THE LONER...

One of my favorite songs recorded by Frank Sinatra is 'Some Traveling Music' by Rod McKuen. Culled from the musical collaboration that resulted in the exquisite 'A Man Alone,' this song captured what I have never quite been able to explain to anyone...

How can you say something new about being alone, 
Tell somebody you're a loner? Right away they think you're lonely. 
It's not the same thing, you know. 
It's not wanting to put all your marbles in one pocket. 
And it's caring enough not to care too much. 
Mostly, I guess it's letting yourself come first for a while. 

Then there is a musical interlude that allows you to contemplate how very profound those words are, and how applicable they may be to those of us who love nature and animals more than 'humanity,' who prefer solitude to crowds, who love to read, paint, write, or just take a walk through the woods, content to communicate with birds, squirrels and the sheer, quiet perfection of nature.

Having grown up in a neighborhood teeming with people, not to mention a home teeming with insanity, I became a regular visitor to the NY Botanical Garden, a mere couple of blocks from my home. Packing my books, a pen and a pocketful of peanuts for my little friends, I'd disappear for hours, absorbing the smells, sounds and feel of what I've always considered 'heaven' to be.

I hated having to return to what I had so happily left behind, hated being mocked, called "weird" and always maddeningly misunderstood for what was simply the core of my being.

"How can you say something new about being alone, tell somebody you're a loner? Right away they think you're lonely. It's not the same thing, you know..." 

Indeed, it is not.  

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4vdowo-URok

FORGET ANGRY BIRDS, TRY LIVID REPUBLICANS!

WHOA!! I just had my very first post-election encounter with an openly racist, staunchly Republican neighbor in the laundry room and
<----- is what she looked like. A steaming ripe red tomato about to burst open and splatter everything with her rage. The LAST person she wanted to see in that laundry room was yours truly. She gave me a frosty hello and then cold silence.

I finally played Devil's Advocate and said "Joan, are you okay? It's not like you to be so quiet..." and diverted her anger to herself (as usual) and then she talked-talked-talked-talked-talked about anything and everything BUT the election.

No surprise here. In 2008, the co-op in which I live invited everyone to view what was such a historical inauguration on a large flat-screen TV in a general assembly room. Joan made it a point to sit in the lobby until the entire inauguration was over so EVERYONE who passed through would know her angry disapproval. I just happened to run down to retrieve my mail wearing my YES WE CAN/Obama '08 t-shirt and it's been the North Pole ever since...well, till today anyway.

I am fascinated by the anger displayed by those who said "Fine, he'll be a one-term President and then we can get back to normal." I guess this new normal just isn't to their liking, huh? Now we have "citizens" in at least 15 different states wanting to secede ... how exactly is that done? Do they build their own highways, provide their own power, sewage, etc. etc. etc. or all move to one state (Texas would be nice.....) and declare themselves the United State of Miserable Old White People Who Hate Everyone That Doesn't Look Exactly Like Them?

Curious to see how Civil War II evolves. Wonder if Ken Burns will cover it for that nasty, Communist-loving broadcast station PBS, home of Big Bird? Oh, the irony of it all!

In the meantime (in between-time) ain't we got fun? We have our wonderful President Obama for another 4 years, the bad guys lost, and all these insane reactions from stupid white people are so entertaining.

Looks like Paul Ryan's incredibly nasty comment ~  "hope he's taking his blood pressure medication" ~ referring to a 71-year-old man physically taken down at one of his speeches for simply stating his views might now be applicable to not only Small Paul, but every single angry Republican in America.

Ah yes, revenge is not only a 'dish best served cold' but, thanks to Jackie Gleason, HOW SWEET IT IS too!

NEW YORK'S 'HOMETOWN NEWSPAPER'...??

"Mitt's the Man"?????

They just lost ME as a customer. 'Nuff said.

MEMORIES OF MY FATHER...

Pound Ridge, NY picnic ~ 1951      Visiting New Hampshire, 1971

Tomorrow will be 24 years since my father passed away, and he would have been 97 come this November 9th. He's been on my mind a lot lately, I miss him, and share these two very special memories with you...

My father had a quirky sense of humor, bordering on eccentric at times, and not understood by too many people (especially my mother and most of her family, but that's another story.)

We lived one block away from the Bronx Zoo and because I loved animals so much, he'd take me there every Sunday morning without fail. I must have been peppering him with questions about all the squirrels and chipmunks I saw, because I have this very distinct memory of him stopping and, looking down at me, simply stating, "Kid, God named all squirrels 'Jerry.'" And that took care of that!

Another memory is about Christmas. One day, I zoomed home from P.S. 32 in Belmont, all upset because I just learned that Santa Claus made his entry through a fireplace, which our Prospect Avenue apartment most certainly did not have, and immediately asked him, "Dad, we don't have a fireplace, how will Santa get in??!!"

He very calmly took a chair, turned it backwards, sat down and told me to sit on the sofa, opposite him. He then informed me of the following...

"Kid, you know that Santa Claus is magic, right?"

I eagerly nodded YES!

"Well, when there isn't a fireplace available, Santa makes himself very, very tiny, squeezes into the television antenna wire [still a new thing in those days] and pops right out of the screen!"

