I heart the Civil War

When I have nothing better to do, (which is often) I read about the Civil War. Mr Charm was a devotee of this conflict, and collected lots of books about it. If you can pry your mind off the fact that it was a bloodbath which destroyed a large number of the country's youngest and bravest men, it's fun to read about. I have read the memoirs of Grant and Sherman and now am reading those of Phil Sheridan.

Writing your memoirs is a great way to set the record straight and to settle old scores, and Sheridan takes full advantage of this. If you want to know who the blockheads and incompetents were on the government side, in Sheridan's view, you will find out here. Like many Irishmen, he was a good hater.

He was also very smart, a superb leader of men, and a hothead. He got in trouble at West Point for his bellicose attitude and graduated in the bottom third of his class. However, he seems to have learned some useful things there.

Thank heaven November is here

Every day during October, Turner Classic Movies featured scary films. I don't like scary films, or scary stories. I consider real life scary enough

.

I've been scared all my life. I was the kid who was scared to ride on the merry-go-round without an armed guard, or at least a parent. The Saturday serials featured at my local movie house found me cowering under the seat until someone told me it was over. If I ever attended a movie that was a bit frightening I couldn't sleep and kept pestering mom and dad to explain that Dracula was not on the front lawn and Frankenstein was not planning to descend from the chimney. But how did they know?

And then there was the fear that Hitler would win World War II and come to Columbus OH to kill me. That one was not so far-fetched.

I was scared of everyone in my high school who was older than me, which was everyone, since my parents thought I was old enough to go to high school at the age of eleven. It wasn't until my third year of college that I was able to relax because some of the students were younger than me.

I get scared every time the mailman, Deliverer of Doom, brings me a letter from the IRS. Or my insurance carrier.

Most inappropriate holiday gift of the season--so far

I probably would have considered this funnier a few years ago.  But two years' visiting a nursing home regularly have kind of taken the fun out of it.

It's probably funnier to see someone in a power chair or a walker if that someone isn't you.

Newly engaged--Medicare and Aetna Insurance

The happy couple are living together for the present.

Aetna is my secondary insurance company, after Medicare. They keep sending me these warm, caring computer-generated letters advising me that a nurse practitioner is available to handle my queries or that maybe I need my blood sugar checked. I wish they would forgo these communiques and apply the postage saved to lowering my premiums, which are $475 a month.

They have a new dodge now. They are certifying which Medicare customers are allowed to get the free flu shots mandated by the government, by mailing the worthy ones a blue plastic card.

No cardee, no shirtee.

A person who has Medicare without a supplement can get a flu shot by reporting to a site which offers the shots. Usually a drugstore. A person who has Medicare and Aetna needs a blue card. This is because Medicare and Aetna have an agreement; Aetna pays for the shot and Medicare reimburses them. So Aetna is in a position to allow or prevent me from getting a flu shot.

Why?

Since when do I need the permission of an insurance company to receive a government-funded service to which all are entitled?

Just wait until Obamacare kicks in.

Happy Halloween

 

Special pleading

The truly egregious Philadelphia Inquirer suggests people smoke because they are hungry:

Many people smoke after they've eaten. Lindell Harvey smokes because he hasn't.

"You smoke out of anxiety because you don't have the food you need," said Harvey, 54, who lives alone in Crum Lynne, Delaware County. He receives disability checks from the Navy that keep him $2,000 below the poverty line.

Harvey relies on his Newports to see him through his hard days. "In my mind, the smoking becomes a comfort as I try to create ways to get food."

In lives where people endure a dearth of nearly everything important - food, jobs, medical care, a safe place to live - the poor suffer an abundance of one thing:

Nicotine.

This is deplorable in so many ways: 1) He get $2,000 less than the poverty rate. This is poorly worded, but I think it means his income is below the federally defined poverty rate for one individual, so that he is eligible for SNAP, the federal food stamp program. 2) a pack of cigarettes costs $5-6, an amount which will buy you a meal at McDonalds or Burger King, a meal laden with calories but cheap, tasty, and filling. 3)No-one is forcing this man to smoke, he has free will just like the rest of us. Let's just skirt the issue of why a 54-year-old man is on disability, I will concede that his disability is valid, although everyone I know who is in their fifties has at least one job. .

Unsubscribe me!

D

on't Get me started about unwanted e-mail offers. I keep trying to unsubscribe from their solicitation. Though sorry to see me go, they will respect my wishes and unsubscribe me. But it will take 10 days.

Why? Isn't this done by a computer? Why 10 days,when amazon.com will deliver a new house, fully assembled and furnished, in 5?

Well maybe they won't, but still...it's the principle of the thing.

I keep picturing the headquarters of these sleazy outfits as being old and rackety like the newsroom pictured in the Front Page, circa 1955. People are sitting at typewriters, smoking cigars.

There's only one computer, a Wang original. Only one person understands the arcane computer system-a middle aged woman named Flo,*and she only comes in on Tuesday, every other week. When she shows up she opens her Starbucks cup and wearily unsubscribes the 11,974 accounts that have come in since her last visit, but never is able to get the list up to date, because she is only there for 5 hours. Picture the back-up on the VA claim system and you get the idea.

* On the other hand, she might be called Mildred or Bessie.

So good luck, flo, or Mildred or Bessie, and remind your bosses that i have no need for more insurance, or for my credit score and I sure don't need those penis extenders

Reading dr Johnson

I was looking for a quote I've heard repeated numberless times. It goes something like this: "No one but a blockhead ever writes for anything but money"--no, no, that's not it "Only a fool would write except for money"--also wrong, wrong, wrong. But anyway you want to put it, it does not sound right. Dr Johnson put it much better--, If he did, I can't find it. And I'm not going to go through his books, or read Boswell from cover to cover. The Internet exists to answer questions like that. Or else why did Al Gore bother to invent it? I found a few other quotes which are just as good if not better.The quotation, recorded by Boswell in his book, A Tour to the Hebrides, and again in the great biography, goes on: “. . . for being in a ship is being in jail, with the chance of being drowned . . . a man in a jail has more room, better food, and commonly better company.” This is what I tell my cousin who wants me to go on a cruise, anyway. All this is leading up to an apology, or justification, for the many faults of my blogging. I don't revise much, because I'm not getting paid. When I write for publication, I spend more time revising or searching for the mot juste, because someone is paying me. When I am blogging, I try to avoid egregious mistakes and to use correct spelling and punctuation, but that's all. This stuff is ephemeral, after all. My greatest hits are about English towns with silly names or Mercedes Benz being the car favored by dictators. How important could that be?

Light hearted

Some of my neighbors really go overboard decorating their houses for the season--any season. Already two of them have charming Halloween decorations up, and it's not even October. I envy people who go to so much trouble and expense to celebrate these events. Clearly they are light hearted, joyful folks who enjoy every occasion to the max. I wish I were more like that.

Halloween was the holiday Mr Charm liked best, involving as it did candy and little kids, both of which he enjoyed. But dressing up or carving a pumpkin--certainly not.

I looked forward to Christmas when I first got married and wanted to decorate something---- but Mr Charm would have none of it. He loathed Christmas so intensely that the Grinch could have profited by taking his tutorial on the subject. He hated Christmas trees, lights, decorations, angels, Christmas carols on the radio, and all the rest of the collateral damage. Since Christmas is ubiquitous everywhere from Halloween on--stores decorated, feeble-minded songs about Mommy kissing Santa Claus, this was the time of year he hated more. He is the only person I know who longed for the bleak days of January.

About those charter schools...

New York City parents of school children have to choose between deteriorating public schools and charter schools. Once upon a time, parents had another choice. Catholic schools in urban areas served lower class and middle class children, doing a more than adequate job of educating them to be citizens and even to aspire higher. Lately the Catholic Church in its wisdom has closed many of those schools, particularly in urban areas. My impression, which is based on nothing but gut feeling, is that Catholic schools remain only in affluent areas. Urban kids are shit out of luck. Of course, we can all still sent our kids to Sidwell Friends School, where the presidents' children are enrolled. Can't we? Actually no. The Democrats in Congress eliminated a program whereby a few fortunate Washington DC poor kids were allowed to attend private schools on the government dime, even though these programs were popular, with hundreds of parents applying to the program, although only a small number were actually able to participate. Teddy Roosevelt sent his children to Washington DC public schools, back in the day when public school was for everyone. Nowadays they are for the desperate and the choiceless.

How to tell if someone is getting a divorce without actually asking them

Now that I have so many friends on Facebook, some of whom I have actually met in the flesh, I am seeing more of a trend among divorcees. I first noticed this trend when I was still in the library biz, because so many librarians are women. But I notice it more now that I have so many friends all over the country.

