The great pretender.

Despite arguments from friends to the contrary, I think Febreze is a complete fraud. It does not eliminate odors as the commercials suggest. It temporarily masks them like every other spray. And its original scent is not so wonderful that people will react like addicts to glue. I am certain that if you filled a car with garbage, and then sprayed it with Febreze, your blindfolded testers would smell a combination of garbage and Febreze. Speaking of garbage, I think that's what most of this company's claims are: garbage.

Note: Is one supposed to spell febreze with a lower-case f?

The Great Gatsby. Art Direction:10. Direction: 5.

I really hated the book The Great Gatsby. I find it pretentious and abstruse and couldn't care less about any of the characters. So, when I heard they were remaking The Great Gatsby, I gleefully predicted it would be another disaster. Apparently I was wrong. It seems that it has done well at the box office. Which doesn't mean that it's a good film. But at least it's half good. My first surprise was that, as far as could see, Leonardo DiCaprio was not the star of the movie, Tobey Maguire as Nick Carraway was. At least it seemed they spent more time on his character, his expressive face, and his moral dilemmas than on Leonardo as Jay Gatsby. Although Leonardo was excellent in the role and was every bit as handsome as any matinee idol of the 20s.  Carey Mulligan as Daisy Buchanan was the perfect love interest, while Joel Edgerton as her cuckholded husband, Tom, stole most of the scenes he was in.  Frankly, I felt the opening hour was ridiculous. The party scenes, while great to look at, were so over-the-top as to kill one's crediblity about the rest of the film. But fortunately at a certain point Baz Luhrmann got tired of his silly Moulin Rouge excesses and decided to tell the story. Then, despite still more unlikely over-art-directed scenes like a speeding yellow Duesenberg in downtown Manhattan, and an early morning speakeasy orgy, the film got interesting. But ultimately, it wasn't even as compelling as a single episode of Boardwalk. So, after all is said and done, I think you can add this fourth The Great Gatsby to the "Good try, Old Sport" list.

A nation of hypocrites.

This is what Sunday looks like in many American cities. Worshippers flocking to mega churches run by super-wealthy ministers who wear thousand dollar suits and have a fleet of luxury cars. And these church-goers are so stupid and so ignorant of biblical teachings, it never occurs to them that this kind of worship is completely contrary to the teachings of Jesus Christ, whom they claim to love and obey. In many of these churches today, there are tight-jawed Republicans who are eager to destroy what they call Obamacare, despite the fact that it will deny medical care to many thousands of needy adults and children. Jesus would find this horrifying, but they don't. They really have very little interest in what Christ would do or want, though they constantly proclaim themselves to be Christians, which they, in fact, are not. They are smug and indulgent heathens with their asses planted in expensive pews of polished wood; singing their soulless hearts out from pricey hymnals to the music of a exhorbitant organ and a choir dressed in princely robes; smugly smiling at their sublime surroudings of priceless windows and costly chandeliers; and exiting this palace on soft carpets that cost a fortune to purchase, install and keep clean. And it never occurs to them how that money could help the homeless, the hungry, the desperate. Why should it? That's something that would only occur to people who believe in Christian teachings.

If only.

Thank goodness Al Gore was finally elected the 43rd President of United States when it was discovered that there had been voter fraud by the Republican party in in Florida. As a president he was outstanding. His Secretary of State, realizing that Osama bin Laden was planning an attack on the United States took immediate action and prevented what could have been a second assault on the New York Trade Towers. His stubborn attempts to slow global warming were highly successful and world scientists say his innovations in reduced emissions and alternate fuel sources may have prevented severe melting of the ice caps and severe weather conditions. The economy, as we all know grew at a fantastic rate and he was greatly responsible for guilting so many American companies into moving their production back to United States. Yes, America was very fortunate to have elected President Al Gore who has proven to be a wise and steady leader. Of course, George Bush, may have been a good president, too. But we'll never know.

Note: Sadly, the only thing true about this could-have-been fantasy is that Al Gore was elected the 43rd President of the United States and was cheated out of his win by a biased Supreme Court.