"But what about the bag of toys, can it fit too??"

"Of course it can! I told you, he's magic! Kid, would I ever steer you wrong?"

Once again, my problem was solved in a most unusual way. So complete was my trust in him, I never questioned anything he told me.....but please don't ask how many times he laughed hysterically when I got older and called him out on the above!!

"Sweet memories are the paradise of the mind" ~ Anonymous

Rest in peace, Dad, and see you soon.

Love,
Your Kid

BALL OF CONFUSION?? NOW CRACKED.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=k6URhg6Kb20

If The Temptations thought the world was a ball of confusion in 1970, what the hell can it be called today?

I just ventured outside on a beautiful autumn morning. After a 10-minute "quick run" for some things I needed, I returned home a nervous goddamned wreck. In the space of five minutes, I literally jumped out of my skin at least that many times.

First stop, the local candy store owned by a person from Yemen (as most 'candy stores' are these days) who is CONSTANTLY on his cell phone, jabbering away in his native tongue...how the hell do I know this guy isn't a potential terrorist? He's rude, disrespectful, has that hot line to Yemen forever glued to his ear, barely ever smiles and appears to hate his customers.

I stayed for a minute to talk with a lovely couple who had just bought coffee and, because it's a chilly day, were drinking it inside. Suddenly, candy store guy starts SCREAMING into his phone. I jumped, obviously startled, but my friends told me "Oh, he does that when he wants people to leave the store." Excuse me??

So we ignored him and continued discussing tonight's political debate in a quiet and civilized manner when he starts SCREAMING again. Meanwhile, I had asked him for a BAG for my purchase and was still waiting when he had his little psychotic break. I just glared at him and said "I'M WAITING FOR THE BAG, SIR."

As this lovely scenario was playing itself out, a worker entered the store and was inches behind me when his walkie-talkie suddenly erupted, FULL BLAST. Again, JUMP! Then candy store psycho begins his third SCREAM when I told the couple "Look, I really have to get out of here, I feel like I'm in an insane asylum" and left.

QUICK stop into supermarket for milk and cat food, and zoomed home, so desperate was I to close and lock the door behind me, cursing technology all the way.

I recently read a British medical study that concluded there would be an "epidemic of brain cancer within one decade" because of the incessant use of cell phones. I am not the kind of person who would wish that on anyone, but.....

The world is no longer a ball of confusion. It is now officially a cracked egg, and one that I really want no part of. As for CELL PHONES.....

A VALENTINE FOR MARK ZUCKERBERG...

... and his most wonderful creation, the international playpen known as Facebook.

Where else can you derive such instant gratification by simply tapping a key and "Whoops, there goes another..." stupid-annoying-unwanted-insulting-and/or otherwise unwelcome person from your life? BLOCK. You're gone!

For those who are unfamiliar with Facebook's many different features, there is a delightful way to no longer communicate with anyone described above. It's called BLOCK, and when it's activated, POOF! Not only can you not read any more of their inane, obnoxious comments, but they cannot 'see' you either, even on a mutual friend's 'wall' or common place, where friends (or friends-of-friends, or everyone, depending on your choice of settings) exchange opinions, comments, etc.

Aside from BLOCK, you get to meet intelligent, witty, well-educated and like-minded individuals who share the same passions and interests, be it music, politics, a wacky sense of humor or one's view on life. People you may have never had the chance to meet prior to the technological marvel of Facebook.

On the dark side, you also get to discover who in your personal circle of family/friends has really been a lifelong secret KKK admirer, a raging homophobe, just plain stupid, and perhaps worst of all, in possession of a Republican mindset. Wow, all these years and I never knew how ignorant you really are! BLOCK. Yup, it applies to old friends and family too.

What a marvelous thing it would be, Mark Zuckerberg, if you could develop something like that for real-time real life. "Oh crap, I have to go out today..." No problem! BLOCK. Now no one can see me, nor I them!

In the meantime, please accept my little valentine along with my enormous gratitude for providing us with the option of finally being able to get rid of the malcontents of the world in such a neat and tidy fashion.

And can you please get to work on that real-life app ASAP so I can venture outside again without being annoyed by, well, everyone??

Thanks. I have to go now. BLOCK!

ROMNEY/RYAN? SAY HELLO TO OUR NEW FLAG...

To say that this is the single most depressing campaign EVER (in my life anyway) would be the understatement of the year. If, God and every spirit in the sky forbid, the unthinkable-unspeakable nightmare of a Romney/Ryan administration comes to pass, say hello to your new flag, stupid, racist Americans everywhere, because those "stripes" will be PRISON BARS and your beloved "stars" nothing but DOLLAR SIGNS. And that drop of blood? People died for what we so casually assume are our "rights" these days...weekends, holidays, paid sick leave, and that perfectly lovely early-American tradition, child labor. Um, anyone notice the Republican-backed union-busting currently going on, designed to strip us of those rights?

"Oh, there you go, playing the race card again..."  Oh, really? When it feels like racism, stinks like racism, and sounds like racism, guess what?? It IS racism. So have the courage of your demented pre-Civil War convictions and just ADMIT it instead of hiding behind those ridiculous claims of "he's a socialist/non-American/secret Muslim/hangs-out-with-terrorists" ad infinitum ad NAUSEUM.

