The stuff that's in the car @ the wreckers

You could probably reconstruct my life by analyzing the stuff that's left in my car, a car that's at the body shop waiting for the insurance company to approve its repair for $9,000.

  There's my handicap plates, and the handicap placard, and the cane I use from time to time to make everybody feel sorry for me, or to not fall down, whichever comes first.  I'm not allowed to fall downuntil I retreive these items. Of course I have a brush, comb and mirror, doesn't everyone?  in the console.  Also multiple lipsticks and a small bottle of hand cream, in case I have to wash my hands.  My electronic thingy that gets me into the Jewish Community Center and the bag containing my swimming stuff, including a clean towel, a bathing cap, and spare underwear.

  Another electronic gizmo that allows me to sign up at the gym and the gym bag, also with clean underwear and a towel.  And earphones, with wires to plug them in.  Then there's the cell phone charger that's always plugged into the car.  The EZ-Pass in case I want to drive somewhere.

  A couple of umbrellas and a sunshade for the car, also a snow shovel and a brush to clean off the windshield in case it snows.  I don't need that immediately, but will soon, because my scheme to open a GoFundMe account to buy a condo  in Florida hasn't had many takers.  I guess thee money is more urgently needed to pay the legal fees of crooked FBI officials.  Their GoFundMe accounts are flourishing.   Maps.  Coupons from Bed Bath and Beyond and many other retail establishments.

The Runaway countertop

The kitchen countertop is self-destructing.  It is made of some composite material and its day--maybe its era--is done.  So I have been saving money for a new countertop.  It seems to cost $3,000-4,000.  I actually had over $2,000  saved up for it but I happened to get into a car accident that was my fault and I have an insurance policy with a $1,000 deductible, which makes sense when you don't have any accidents that are your fault, but if you do, it doesn't.  I hope I have explained this properly.


  Originally I planned to get the countertop at Home Depot.  I approached a man who was ostentatiously busy on the phone and tried to geet his attention.  I said I wanted a countertop.  He told me he was  frightfully busy and told me to make an appointment.  Apparently he had never heard of the philiosophy that the customer is always right.  I didn't feel that I wanted to make an appointment to give someone who was too busy to see me my money.  I decided to go elsewhere.

  This house could easily use $12,000 worth of work.  A paint job.  New kitchen floor.  New bathroom floor.  But I thought a new countertop was doable.  A good start.  Maybe not.

 I can see the countertop receding into the future--a very distant future. 

The homeless are back, and better than ever

It's a Republican thing.  Whenever a republican occupies the White House, the homeless spring up like flowers in May.

   So naturally now that Trump is President, they are all over the place.  Particularly in California.

 
They  had existed, no proliferated, during George W Bush's presidency, no doubt as a direct result of his Hitlerian tendencies and his cruelty and unfeelingness. What a relief it was, that during Obama's tenure, we heard nothing about them.  We had eight long years of not having to worry about the homeless.  Where they went is anybody's guess. No doubt at least some of them managed to buy those expensive comdominiums advertised in the Sunday New York Times. 

They are back, big time! pooping it up in San Francisco, building tent cities, living under bridges, and panhandling from tourists.  Now that Trump has taken over the Hitler position, for the time being, until the Democrats manage to dislodge him, by fair means or foul.

Was anybody else revolted by the McCain funeral games? I assume that he has at last been placed in his final resting place., after dragging his body all over the Mid-Atlantic States and orating over it.  The fervor of the obsequies led me to believe that perhaps he would rise from the dead.

a long thirty minutes

I generally do 30 minutes of walking on the treadmill, while watching something on  television.  Today, I started my stint just as Joe Biden began his eulogy of the sainted John McCain.  To hear him tell it, they were like brothers or even more so.  Soulmates would be more like it.  Used each other's toothbrushes, practically.

  He managed to drag himself into the discussion, speaking---at length--of the tragedies he had suffered in his life.