Around the clock cheating.

I have frequently complained on my blog that Walgreens' prices are significantly higher than even our highest-priced supermarkets. But I was surprised to learn that isn't the only way they have been ripping off customers. It seems that the Attorney General in Missouri is suing Walgreens due to deceptive pricing tactics. The purchased item shows one price, but when the clerk rings it up it's for a higher price. Most customers don't notice. That's what Walgreens counts on. The conclusion: If you're shopping at Walgreens, you''re paying too much—one way or another.

Come away. Come away.

Don't click the arrow until you've read this post. I had a kind of a vision today. Well more like an idea, but I could see it. It's the name and opening of a nonexistent film company. You know like Tristar with its winged horse and Lions Gate with its machinery. The company would be called Bali Hai and it would open, naturally, with a visual of a lush enticing, distant tropical island, so forget this album cover and imagine that magical island.  When the film opens and you see this island and the production company name, the only music you would hear would be a lush orchestral version of the opening  notes of the South Pacific song as you hear it here. Okay, once you've pictured the island, you can click the arrow.


That's all. Just had to get it down. Of course the Rodgers estate would never allow it, but it would be impressive.

No kick here.

Having been in advertising for 40 years, I can easily recognize commercials like this. The art director and copywriter convince themselves that the gimmick they have created—in this case giving yourself a kick—will go viral. They are sure it will be another "Where's the beef? or "Got milk?". But, alas, it rarely is. This particular gimmick, I think, is too contrived and not all that creative. Sorry V-8. You should have had another idea.

Shame on Discover.

Discover may think this commercial is appropriate because both of these women seem to be prosperous and attractive. But it's still racist. Not all African American women fit the hip-talking "get you girl" stereotype so shamelessly shown here. How ignorant does an advertising agency have to be to not realize that this is offensive not funny?  If Discover is going to push the theme, "Talk to a Real Person" they might trying showing real people, not cartoon versions of them.

The Compleat Book of Lunch

Illustrator Pat Longan and I have just created the perfect gift for anyone who has a job. As you can see it's a book: an 80-page, fully illustrated book that is absolutely essential for anyone who's employed or plans to be.  Because this is a hilarious common sense guide to help you  avoid lunching with the wrong people, being dragged to restaurants you detest, making embarrassing social gaffes and paying for someone else's buffalo wings. Use it to plan your lunches, settle arguments, and avoid the many pitfalls of those precious hours between noon and three.  This is must-have for any office, factory, garage, hospital, police station or anyplace where there is such a thing, such a sacred thing, as a lunch hour. 

And it's yours for only $18.99 at The Book Patch's online bookstore. http://www.thebookpatch.com
(Have everyone at work chip in. It's worth it, if only to settle arguments.)

Daddy's little parasite.

I love how privileged, well-born (and more than likely beneficiary of nepotism) creatures like Rand Paul consider persons on food stamps and hungry children to to be parasites. He has even equated—fool that he is—accepting aid as being servitude. What could be more parasitic than a person who is wildly overpaid, has incredible benefits, and does practically nothing to earn his keep. He takes long paid vacations, is pampered with all kinds of perks at work, and spends most of his time falsely and unpatriotically criticizing his boss (the president). How despicable and blind these amoral hypocrites in Congress are.

Animal lovers? Nah.

I detest  lot of national companies. But I have a particular loathing for Petsmart. For a company that supposedly loves animals and deals exclusively in pet products, they're prices are obscenely high. What they charge for the cat food I use is a great deal more than what  it costs in the local supermarket, which is not known for its low prices. On several occasions I have asked the clerks about this price difference and to a person they plead ignorance. Perhaps I am wrong to think that a company that buys pet products exclusively should be able to sell them for less than companies that deal with them only as a sideline. You may wonder why I even bother going there. The answer is because they often have an item I cannot find elsewhere. Today it was Lysine. My outdoor cat has a weepy left eye. I read that Lysine helps. On the internet there are lots of foods with Lysine, so I naturally figured Petsmart might have some of them. Wrong. What they did have was a small bag of Lysine chews. The cost? $11.76.
I can afford that. But I think of all the people whose cats have weepy eyes who can't afford Petsmart's we-couldn't-care-less-about-your-pet high prices.

