AHHH, MOTHER'S DAY....!

The holiest day of the year for florists and greeting card companies!

Curious to know the origin of this day? From Wikipedia:

The modern holiday of Mother's Day was first celebrated in 1908, when Anna Jarvis held a memorial for her mother in Grafton, West Virginia. She then began a campaign to make "Mother's Day" a recognized holiday in the United States. 

Although she was successful in 1914, she was already disappointed with its commercialization by the 1920s. Jarvis' holiday was adopted by other countries and it is now celebrated all over the world. In this tradition, each person offers a gift, card, or remembrance toward their mothers, grandmothers, and/ or maternal figure on mother's day.

If Miss Anna Jarvis was "disappointed" by the commercialization of her idea by the 1920s, what on earth would she make of it in today's Capitali$m-Gone-Berserk America? But I digress.

Now, there are mothers and there are mothers...I am not a mother in the traditional sense, but I certainly am a mother in the non-traditional (why, "mother" is part of one of my favorite words!) And also having rescued enough cats to literally bankrupt myself ~ if that's not a sure sign of maternal love, then tell me, what is?

Having inherited my own mother's complete and total lack of 'maternal instinct,' I never wanted kids. When they're young, they're smelly, noisy, messy little no-necks who make noise, throw food all over the place and pee/shit in their pants. UCK. Thanks but no thanks. I don't even like people visiting me who have kids. Grubby little hands touching everything in sight, disappearing into unsupervised rooms, I can't wait till they leave and peace & quiet reigns again.

It always amazed me when people asked, "But don't you want to be cared for in your old age? Without children, who's going to do that for you?" 

Oh, is that why you have kids? To ensure your sunset years by saddling your aging and decaying body on the backs of your children? Wow, never thought of that one! And where's the guarantee that your own diaper-clad ass won't be deposited at the nearest nursing home, and your kids will only visit you on.....Mother's Day!?

Hmmm. Joan Crawford may have had a point...NO WIRE HANGERS!!!


(No children were harmed in the writing of this piece.)

WOW! A PIPELINE UNDER NEW YORK CITY...JUST THINK OF THE POSSIBILITIES!

And yet another wondrous new idea from our increasingly brilliant 'leaders' ~ 8 million people already dealing with ancient water (and gas) pipes bursting on a regular basis may now also have to deal with ruptured pipes carrying their collective death notice: slimy, skeevy OIL.

I am just so excited over this new possibility, my creative juices are overflowing!

I can see it now...very cost-effective to place the  pipelines in already-existing subway tunnels, including the aquatic Lincoln and Holland tunnels, and all the other ways of traveling through the labyrinth of this city and environs. The underwater tunnels, gushing with oily water, will guarantee the contamination of neighboring states, and the subway will bring it to any neighborhood, all five boroughs, when a pipe just happens to bust open. Sounds good to me! (Whoops, there go all those neighborhood gardens...)

And the kids will love it in summertime, I'm sure...they like to play in mud, right? Well, what's better than greasy toxic water to splash around in on a warm summer day? Maybe chefs will figure out a way to use it as cooking oil, and given the resourcefulness of New Yorkers, I've no doubt that many will make lots and lots of money selling samples of this sludge on e-Bay!

Mayor Bloomberg, who thinks building a King Kong-sized Ferris wheel on the shores of Staten Island is a grand idea, will now expand it into a Pipeline Theme Park! Of course, you'll have to pay for your own Haz-Mat suit or take your chances sliding down the Toxic Oil Wheel of Death or the Bumper Slickers.

If Woodstock '69 had an anthem, it was Country Joe McDonald and The Fish's 'Fixin' To Die Rag' which opened with Country Joe addressing an audience of 500,000 kids:

"GIMME AN F!
 GIMME A U!
 GIMME A C!
 GIMME A K!
 WHAT'S THAT SPELL?! WHAT'S THAT SPELL?! WHAT'S THAT SPELL??"

and the audience, of course, answered appropriately, half a million strong. The best hook of the song was "WHOOPEE, WE'RE ALL GONNA DIE!"

Perhaps Mayor Bloomberg, or his future clone replacement, might want to consider it as a theme song for their $$$$$-generated Pipeline Theme Park...

For the curious, here is the song, in its glorious entirety:  http://youtu.be/Jk68D91hTXw

For the full story: http://www.thenation.com/blog/174193/occupy-pipeline-fracking-threat-comes-nyc

BLUE CROSS/BLUE SHIELD: LOGO CHANGE DUE

Having just returned from my local pharmacy in a state of semi-shock thanks to your drug "tier $ystem," I took a good look at your current logo ~ the little medical cross, a tiny person safely ensconced in its loving care, and the famous shield bearing that oddest of medical symbols, a coiled snake ~ only one thing missing now: a bloody fucking sword to accurately represent the egregious financial wounds you are inflicting on the very people about whom you profess to "care."