  I always thought that McCain was a testy sort of fellow, stubborn and opinionated and not too easy to get along with.  Biden disabused me of that notion.  McCain was apparently a saint who had walked among us unawares, on water when necessary.  Biden took plenty of time to reiterate his virtues.  And to inform us that someday the sun would shine again, after we had suffered sufficient grief over the loss of the holy man.

  My thirty minutes were up but Biden was still going strong. . I tore myself away.

Honors student

When I learned that Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez was near the top of her graduating class, I was not surprised.  She is a fine example of what we are buying with our education dollars: an empty-headed post adolescent who has never thought straight in her life, but echoes the garbage fed to her by her lefty professors.

  Our institutions of higher education are a disgrace.  Everyone gets good grades no matter what they have actually learned.  Most students learn nothing and are as empty headed when they graduate as they were when they entered. Judging from newspaper accounts, all college students do nowadays is demonstrate against those who think differently from them,destroy ststues, nourish their hurt feelings, drink, have sex, seek revenge against their sexual partners, and complain to the bevy of administrators who are paid to validate their idiocy.

  Unless they have figured out a way to get more than 24 hours in a day, when do they have time to attend classes, much less study?

I find myself totally baffled by the ongoing investigation of Russian meddling in the 2016 election.  None of it seems to make sense.  The British statesman Lord Palmerston is reported to have said: “Only three people have ever really understood the Schleswig-Holstein business—the Prince Consort, who is dead—a German professor, who has gone mad—and I, who have forgotten all about it.^{"  The stuff that is coming out is so beside the point--prostitutes, ostrich coats.  So what ?  The government is making an ass of itself I assumed people who worked for the government were operating in good faith.  I was so wrong..} The whole country has turned into Chicago, writ large.




 ^{Now I hate everybody: the FBI, Homeland Security, Congress (both parties), the IRS.  The list is endless.   All crooks and traitors.} 

 

I plan to come up with an incisive solution to the Russia meddling thing...

as soon as I complete my analysis of fhe Watergate affair.

Continuing my last post

I forgot to mention my new bete noir, E-Z Pass.

  I like gadgets, or used to, so I was an early adopter of E=Z Pass.  We were living in New Jersey at the time, and you know what hell the New Jersey roads are. ( If you don't know, you haven't missed a thing.  But I digress.)  At any rate, The late Mr Charm detested traffic.  He took it as a personal affront that anyone else wanted to use the roads at the same time he did.  He particularly hated being stuck in a line waiting to pay a toll, along with his objection to paying for tolls at all, since he already paid taxes.

  Anyway, my E Z Pass payments were supposed to come out of a credit card.  Unfortunately, the card had an expiration date, and duly expired.  So I was in arrears  on the bloody thing, and Delaware sent me a nasty note.  They wanted $4 for the toll, plus $25 administrative fee, plus $10 for some worthy cause and another $15 for another worthy cause.  The total amounted to $54, for a $4 toll.  A whole new definition of highway robbery.

  EZ Pass was supposed to make my life easier, not more complicated.  So I called New York, snd told them my tale of woe.  They promised to send me another E Z  Pass transponder, but wanted to know the license number of my car.  I can never remember what the license plate is, so they asked if I still was driving the 2011 Nissan Sentra, which they apparently considered the license  number of record,  I agreed, although I am actually driving a 2017 Nissan Sentra.  They don't need to know that, though, so I'll keep it a secret.

Have you ever noticed that many improvements become burdens?

E-mail, for instance.  I welcomed e-mail for a variety of reasons.  I could get in touch with my friends.  I could order things online.  I could complain quickly and painlessly with providers such as Comcast.

  Now I dread it.  I get around 200 e-mails a day.  The only reason I look at them is to avoid a pile-up of epic proportions.  So I have to keep up with them in order to avoid being inundated by unwanted and unsolicited messages and missing the few--very few--from people I actually want to hear from.  When I miss a week I have so many messages that I just delete them all.