No-one wants to flat out inform their friends, one by one, that a marriage is over. But there is a tell which shrewd observer will pick up on 90 percent of the time. Say a woman's birth name was Susan Smith, and she married a man called Andrews a long time ago. She got tired of Mr Andrews, threw him out, and is getting a divorce. But she doesn't want to give up the Andrews surname right away, maybe because they have children. So she calls herself Susan Smith Andrews, or Susan Smith-Andrews.

After a while she doesn't want to be called Andrews any more. She wants a whole new life. Maybe she wants to date, or to meet new people. So she reverts to Susan Smith.

Usually, about this time, she buys a new car.

Girl on couch

 

A chat with Amazon

Me:I ordered a car cleaning service from something calling itself Amazon Local. They did not offer the service but billed me. Is this a swindle?

Vinit:Hello Miriam, my name is Vinit I'm sorry to hear about that. I'll be happy to help you today.

Me:So, is it a swindle or not. It doesn't show on my open orders, but they billed me all right.

Vinit:In order to access your account, I need to verify some information. Can you please confirm the complete name, e-mail address, and billing address on your account?

Me:Miriam xxxxx

Vinit:There you go, Thank you for providing me the details Miriam. Could you please hold for a minute or two while I look into this for you?

Thank you for being on hold Miriam. I've checked your order history and I couldn't find any order placed for the item which you had mentioned above. In this case, I would request you to contact Amazon local as they will be in a better position to assist you in locating your order.

You could contact them on: E-mail: Send a message via this online form: https://local.amazon.com/help Phone: Call 866-395-2090

Me:Well, I wish you'd inform Mastercard. They billed me and I paid it. $89! An expensive lesson.

Vinit:I understand Miriam, but since the order was placed through Amazon local we won't be able to take any action regarding this. I would request you to contact Amazon local on the above given number and they will be able to issue you a refund for the order which you've been charged for.

Me:Don't you stand behind Amazon Local? They are using your name to swindle customers. This means your name is not worth anything.

Vinit:We definitely stand by Amazon Local, Miriam. I'd request contact Local team regarding this issue and we will help.

Me:Why doesn't this appear on my orders? I think it's a swindle and you should be ashamed of yourselves for selling something you don't back up I wonder how many other people fell for this.

Vinit:I'll inform the concerned department as well regarding this, they will take appropriate action on the seller. Orders placed on Amazon local will there on that website, Miriam. As the website works independently, the orders will be present in that account. So I requested to contact them.

I hate healthy food.

I don't really go for the whole healthy food vibe. There are too many cars in the parking lot with "Coexist!" bumper stickers on fancy cars that I could never afford. Also I am a great fancier of genetically modified food. I go to Whole Foods weekly because I like Brown Cow yogurt, the unhealthy, bad-for-you full fat kind with cream on top. Yum! It's probably the most unhealthy thing you can buy in the place.

I needed bread, so with great trepidation I checked out the bread department. The bread department is where the health food fanatics really let themselves go. The selections were awful. None of them were anything my ancestors would have recognized as bread. No challah! And no rye bread! I could understand this if the store were in Utah, but we're talking Philadelphia suburbs here. Anyway, I was too lazy to go elsewhere, so I bought some 7 grain stuff.

This bread--I was going to say it tastes nasty, but that would be unjust. It doesn't taste nasty; it doesn't taste like anything. It is the anti-taste. If you make a tuna fish sandwich out of it, it kills the taste of the tuna fish. Likewise with egg salad. You can't taste the butter on your buttered toast. And you can't taste the bacon on a blt. Criminal!

But what does it really taste like, you ask? Well, when I was a child in school I used to chew on Faber #2 pencils. This bread tastes sort of like that. Without the lead, of course.

Boring polticians

I'm reading the new biography of Margaret Thetcher, and I must admit it's heavy lifting, in more ways than one. For one thing, the author doesn't particularly like Thatcher; he believes she has no interior life. He can't comprehend a somewhat colorless lower middle class woman who, if I'm reading it correctly, was smart but not sensationally so. So, if she did not master any material or pass a test, she redoubled her efforts and slogged through the work required until she had done her absolute best.

A true Englishwoman with a stiff upper lip you could bounce bullets off, she was the diametric opposite of the lip-biting Bill Clinton, who shared his pain in Macy's window for all the world to see. She seems to have been temperamentally a true conservative by nature. Even in her youth, she never entertained liberal views. She appears to have been honest; there were no scandals or corruption in her administration. She made her husband breakfast every day that it was humanly possible to do so, and if her marriage was not happy no-one knew, and they will not find out now. She took her secrets to the grave.

She was a true straight arrow who apparently analyzed the problems of her country with dogged determination until she decided what was the right course, and then followed that course. She was not one to waste her time and energy on wishful thinking but preferred to face facts. The most dramatic event of her administration was the battle with Argentina over the Falklands, which seemed to excite her and revive patriotism among the British.

It's tough to read about such a colorless, and basically boring person, especially after reading about a colorful and flamboyant character like Winston Churchill. The American politician she most resembles is Calvin Coolidge, a man of great reserve from a New England which had not yet embraced the emotional virtues of the Kennedy family. Neither of these made a parade of compassion, or said anything particularly witty or memorable. Both, however, presided over periods of great prosperity.

News, or maybe it's not news at all

While Mr Charm was in the nursing home I missed the evening news, to my great benefit. After he died, I continued the practice of not watching the news. But I can't get away from it any more.

The news has followed me to the gym, and it's all about Syria and what if anything we are going to do. We are not going to send soldiers there, oh dear no! The present plan is that we are going to bomb certain strategic targets, taking care to inform Assad what they are well in advance, so he can pull his assets out. And oh yes, we are going to get Congress to agree to this. Or not. Some time in the not so distant future.

Obama is angry that Bashir al-Assad is killing innocent Syrian civilians with poison gas. It is okay for him to carry on killing them by other means, but friends don't kill friends with poison gas. Assad is probably scared silly by the threatening language and ominous frowns coming from our leader.

My best guess as to the outcome of all this? Since there are still plenty of Syrians left, the evil dictator is probably going to kill some more of them, pour encourage les autres. And Obama is going out in the back yard and eat worms. After he finishes a round of golf.

Obama reminds me of the hero of the book, A Paper Mask. This man, though not a surgeon, is mistaken for one, and it is to his advantage to continue the deception. He can't make a mistake, as he is surrounded by competent people, other doctors and nurses, who will guide him and advise him and keep the patients from harm. But then his support network fails him, and he is revealed as the contemptible fraud he is,

Car trouble in the family

I don't think dad actually found his car missing at the curb when he left the house, but he came close. Mother had a habit of lending his car to one of her brothers when either of them needed it. She didn't discuss this ahead of time with him, as he would only have made a fuss, which would have done him no good because she had determined that whichever of her brothers needed the car needed it more than dad, being as they were doctors. So she informed him around the time he was putting on his coat, preparatory to getting in said car. He was hopping mad, only partly because her brothers were such awful drivers. Uncle Moe was the less dangerous one, as he drove cautiously and timidly, knowing he was not a good driver. Uncle Doc, however, was a terror behind the wheel. He would change lanes by turning on his turn signal and then changing lanes without looking in his mirror to see if there was anyone already in the lane, among other little peculiarities pf his driving style. That was probably why whichever brother who had borrowed the car had taken it to the body shop, having had an accident. But he was a doctor and had patients to visit, not to mention his patients in the hospital he needed to see, and dad could just as well take the bus as he was only a lawyer, like her, and the bus came to a corner only two blocks away and the weather was not that bad. Dad was actually a good driver who enjoyed driving until he died at 99, despite some sourpusses in the family who wanted him to give up his car.

Defending the post office

Why is everyone knocking the post office? I personally am totally happy with their service. They actually come to my house--of course Congress is going to put a stop to that! They are planning to cut Saturday service, or maybe only deliver mail 3 to 4 times a week. And Conservatives are constantly knocking the service. Shame on you, Conservatives. If you want to get rid of a government agency, here are a few suggestions: the IRS, the Education Department, the State Department--I could think of more if I had the time. How far would you carry a letter for 50 cents? Or even a dollar? Not bloody far, I'll bet.

Everything in the garden is humming

Every evening, as I get ready for bed, I open the bedroom window, not for the fresh air, but for the sounds in the garden. I'm not a naturalist, so I can't say for certain how the insects in the garden make their indescribable but delicious night music. Maybe they rub their feet together, if they have feet, or maybe they are playing teeny tiny musical instruments. Anyway, the garden is alive with summer sounds and I dread the day that autumn comes and stills their music.