Just what the hell is a "tier system" anyway?? Another one of our Congressional representatives' middle-of-the-night perks to the almighty, filthy rich, disgusting lobbyist-dominated healthcare insurance/pharmaceutical companies that further corrupt the 'free enterprise' system? Capitalism at its UGLIEST.

Last year, the generic drug I could not afford today, required a $5.00 co-payment. Fair enough. This year, it jumped first to $38+, and now, refill #2  ~ surprise surprise! ~ it's over $40+. Just HOW is this possible??

I've been told by some of your telephone reps that the cost is decided by your "board" (would that be the same board who answers to your stockholders, by any chance?) And that your board kicked this particular drug from Tier One to Tier Three because, gasp!, you were considering not even covering it because...well, that's for you to answer because I don't have a clue.

I've been told it may be because it's a 'controlled substance.' Right. I'm a senior citizen and I'm really going to be hanging out on street corners at night so I can make money selling your stupid drug instead of taking it for the severe anxiety and sleep issues I've suffered my entire life. If anything, you're the new (and worst) of the 'drug dealers' since you do it legally and for obscene profit. Never mind about all those side effects that can even cause death! Who cares, as long as those dead presidents are flying in, right?

There's something very wrong with a country that continues to believe it is the "greatest nation on earth" when, simultaneously, companies like yours who prey on people's health and suffering, are filthy rich and more accountable to your shareholders than you are to those who depend on you for life itself.

Hey, here's another logo idea! A cute little tourniquet amongst the cross, person, shield and sword, to represent what your customers require to stay alive these greedy, blood-sucking, throw-your-mother-under-the-bus days of capitalism gone completely and totally amok.

Here's hoping I drop dead soon so I won't cause you any problems at all!

BEWARE THE GOSSIP!

Because if they gossip with you, they sure as hell will gossip about you. Trust me, you can go to the bank on that one.

I grew up in a family of gossips. Of course, they never considered it "gossip" per se ~ they just thought they were discussing things...like other people's marriages, marital problems, divorces, often comparing their own children with nephews' and nieces' personal peccadillos, accomplishments, intelligence (or lack thereof,) looks (that requires its own paragraph) and just about everything else that occurred within the confines of a large group of people who just happened to be related to each other, but were nowhere near (and a mockery of) what families are supposed to really be about.

That is why I can't really call it a "family" ~ the word never rang true for me, having heard and absorbed so much crap as a kid all the way through my adult years. Crap that included wide-open jealousy, viciously sarcastic remarks and incredible insults that began to pile up after a few decades until I finally had enough and headed straight for the EXIT sign. That move also eliminated the gossip which has resulted in an infinitely more peaceful (and productive) existence.

Perhaps the cruelest gossip of all concerned the all-famous "looks" issue...if you didn't inherit Grandma's tiny straight nose, you were deemed UGLY and that was it. The obsession with the size and shape of a nose in that group of idiots bordered on insane.

One cousin married a woman who had a bit of a 'schnozz' as did her mother. Well, Cousin's family was so worried that when their first child was born, the first question out of their mouths was "What's her nose like??" (I happened to see her first because I worked at the hospital of her birth.) Excuse me?? I was so taken aback, I don't even remember what I answered.

WHAT'S HER NOSE LIKE?? She's a baby and a healthy one, count your blessings and stop being so goddamned vapid!

As Karma would have it, another grandson of this very same shallow-as-a-thimble family grew up to resemble Jimmy Durante. Aww, poor kid inherited Daddy's nose and not Grandma's!

There's a saying: "Karma's a bitch only if you're one."

Now let's see how many of them read this, and set the old gossip cauldron ablaze once again.

Be my guest and HAVE AT IT!

HUMOR? I PREFER MINE BLACK

Not long ago, I sent this meme to a group of people I thought would enjoy it (and get it.) All but one of the recipients thought it was absolutely hilarious. The exception thought it was "sick" and did not like it at all.

Now, I am the kind of person who recoils from the very thought of having a human being in my freezer. UGH, how disgusting! But, in the context at left, it does strike me as uproariously funny.

It takes a special kind of depraved mind to appreciate sick jokes. Depraved but intelligent and witty as all hell. And who on earth would take a joke like this seriously anyway? Someone who's too serious for their own good, that's who.

As a kid, I was a big fan of Charles Addams, loved Alfred Hitchcock's demented but brilliant mind, and never failed to gravitate toward irreverent people. My father and maternal grandfather may have had something to do with that, given their eccentric and wickedly funny sense of humor. And I know both Grandpa and Dad would have thought the above screwball meme was hysterical.

My grandfather was the King of Practical Jokes...placing a garishly-painted coconut head in my mother's bed, and lighting a cigarette in its mouth as soon as he heard her at the front door, returning home from a date. Or, knowing how afraid she was of certain things, asking her to "please get something from my room." And when she opened the door, Grandpa had let ALL his pet birds out of their cages, one of her worst fears come true. Now that may seem 'cruel' to some people, but not me! I still crack up whenever I think of it.