  The people I have financial accounts with want to send me e-mail bills.  Its cheaper and more convenient for them.  But not for me.  I prefer to get my bills from the post office.  In that way I can look at the charges and see if they really are something I charged or some kind of hack.  Ditto for bank statements.  More than once I have been charged two or even three times for something I only ordered once.  I was charged four times for "audible," which I never used and particularly loathe as I don't like books read to me.  The only thing I want to hear broadcast is music. 

 Another irksome feature of modern life is voicemail,  I long ago gave up answering my landline because of all the unwanted solicitations.  Now I am getting them on my cell phone.  So I never answer the cell phone unless the number is known to me.  But it's still annoying to hear it ring at inappropriate times.

  I'm not a hater of modernity, nor do I long for a simple life.Modern life is great.  I love air conditioning, ice makers, and Japanese cars, among other things too numerous to mention.
Including blogging.  And I appreciate those few, those happy few, who read my blogs.

Praying for unbelievers

Some of my Facebook friends who are in distress ask for prayers from their friends.  I'm willing to comply, but frankly I'm not sure if my prayers are answered or even heard.  I'm rather dubious about the whole thing.

Not to say that I am not a believer,  or even a non-believer.  I am in the position of whoever said:  "Lord I believe--help thou my unbelief."  I have friends who are deeply religious and who derive comfort from their beliefs.  I cannot say the same of myself.  I can only say that I hope to believe, but have serious doubts.

Why would I want to believe?  I would like to believe that those  I lost will be restored to me, that I will some day see my mother, my father, my dearest cousins whose departure has left such a hole in my life.  I would like to believe that there is a realm where those who suffered will be free of pain, that sinners will suffer., that the good and virtuous will get their reward. 

I cannot understand  ardent atheists, especially those who proselytize, and take joy in converting others to their ardent hopes that this life is all there is.  Those who nourish such hatred of God that they must proclaim their disbelief from the rooftops.

I remember the late Christopher Hitchens, when he was dying of lung cancer, telling those who said they were praying for him that that was fine if it made them feel better.  Well, I was one of those who prayed for him, which in my case meant that I was sad for him, thought of him often and ardently wished he would be spared.  Or if not spared, that his suffering would be lessened.

  I never believed that my prayers or ardent wishes would be efficacious. They were not.  He subsequently suffered greatly and then died.  Would I like to believe that his witty spirit somehow survived him and still exists in some other realm?  Of course.

FBI agent escorted from FBI building.

I'm just going to call him Peter S.  His name is too hard for me--he is seriously deficient in vowels; also in morals.   Apparently he spent his time at work texting his inamorata, the lazy bum, and conspiring against the president.  I hope he does serious jail time.  Not that he will.  None of them do.

I'm  seriously pissed at Laura Bush.  She sounded off about these immigrant children being separated from their parents.  It was okay to separate these children in her husband's administration, as well as under Obama.  It only became heartless and wrong when Trump did it.  I liked the Bush family, because they kept their mouths shut unlike that whited sepulcher Jimmy Carter.  They have spoiled their record now.

Last on my shit list is Netflix, who hired the Obamas. I canceled my subscription.  That'l learn them!

Losing friends permanently

Some of the people I've been following on Facebook are taking drastic steps to sever relationships with friends and even family because these individuals voted for or even defended Trump (also known as the President of the United States). They are even unfriending people who by not enthusastically agreeing or  offering no opinion on the topic  appear to offer tacit support.  Off with their heads!

Friends come and go, and Trump has come and will eventually go. Someone more to your liking will be President eventually.  What will not come back, if they have any sense, are the former friends.  People who used to invite you to Thanksgiving dinner or come and see you when you were in the hospital or just wish you a happy birthday are gone forever.  Your former colleagues, second cousins, neighbors who used to babysit for your kids.  Those who you rejected can now reject you.