I am no political scientist (my weak stomach couldn't take it) nor am I qualified in any other way but as an average American citizen to weigh in on this election. But if anyone out there REALLY believes that the two plastic, utterly horrible, painfully fake people currently running against our incumbent President would make a "better America," I have news for you, along with some prime waterfront property in the Everglades to sell...

President Obama is NOT perfect (who is, unless your name is Jesus Christ?) but the alternative is chilling. And given the astronomical MESS he inherited from America's Village Idiot and his VP, Satan Incarnate, it would take Jesus Christ Himself to repair the damage done by those two Masters of War in the four short years since President O. took office. So yes, BY ALL MEANS, get your White House all-white again, and return to the days of war profiteering via death, unchecked greed, and the quick erosion of every "right" you think you have.

Has everyone forgotten that the Big Bank/Wall Street Bailout emanated from Bush's administration, NOT Obama's?? If our economic recovery has been slow, well, how does EIGHT YEARS sound to you vs. FOUR? Think you could have done better, with the 'Grand Obstructionist Party' opposing your every move every damned step of the way??

Before you walk in lockstep with America's version of Nazi Germany politicians, I would think long and hard about choosing which side you're really on. Because Romney & Ryan are NOT on your side, not unless you're a billionaire, and as fake and plastic as they are. And really REALLY believe that, one day, you too can be as wealthy as they are.

SMACK!! WAKE UP!!!!!

"GOOD FENCES MAKES GOOD NEIGHBORS"

Or so thought Robert Frost. But I think cinder block and barbed wire make much better ones.

I have recently been verbally assaulted by three different neighbors in my building, something that's been going on since I moved into this place almost 19 years ago. Now I know some may think it's nice to be neighborly and distinctly not nice to be annoyed by people every frigging time I make an appearance ~ be it the laundry room, the mailbox or just trying to walk down the block without being given the third degree ~ but who cares? Not I!

Nosy Neighbors: "Where have you been?? We never see you!" 

Well, maybe that's because I try to do everything when you're all either sleeping or at work!

Then there are those captive audience, elevator attempts at conversation...

Weirdo Neighbor: "This elevator is so slow! I see it go alllll the way up to 12 and then alllll the way down to garage before it gets to me on the 8th floor!" 

Yeah, well...shit happens. (I was just thinking that but it somehow popped out of my mouth, leaving Weirdo Neighbor visibly stunned by my response.) I simply don't CARE, why should I even pretend interest?

Obnoxious Neighbor: "Why are you always dressed in t-shirts with paint on them? Why don't you wear an apron to stay clean?" Uh, excuse me?? I stepped out to get my MAIL, I'm not attending Fashion Week. And I'm an ARTIST, perhaps I'm working on something at the moment??? Same neighbor: "You must wash your hair a lot, it's always wet!" 

Okay, now I'm getting REALLY pissed and snap back: "I SWEAT PROFUSELY WHEN PEOPLE IRRITATE ME."

The best one of all happened in my early years here...

Ear-splitting BOOMING Voice Neighbor: "IT'S A BEAUTIFUL DAY, YOU SHOULD BE OUTSIDE ENJOYING THE WEATHER!" 

This as I'm doubled over with colitis and dragging my ass just to get some laundry done before I collapse into a writhing ball of pain. That's when I totally lost it. In the presence of his wife and children, I coldly responded: "You know what I love most about this co-op, Jerry?"

"NO, WHAT?" came the eardrum-busting response. 

"HOW EVERYBODY MINDS THEIR OWN GODDAMNED BUSINESS!"

He made a slight choking sound...I'm not sure if he fainted as the elevator finally arrived and I managed to save my hearing. And my sanity. But I never looked back.

But animals?? Animals are always welcome. Not because they cannot speak, but because they are infinitely more intelligent than the majority of people I know. And ever so much nicer.

NOW WE HAVE THE MUNSTERS RUNNING FOR POTUS??

After eight horrible years of America's Village Idiot and his VP, Satan Incarnate, destroying this country, we now have our very own version of The Munsters running for the highest office in the land??

I really don't think these clown-monsters have a chance of winning, unless snowballs remain intact in hell...which is where the majority of us will be if ~ every-spirit-in-the-sky forbid ~ they do manage to steal the election  (sound familiar?)

And if they do win?  Please...kill me now.

However, given this country's increasingly stoopid general population and their blind devotion to lying talk show hosts who tell them everything they want to hear (as The Liars laugh all the way to their obscenely bulging bank accounts,) their devotion to Fox "News" (recently banned in Canada for misrepresenting itself as a news station instead of what it really is, an FCC-classified entertainment channel which gives them free rein to lie-spin-and-lie again,) their fascination with vapid TV shows (take your pick) and that endearing and uniquely American trait known as racism (covert AND overt) it remains a distinct and terrifying possibility.