Note: None of my four cats wanted anything to do with these supposedly delicious-to-cats chews, but rather eschewed them. I returned them this morning for a refund, which I got from a scowling cashier, who didn't even ask why I was returning them. If I were running a company that is something I would want to know.

The same White House. A different Butler.

If America is ever attacked as shown in the new film Olympus Has Fallen, one of the reasons may be that we make so many films like Olympus Has Fallen. Who can blame any other country for thinking that we are a souless, bloodthirsty nation.  This film is yet another sick entry into the genre of violence, gunfire, bloodshed, merciless killings, piles of bodies, everything that Americans or at least American filmmakers like show and so many citizen love to watch. This film is a little more tasteless and obscene than most of them since it has a higher body count, and features the destruction of Washington, D.C. Frankly I found it unpatriotic in its gratuitous depiction of so many government workers being slaughtered.  One has to question the mindset of the sadists who produce and direct films like this, or the standards of those willing to appear in such shameless and tasteless fare. Of course those involved may think that it was redeemed by a cornball, patriotic ending. It wasn't. In fact the ending was so sloppy that it didn't even account for the fate of one of the major villains, or rather villainess, and never showed us the film's feistiest heroine having recovered from her abusive ordeal. The cliched indestructible hero was good-enough Gerard Butler, whom I suspect got into the movies for the same reason Jayne Mansfield did: nice tits. The tower of strength substitute president role went to—who else?—Morgan Freeman. I was very disappointed to see Lawrence O'Donnell lend his  admirable presence to this film. Well it's not really a film; it's more like a video game that you can watch but not play. I personally feel everyone involved should be ashamed to be in movie that ultimately shows an unprepared America  taken by surprise, having its White House demolished, and temporarily being blackmailed and willing to give in to terrorists—somethng we supposedly will not do. Everyone involved in Olympus Has Fallen should be very grateful that the end credits were done by a not-very-logical art director in a precious typeface that was close to unreadable.

A great, great loss.

It would take all day to list the myriad achievements of one of America's greatest actresses, Julie Harris. On Broadway she won more best actress Tony's than any other performer: five. But she was also honored for such movies as East of Eden and Reflections in a Golden Eye and the film version of Member of the Wedding. TV viewers will know her for such series as Knots Landing, and such landmark TV specials as The Lark and Belle of Amherst. This photo is from the 1950 Broadway production of Member of the Wedding in which the 25-year-old Julie Harris convincingly played the 12-year-old Frankie Addams.

Shown with Ms. Harris: The legendary Ethel Waters and the amazingly talented 9-year-old, Brandon deWilde.

Incredible illusion.

This is just one example of the sidewalk art created by this artist. Amazing to think that this is on a flat surface.

In praise of PETA

Though sometimes PETA goes over the top, I totally approve of everything they do to protect animals from the cruelties of man. And I salute every celebrity who has spoken out for PETA and helped them fight animal abuse. But I am a bit perturbed that they completely ignored an idea I sent them, which I think would help their cause a lot. I am greatly disturbed when I see an animal killed in a film or whose death is treated as comic. Therefore I suggested to PETA that they published a regular listing of all entertainment that features the death or abuse of an animal strictly for entertainment. If PETA supporters avoided those films, I am sure the producers would soon start showing more respect. I happen to like Lifetime mystery movies, but as soon as I see that the heroine has a featured pet, I shut the film off because I know at some point it will be killed to show how vicious the villain is. I realized this after three such films. I will not see the new Hangover film because they kill a giraffe for laughs. I stopped watching Magic City when they killed a dog as a plot device. I have heard they killed other dogs since, so I'm pleased the show has been cancelled. In the very first episode of the sitcom Yes, Dear they made a comic bit out of running over a cat. I never watched the show again. I am sure many animal lovers feel as I do and are disturbed by animal abuse or deaths in films. We are not talking about films like Old Yeller or The Yearling where it's called for, but cases where it's just plain gratuitious.