How painful it is to read the screeds of the Trump haters1  They act as if the secret police have invaded their homes in the middle of the night.  Their whole way of life has been destroyed.  The ideals of the founders (all racists anyway and all dead white males) have been betrayed!  The whole country is pervaded by racism!  Everyone who did not vote for Hillary is anti-woman!

Unpleasant evening at the Kimmel Center

I had tickets for Tosca, supposedly the hottest ticket in Philadelphia, for me and my daughter. It was a special occasion, a birthday celebration for her.   As we approached the Kimmel Center, we saw a group of activists blocking Broad Street.  The police were monitoring the situation--I think.  Not very well, it turned out.  These activists were all over the place, like ants at a picnic.  At least two of them approached me and more would have. They were in the street, in the lobby, everywhere.

What was it all about?  These mostly middle aged white women were protesting the orchestra's plan to perform in Israel.

The Kimmel Center was showing signs of age, or perhaps of deferred maintenance.  There were buckets here and there set to catch leaks from the roof, fallen plaster was all over the place and one of the water fountains was out of order.

There was a full house. We took our seats, the concert master came out, then the conductor,   Yannick Nézet-Séguin, . He bowed and tapped his baton on the lectern, and...a female voice erupted over the speaker system, shouting about justice for Palestine.  The conductor left the stage, and some of  the musicians also started to leave.  The woman continued shouting.  We could not see what was going on, but the disturbance lasted maybe ten minutes. Ten minutes is a long time when you are waiting for a musical performance.  Then order was restored, Yannick and the musicians returned and the concert commenced.  It was handled clumsily.

It was a sort of semi-staged version of Tosca.  I did not enjoy myself very much.  Trying to follow the action of the opera distracted me from enjoying the music, and the music distracted me from following the plot. I blame the Palestinians. They and their supporters have a lot to answer for.

It was a very long opera, made longer by an interval toward  the end when the action was interrupted while a couple of stage hands moved some furniture, without musical accompaniment.  The audience stirred, ready to leave, but a supertitle warned us the opera was not over.  That was awkward, not to say weird.

All in all, not what I expected when I plunked down $158 for two seats in the third tier.

I am sorry to hear that Melania Trump now has a "cause."

I liked her just as she was, heart-stoppingly beautiful.  Silent was good too.  A nice change from the noisy, opinionated Michele, who I don't miss..

To my readers, and maybe to myself

I know very few people read this stuff, but that's okay.  I write these blog posts as a discipline, and to reveal my real feelings.  For all practical purposes it's almost anonymous, which means freedom for me.

  I have a Facebook page, but I use it to display my artwork and post photographs.  Sometimes I mention Memorial Day or something, or talk about my relatives.  The only reason I don't post cat pictures is that I don't have a cat.  Mention my political views?  Not on your life.

  Back in the day, my stepmother was notorious enough to be on a file of Communist sympathizers. And that was before the Internet.

 I am nostalgic for the old days when bloggers with interesting or amusing ideas used to post a lot.  those days are gone.  Now they post amusing things on Twitter, and I am not on Twitter.  That is intentional.

Is there anything so small and insignificant that environmentalists won't make a cause.of it?

First they came for the  showerheads; then they came for the light bulbs.  Plastic bags.  Nothing is so insignificant that they can't make a cudgel out of it,  controlling people's lives, but not enough to make anyone really mad. enough to do anything.   It's like a series of little tick bites; they don't kill you but they annoy you 24/7.

I could go on.  Did I mention top loading washing machines?  Detergents that don't deter anything? CAFE standards for cars to save fuel so that there is more for Al Gore and Leo diCaprio to circumnavigate the globe, hectoring everyone from the comfort of their air-conditioned palatial mansions? This is a partial list, I'm sure.  So what's next?

  The latest is straws.  Drinking straws. In London, they are making them illegal.  They are trying to do the same in California.  Never mind that the State has super-high taxes, unfunded pensions, and people living in the streets because they can't afford housing. Straws are destroying the
Environment--it's an emergency!

