--or maybe Senior Class President. With him, it's difficult to know.

Painting of some roses

 

Why Jews are lefties

I keep getting e-mails from Townhall.com, full of articles by right-wing fanatics like myself, asking me to subscribe to their magazine.

I'm never gonna do it.

Why? Because this site continually features articles by Pat Buchanan, a barely-disguised anti-Semite whose views are anathema to me.

The left (generally) pays lip service to Israel and to Zionist causes. They may express sympathy for the suffering of the Palestinians, and carry on about the so-called "Peace Process," but generally come out in favor of Israel's right to exist. Right-wingers like Pat Buchanan, however, are full of ominous mutterings about undue Jewish influence. Jewish conspiracy theories! I wish!

The views of Buchanan, along with the often voiced opinion on the Christian right that we are all going straight to hell if we don't acknowledge Jesus, are enough to offset all the good will of all the Christian groups who wish Israel well.

Add this to the natural impulse of people who have experienced discrimination to feel for the underprivileged and minorities, and you have a group of people who gravitate to the Democrats. Not me, of course. I don't care for a party that considers Che Guevara hip, cool, and groovy.

Tenure means never having to say you're sorry

and "gender studies" are just plain idiotic.

So over at Depaul University - allegedly a college - students and faculty are up in hairy arms over the denial of tenure to Melissa Bradshaw, a professor of "women's and gender studies." In case you don't know what tenure is, it's a guaranteed lifetime job. And in case you don't know what "women's and gender studies" are, join the club - neither do I.

And here we have a magnificent collision of two idiotic practices: tenure, which relieves professors of trying altogether, allowing them instead to pursue ideas that would fail miserably in a world of measurable achievement; and gender studies, a fuzzy field where earnest types angrily analyze the "phenomenon of gender." Usually while wearing underwear made from hemp.

I couldn't have said it better myself. So I won't. Go read it.

Things on my to-do list I'm pretty sure I'm never going to do

1. Dig out the instruction booklet for my clothes steamer and figure out how to use it.
2. Weigh myself every day.
3. Stop eating chocolate.
4. Get liposuction. (Unless I stop eating chocolate, drinking chocolate, thinking about chocolate.)
5. Clean out the closet in the spare room.
6. Weed my shoe collection.
7. Match every single sock in the drawer to its mate or throw it out.
8. Look up algorythm. Read the definition. Understand it. Memorize it.

I'm tired. Making out this list has exhausted me. I need some chocolate to restore my energy. Consider it medicinal.