Polls and trolls.

The Huffington Post was once a very liberal website. But lately it seems to have very questionable politics. For instance, they have frequent polls that—surprise—are almost always favorable to the right wing. Hmmm. How odd. Considering the supposed politics of its readers, I find a recent highly favorable vote for the National Rifle Association very suspicious as I have found many other poll results. I personally have posted on the site over 9,000 times. That will end this week when Huff will no longer publish anonymous comments. It is no longer interesting to contribute to a site which seems to have so many angry readers eager to spring on a commenter with derision rather than debate. Also, I cannot see why anyone would list their name and reveal themselves to these legions of unstable trolls who have infested this once-enjoyable site.

Stop audio commercials on the internet.

The internet is annoying enough with its millions of print ads, but those I can deal with. What I really hate are the audio commercials that suddenly intrude while you're trying to read or accomplish something else. Your only recourse is to turn the volume down on your computer, which is something you shouldn't have to do. I am also frustrated because I don't know if this is standard on all internet usage or is it an annoyance one only gets on Comcast? If anyone knows, please clue me in.

A monthly ripoff.

There are lots of ripoff artists in the medical profession. And one of the most offensive is a company called Allergan. I'm sure they make lots of products and their violin section would tell you how hard they strive of come up with innovative solutions to health problems. I personally use their product called Combigan, which I buy once a month to keep my glaucoma at bay It is not covered by insurance unfortunately, so this tiny 5 mi. bottle costs $50.00. Ouch! Now I can afford $600.00 a year,  but it occurs to me that most people with glaucoma are seniors and probably on a fixed income. With that in mind, $50.00 a month seems like an obscene amount of money to charge the elderly for less liquid than you'd get in the smallest bottle of Murine. Could they make it cheaper? Of course they could. But like most greedy pharmaceutical companies they couldn't care less what hardships they impose on their customers as long as they are making big bucks. They must be Republicans.

"You have reached a number that is not in service."

That headline is the annoying message anyone receives who tries to call me today. It's not in service  because once again Comcast has screwed up. I realized it this morning when I had no dial tone. After an eighteen-minute cell phone call to Comcast, I learned—probably from somebody in Mozambique—it was because Comcast disconnected my phone number of twenty years and assigned me a new number. Why? I don't know. And, oddly, neither do they. They think—think, mind you—that back in March when I upped my service, some idiot at Comcast changed my number. But they're not sure. And, worse, they're not sure how to restore my phone number: you know, the one I've had for two decades; the one that's printed on my business cards; my letterhead; the one that every friend, doctor and associate has; the one that has been included on my cover letters to theaters all over America from whom I have had no replies. I have had several follow-up calls to Comcast with no resolution to this problem. No surprised there. Comcast has always proven itself to be incompetent. I'd change services, but I suspect that AT&T and Dish are just as bad. The government has saddled us with these greedy media giants and we have no recourse but to put up with their crap. Of course I could call the FCC and complain, but I'm guessing they're just as hard to deal with as Comcast.

The people addiction.

A friend recently gave me a copy of the Oprah Winfrey interview with Lindsay Lohan. It was a very interesting hour. For one thing, I didn't realize that Lindsay was that beautiful. Wearing an orange dress with aqua fingernails and black and white pumps, she was breathtaking. Despite all she's been through she looks better than ever. I've only seen her in one film, Bobby, and in lots of clips and am wildly impressed at how talented an actress she is. It's no wonder so many people are trying to straighten her out, she could become a cash cow for lots of people. While she seems to have straightenen herself out, she is still in danger of falling back because of a fatal flaw in her thinking. It was obvious to me today what her real problem is and what's causing her so much trouble. You don't have to be a psychiatrist to unravel the mystery that is Lindsay Lohan. Her problem is that she cannot accept the fact that her family, notably her mother and thrice arrested father are worthless freeloaders. It's obvious that they feed on her fortune while offering a false love—something  she can sense but can't accept. The day she unloads these two grifters is the day she will have a happy Hollywood ending to a very painful young life.

The third time is a charm.