  What's next?  Toothpicks, which are destroying the redwood trees?  Never mind, I'm sure they can come up with more.  It's what they do.

Leaning on something

You all know I broke my foot.  This led the doctors to give me various assistive devices, including a cane and a walker--not simultaneously, the walker came first.

  I can now report that walking with a cane makes you look ten years older.  Instantly, even if you have just undergone a facelift.  A walker adds another  ten years, plus the suspicion that you are either deaf or senile.  So people enunciate carefully, making sure you are looking them straight in the face.  Ugh!

What makes activists tick

I can remember protests in the late sixties--we were protesting the Vietnam War then.  Lo and behold, the war ended, not necessarily because  of the protests.  But the protestors thought it was caused by them.  By God, it felt good.

  The cessation of the war made people hungry for more..  It was like a drug,  It gave them a sense of control.   People missed the excitement, the crowds, the festive air, the fresh air.  So everybody started protesting something, or everything, or nothing.

  The environment was the next Good Thing.  And, boy, did everybody crumble.  Nobody stood up for pollution.  It was a heady success.  We were reminded of that success every time we went to the store and nobody gave us a plastic bag.

  Lately, there has been some pushback, but the protesters chose their targets carefully.  If anyone protested the efforts for gun control, you could shut them up by telling them they had the blood of children on their hands.  It turned out, no-one wanted to kill a child.  Of course not!  But some people still wanted to keep their guns, the murderers!   Not that they had killed any children with them, or even any adults; they just refused to give up guns no matter how passionately the protesters argued. 

 

It's poetry month

I've always liked this one.  I like gloomy poems.

Th' expense of spirit in a waste of shame

Is lust in action; and till action, lust

Is perjured, murd'rous, bloody, full of blame,

Savage, extreme, rude, cruel, not to trust,

Enjoyed no sooner but despisèd straight,

Past reason hunted; and, no sooner had

Past reason hated as a swallowed bait

On purpose laid to make the taker mad;

Mad in pursuit and in possession so,

Had, having, and in quest to have, extreme;

A bliss in proof and proved, a very woe;

Before, a joy proposed; behind, a dream.

    All this the world well knows; yet none knows well

    To shun the heaven that leads men to this hell.

My gofundme project

The news of Andrew McCabe's Gofundme project upset me until I came to my senses.  The man is, like me, a retired civil servant who has only his pension to rely on.  How can he afford legal fees?  True, his wife has money, and they live in a multi-million dollar home, but the man says he needs money for legal fees and who am I, whose relative had to pay a lawyer $50,000 to get out of a contract, to doubt him.  Andy--if I may take the liberty of calling him that--is a good example of a retired civil servant making lemonade out of lemons.  He has inspired me to start my own gofundme scheme.

  Naturally, I want the money for a worthwhile cause.  I don't want diamonds or European travel or anything like that.  But, looking through the New York Times magazine, I came upon a project which would certainly improve my mental health--a luxury condo in Florida.  You see, it really snows very hard up here in Delaware, and my doctor has forbidden  me to shovel snow.  So far, my neighbors have helped me with this, but it is really not fair to them to have this extra burden.

  So it would improve the morale of the whole neighborhood if I were to spend the winter in Florida, leaving the snow to pile up in my driveway until the crocuses and daffodils come out.

  I know asking people for a luxury condo is a bit much.  The optics, you know.  So I wont ask for a luxury condo in Fort Lauderdale, which is what was advertised in the Times.  I'd be satisfied with a modest--but not too modest--little pied a terre on the West Coast, even as far north as the panhandle.  I think I will ask for $400,000 , $350,000 for the condo itself and $50,000 to furnish it. That seems eminently reasonable.  I will even pay the monthly fees and airfare to get from here to there.  I could raise a little money from airbnb to supplement my very modest  income.