My father was another character, coming up with answers that no one else could ever think of. When I first noticed Les Paul and Mary Ford's 'overdubbing' (multiple voices on a recording) I asked my father "How do they do that?"

He replied, "Well, they line up a whole bunch of microphones in the studio and then Mary Ford RUNS back and forth as she's singing..." In an attempt at conversation, he once asked my first boyfriend "So, do you like feetsball?" Poor guy didn't have a clue that he meant football until I told him.

So, with these two influences (genetic and otherwise) my own sometimes macabre way of viewing life may have come into being. And growing up in a screwball neighborhood, Little Italy in the Bronx, circa-1950s, certainly contributed something too. Wise cracks were a way of life. The quick comeback was essential if you wanted to be accepted (and in some cases, stay alive!) We were all irreverent kids, and some of us never grew up.

Getting back to the present, my one extremely brief experience with marriage does give me a special appreciation for having "more space on the sofa."

MWAAHAHAHAAAAAHAHHAAHA.....

MOM, YOU CAN REST EASY NOW...

...your worst critic is dead. I called the nursing home yesterday and was told "Oh, she's long gone" but nobody would tell me the date she joined you in the hereafter ~ in a decidedly different location, I'm sure.

Your beloved younger brother went through hell on earth after he married this woman (I can still hear a faint shotgun echo...) and then she gave birth to two children, first a daughter and then a son ~ my first cousins, older than I was but always adored and loved by me. I became extremely close with the boy cousin, who left us too early in 1993.

And given the family history of Alzheimer's Disease ~ grandmother, all of her aunts, and mother ~ who knows how long the daughter has until she, too, descends into that terrifying netherworld we cannot possibly comprehend? Last I heard, she was living in a permanent state of panic that she, in all likelihood, will be next in line.

Karma is a very mysterious thing.

It wasn't until we moved into your brother and his wife's building in the early 90s that I came to know some very unpleasant things about your brother's family. Disgustingly racist, utterly ignorant if not downright stupid, vicious gossips, and disrespectful to the MAX, they came and went, eating their mother's meals (and YOUR home-baked cakes) giving her every conceivable job to do, be it sewing, cooking, whatever, and never really appreciating anything at all. Very classy, treating your own parents like that. Not to mention how they "forgot," year after year, their parents' birthdays.

Why I expected anything more from them toward you remains a mystery, but after your brother died in 1995, their true colors really came flying out, and they were UGLY. I'm glad you caught on and went your own way after years of insults and disrespectful behavior.

It was only after you were gone that I discovered something I had never known before, and remembering how ultra-sensitive you were about your looks, I too left them in the dust...but not before telling them what a truly despicable group of people they are.

When I heard that Girl Cousin and her cockeyed husband had been mocking your looks for as long as they were married (told to me, and tolerated by, your first-born daughter for her own selfish reasons) my brain froze with white-hot anger. I sent them a blistering message, accompanied by this beautiful picture of you from 1944, and told them to slap it up against their own mothers' pictures and then get back to me.

Of course, they never did. How could they? Their own late son (lots of death in that family...) once told me he had "never seen an uglier family than his maternal grandmother's."

Daddy always told us "Don't make fun of nature, people cannot help the way they're born" and so it pains me to even repeat words like "ugly" when describing another human being. I don't judge people by their "looks" ~ I look into their hearts, their souls, and then decide what kind of person they are.

And now that their Matriarch is finally gone, I can honestly say that looking into this family's 'heart' was like a glimpse into hell itself. As for their soul, they don't have one.

WHO THE HELL DESIGNS THESE THINGS?

This is a quickie, because when I'm cranky or particularly annoyed by something, I like to complain.

Lately, every time I go shopping, I am reluctantly drawn into an infuriating game of Dominoes...touch one item, and everything else on the shelf behind and around it falls down, like little tin soldiers all in a line.

That is because the geniuses currently designing containers have apparently decided that the "sleek" look is the in thing...never mind that it's the consumer who keeps the company in business.

I currently use a hair gel that is bottled in the ridiculous way represented by the left two illustrations. And even at home, these unbalanced bottles/containers have to be stored against a wall or propped up in some way so they don't fall over since they are so top-heavy and cumbersome.

Hair gel isn't the only victim of this stupidity. Shampoo, dish detergent, body wash ~ you name it, they're all in sleek (and unbalance-able) containers that constantly fall over at the most inconvenient time (while you're trying to actually USE them) often spilling some of the contents, which only increases the annoyance factor.

Hey, I'm a senior citizen living on Social Security ONLY, I can't afford to lose 1/4 of an OUNCE because something I've purchased is ill-designed (but SLEEK!)

Whatever happened to common sense? I believe I last saw it around 1959...