It occurred to me that the next Republican Presidentail Primary Debates are going to be hilarious especially if they're moderated by His Inflatedness, Rush Limbaugh. For starters Christie, who doesn't seem to have lost an an ounce, will extend on both sides of the lectern. And god forbid somebody says something to piss him off because he'll let them have it, both barrels. Then of course there's Rand Paul, looking for all the world like a poor man's Danny Kaye with his tousled Dynel curls. Paul Ryan will look presidential until he opens his mouth and makes some inane comment or gets that petulant "I deserve to be president" look on his face. Bubblehead Rubio, believing the nomination is in his pocket will act too cocky and turn off everybody and somebody is sure to mention is fake biography. Then, of course, there's Jeb Bush, cursed with the worst possible name and suffering the family disease of sudden malapropisms. He'll probably do the best, but oh, that name, that frightening, frightening name. If there is a woman —if indeed she is a woman—it will be war criminal Condoleeza Rice whose only real skill is plinking the piano. Her gaffes, notably the one that led to the Twin Tower disaster will be played endlessly. Besides why would she even try when she can see how much Republicans hate African Americans. And if she doesn't try, everyone will be reminded how much Republicans also hate women. Oh, what fun is ahead of us.

Islands of treasures.

I get calls every week from some organization looking for money. Despite how worthy the cause is, my reply is always the same: "I only give to animal causes." This is true because there are so many of them they take any so-called disposable income I have. Recently I was disturbed to hear of an overseas rescue operation: Greek Animal Rescue. Apparently Greeks are not kind of animals and our four-footed friends suffer greatly in that country. My English friend, who is a volunteer with the group, tells me that many of the dogs arrive with their ears cut off - because the farmers and shepherds think that will make them hear better. Despite its awesome history, Greece is also home to many barbaric,  stone age people.  America has enough of its own suffering animals. Still I promised my friend I would include the information for those who wish to contact and help this organization, which is called Desperate Greekies and whose website www.desperategreekies.com  is run by Michelle Walker.  The photo shown here is Cherry, the very frightened dog my friend in London has been fostering for the past six weeks and who I am sure will end up a very happy pooch.

Another third-rate jingle.

As a lyricist, I am particularly appalled at the mediocre lyrics that get produced in nationwide commercials like this one. This lyric says, "When I wake up in the morning light." This is something nobody would actually say, but this untalented writer needed a word with which to rhyme with the trite all right, ergo "light". I guess this is still somewhat better than the legions of lyricists who don't even know that words like "like" and "light" don't actually rhyme.

http://youtu.be/OnTAV1HC4kc

Separated at birth.

The Bachmann Family Singers

Considering that Michelle and Marcus Bachmann have five of their own children and have supposedly opened their home to 23 others, one very rarely sees them with any of their own offspring or those whom they fostered. Of course there are a few publicity photos floating around of the Bachmann family,like the one above, but I have yet to see one of the fostered girls in an interview praising the care and direction she received during her brief stay with the family. Interestingly all 23 foster children were teenage girls, one wonders if that wasn't to keep the temptation of troubled lads out of Marcus's path. From what I've seen of this demented woman, I would suspect that any young residents in her home would be constantly chided for the smallest infraction, reminded of how sinful any sexual thought is, and instructed to always keep their hands above the covers. I am guessing each of them ran for the front door when their internment was up. But who knows? One of these days we may see a report on what a wonderful experience it was to live with the saintly Michele and ever-vivacious Marcus. I can hardly wait.

I personally think one of the greatest scams of our time is Febreze. Not only doesn't it remove odors from fabrics as promised, but the scent of the product itself is hardly one that would have anyone going into raptures as they do on television. For some reason many friends of mine are totally taken in by this fraudulent product. They actually believe a few spritzes around the room and they have eliminated all the odors that come with everyday living. Now I notice that Febreze has a whole new scam which might be just as successful. They now suggest that spraying their lavender-scented water or other formulas in your bedroom will help you get a better night's sleep. Give me a break!

"Are you out of your mind?"