On Sanibel Island, long ago

 

Knocking around

Mr Charm used to call a certain type of clothing "knocking around clothes." These were garments, including shoes,that you would wear around the house, mostly, or for chores like washing the car, weeding the garden, or at most, an emergency trip to Target.>

As far as I can see, these are the only kind of clothes anyone wears nowadays, unless they wear something worse, like going shirtless to mow the lawn with your belly hanging over your belt, or wearing your trousers so low that the bottoms scrape the ground and your underwear shows--and it's not particularly nice underwear, or even necessarily clean. But that last is only the business of your mom, so I won't comment on it.

The aisles of Macy's, Boscov's, Kohl's, Nieman Marcus and Nordstrom are loaded with lovely garments for men, women, and kids. Even the Good Will has lots of nice things. Judging by the looks of the customers, though, nobody is buying them. No wonder we have a recession. The average person around here looks like they last purchased their garments early in the second Bush administration. Not George Herbert Walker Bush, but the other guy, the one who was such a blockhead that he made all foreigners hate and despise us and whose favorite form of exercise was trampling our civil liberties.

But I digress. No one could have obtained size 16 men's pink shoes with grass green laces in 2008. So I guess they are buying some sort of clothes nowadays. To go with the tattoos.

Letter to Wells Fargo

Dear Wells Fargo Collections Department--I really don't know your name, but it's nice to make your acquaintance. How is your day? I hope it is a pleasant one.

Mine has not been so pleasant. As of today, I have received five letters and more robo-calls than I can count from you. As it happens, you are in error, and I electronically forwarded $2,000 to this account from my checking account before your latest series of recriminations. It was your error, not mine. Of course I don't expect an apology; Wells Fargo doesn't believe in such niceties. But it would be a refreshing change if you did not act so high and mighty--as if you were a king in Babylon and I were a Christian slave, so to speak.

Perhaps it would be as well to remember that you are investing the money your customers deposit in your bank. You are not actually doing us a favor by condescending to let us park our money in your bank. Remember also, my dear old Collections Department, that there is 8 percent unemployment out there, and there is an excellent chance that you could join the ranks of the unemployed if you don't treat your customers with respect.

Mr Charm and Trayvon

Mr Charm was the son of a single mother and a high school dropout. He was white, and had never done anything criminal, but those are the only differences. He would have had a bleak existence except for one thing: he was drafted. It was during the Korean War.

The army made all the difference. He had a rather quiet two years, drinking beer and eating rich pastries in Austria. In the part of Austria he was in, they spoke German, not Austrian. (Couldn't resist.)

But it wasn't his wartime experience that made the difference. It was the G I Bill of Rights. Next to the Homestead Act, I think it was the most influential piece of legislation Congress has ever passed. It gave thousands of young men a chance at a better life, among them Mr Charm.

He went to Brooklyn College, a selective institution but one that had no tuition. That in itself was a miracle; he thrived at Brooklyn College, and the rest is history.

Trayvon Martin's life was wasted. At seventeen, he had plenty of time ahead to straighten out his life. Tragically, he never had a chance. I'm guessing his parents gave him no guidance but let him run wild, unlike Dr Ben Carson's mother. They probably gave him no guidance because they never got any. Again, I'm guessing, but I have met dozens like him among my mother's clientele.

On visiting day in any prison you can see the next generation; young mothers, with their children dressed up in Sunday clothes, come to visit their baby daddies.

You can't say these young men and women don't care about their kids; clearly they do. They lack parenting skills, and the schools they attend are pathetic. Since we can't start with the parents, perhaps we could start with the education these kids are getting, an education that suits the teachers'unions just fine.

I don't have an answwer, but it grieves me that a generation of black youth is squandered.

Fixing your tummy--a practical approach

I know at least two people who have had hideous things done to their colon, stomach or other viscera and after an initial weight loss, are just as fat as ever. And then there's Chris Christie. It seems that there are a lot of medical procedures that don't really work but continue to be performed.

Can I make a suggestion? Everyone is always banging on about the fat around your waist and how hazardous it is to your health. It's true that in maturity people tend to get a spare tire around the waist. It happened to me. My weight stayed the same but a small but firm pillow lodged itself just above the belly button and shows every sign of having taken up permanent residence. So why can't the oh-so-brilliant doctors who are removing and remodeling our insides just suction out all the fat? I would be the first person to volunteer for the procedure.

Another trip down memory lane

 

Photo of my mother

Originally this was a picture of me and my mother. But, as she often did, she tore the part with her likeness off, making the picture very weird. Mother often did this to pictures of herself, as she hated to have her picture taken while she was fat. Consequently we have only a handful of pictures of her.. She never did lose weight. Nevertheless we loved her and wouldn't mind having more pictures of her to remember her as she was. I have no idea why this gibberish appears. Posting pix to blogger is like swimming with cement shoes. : 0px auto 10px; text-align: center;"> 

Family picture

 

I finally was able to load a picture onto blogger--don't even remember how it happened. This photo was taken eons ago, when dinosaurs roamed the earth and our children were little. Also, my feet were perfect. Nowadays I feel like I have rocks in my shoes--not pebbles, boulders.

Too hot

Everyone who can manage it is away this weekend, and if I had sense I'd be away too. Mostly I've been hanging around taking care of administrative stuff, like writing the IRS asking them not to send me any more computer generated requests for my 2010 return, which they seem to keep losing no matter how often I submit it. The there's all the health stuff, from teeth to feet.

I'm not having too bad a time of it, actually. I've got some interesting books to read; only some of them are about the Civil War, which seems to be my new obsession. I was never that interested in the Civil War; it was Mr Charm's cup of tea. But he left so many books about it that I started to get interested in it.

So I've been puttering around the house, reading books about the Civil War (or not), watching old movies, eating the occasional sandwich or something. The only thing that bothers me a little is that I am starting to feel like a fictitious character. possibly one from the work of Barbara Pym. Well, I'd rather dwell in a Barbara Pym book than one by, say, Joyce Carol Oates.

Sexual harassment victim dies

I read Virginia Johnson's obituary this morning in the local paper. The obit was by Jim Salter, Associated Press.

It turns out Ms Johnson, a single mother of two, went to work at the medical school of Washington University as a secretary. Now the bit which has since been scrubbed from the online version:

It was a strange indoctrination: Masters convinced her that having sex with him was part of the job.

Lucky for Dr Masters that he was not a hapless male college student, for instance, a Duke Lacrosse team member, in the 21st century, or he would have been--shall we say, screwed?

Had he been a Republican, say a Wall Street lawyer, we would consider this sexual harassment. Actually, it was sexual harassment, if the term means anything. Moreover, it is morally appalling.

But Masters is one of the gods of our time, and can do no wrong. If he did it, it wasn't sexual harassment. It was science.

The story goes on to laud Masters:

"He was a rigorous scientist most comfortable in a white coat," said Dr Robert Kolodny

I wonder if he took off the white coat at certain appropriate times?

I'm not sure whether their work was valid science, either. I consider it Al Gore Science--you know, the settled kind? Nobody is going to argue with it, at risk of being called a Christian or something equally appalling.

What's wrong with Wells Fargo Online?

I am not the only one with complaints. This awful bank's awful website is a nightmare. It has been down for a solid week. I have been forced to pay several bills by mail. But I can't acccess my account to see what's in it.

Doing well by doing good

The director of Delaware's United Way gets a pay raise.

Dozens of charities are scrambling to keep their programs running in the wake of funding cuts from the United Way of Delaware, which fell short of its campaign goal this year but managed to give its executive director a pay raise and bonus.

The cuts come as nonprofits struggle to make ends meet after several economically disastrous years. The groups have trimmed programs, staff and overhead costs, frozen salaries for years and pursued new revenue sources wherever they can find them, their leaders said.

[] “

One item that escaped the ax is the salary of United Way President Michelle Taylor, who made about $257,000 last year and received a raise and a bonus this year, although officials would not offer specifics. In 2012, the organization’s budget was $20.7 million.

Those documents show that from 2010 to 2012, Taylor’s income, including bonuses and benefits, rose 35 percent while the United Way’s income dropped by 15 percent.

United Way also gets to keep around 10 percent of contributions--sort of like an agent's fee, if you had an agent and weren't a non-profit organization trying to survive.

Sweet deal, isn't it?