Romney's refusal to release anything more than TWO tax returns ("We've given you people enough..." ~ Mrs. Romney-Stepford-Wife) his offshore bank accounts, the Romney Shuffle on just about any issue past and present, his cold and callous treatment of the "family" dog, ad infinitum ad nauseum...and this head case thinks he's qualified to run for President of the United States? Try DOGPATCH USA, Mittens, because that's where you belong. And we all know about animal abusers morphing into mass murderers, don't we?

As for his choice of running mate, has Mittsy forgotten the disaster of Sarah Palin in his quest to be loved by the extreme right wing-nuts of America? And we all know how well that worked out. The United States has a choice...either fall down that goddamned rabbit hole AGAIN, or wake the hell up and realize that you're being taken. Unless you're a wannabe Donald Trump (that other cafone* genius) and naively believe that we're all playing on a level field.

Take a look at this brief YouTube video of Paul Ryan and how much he "cares" about you and me...

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GBhdXfCdaA8

I would love to be put into an induced coma until mid-November and then, if the unthinkable becomes fact, don't bother reviving me, just ship me off to Canada or England or even Gate of Heaven Cemetery because, quite frankly, I would rather be dead than forced to live in a Romney-Ryan America.


* obnoxious loud-mouth

"...HOW 'ABOUT I BUY YOU CAN ICE CREAM CONE INSTEAD?"

After a brief respite from the last job I had, I inherited a HUGE problem concerning the company water bill and the very old building in which the business was headquartered. The voluminous file had been playing "Pass the Buck" for months until my return, so, being the mensch that I was, I assured my boss (let's call him SKEEVE CHUMPUS) that I would take care of the entire mess. He looked amazingly like Ebeneezer Scrooge as he gleefully rubbed his hands together gleefully, snorting "Oh, I know you will!"

Then I said "Okay, whatever MY writing brings back, we'll split it.." and he said YES.

Letter #1 brought a response and a paltry amount. Indignant, I re-wrote letter #2 and managed to get Mister Republican Cheapskate a $1,400 credit. He called from Manhattan, on his way back to the office, and when I informed him of the results, I could hear him salivating at the prospect of GASP! *more money!!!!!* When he returned, he made a beeline for my office, read the letter, smiled and then I reminded him of our little agreement.

"Uhh, but you don't pay all the other expenses here.....how 'bout I buy you an ice cream cone instead??"

This, from a 'man' who was sitting on $20+ million at the time??!

HOW 'BOUT YOU JUST STAB ME IN THE BACK INSTEAD, YOU MISERABLE EXCUSE FOR A HUMAN BEING??

Well, Skeeverino, you may recall that I promised, one day, to write about this charming memory of just one of your too-many-to-count despicable "boss decisions" and so that day has arrived.

And if, by some chance, this wends its Karmic way to your beady little eyes, it might also interest you to know that your employees had a nickname for you: think the Rolling Stones' GOAT'S HEAD SOUP and you'll get the idea. Except that's an insult to goats because your Dorian Gray portrait is EVER so much uglier than that.

If I were you, I wouldn't go anywhere near your attic...

"MANIC DEPRESSION IS CATCHIN' MY SOUL..."

Jimi Hendrix sure knew what he was talking about when he wrote that song. And may I add "catchin' my soul and wringing it out like a fucking dishrag on a regular basis."

Manic depression, or bi-polar disorder, is one of the most debilitating and devastating mental illnesses one can ever not hope for. I dislike calling it a mental illness since it is simply a chemical imbalance in the brain that is now treatable; but if you happen to be a creative person (which the majority of those who suffer from this disorder are) it's a choice between losing the roller coaster of emotions and becoming a walking zombie (along with disabling the creative part of your brain) or retaining the creativity and going through an endless cycle of hell on earth. I don't know about others, but I would rather suffer the mood swings, as horrific as they are, than give up the only thing in life that validates who I am.

And it's a bitch to diagnose because it's only when the not-so-great depression hits that afflicted people seek help so it's usually first identified as major clinical depression, sometimes for years or even decades, until a qualified professional begins to see the pattern of highs, lows, and everything in between.

When people discover that I am an artist/freelance writer, it's usually greeted with awe..."Wow, you're lucky to be so talented!"  Little do they know the steep price one pays for being so awesome and talented...

The early days, when your own family accuses you of "being moody" and "just doing it for attention" and their frustrating, infuriating cure-all to just "SNAP OUT OF IT!" (If I COULD, why the HELL wouldn't I??) The multitude of broken relationships because of the "motherfucking moods" (as one oh-so-sensitive moron ex-boyfriend described it,) the lost friends, jobs, even apartments because of this mood disorder.

After a while, you just begin to retreat to a little corner of your mind because it's just not worth the emotional upheaval of going through it over and over and OVER again. Lonely? Sure. But what's worse, dealing with the loneliness by yourself or hurting (and being hurt by) yet another human being? Animals become your sole source of comfort, their unconditional love taking precedence over any human relationship. And nature, her beauty, stillness and perfection, the best antidote for a soul in pain.

Many people ask "What does it feel like?" and all I can say is picture yourself on a sunny day at the beach, eyes closed, just basking in the warmth. Suddenly and without warning, you're cold and extremely uncomfortable...and when you open your eyes, a massive cloud has blocked the sun and you have no other choice than to just wait for the cloud to pass. And until it does, grab on to something or someone dependable because it's going to be a long, dark, horrible period of hopelessness and despair.