Today this man released his birth certificate. He was apparently born in Canada to an American mother. So, he has dual citizenship. But who cares?  Does this ugly, nasty, creepy, accusative, unpatriotic boob really think there's a chance in a zillion that the American people would ever elect him president? This is today's Joe McCarthy. He's weak, manic, highly disturbed and pathetic. Ted Cruz has as much chance of being America's next president as its next rock singer/heartthrob.

Fun couple.

 I love the new Swiffer commercials, especially after the company's completely misguided campaign that seemed to have gone on for years. Lee and Morty are two of the most adorable nonagenarians you will ever meet. But I wonder if it bothers Morty that Lee keeps singing "The Merry Widow Waltz."

Things that burn me up.

An incinerator is a furnace.  Comments designed to start a conflagration of passions are called incendiary, not incindiary. You would think that experienced newsmen who often deal with incendiary conflicts would know this. But many of them don't. To name just one: Ryan Owens on the ABC News last night. But then ABC News, while the best evening news, is notorious for inadequate grammar and pronunciation. As I have said before Diane Sawyer turns every two-syllable word into three syllables, and now David Muir is following suit. Last night he spoke of people huddeling together. My dictionary seems to feel that huddling is a two-syllable word.

Looks: 10. Story: 0.

Just when you think no science fiction film can be as bad as Battlefield Earth, along comes another Scientologist in another incredibly boring film. This one is called Oblivion and stars the very talented Tom Cruise. But who gave the green light to this thin, thin story in which basically nothing happens other than the usual sci-fi cliches. Of course, unlike 2000's Battlefield Earth, this film had good direction and excellent special effects. But sadly, it didn't have a script nor a single character you could care about.It seemed to borrow a little from 2001, a touch of Farhenheit 451, and a soupcon of every Star Wars and Star Trek film. I am guessing there are fans of the author or sc-fi nuts who will say this is a good film and god bless them. I thought this was two plus hours of sheer tedium, redeemed only by Tom Cruise's acting and some innovative props. Other than that: yawn.

Voices from the past.

As long as I'm bitching about old movies, I'd like to address a 44-year-old criticism. When the movie ofPaint Your Wagon was released, many critics carped that neither Lee Marvin nor Clint Eastwood could sing. Bullshit! I was just listening to the soundtrack album and both actors sang perfectly for their roles. Clint Eastwood had the ideal voice of trusting innocence and masculine ruggedness. His "I Talk to the Trees" is excellent. And I can't imagine any singer I'd rather listen to sing, "Wander'n Star" than Lee Marvin, who imbues it with cynicism, sadness, melancholy and all the emotions you'd expect from a great actor. The best singers are not necessarily the best choices for Broadway musicals (and their screen versions). We learned that back in  1038 when Walter Huston gave us the definitive version of "September Song." Many movie experts will argue that the best version of "One for my Baby" is by non-singer Ida Lupino in the film Road House. And as long as I'm defending Lee and Clint, I might as well defend the entire filming of Paint Your Wagon, which I think is a great film, filled with lots of what makes films great: moments. Among them the superb male chorus singing "There's a Coach Coming In", the equally rousing, "Hand Me Down that Can O' Beans" and the films best song and most one unforgettable moment, Harve Presnell as Rotten Luck Willie gazing out a torrential rainstorm from his casino. singing, "They Call the Wind Maria."

A remake without an edge.

It's only after rereading W. Somerset Maugham's classic novel The Razor's Edge that I can appreciate how truly bad the 1984 film was. That Bill Murray thought for a single moment that he was suited to play Larry Darrell is the height of conceit. He doesn't have the looks, the gravitas, or the understanding of the character. Perhaps Tyrone Power didn't either, but he had the smoldering good looks and dark mysterious eyes to suggest the depths of the complex character. But more annoying than the cast, some of which was believable, was the arrogance of the scriptwriter assuming he could improve on Maugham's story by filling in what Maugham chose to leave out. Sophie learning of the death of her husband and child was not in the book, nor was the insipid collage of Larry and Sophie falling in love, nor the war scenes.  Catherine Hicks was a fine Isabel Bradley, but who could compete with the ravishingly beautiful Gene Tierney. I can't compare the other characters in the two films until I see the 1946 version again, but one suspects that Clifton Webb was a superior Elliot Templeton to the talented Denholm Elliott. And since Anne Baxter (not one of my favorites) won the Academy Award for best supporting actress, one assumes her Sophie MacDonald was impressive. But, still, one wonders why they ever remade The Razor's Edge and chose such a flat-aspect actor as Bill Murray, a comedian,  to essay such a complicated role.