These United Way thugs go to citizens' workplaces and try to persuade the employees to kick in out of their paychecks. The money can be taken right out of your paycheck, saving you the trouble of writing a check or something hard like that.

Needless to say, they won't be getting anything out of me. You can check out charities on the web, and find out how much of the money they raise goes to "administrative expenses." The Salvation Army, among others, spends very little on these.

Domestic violence

And it wasn't even my own domicile. Some backstory first, to set the scene. My hairdresser operates out of her house, specifically out of her basement. When I walked into the house, there was a certain je ne sais quois in the air. Her husband was sitting in the kitchen, looking both grim and downcast. We went downstairs to her studio. With a face that looked like thunder, she seized a huge hank of hair from the left side of my face and hacked off a huge piece of it. It was about an inch and a half long, and she continued to hack away at it. She then proceeded to do the same thing on the other side. I couldn't see what she was doing on top of my head, but when she was done it felt like a three day growth of stubble. Yuck. I truly didn't recognize myself. It turns out, dear reader, that she and her husband had had a quarrel.

Urban hospital setting

I just returned from the University of Pennsylvania Hospital gynecology Department without seeing the doctor. The place looked like photos I have seen of Ellis Island, only these huddled masses weren't huddling; they were eating, drinking, talking on their cell phones, shushing or feeding their babies. It was like the emergency room in a large urban hospital, only no-one was actually bleeding. After a couple of hours, I went to the desk and asked the receptionist if I would be seen soon. She told me that there were plenty of people ahead of me. Apparently this was a clinic they held once a month. But why I had to be there on that particular day was not explained. The room didn't actually have a sign over the door: "Abandon hope ye who enter here," but the vibe was definitely there. There were too many people there, doing too many things to too many patients. Something told me I would not like to be treated in this hospital or by these people. So I decamped. The search for a surgeon moves forward.

Our career as brewmasters

I can't believe I never mentioned it, but Mr Charm and I once brewed our own beer. It was not bad either.

We got the idea from a neighbor and fellow graduate student. He made his own beer, due to being an impoverished graduate student. We were pretty poor ourselves, and had a couple of years more to go before Mr C got his PhD. We had tried hand rolling our own cigarettes, but it was tedious and hard to do. We bought a little machine to roll them with, tobacco, and cigarette paper. The hard part was getting the right amount of tobacco in each cigarette--and you'd be surprised how difficult that was, and in the end, more than we bargained for. So we got rid of the machine, the papers, the tobacco, and eventually, the habit of smoking.

But, back to the beer. We discovered that our local supermarket sold malted barley with hops. Yeast was also available, I can't remember what kind. You mixed the barley with the yeast, put it in a large crock, which we placed in the corner of the kitchen. I believe water was also involved, but I don't remember. Occasionally a burbling sound came from the crock, as if a frog had taken up residence in it. After a certain number of days, we strained it into washed soda bottles, which we capped with a bottle capping tool. You had to be careful pouring it out, as there was about a quarter-inch of sediment in the bottom. But it tasted okay, and we kept up making it for a while.

The problem was that this beer had a punch. Ordinary beer has about 6 percent alcohol, but ours had about 20 percent. Mr Charm found he could not drink it with his dinner and then prepare for the next day's classes, because he was pie-eyed. I didn't have to teach classes, but I just lurched around the kitchen, totally forgetting to put the kids to bed, or wash them, or remember I had them. So we stopped production.

As it happened, we were living in an old building at the bottom of a steep hill, which was divided into four apartments. Our fellow tenants were two old ladies with a cat and a dog, respectively, and the aforementioned graduate student and his family. The ladies felt that the young men should do all the heavy chores, taking to garbage up the hill, shoveling snow, etc. The men felt that the age of chivalry was over and that the ladies should hire someone to do the scutwork at least occasionally.

Now I have set the scene. well, not completely, because I forgot to mention that there was a capacious attic in which we stored things we were not using, including a case of the beer. Occasionally, we would hear the faraway sound of one of the bottles blowing up--but it was very far away. Perhaps it was a mouse, or the wind? Or just the house settling? We did not inquire.

After a couple of years we moved on, and moved away. We seriously planned to get rid of the beer, but one of the ladies made a cutting remark about the beer, and we got mad. We left it there.

I liked to think of the old ladies lying in bed and hearing the faraway explosion of the beer in the middle of the night. But the reality of the situation was that the college donated the building to the city, which turned it into a low income housing development. hrthe reamreality

Visit this site!

You won't be sorry!

I am not blogging as frequently because...

blogger has become less user-friendly. I have an enormous collection of photographs in Picasa. It used to be super-easy to transfer photos to blogger; there was a button which said "blog this," you pressed it, and there it was. I've been using blogger for 7 years now and it was ever thus. However, the button has now disappeared. My daughter tells me to figure it out--it will stimulate my brain, according to her. But the last thing I want is stimulation of my brain. Thinking through problems is frustrating, vexing, and a waste of time. I have half-heartedly tried to go around this problem, but doing it the roundabout way is clumsy, kind of like rubbing your belly and patting your head at the same time. I thought this was a subtle inducement to using blogger+, but it isn't. Blogger+ is just a pointless new way to waste time on the Internet. Like Facebook and its peers.

Data mining

Why are we worried because the government is recording our phone calls, e-mails, and for all I know, bowel movements? The various governments in the nation don't know what to do with this data.

For example, a man hired to demolish a building in Philadelphia managed to kill 6 people in the process. A cursory background check of this person would have revealed numerous arrests, two jail sentences, and the fact that he was a pothead. Why this individual was hired to handle heavy equipment when there is 7.5 percent unemployment was not explained. Clearly, the government's methods of using the information it collects on individual American citizens needs tweaking.

Military ceremony

We had a military ceremony at Mr Charm's interment. I felt like a bit of a fraud when they gave me the flag, because he got more out of the army than they ever got out of him. He trained as a mountain climbing instructor, but was sent to Austria where he was company clerk and everyone was very nice to him, because he had control over who got furloughs and when. He also drank lots of beer and ate lots of cake topped with shlag (whipped cream), causing him to gain 40 lbs.

But the best thing he got out of the army was the GI Bill, which enabled him to go to college. It changed his life. He went to Brooklyn College, a very fine school which was free in those days, good going for a young man who dropped out of high school because he didn't want to read Silas Marner. No, that's not accurate--he refused to read Silas Marner.

Let's go easy on the IRS

People without a sense of humor are giving the IRS a hard time over a line-dancing video.

I applaud these jolly tax-masters for having a sense of humor. Do you know what librarians do when they have conventions? Powerpoint presentations, that's what! I'll take line dancing any day.

Miss Delaware's weird family

An article about the current Miss Delaware in the local paper is making me crazy.

A paragraph about how pretty she is includes the following statement: (her two twin sisters – one identical, one fraternal – are knockouts as well).

How can she have two twin sisters, one identical, one fraternal? Is she a triplet?

You can't say no to this offer

I am continually getting offers from "financial planners" who want to "educate" me in how to save and invest my money. This is quite a common way for financial planners to troll for new customers. Usually they bribe you to attend by offering a free meal. The one I got today was a little different. Of course it was from a self-seeking "investment counselor," but this was under another guise. The offer was sent by the University of Delaware, and advertised as a "course" given through the university, at the university campus. Instead of getting a free meal, the university required a tuition payment of $39.

When I was a library director these financial gurus were always after us to let them offer a seminar in our library. I always refused because it was all about a hidden agenda, and I didn't want the library to be used for profit. Not that I am against making money--I'm all for it. But the library is a tax-supported institution and should not be recommending an investment scheme under the pretense of educating the public.

Why is the University of Delaware pimping for some financial advisor? Are they that hard up?

Festive

In December, I decided to get a pedicure from my bespoke pedicurist, Mr Tran. Mr Tran used to have a special way of doing Mr Charm's pedicure. He would roll the chair out to the car and help Mr Charm out of the car. The pedicurist used to josh with him, asking what color polish he wanted and sometimes getting a smile for her pains. She also washed his feet and lower legs, put lotion on his skin, and massaged him. When we were ready to leave, Mr Tran would help him into the car.

I continued to go there after Mr C had moved to a nursing home. Wouldn't you? He knew our whole family and asked about them. The pedicure and manicure were the same as offered everyplace else, but the service made us feel loyal.

So, back to December. I chose a color for my toenails, a shell pink. Mr Tran countermanded my choice. "No, no! Not festive enough for holiday season!" He chose a bright red, and I went along with it and achieved festive feet.