"SNAP OUT OF IT!!" If it were only that easy...

OLD RABBIT EARS vs. FLAT SCREEN TV?

I'll take Old Rabbit Ears, hands down.

I am the proud (if reluctant) new owner of a "flat-screen" TV, the result of my 1997 boxy, 500-lb. Zenith's recent nervous breakdown, and some truly wonderful friends who came to the rescue with a "state-of-the-art" (dahling!) Toshibi television wonderland. (I'm still wondering why a simple INSTRUCTION MANUAL wasn't enclosed so I can figure out what the hell I'm doing.) 

So I called Toshiba-USA (answered in India...) and this is what I heard. "Oh, we are an eco-friendly company! You can go to our website, download it and print it yourself." Say what?? I must really be behind the times since this is the 'new way' of doing things. Oh, and another great way for corporations to save money by placing the burden on us ~ the customer who used to come first ~ to finish the package. 

Hey Toshiba! How about you sending me a ream of paper and an ink cartridge so I can afford to print out your FORTY-SIX PAGE online instruction manual? 

Getting back to the subject matter, Old Rabbit Ears didn't have the best reception, so some resorted to sticking 'tin foil' (pictured) on one ear, or installing rooftop antennas. Those of us who lived in apartment buildings had to scream out the window up to the roof, as the appointed family member moved the antenna around to clear up the picture. "THAT'S IT, HOLD IT RIGHT THERE!" 

The TV itself had 3 or 4 buttons and a cute little compartment that you could open to adjust the horizontal/vertical picture. And that was IT. Except for the occasional tube replacement, no big deal. (I must admit, I do favor color over black & white, which I still think is a miracle, but after that milestone I couldn't care less.) 

These days, you have to work for NASA just to figure out the TV remote/cable remote (I don't DARE use the DVD-player, or all three remotes would be hurled out the nearest window) and just what is this remote business, anyway, part and parcel of the new Fat America? I mean, REALLY...is it that difficult to just get UP and change the channel??

But, as Bob Dylan once observed, "the times they are a-changin'" and I certainly don't want to be one of those people who refuse to get out of the way. So I'll try to enjoy this bizarre new science-fiction world of FLAT SCREEN television and not long for the past...but I gotta tell you, it was a WHOLE lot more fun in those black-and-white days than it is today, crummy reception and all.

"On the roof it's peaceful as can be....." (Gerry Goffin, Carole King) 

Yup, just me and a plain old television antenna.

"HOLD IT RIGHT THERE!" I only wish I could have...

DON'T CALL THOSE PEOPLE ON FACEBOOK YOUR FRIENDS...THAT'S SICK!

 

Or so sayeth a certain blockhead who used to be part of my life and who simply cannot comprehend the word friend unless it's attached to money and power. This person could give Narcissus himself a few lessons on unchecked self-absorption.

Oh, there was a horrible earthquake in Turkey? "Who cares, I hate those people anyway." The Japanese earthquake? "I VISITED THE PEARL HARBOR MEMORIAL AND WILL NEVER FORGIVE THEM FOR WHAT THEY DID, THOSE _____s!!!" The fact that we dropped not one, but two A-bombs on that country is dismissed as "typical liberal thinking."

The list is literally endless, and stunningly ignorant. And since I no longer have a desire to be Sisyphus, whose miserable fate was to roll a boulder (with hands and feet) up to the top of a hill, but always ~ just before he could roll it over on to the other side ~ the damned thing slid back down to the bottom of the hill. FOR ALL ETERNITY. Not for me, no thanks. Six decades of this shallow stupidity was more than enough.

The friends I have made on Facebook (in spite of Blockhead's "hero," the pill-popping phony with a name that rhymes with flush) are some of the most wonderful, intelligent, sincere and caring people I have ever met in this lifetime. And they certainly can be called friends, in every sense of the word. Free thinkers, creative, fair-minded, supportive, funny, I have come to love them all with no reservation.

Of course, there is the occasional malcontent who goes psycho on you for daring to disagree with them, but that's not a problem. BLOCK. How nice it would be if we could block people much the same way in real life!

So, my dear Facebook friends (you know who you are!) I thank you for your compassion, intelligence and wicked sense of humor, your creativity and your open minds and hearts. But most of all, your friendship.

Centanno! 

  

MISSING PERSON: KIDNAPPED, HIJACKED?

Seriously, if you call yourself a "Christian" DO YOU KNOW THIS MAN?? Or do you think that regular attendance of religious services will get you an A+ on your final report card, minus all that other stuff? 

You know, the annoying stuff like loving your neighbor, not casting stones (unless you are as pure as the driven snow...are you? I'm sure not!) doing unto others as you'd have them do unto you, and, oh yeah, judge not...possibly the single most important one these ridiculous days when everybody is oh-so-perfect and feeling more than qualified to pass judgment. 