"Hello, my name is John, and I'm an alcoholic."

The day there were no gays.

Here's what I think the LGBT community and all those who are sympathetic to their demand for equal rights should do: Go on strike. For one day everyone in the LGBT community should stay home. Not go to restaurants, not go to work, not spend a dime in a market or shop, even try to limit their use of cell phones. They disappear as so many people suggest they should, mostly lawmakers, and we see what effect it has on society. America's so-called straight society will have to do without millions of clerks, service personnel, artists, performers, airline workers, restaurant workers, chefs, accountants, nurses, doctors, policemen, workers from every strata of society because gays are in every area of society. The day should be agreed ahead of time so that those who are openly gay can prepare such people as those getting married, or planning a major society event. After all it's not a spite day. It's a day to show the American public just how how prevalent the LGBT community is and how necessary they are to everyone's existence and well-being. Perhaps it isn't even necessary in states that have already legalized marriage. Perhaps this is an action that is only required in those narrow-minded states that have not recognized their gay citizens as equals. This should open some eyes.

The Satanic leader of the Republican Party

"I don't care if a mother of six dies of cancer. It doesn't bother me if a child in severe pain can't visit a doctor because he lacks coverage. I don't approve of abortion, but if a mother is having a tough delivery, let her die so the child can live. But if it requires special care let them both die. I don't see why anyone with a pre-existing condition deserves medical attention. If a beloved father has lung cancer, well screw him. He shouldn't have smoked. And who cares if children are starving. Their dirt-poor parents never should have had them."  Those aren't my feelings. Those are the sentiments if not the actual words of born-again Christian, Ted Cruz. Let me repeat that, born again Christian. Even as an atheist, I am familiar with Christian teachings: Love they neighbor, Do unto others, Feed the hungry, Clothe the poor, Be your brother's keeper. So there is no way in the world you can call yourself a Born-Again Christian while working to defund Obamacare, which cares for the health needs of the poor, hungry and homeless. Ted Cruz is a demon in Christian clothing. Look at that face. Do you see any sign of kindness or charity on those cold eyes, that ugly maw. Of course not. He and his co-conspirators are on a crusade against those in need, a war of jealousy against a loved president who is the one thing they will not tolerate—being black. There is only one word for someone like Ted Cruz and all his cohorts: evil. You can't love humanity while trying to deny it solace and comfort. You can't love children while trying to deny them freedom from illness and pain. You can't be a born-again Christian or any kind of Christian if you going to dismiss all the teachings of Christ as the Mephistophlian Ted Cruz is doing every day.

Note: It's always interesting to see where loons come from. In the case of Canadian cuckoo, Ted Cruz, it's from an equally whacko zealot named Rafael Cruz, a naturalized citizen born in Cuba. This dodo, in addressing an audience of pseudo-Christians compared Obama to Fidel Castro. How original!

Another strolling through chaos spot.

What a pretentious commercial. Who is this silly narrator in his fashionable too-small,weird-colored suit? And who is he praising as if they were god: an overweight 12-year old who sits for hours in front of a PlayStation? The copy is corny enough, but the setting is a major cliche. There must be at least a dozen commercial in which persons are walking through chaos. It's amazing how much money companies will spend to produce crap like this.

They actually have wives?