It was April when I came back, just for a manicure. "Manicure and pedicure?" asked Mr Tran. No, just a manicure. "Get manicure and pedicure," he insisted. So I did.

Jihadi mom

The Boston Bombers' mom clearly needed Dr Kermit Gosnell's services a couple of decades ago. It would have saved everybody a world of trouble.

Getting old(er)

Years ago, when my grandson was in elementary school, I would occasionally drive him and a few of his buddies to a movie or baseball practice. They were a noisy and unruly bunch, and the topic that amused them most was, er, digestive problems. Mostly farting, but they also enjoyed talking about belching, vomiting, and diarrhea--or anything else that was gross. Twenty years later, and this mindset has taken over the film industry. I just watched the movie Bridesmaids. Vomiting, diarrhea? You want it, you got it.

Poem by Shakespeare

Fear No More the Heat o' the Sun

Fear no more the heat o' the sun,

Nor the furious winter's rages;

Thou thy worldly task hast done,

Home art gone, and ta'en thy wages:

Golden lads and girls all must,

As chimney-sweepers, come to dust.

Fear no more the frown o' the great;

Thou art past the tyrant's stroke;

Care no more to clothe and eat;

To thee the reed is as the oak:

T

he Sceptre, Learning, Physic, must

All follow this, and come to dust.

Fear no more the lightning-flash,

Nor the'all-dreaded thunder-stone;

Fear not slander, censure rash;

Thou hast finished joy and moan:

All lovers young, all lovers must

Consign to thee, and come to dust.

No exorciser harm thee!

Nor no witchcraft charm thee!

Ghost unlaid forbear thee!

Nothing ill come near thee!

Quiet consummation have,

And renownèd by thy grave!

William Shakespeare

The kiss of the vampire Obama

Well, folks, Obamacare just gave me a big wet smacker in the form of a massive increase--$60 per month--to my health insurance. Thanks ever so. In related government news, Social Security wasted a stamp telling me to apply online for a death benefit, but when I got on their website they informed me that you could not apply online. So why are people so down on the Postal Service? It does what it is expected to do. I write a letter, put a stamp on it, and mail it. The recipient receives it. They don't charge $500 for a stamp, either. Not even when you are a republican.

Tragic

National Poetry Month

I found myself thinking of this poem today, as the weather was so lovely.  I wanted to go somewhere to savor the day.  Instead I went to Macy's.

Anyway, it is National Poetry Month.

 

THE WORLD IS TOO MUCH WITH US; LATE AND SOON

          THE world is too much with us; late and soon,
          Getting and spending, we lay waste our powers:
          Little we see in Nature that is ours;
          We have given our hearts away, a sordid boon!
          The Sea that bares her bosom to the moon;
          The winds that will be howling at all hours,
          And are up-gathered now like sleeping flowers;
          For this, for everything, we are out of tune;
          It moves us not.--Great God! I'd rather be
          A Pagan suckled in a creed outworn;                         10
          So might I, standing on this pleasant lea,
          Have glimpses that would make me less forlorn;
          Have sight of Proteus rising from the sea;
          Or hear old Triton blow his wreathed horn.
                 

Serious

There's no amusing way to say this:  The man I called Mr Charm  died a week ago, so the world no longer has his smile or his hearty laugh.  His long, brutal illness took everything away, and then took him. 

Truly important

Someone left a message on Facebook that she is really enjoying Downton Abbey.  Really and truly?   This is confirmation that the Internet rots the brain.  And yet I recently subscribed to tumblr, so that intimate friends can inform me over facebook, twitter (which scares me, it's too difficult), google + and my e-mail that they have a hangnail.  I can't read my favorite bloggers, because they have stopped posting to their blogs and use twitter mostly, which @#I don't understand, mainly because I don't feel like wasting my time trying to master it.

Blogger is starting to be frustrating to me too.  I used to think I had it mastered, but they have improved it to the point that I can't do anything with it, like post photos.  Ah, the dear old days!

I only know how to do three things on the computer:  1) backup and restore; 2)control, alt, delete 3) answer e-mail.  That exhausts my little bag of tricks.

Reading biography

I ran out of mysteries to read, so decided to improve my mind by reading one of Mr Charm's biographies, a book about the Duke of Wellington by Christopher Hibbert and well worth reading.  He was an authentic hero, who defeated Napoleon and cared not  a rap what anyone thought of him.  He had a chest full of medals and was beloved by the ladies.

Like Ulysses Grant, who had been a quartermaster, Wellington understood the importance of supplying his armies, above all with food.  Send enough bullocks and sheep, and your army will be assured of victory. It sounds very quotidian, but it worked for him.

The citizenry loves military heroes, especially handsome ones. He went from triumph to triumph, including serving as Prime Minister.

The only unsatisfactory thing in his life was his marriage.  He had proposed to a woman when he was a young man and unable to provide for a family, and she refused him.  When he achieved success, he felt honor bound to renew his proposal, though he no longer cared for her, and she, who also had doubts, felt honor bound to accept.  So, despite the misgivings of both, they were married and lived together uneasily ever after.  He avoided her company whenever possible, and she was obsequious and timid, which made him him more impatient with her.

They were totally unsuited to each other.  He was the first man ever to say, for the record, that his wife did not understand him, although doubtless not the first to feel that way.  But as she lay dying, he was at her side.

Fighting climate change

My local newspaper features almost daily articles on the front page about climate change or global warming, with a generous side helping of beach erosion.  So, in order to limit my personal contribution to these  momentous issues, I have decided to cut back my carbon footprint by canceling my subscription.

Goodbye Facebook, Goodbye Twitter

I haven't posted anything on Facebook for months and am unlikely to.  My life, while it interests me, is both stressful and boring. s for Twitter, I can't even figure out where to start.  What are all those symbols and what do they mean?  Suppose I did it wrong?  I would feel like an un-with-it klutz, which I am, but why flaunt it?  I will still blog when I feel the urge, if I ever climb out of the ditch I'm in.

But the real reason I want to steer clear of these activities is that they are a terrible time-suck.  I can almost hear the remaining hours of my life circling the drain, while I ponder the mot juste.  So until someone figures out how to stretch 24 hours into 28 or 30, I think I'll abstain from social media.

Apology to Tim Geithner

I totally take back all the mean things I said about your tax problems with TurboTax.  I used a different online tax program & it was horrible.  I had to print out the forms and  fill them in  manually to figure out what went where.  I'm still not sure I got it right.  They are still sending me "Pay or Die" letters about my 2010 return, which I filed two years ago.

There's nothing more to say except I'm sorry.

How are the taxes in the Cayman Islands?

scammed!

So I received a phone call from someone with a heavy almost undecipherable Indian accent about my internet problems.  Calling herself Cindy, she said she was something to do with Windows, or Microsoft.  Whatever she said was unintelligible but sounded important.  The accent lent plausibility to her claim.  What phony would try to swindle someone without being intelligible?

It was a scam, but luckily my daughter arrived and got on the phone and scared them off.  So no harm was done, except to my faith in human nature.  Dishonest people with Indian accents--who knew?  I thought all people with heavy Indian accents were IT specialists, or at the very least, doctors.

Tough times at the U of Texas

The University of Texas is facing steep budget cuts.  To hear the administration tell it, if the university gets one penny less than they received last year, essential research will be sacrificed and the University will lose its first class status.  Important projects vital to the welfare of the nation will be lost,  catastrophe will no doubt follow and the research necessary to invent radar will not take place and we will probably lose World War II and the cold war--oh wait, we already won those didn't we?  Well, anyway, something disastrous will happen.

The more likely scenario is that one or two assistant associate deans of diversity won't receive cost of living raises and the official who plans and coordinates University Sex Week will have his/her travel budget cut.  Administrators now out-number faculty in most colleges; the tail is busily wagging the dog.

I remember when Mr Charm worked for the State of New York budget cuts were in the offing.  Our whole way of life was threatened.  Heads would roll, people would lose their jobs, the staff would not be able to purchase paper clips and its vital functions would be endangered.  A black cloud hung over the people of the State of New York.

In the event, two part-time charwomen were laid off and everybody lived happily ever after.  Except for the two charwomen, of course.

That ornery Arctic ice cap

We got the latest issue of Columbia's alumni magazine, which I call the Smug Report, because it is.  The last page tells about the visit of our beloved President to Queens or someplace like that.  I'm surprised they found this lowly place, which is even lowlier now that Sandy has wreaked havoc upon it.  Must have used GPS.

Obama mentioned the Arctic ice cap, which, according to him,  had been melting at a rapid rate.  I am so damn sick of this ice cap and all its brother and sister ice caps around the world.  Obama seems to think it is melting, but others whom I respect deny it.