See, in my lifetime, I've heard an awful lot of hatred spewing out of the mouths of self-proclaimed "Christians" which got me to wondering...is Jesus officially MIA from these people's lives or are they just big fat hypocrites who, not unlike the 9/11 terrorists, hijacked a religion but don't have a clue as to how to practice its most basic tenets? Has JC been kidnapped, as Christianity has been hijacked by a bunch of judgmental, intolerant, and as UN-Christ-like people as you can find?

And every American era has its tests ~ back in the 60s, it was desegregation and BOY, how many Christians reared their ugly bigoted heads! Yeah, they loved their neighbors, all right ~ right up to bombing a church and murdering four innocent little girls in Birmingham, Alabama for the "sin" of being black. Way to go, Christians, that'll get you into heaven fer sure!

Now we have those same people, different generation, clutching their holy books and screaming about gay marriage, how it isn't "Christian" and/or how the bible simply detests the thought of homosexuality! "Marriage is between a MAN and a WOMAN, period!" Oh really? Let's take that very same holy book and look at some other interpretations, shall we?

First Chronicles

1 These are David's sons who were born in Hebron ...[names]... these were all of David's sons, except for those born to his slave women. 

"...except for those born to his SLAVE WOMEN"?? Say what??

2 Samuel 16:21

And Ahithophel said unto Absalom, Go in unto thy father's concubines, which he hath left to keep the house; and all Israel shall hear that thou art abhorred of thy father: then shall the hands of all that are with thee be strong.

"...thy father's CONCUBINES"?? Am I getting this right?

And, last but certainly not least...

1 Kings 11:3

³ And he had seven hundred wives, princesses, and three hundred concubines: and his wives turned away his heart.

WHOA!! Is this the holy book's version of "traditional marriage"  ~ 700 wives and 300 concubines?? So where did  "Marriage is between a MAN and a WOMAN only"come from?

Homosexuality is not a 'choice.' It is genetic and therefore should be treated with compassion and understanding, not hatred and rejection. Furthermore, what kind of deplorably filthy minds do its critics have that they cannot understand how two people can simply love each other, without speculating about what goes on in the privacy of their bedrooms? Would YOU want a peeping pervert at YOUR bedroom window, reporting to the world what they THINK they see? 

Whoops, there goes that annoying "do unto others" thing again...

As for the popular WWJD, it is my personal opinion that, these days, He'd give Himself a slamming face palm and wonder if His horrific death was worth it.

"I like your Christ, I do not like your Christians. Your Christians are so unlike your Christ."

~ Mahatma Gandhi 

A DAY AT THE BEACH!

I am now at the one-year anniversary of my Facebook note "A Day At The Beach" and thought it would be nice to re-publish it for a wider scale, revised and updated.

So it's mid-summer 2011 and I caught a ride from my sibling, the distaff version of Mussolini, to a family member's beach house on Long Island - Part I of the Car Ride From Whatever Is Beneath Hell. You see, quite inadvertently, I managed to get us not only lost, but LATE...guaranteed to make Obsessive-Compulsive-Control-Freak people go borderline insane. 

Which she did, quite nicely. Looks at watch, SCREAMS "THEY'RE PROBABLY BARBECUING BY NOW, YOU STUPID FUCK!! YOU AND YOUR FUCKING INTERNET DIRECTIONS!!"  Nice. But, as she constantly points out, "I'm older than you, don't tell me what to do!" so I quietly thanked Peter Tosh, and grit my teeth until we finally arrived.

As I FLEW out of the car, so anxious was I to leave her toxic company, and headed for the bathroom, she blocked my path and spat "YOU HAVE TO HELP TAKE THE SHIT OUT OF THE CAR!!"  Uh, can I PEE first or is that not allowed with OCCF people?

The day progressed and we were all having a nice time except for the fact that my 'driver' was quietly taunting me every which way she could. Of course, nobody noticed because she's 'always that way' ... mean-spiteful-provocative-obstreperous "teasing"... yup, but did any of them ever LIVE with her?  'Cause I sure did...!  She remained furious that I "made her late" and did not let up the entire day.

Around mid-afternoon, the conversation at the 'adult' table (if I can, I always sit with the kids, or animals) turned to politics.  As soon as I heard "Thank god for FOX News, they're the only ones who tell the truth!"  I knew it was time for me to disappear for a while. So I got up, told everyone I was going to the beach for a walk, and Miss Mussolini yells out, "TAKE THIS WATER BOTTLE AND FILL IT UP WITH SEA WATER...IT'S GOOD FOR HEALING."

After 60+ years, you kind of get used to the absence of "please" and/or "thank you" ~ you just want to keep the peace, so you keep your mouth shut about the small stuff and just do it for the sake of your already-ruptured, long-suffering colon, if nothing else.

After wading into the Atlantic Ocean with lightweight, white cotton pants just to fill up Mussolini's bottle, I found myself a muddy sandy mess, and trekked on over to the boardwalk...sat, cleaned my pants off, and figured it's a lot easier to walk on a hard surface than a bumpy beach while my pants dried, so I headed off to enjoy a nice leisurely walk, taking in the surf, sun, clean air, and beautiful sea gulls.