I am amazed that any women stays married to such Republican wimps as Eric Cantor, John Boehner,  Rick Santorum, William Kristol, any male newscaster on Fox, and others too numerous to mention. What kind of husbands can they be?  They are, for the most part humorous liars, cowards,  impotent prudes, priggish little gossips and petulant whiners.The are so unmanly in their behavior I would think it would require a dozen Viagra just to achieve half mast, if that. How can their children see them as anything but angry little racists fuming constantly about a person who has done very little to deserve their anger other than being born half black? They must sit rigidly at the family dinner table, eating joyously, feeding on resentment, chewing on imagined slights, scowling at the memory of every Obama achievement, and wondering why they are not admired for their denial of medical care to the needy and food to the hungry. Sadly their wives must also be cold hearted and selfish otherwise they'd be seeing their divorce lawyers and daydreaming about finding another husband, this one with a heart.

Never in danger.

I was amused when Survivor first appeared.It surprised me how many people fell for the idea that these "castaways"were ever in any kind of danger. Did it not occur to the viewers that it takes quite a large crew to transport the equipment, operate the cameras, provide food (It's called craft services for some strange reason) give directions, find locations, dress the set, etc. These alleged strugglers in the wild are hardly alone for a moment and, I would guess, never in danger of more than a mosquito bite. I noticed there is a new show now called Naked and Afraid. The same rules apply of course, but the producers feel that adding nudity (well, buttocks really) gives it more of a kick. But people are not only taken in by these survival shows. Consider the so-called talent competitions.  Fans don't even accept that many of the untalented participants on talent shows are chosen for their pathetic inabilities. They appear expecting to be insulted. America has so many talented singers, dancers and groups that they could run programs for years with nothing but highly skilled performers. What fun would that be? America wants someone to ridicule as well as applaud. Not only can I not stomach these absurd entries into the evening's lineup, but they are killing off lots of good dramas and comedies. Oh, well. What I really miss, however, is the kind of entertainment that has been missing for a long, long time: the anthology series: a different, hopefully well-written and -acted drama or comedy every week.

Today, August 4th, there was good news and bad news. I decided I don't like either. At least not when it has no effect on my life. For instance, why do I need to know that a maniac in California used his car as a killing machine on the boardwalk in Venice Beach and murdered a young visitor from Italy? I don't. Nor do I need to know about the young woman in New York City who fell 15 stories to her death because of a faulty balcony rail. These stories can only make me feel sad and depressed. Yet the national news highlights them much more than any world news which does effect my life. On the other hand, I don't need what they consider good news either. I have no interest in the salvagers who found a fortune in silver on the bottom of the ocean any more than I am delighted for the old couple who won a multi-million dollar lottery. Yes, of course, it's jealousy. What else would it be?  I can't imagine that anyone is thrilled to hear of a total stranger's windfall. But these are easy stories for the lazy news media to cover. International politics, dangerous trends, signs of future weather disasters are more difficult. Ergo: More coverage of violent crimes and jubilant sudden millionaires.

Another dopey car commercial.

I have played this a dozen times and still cannot make out the first words of this commercial that precede, "Come back when you have a team." No matter really. I think this is a really stupid commercial. What the hell does it mean. What do a bunch of mostly overweight kids and one token black have to do with a Hyundai other than the car's space which isn't very different from a dozen other cars. The oddest thing is the child welder. Is this ad promoting child labor. The whole thing is nonsensical. I still would like to know that the mush mouthed kid at the beginning says.

Note: A good friend told me that the first kid's line is, "Hey, give it back." Now that I know that, I can almost make it out. But I still am annoyed by this illogical commercial.

Are they really necesssary?

Doctors prescribe medicines that extend your life, but make it not worth living. I know that if I didn't take the medications prescribed to me for high blood pressure, high cholesterol, and enlarged prostate, I would feel great. Every day I have to deal with their side effects of achiness, fatigue, lack of sexual interest, and a general sense of malaise. Every time I experiment and stop taking even one for a single day or two, I feel better. But of course modern medicine has us convinced that we need these costly cures or otherwise we will not last another year. I find it particularly galling because I was always in a good mood, full of energy, and optimistic. Now I am mildly content, functional, anxious and pessimistic. Of course that could just be the changes that come with advanced age, but I don't think so.
One of these days I'll make the brave move of going without a single medication of an entire week. If you're still reading my blog, I'll let you know what happens.