Isn't it possible to go and measure the damn thing?  Like with an airplane?  and settle this controversy once and for all.  If it is not melting, the media ought to make that a page one news story.  If it is, tell us.

And then let's never hear about ice caps again.  Ever.  They are so twentieth century.

Should I forget about blogging?

I'm considering what to do with my blog, which I think 3 or 4 people actually read.  I have signed up for all the social media stuff, but I don't know what to do with that either.  Shall I discuss my visit to Whole Foods?  My skull x-rays?  Who cares?  As for Twitter, most of the bloggers I enjoy are posting there, but I can't even begin to figure out how it works.  It seems to have enlisted all the characters on the keyboard which were formerly used only in comic strips when one of the characters inadvertently hits his thumb with a hammer and said something like:  "@#*^$$$!"

Also, politics isn't fun any more.  I can't believe the people we have in positions of authority are the best we can find.  What a dreary lot!  What happened to the quality of citizens?  There are 300 million people in this country, but the voters are offered a candidate who believes a woman's body will reject a fetus that results from rape.  Whether he also believes that the stars are God's daisy chain was not revealed.

I am reading Shelby Foote's enormous tome on the Civil War, which is teeming with interesting and distinguished people, so much so that you have to keep a list to remember which side some of them are on, very much as I had to do with War and Peace.  I am still reading about 1861 and have four more years to go.  What a cast of characters!

Funny how now that we have a Democratic president the media are not banging on about how many American lives have been lost in Iraq or Afghanistan.    The total casualties in the Civil War are estimated at 600,000.  No one knows for sure.  Don't hear much about no blood for oil either.

How I spent my Christmas vacation

I have been sidelined with flu, and it was bad.  You don't need to have all the details but I reached the apogee when I fell in the lobby of the Kimmel Center--right on my nose. It hurt like hell.

I was immediately surrounded by six or eight people.  Someone helped me up and someone else got a chair for me.  Among the crowd was one nurse and one nursing assistant.  They sent for an ambulance, which came double quick.  The paramedics checked my blood pressure, etc. and I refused transportation to the hospital.  I never want to see a hospital again, at least as a customer.

On Christmas, I was at a hospital in Harford County, MD.  The people you encounter in Harford County are almost pathologically nice.  I thought the nicest people I had ever met were in Ireland, but Harford County makes the Irish look like pikers.  If there were an Olympic event for niceness, Harford County would win going away.

By the way, I did have a flu shot, but got the flu anyway.

Too good to check

According to the New York Post,college coeds are seeking older men to finance their college expenses. That's how hard up the poor dears are. The article is short on statistics and long on unicorn poop, quoting various here today and gone tomorrow websites that match up these young ladies with wealthy oldsters. I expect to see these headlines on trashy newspapers at the supermarket checkout line, along with UFO sightings and the latest sex scandals. How many of these relationships really pan out? I'm sure there are girls who wouldn't mind taking a rich person's money for no quid pro quo. It's the other end of the equation that I find dubious. I can't believe rich prosperous older guys are gullible enough to finance some chick's education for practically no return on their investment.

Ulysses S Grant

I've been doing a lot of reading about the Civil War and have gotten tremendously interested in General, later President, Grant. Opinions on his administration vary, but everyone acknowledges he was an honorable man through and through. The public knew how to venerate the man, which is greatly to their credit. Not too many honorable men have served as President in my lifetime. Example: Clinton, a scoundrel through and through. Also on the dishonorable list: Nixon, Johnson, and the current incumbent. George H W Bush was an honorable man, and so was his son. Eisenhower was an officer and a gentleman. Gerald Ford--maybe. I can't think of many others. can you?

Teddy bears for the dead

I am amazed at the outpouring of grief for the victims of the school shooting. It was an appalling disaster. But folks, it is not your tragedy. Stop it with the hysteria. In particular, don't make piles of flowers, notes, and toys. These shrines for murder victims are creepy. What good do teddy bears do for the deceased? These children are beyond the need for toys. If you want to help someone, try a living child. The Salvation Army is a good choice. So is Toys for Tots. Or just give money to the charity of your choice.

obscenity

I happened to be watching CNN on tv today at the gym, a thing I avoid like the plague. The creepy politicians are licking their chops about this Connecticut tragedy.Their crocodile tears are sickening. Especially nauseating is Senator Blumenthal, hamming it up like a bad actor.

Capsule movie review

I went to see the movie Pitch Perfect. If you think projectile vomiting is hilarious, by all means see it. If not, don't.

Happy Chanukah

Susan Rice identified

I am sorry to confess that though I have been half-heartedly tracking the troubles of Susan Rice, I did not notice that she was a black woman. I caught on to the woman aspect immediately--I am nothing if not observant--but I didn't notice the earth-shattering information that she was black. If I thought anything about her ethnicity, I figured she was a Nice Jewish Girl. Like me.

Since it is obvious that race is the over-riding characteristic of anyone in American politics, I think it should be mandatory that the media identify everyone's race every time that person is in the news. Specify A (African-American), H (Hispanic), and so on. It can be done discreetly.

That way, everyone will know whether he, she or they should detect discrimination in that person's treatment and feel aggrieved and resentful at the proper time.

Strategy

The recent election results remind me of my experience playing Scrabble with an old friend.

Howie was really smart, but I was smart too, and had a much bigger vocabulary. Mr Charm claimed that Howie had a vocabulary of maybe eight words. So I should have won more often that not, right?

Wrong.

I thought Scrabble was a word game and enjoyed coming up with esoteric words, especially words employing the high point tiles. Howie, on the other hand, believed the objective of the game was to win. It was frustrating and maddening to have Howie use words like "ape" or "was" to block me and my terrific vocabulary.

I played Scrabble as a word game. Howie played to win.

Now a winning strategy is to play the game, any game, by denying your opponent any points. Figure out what he wants to do and prevent it from happening.

What does this have to do with the election which we so elegantly lost? We took the high road, the opposition played to win. We praised our candidate to the skies and proved that he was a fine fellow. Moreover, he had a nice family. Everyone showed up at his rallies and cheered him loudly. Then we stayed home from the polls in droves.

T

he Obama campaign, on the other hand, gave Romney the full Alinsky. They would not let Romney win a point. They made a boogieman out of him. They mocked his ideas and demonized the Tea Party as a bunch of right wing extremists. Meanwhile, none of our team refuted the slanders. Ah, the high road! Lonely as it is, it is a morally superior road to the top. Except when it doesn't lead anywhere.

Events tended to favor the president, of course. Hurricane Sandy ought to have been called Hurricane Obama. All he had to do was put on his little presidential suit and show up among the suffering. Alleviating their suffering was not needed.

I guess it's better to be lucky than smart.

Election day

Thank God it will all be over tomorrow. I hope whoever wins wins by a landslide--no hanging chads or recounts or Supreme Court decisions. In New York and Chicago, of course, there will be accusations--no doubt warranted, but no-one cares. It's hardly worth the Democrats' time digging up all the recently deceased, rounding up the undocumented and the felons, because they will win anyway. Are we honestly going to keep in office the only citizen in these 57 states who desires a new cabinet level agency, a Department of Business, despite the fact that we have a Department of Commerce, which is surely the same thing? Or isn't it? Or wants high speed rail system that will shoot people across this vast continent in 48 hours, despite the existence of the airline industry which can move passengers from coast to coast in 5 hours. I don't think Obama is the smartest person in the room any more, unless the room is his clothes closet. Upon closer acquaintance he has turned out to be a dunderhead and a bore.

No more pink, please

Yesterday at the drugstore I was asked whether I would like to make a donation to the Komen foundation to fight breast cancer. I most assuredly would not. They are just going to have to struggle on with the millions and millions they have already collected from the millions and millions of concerned citizens.

I am getting sick and tired of breast cancer. You can't get mad at them because it is a worthy cause, and worthy causes are really, well, worthy, aren't they? But I am tired of them, and of buying everything pink from coffee to socks to cars, and from seeing their blasted pink ribbons all over anything and everything.

You reach a point where you've had enough. I totally understand why the citizens of Athens voted to banish Aristides because they were tired of hearing him called Aristides the Just.

What election?

There is a tremendous lack of excitement here in Wilmington. There are yard signs, or rather corner-of-vacant-lot signs, for several local candidates. These signs mention the candidate's name but neglect to identify his/her political affiliation. No Democrats or Republicans here, move on, nothing to see. Some brave citizens actually have yard signs in their actual yards, but these are rarities. As for the presidential race, you would never believe we are having one. I have seen one or two Obama/Biden bumper stickers. I have seen exactly one Obama yard sign, and two for Mitt Romney. Ho hum.