It felt so good that I just kept walking and walking and soon came to an open air flea market where I was drawn to the exotic trinkets I saw everywhere around me. That's when I looked back at the distance I had come and was momentarily shocked that it seemed so 'far' away, so I reversed direction and began walking back.

Now, at the time, I was 64 years old so upon my return, seeing some family members about to form a search party was equally amusing and annoying. When the Prodigal Niece arrived to the full crowd, here is what I heard:

"WHERE WERE YOU?? WE THOUGHT YOU WERE LOST, YOU'RE GONE TWO HOURS ALREADY!!"  Lost?  Tell me, how exactly does one get "lost" on a BOARDWALK...??

"WHY DON'T YOU HAVE A CELL PHONE SO YOU COULD'VE LET US KNOW YOU'RE OKAY??"  Uh, that's kind of the reason why "walks" were invented, weren't they...? To, like, GET AWAY for a while with NO interruptions?

But the best was "WELL, THEN, WE THOUGHT YOU WERE ARRESTED!!"  ARRESTED?? For WHAT, talking to sea gulls??? 

The ride home was worse, if that's possible. Aggressive road rage driving, intermittent screaming, with the HEATER on because she's always cold. Meanwhile, it was 90 degrees and 100% humid. "If you don't like it, you can sit in the back seat!!"  At that point, I would rather have walked home on my knees.

And that is my short story of how I spent my one summer day of 'vacation' in 2011. And people still wonder why I prefer the company of animals...especially sea gulls.

(c 2012)  

MAY-DECEMBER FRIENDSHIPS (and why they don't work)

From Wikipedia:

Yuppie (short for "young urban professional" or "young upwardly-mobile professional") is a term that refers to a member of the upper middle class or upper class in their 20s or 30s. It first came into use in the early 1980s and largely faded from American popular culture in the late 1980s, due to the 1987 stock market crash and the early 1990s recession.Yuppies are mocked for their conspicuous personal consumption and hunger for social status among their peers. 

That said, change "young" to "middle-aged" since nobody approaching 40 years of age can be considered young by any stretch of the imagination. (I couldn't fit middle-aged in the drawing.)

Several years ago, I was 'friended' on Facebook by one of the above-mentioned unmentionables, along with his smug little circle of friends and family. The difference in age was immediately obvious but I persevered,  hoping his real age would, at some point, mentally kick in and transform him into an adult. We laughed a lot as I shrugged off his constant reminders of my age, mocking dismissal of my memories and overall fair-weather friendship, attributing it to his 'youth' rather than the fact that he had the depth of a thimble, if that.

His Facebook friends reflected the same shallow attitude, so I quickly UNfriended and even blocked some of them, they were that obnoxious (what's the old adage pertaining to "the company you keep"...?) but the arguments with Yuppie Boy were becoming frequent and getting uglier and I was growing very tired of it all.

The fatal blow came just hours after Whitney Houston was found dead. I called to ask if he had heard the news, and was greeted by a cold, flat "Crack is wack" and the sounds of his friends and life partner laughing and mocking her singing in the background. She was not part of their generation, thus not "important" enough to care about.

I kept the friendship on life support for several months after that phone call, but when I was given the "don't call us, we'll call you" speech, followed by an embarrassingly desperate plea for my company when Life Partner was out of town, well, that drove the final nail into this particular coffin.

Conclusion? Old hippies just don't mix well with pretentious middle-aged yuppies, who represent everything hippies despised, back in the Sixties and, for those of us who remained true to ourselves, today. 

Steer clear of 'em, they're just not worth the effort.

Greetings From Planet Paula: MY STRANGE FAMILY TREE: Stupid Cat Phobia

Greetings From Planet Paula: MY STRANGE FAMILY TREE: Stupid Cat Phobia: From Wikipedia: Ailurophobia is a type of specific phobia : the persistent, irrational fear of cats . It comes from the Greek αἴλουρος (...

MY STRANGE FAMILY TREE: Stupid Cat Phobia

From Wikipedia: Ailurophobia is a type of specific phobia: the persistent, irrational fear of cats. It comes from the Greek αἴλουρος (aílouros), "cat" and φόβος (phóbos), "fear".

Now we all know people who have an irrational fear of cats for whatever reason. But when it's based on the following true story, it borders on just plain stupid.

One night in 1947, my great-grandmother, Nonon (or 'Pinch Grandma' as we called her since she was always sewing and would stick us with a needle when my 500 cousins and I got out of hand) went into the family kitchen and found one of her son's beloved cats fast asleep on the chair she wanted. Grandpa loved animals ~ his mother could barely stand children, never mind all the "animales" he brought home on a regular basis.

Without a word, she violently shook the chair to rid it of the cat. The poor creature was so frightened, it jumped up and bit a CHUNK of flesh out of Nonon's arm, causing the family to rush her to the local hospital's ER where, when all was said and done, one of my aunts asked the doctors, "Could she have Rabbis?" (I kid you not.)

And so, since 1947, the majority of the family fear, dislike and even hate cats because of this singular incident. I, however, inherited my grandfather's intense love for all animals and now, in that beautiful cat's defense, I would like to say the following:

If somebody woke me up in such a manner, there'd be no need to go to a hospital because they'd be DOA, their jugular having been ripped out on-site. And I've no doubt that all of the family "cat haters" would react the same if they were awakened in such a rude and terrifying way.