Back to darkness

Waiting in the lab to have my blood drawn, I picked up a magazine that was ostensibly all about health. There was an article advocating an environmental group advocating a cause that was new to me--the dimming of outdoor lights. If this bunch have their way, the Great White Way will become the Dim White Way, the City of Light will be the City of Half-Light, and all the street lights will be reduced to a glimmer, forcing honest citizens going about their business to be terrorized by felons.

Except no-one would be out and about without street lights. Families, consisting of two adults of any gender and one immaculately conceived designer child, would be cowering around the one fluorescent bulb they are allowed to have, huddled together for warmth. Perhaps they could re-locate to a nearby cave, if they are lucky enough to have one.

I am not going to link to the website of this detestable organization, but it does exist. Unfortunately.

a question

Whatever happened to "No blood for oil"? We spilled the blood already, so what's holding up the oil which was the real reason for going to war in Iraq, according to Democrats? Is George W Bush hogging it all for himself?

Eating alone

I like to break bread with others, don't get me wrong. But there's something liberating about eating all by yourself. You can eat whatever you want--peanut butter and banana sandwiches fried in butter appealed very strongly to Elvis Presley, for instance. Ice cream for dinner, eaten out of the carton, slathered in chocolate syrup and chopped walnuts, is tasty and filling, and there are no killjoys emitting negative vibes to take the fun out of it. My brother the genius had no dishes in his apartment when he was a graduate student. If he wanted something to eat, he opened a can of tuna fish and ate it over the sink. What did he use for utensils? We can only speculate. It is a mystery in the same category as the problem of Jack Reacher's underwear or lack of same. I got home the other day ravenously hungry. Some leftover two-day-old pizza, thoroughly dried up, was in the refrigerator. I thought it might be salvageable if covered with melted butter. So I buttered a couple of slices generously and heated them in the microwave. They were delicious.

Awful shorts

This morning the front page of the local fishwrap had not one but two pictures of Delawareans in their national dress: baggy, loose, ill-fitting shorts and a scruffy t-shirt. No wonder the birthrate is down! These shorts would never be acceptable to anyone at any time or with any accessories. They have elastic waists, worn either over or under a paunch, are made of far too much deplorable fabric, and are a perfect length to make any man's legs look awful. You wouldn't want to see Cary Grant in these shorts. Shorts per se need not be awful. Look at the ones the British Army sported in Africa during World War II. But the British are good at uniforms and at menswear generally.

Romney the vote repeller

Mitt doesn't need the media carrying water for Obama, he's doing a fine job of lousing up his campaign his own self. Take his remarks on the 47 percent. Well, Mitt, I am one of these, a person on Social Security and a New Jersey pension, but if you don't want my vote just say so and I'll stay home from the election. BTW, I pay taxes.

Advice for Mitt

Mitt, if you want to be president, stop discussing which Americans you don't worry about, that don't concern you, which Americans are leeches sucking the blood of the productive classes, etc. These remarks don't make you look like a clever fellow, they make you look like a doofus. We already have one of those leading the country.

Genealogy

I've been doing my family tree, but have hit the wall. I did okay with my parents and grandparents, but going farther back is complicated and difficult. For one thing, they kept changing their names. My father's father was originally named Zev, which means wolf in Hebrew, so he called himself Wolf when he came to this country, but didn't like the sound of it, so changed it to William and was known as Bill.

My Aunt Helen was originally named something that translates to Julia but sounds weird because Hungarian is a tough language. So she was Helen. My uncle Andy was Gersh. Don't ask.

My mother's parents were a little easier. Originally Kantrovich, they shortened it to Kanter. A couple of zaydie's brothers moved to this country and were living in Milwaukee when last heard from. One was called Feibel and another was Velvel. God knows what they called themselves; I found records of their sailing here but nothing else.

Liking

I

consider Facebook one of the most useless and time-sucking activities available to man, right up there with cleaning the grout in your bathroom tiles. When everyone started "friending" me I enjoyed hearing from people I hadn't seen in years. Since most of them are doing exactly what I predicted 20 years ago, I was pleased to have my judgment vindicated. Also it was nice to hear from them.

I did "friend" a bunch of people, mostly relatives. As far as posting any information about what I'm doing, the answer is, essentially nothing. Nothing that would interest anyone. I also "liked" a number of organizations, most notably the Delaware Symphony, which promptly went out of business. Nice work, Miriam.

This is background stuff, preliminary to inform you about an e-mail I received from a close relative from the Commie side of the family. She upbraided me because someone she knew told her I "liked" Mitt Romney, and she was aghast. As it happens, I didn't, and don't, and I told her so. She seemed quite relieved. I suffer from l'esprit de'escalier otherwise known as staircase wit, meaning that I think of a witty retort on the way home from the party, when it's too late. So here's what I would have told her, after re-covering my wits:

What's it to you? And if I did "like" Romney, so what? It's not like "liking" Goebbels. I don't "like" Romney but I'm voting for him just the same.

So there!

Introducing my new dental team

When dentists start talking about teamwork, I know it's going to cost me. There are three members on our team. I'm the one with the open mouth and the empty wallet. The other two are the ones shopping for new Mercedes, the car of choice for dentists.

Raise your blood pressure, lower your IQ

and ruin your day. Just try to call 1) Verizon, 2) Comcast, 3) Social Security, 4) your bank, or _______________ (fill in the blank yourself) and deal with their caller direction system. They should make it easier for you, the consumer, otherwise known as hey Rube! Instead, these systems are designed to protect the staff of whatever organization you are trying to communicate with from any contact with a live customer. I always feel a great energy drain from the other end of the line, like a gigantic vacuum cleaner. They suck the little grey cells out of your brain, and after an hour or so you are a gibbering idiot who can't remember how to tie your shoes.

Ho hum.

This election cycle, no matter how stridently everyone carries on. seems boring to me.

F

irst, the President. He has pulled every trick out of his little bag of tricks, and it's empty now. So he opened Pandora's box and let out-Debbie Wasserman Schulz. Shakespeare said a low voice is an excellent thing in woman, but the Debster didn't get the memo. She is the closest thing we have to a perpetual motion machine.

As for Romney, a man who actually says "Gosh" when he hits his thumb with a hammer, or so I imagine--he is our generation's answer to Warren G Harding, handsome but deeply boring.

There are 300 million people in the country, couldn't we do better than this?

In what way is abortion a campaign issue?

It's not.

Abortion is permitted by law, and confirmed as legal by the Supreme Court. So why are we talking about it? Why don't we discuss how many orfreys an archbishop can have on his chasuble? That would be more pertinent.

George W Bush, ostensibly anti-abortion, did nothing to change this law because there was nothing he could realistically do. Clinton did nothing, Obama did nothing, Romney will do nothing. So who cares what their respective opinions are about abortion; it's as relevant as their opinions on pickled herring.

T

he real takeaway from this whole discussion is the knowledge that a member of Congress can be as dumb as a post. Dumber, really, because a post can't make a fool of itself. We leave that to Todd Akin. Oh, yes, and Debbie Wasserman Schulz.

Oy vey! These people are running the country!

The boy genius.

My brother the genius as a boy. He really was an extraordinarily bright child, reading physics books when he was five. He went to school for the requisite 13 years, but they didn't teach him anything, he knew it all already. His practical judgment is another story. He used an inheritance to buy a Wang computer. Remember them? Neither does anyone else, except perhaps Mr Wang. It cost $30,000 but was, according to him, a great investment. The company went out of business the following year. In the 1970s, he believed strongly that we were going to run out of natural gas within the near future. He tried to get mother to convert to oil heat, but she pointblank refused. This led me to conclude that we would soon have a glut of natural gas. He thinks everyone in the country should be on Medicare. Any takers for that theory?

Let's save money by cutting the library's budget

Instapundit had a post some time ago about Harvard having to cut expenditures. They started by cutting one of the periodical subscriptions the University Library receives which costs $40,000 a year.

Forty thousand is a big sum of money, to be sure. The periodical is probably useless. But they could save a lot more if they fired a couple of diversity counselors or vice presidents in charge of student sensitivity. Or gender issues. Furthermore, the periodical subscription does not have health benefits, paid leave, or sabbaticals and doesn't hassle anyone. It just sits there quietly, minding its own business and moldering on the shelves, while the administrative personnel are not only useless but troublesome.