If an animal is a) sleeping or b) eating, you NEVER startle them without expecting some kind of reaction. They're not stuffed toys, you idiots, they're living, breathing, sensitive creatures who love unconditionally, so there is really no need to be mean or inconsiderate or "afraid" of them.

And I have news for you. When my mother had a family luncheon and banned her cats to the bedroom, I filled up my plate and had lunch with Harry and Meggie in the bedroom. And it was a very fine time indeed.

MY STRANGE FAMILY TREE

<---- that is my interpretation of my own family tree ~ no leaves, just pods, and the ones that have broken off are the happiest...see their contented little smiles at the bottom? More about them later.

Why pods? Well, for one thing, when you do have a large Italian family, those with similar interests tend to break off into little cliques that remind me of Pod People.

Whether it's gambling, traveling, the witches' cauldron of gossip (every family has at least one of them) they gather on a regular basis and those who do not 'fit in' are routinely ignored and/or tolerated if they happen to be among them on the rare occasion.

As the little Podettes grow up and marry, they'd better marry someone who passes the entire family's scrutiny and judgment or that poor person is smacked in the face with what my ex-cousin-in-law calls "The Invisible Shield." They circle the wagons and leave the Disliked Ones out for the coyotes and vultures of the night.

When these Pod People begin to have families, they transform into what I like to call The Inbreds ~ those who socialize with just their own families which automatically excludes you and yours, because whatever blood connection you may share, you are NOT an Own Family member (as one 'aunt' told me) so don't expect any invitations or otherwise.

Okay, so the Pod People beget The Inbreds, but what about those happy little fallen pods on the ground? Well, those are the infamous black sheep of every family (several cousins and I take that title with pride) up to and including people who married into (and later divorced out of) "the family." NEVER could the fault lie with the family member, not that anyone's marriage should be the business of anyone but the husband and wife (reference witches' cauldron of gossip.)

To be continued.....

GOOD MANNERS & ALL THAT JAZZ

Which, incidentally, seem to have vaporized in our current society, along with too many other attributes that contribute to a civilized society.

And I've been around long enough to be able to say that with some authority, having come of age in the last two semi-sane decades of the previous century ~ the 'Fabulous Fifties' (fabulous for fair-complexioned people, not so hot for those who weren't) and the psychedelic head-on collision my generation had with the turbulent second half of the Sixties, when rhyme and reason went out the window, along with everything our parents ever taught us (well, some of us.)

To list the egregious lack of specific manners these days would be time-consuming and superfluous since we are all subjected to at least one (if not ten) of them on a daily basis. From the hideous 'voice mail' invasion of the corporate world* to rarely, if ever hearing "excuse me" when someone body slams you because they're engrossed in their own little robot worlds of technology-on-the-go.

One day, I was lugging home 4 or 5 bags of groceries, and obviously struggling to make it to the entrance of my building. Out of nowhere, a very professional, 'businesslike' woman swept past me, allowing the door to slam in my face. As I made my way in, with a laser-beam dirty look and icy sarcasm in my voice, I said "Thank you..." Her response? "Oh, I didn't even see you." Excuse me, but am I invisible??

Call me old-fashioned, I care not. I still say a sincere smile and good manners go a very long way in keeping us civilized.

Not much for a whole lot of return on your investment!

*With one exception...bless the NY Daily News who still have "switchboard operators" answering their phones!

Greetings From Planet Paula: KITCHENS ARE NOT WALK-THROUGHS!

Greetings From Planet Paula: KITCHENS ARE NOT WALK-THROUGHS!: So much so, that I am seriously considering moving back to my old 'Little Italy in the Bronx' neighborhood where most, if not all, of the ...

KITCHENS ARE NOT WALK-THROUGHS!

So much so, that I am seriously considering moving back to my old 'Little Italy in the Bronx' neighborhood where most, if not all, of the apartment buildings went up over 100 years ago...when the heart and soul of a family was the kitchen.

That is where we had our meals, shared countless cups of coffee, did our homework, played on snowy days...where we all gravitated to gather 'round and talk. Not that the living rooms were roped off (although many were covered in plastic) but they were always secondary to the kitchen.

Since leaving that beautiful, century-old neighborhood, I have lived in apartments with what are called "kitchens" (see diagram) that are nothing more than a miniature walk-through, sort of like the back of a Subway store, your side of the counter. Try to cook in one of these kitchens, much less prepare a sumptuous dinner for 12. Instant claustrophobia, complicated by severe bruises and contusions from slamming head and/or body into closet doors, stove/refrigerator door handles, cabinet corners...

Maybe it's an Italian thing, this love for a big kitchen, I dunno (it took me 5 years to figure out that "EIK" meant eat-in kitchen in the classifieds...wtf?) All I know is that I am willing to trade half a living room and "dining alcove" (ugh) for one big sprawling kitchen, table smack dab in the middle, warmly welcoming all who visit or live there.

"Hey! Come in, we'll have a nice cup of coffee and shoot the breeze!"

There, now doesn't that sound cozy??