E

very time any organization or municipal body needs to save money, they cut the library's budget. Not the salaries of cops who park their patrol cars in the back of the supermarket parking lot in order to take a snooze, or the clerk who has been sitting at her desk quietly doing the crossword puzzle for the last 14 years. That would take work, you would have to ascertain which employees do necessary tasks and which are worthless, and anyway this person is a cousin of the Mayor.

Governor Christie did not cut funding for libraries. What he did was cut funding for municipalities, who then decided that it would be okay for the library to only be open three days a week.

New they're bringing the FBI into this:

ANTI-TERRORIST AND MONITORY CRIMES DIVISION FBI HEADQUARTERS IN WASHINGTON, D.C. FEDERAL BUREAU OF INVESTIGATION J. EDGAR HOOVER BUILDING 935 PENNSYLVANIA AVENUE, NW WASHINGTON D.C. 20535-0001 TEL: 202-324-3447 Attn: Fund Beneficiary This is an official advice from the FBI, foreign remittance/telegraphic dept. (FRTD), it has come to our notice that the (central bank of Nigeria) C.B.N and there local banks in Nigeria has released your full inheritance/contract payment of 10,000,000 U.S dollars into bank of America in your name as the beneficiary as there corresponding bank in USA. The bank in Africa knowing fully well that they do not have enough facilities to effect this payment from Europe to your account and they used what we know as a secret diplomatic transit payment S.T.D.P to pay this fund through wire transfer. They are still waiting for final confirmation from you on the already transferred funds, to enable them crediting into your account accordingly. secret diplomatic transfer payment are normally funds related to drug/terrorist and money laundry system of payment, why must your payment be made in such secret transfer, if your transaction is legitimate and not related to drug/terrorist and money laundry, why can't the bank in Africa via Europe effect direct transfer into your account than secret diplomatic payment transfer. Due to the increased difficulties and unnecessary scrutiny by the American authorities when funds come from through such payment process from Europe, Africa and middle east, based on the records we had in the past always identified such method of payment as drug/ terrorist/money laundry funds, to avoid problem with the us government as soon as these funds reflect in your account in the U.S.A, it is our mandatory obligations to ascertain the documentation and certification of this funds before the final crediting into your account. We advice you contact us immediately, as the funds have been stopped and held in our custody pending when you were able to provide us with a diplomatic immunity seal of transfer (DIST) and letter of indemnity clearance certificate within 24hours from the united nation international fund monitory unit (UNIFMU) that authorize the transfer and certified that the funds originated from Africa and middle east is free from terrorist/drug and money laundry or we shall confiscate the payment. We will allow the funds to be release into your nominated account immediately you make provision the required document. You will be directed where and how to get the document if it is not in your possession. Your’s sincerely Robert S. Mueller, III

FBI Director Those ingenious Nigerians! However, they need to learn the proper spelling of "monetary.

Treasure Island

I saw Treasure Island with Wallace Beery the other night. It was so good! Beery was superb; the rest of the cast was merely wonderful. What a story! I've always loved RLS, both as a man and as a writer. I decided my ten-year-old grandson would enjoy reading Treasure Island, so went on Amazon to buy a copy for him. There were so many versions on offer, but some of them were condensed, like Obama's white girlfriends, and it was not apparent which were and which were not. Why do they ruin books like that?

Complaining, whingeing, and whining

Hot, humid, hot, hot, hot. My plants look as if they could use a good stiff drink, the lawn is brown, and the roses refuse to bloom. The sky is grey and looks threatening--although what it could threaten us with more unpleasant than what we've got would be hard to figure out. I suppose a hurricane would do the trick. I joined the JCC earlier because I refused to spend another summer without getting in a swimming pool. But the pool is as warm as chicken soup, although so far I have not encountered any matzoh balls or noodles floating in it. I have a lot of administrative stuff to do that soaks up my time like a sponge soaks up water. These dreary tasks make me feel like I have an unpleasant job, filled with monotonous but exacting tasks that never end, which moreover I have to pay for instead of being paid to do it. It involves lawyers, banks, and government functionaries. The IRS seems to have lost my 2010 return, and so have I. They called me about it in 2011 and I was able to answer questions about it but I appear to have eaten the paperwork. Or misfiled it. It is now as lost as my favorite umbrella. The best news of the past month is that I have been summoned for jury duty.

People who should know better...

are dissing the liberal arts and advising college students to go in for STEM courses instead. This is based on a false dichotomy. The liberal arts as taught today are a far cry from your grandmother's liberal arts. I should know--I'm a grandmother. When I went to college back in the late lamented 20th century, liberal arts students read "the best that has been thought and said." We read great works of English and American literature. In addition, we had to take courses in history and science. These courses were survey courses, not the greatest, but they did present an overview of Western civilization. We also had to take a couple of years of a foreign language. We read all of Shakespeare's plays as well as those written by other Renaissance playwrights, and a ton of poetry. We were taught grammar and had to do a good deal of writing, which is an excellent way of learning to think. Today's students master Grievance Studies such as Black History, Womyn's History, GLBT history and so on ad infinitum. Or popular culture like soap operas and cartoons. It is no surprise that they get As in everything, who wouldn't? Foreign language departments are closing, as no-one is required to study language any more. Ditto for philosophy. And a four-year course of study takes six years! Students are leaving colleges with worthless diplomas, heavy debt, and empty heads. But don't blame the liberal arts. Nobody is studying them any more.

St Swithin's Day

The Hispanics who came to dinner

Disgusting.

A list of red light cameras in Delaware. An article in the recent edition of the AAA magazine makes the point that traffic enforcement should be about safety, not revenue. Clearly this is not the priority of local governments in Delaware. Some traffic lights are actually set up to have very short yellow periods, the better to entrap the people they are trying to "protect."

Gone to Philly

I finally ordered season's tickets to the Philadelphia Orchestra. The seats, in the nosebleed section, were cheap, even with added fees. They are a world class orchestra and I'm looking forward to some great music. I feel very sad for the Delaware Symphony; I know some of the musicians and staff. But it was necessary to make alternate arrangements. I need my musical fix. Maybe Delaware will come back...someday.

Gone to Chicago to cool off

I may not be rich, beautiful or smart, but I have something better: good Chicago weather Karma. It was terribly hot here, so I went to Chicago to cool off. The temperature was supposed to be in the 90s. However, every time I've been in Chicago the weather has been nice, a condition I am informed is rare, and so it was this time. Chicago did not disappoint: the weather cleared up immediately and the temperature dropped to the clement low 80s. Maybe I should move there? It might improve life for the inhabitants.

The winery, a new painting

work in progress; Bathers

I received the following letter from our leader:

Patricia -- I'm about to sit down for lunch with a few grassroots supporters who are being flown in from Arizona, Maryland, Michigan, and Ohio. It'll just be me and these four supporters, with enough time to relax and have a real conversation. I can't wait. I'm not going to get to do too many more of these before November. That's just a fact. So if you'd like to be there for one of the last ones, please chip in $3 or whatever you can -- and you'll be automatically entered for that chance: https://donate.barackobama.com/Meet-Me-for-Dinner Next time, I could be on my way to meet you. Thanks, Barack

I would be all starry-eyed about this, except my name is not Patricia. So I won't be sending three dollars.

Delaware Symphony cancels 2012-2013 season

This is a real blow to me. I can't believe they would do this after selling tickets for the season. Why didn't they warn stakeholders before the well went dry? I am investigating going to Philly for my music fix. It's not that far for me; the real deal-breaker is parking, which is expensive and hard to come by. But if I go somewhere else, it won't be so easy to come back if the Delaware ever gets its act together.

Quibbles

I saw a sign recently at a business establishment: "Special discounts for everyone." How can there be special discounts for everyone? Special discounts are for special customers, aren't they? How can they be special if everyone gets them? Regular or irregular customers should get the regular price. Shouldn't they?

Loser

I bought a copy of Malcolm Gladwell's Outliers at the good Will store for $1, and it was worth every penny. The author proves that boys who were born in January and February are more likely to excel in hockey. They have an advantage over their classmates because they are older than boys born during the rest of the year, therefore more mature, stronger, etc, etc. I applied this knowledge to my own situation and gained a lot of insight. After leaving my commie progressive school at the age of 11, I was placed in the eighth grade, making me one and a half to two years younger than anyone else in the eighth grade. They were already 13 or more! I didn't stand a chance! I attribute every subsequent failure of my academic career to this fact. Mother and dad made me a loser!

Bummer

My spam filter appears to have taken the day off. I hate when that happens.