Where you could walk forever.

I would be thinner and healthier if I lived in New York City. When you live in Miami, the only way to stay fit is to join a health club, which I don't intend to do. You can't walk in these blistering temperatures unless you're willing to risk heat exhaustion and melanoma not to mention the boredom of the always-the-same tropical settings.  If you go to the beach, your skin cancer odds go up even more unless you slather yourself constantly with sun block and hope that sharks don't like that way it tastes. Now, in NYC you can walk for hours beneath those often gray skies, and never become bored by the fascinating sights of the world's most interesting city. No need for stair climbing machines, the steps to the Metropolitan Museum and other landmarks will keep you fit.  While it's true that Manhattan has far better food choices than Miami, New Yorkers actually find lots more things to do than eat. Miami's main pastime. The last time I was in New York, I walked to Brooklyn Heights from 34th Street, which meant crossing the Brooklyn Bridge. I hiked up to 125th Street to see the diner where the Seinfeld gang hung out (hanged out?). I walked the full length of New York's High Line Park, an aerial greenway on the lower West Side.  I walked to the Battery and took the ferry to Staten Island. And even schlepped up 5th Avenue to the Metropolitan Museum of Art which offers its own miles and miles of indoor walking. However, since getting back to Miami, I barely have the energy in this humid weather to walk to the bus stop. So why don't I move to New York? Who can afford it?

The folded arms of resistance.

I just saw a jerk on CNN who reminded me of how sad most Republicans are. Sad because they cannot, will not, be truthful. Not if that truth interferes with their attack on President Obama. This wildly conservative radio host, Ben Ferguson,  naturally had nothing good to say about our president. He couldn't. He's trapped in his little corner or racism and hate. He's forced into following the party line, which requires him to ignore Obama's accomplishments, brilliance, charm, and always good intentions. Ask any question and you will see him respond with the reflexes of a dog being scratched. His fat little face becomes animated as his narrow little mind seeks for the best way to attack President Obaba while making it seemed like a reasoned argument. Poor thing.

Acceptance.

For trusting children everywhere

There always come that day

When logic compels them to

Put all fairy tales away.

Sad it is, I must admit,

When they accept the truth

That no generous fairy

Rewards each missing tooth.

No Easter Bunny hops along

On fat, white, furry legs

With an incongruous treasure

Of pastel candy eggs.

And, alas, must come that Christmas

When suddenly they see

That Santa Claus and reindeers

Just simply cannot be.

"Bringing toys to children everywhere

On a single tiny sleigh."

Is absurdly impossible

In every single way.

Yes, it's true, all children

Will soon discard themselves

All belief in fairies,

Goblins, ghosts and elves.

Yet while giving up all fantasies

Without another nod.

For reasons inexplicable

Most still believe in god.

It just rolls of the tongue.

One of the clues in today's crossword puzzle reminded me of a trend I really hate. That is naming arenas and stadiums after companies. It seems to me the height of commercialism is that there is actually a Quicken Loans Arena in Cleveland. How much civic pride can you feel when your sports venue is named for a money lender? And how much civic pride did Quicken feel when they slapped their name on an arena they could have given a more exalted name? This is especially offensive in those many, many cases where the bulk of financing sports stadiums falls on the shoulders of tax payers, including people like me who have no interest in sports. So really most stadiums, based on who supports them, should have names like Taxpayer Stadium, The Workingman's Coliseum, and Ripoff Arena.

In a lonely place.

It seems it was a very disappointing year at the movie box office. In July box office sales were down 30%. For the first time in 13 years no summer film netted $300 million domestically. I wonder why. Could it be because most of the films exhibited today are crap: special-effect epics designed to thrill the average 12-year-old hero-worshipping ninny. Or mindless comedies with lots of sly sexual jokes and even more bathroom humor. Films that are not only bad in themselves, but are shameless copies of every other film in the genre? (When was the last time you saw an alien that wasn't reptilian or a film without scatology?)  Or could it be that people get tired of seeing cell phone lights continually popping up all over the theater? Or maybe it's the $10.00 popcorn and $6.00 Goobers. Or maybe it's the 20-minutes of advertising and promotions that make the paying guests feel suckered. Or maybe it's just because so many people now have 5-foot,high-definition tv screens and nearby kitchens and no longer feel the need to be ripped off by high priced tickets, snacks, and parking.

Run, Randy, Run.!

Republicans keep saying America wants a strong leader. It appears they couldn't find one stronger than Hillary Clinton. It must be so since every single Republican seems to be terrified of her. Wimpy Rand Paul has his curls in an uproar over the possibility of her being president. The pitiful plagiarist is so distressed he is dragging out the ancient history of Benghazi to suggest that's reason enough to prevent her election. But all he manages to do with all his attacks is to remind voters what a prissy little whiner he is. I would say far more destructive than Benghazi is Randy's burger incident. Readers may remember that during an Iowa fundraiser, two "dreamers" Erika Andiola and Cesar Vargas introduced themselves to Steve King. Randal, who was eating a burger nearby shoveled what remained of his burger into his mouth and ran off like a frightened dog for fear of having to confront them. A cowardly act that's hardly the behavior of a presidential hopeful.

Really, a household hint?

It's kind of insipid to write a post in praise of a mop, but I feel duty-bound to do so. It's not just any mop, but one that has made my life so much easier. Like most people I hate housecleaning. And it's not that I'm to cheap to pay a cleaner, I just hate having to give up my privacy even for a few hours. That's why I so appreciate the Mr. Clean mop. It's just a seven dollar item. Nothing more really than a long handle on which slip a towel-like mop head. But what's amazing is when you mop the floor with this device, you pick up a lot of dirt. but when you rinse it under the faucet, the dirt disappears and the cloth is as clean as new again and ready to re-work. It makes washing floors so easy and fast. I don't want to sound like Heloise, but if you do your own cleaning I highly recommend this mop. I'm sure there are others like it, but this is the one I know. So there! By the way, those orange-colored felt-y type things you get in the supermarket are also terrific.

"Let me think for a minute..."

I find it very discouraging that some of today's news stories are so obviously false. There are certain headlines that you know immediately can't possibly be true. For instance in HuffPost today the headline read, "Rick Perry Criticizes Obama for 'No Strategy' on Syria.' How gullible do they think we are? I doubt very much if Rick Perry has any opinions on Syria. I doubt that he even know where it is.

Adieu

I must admit I'm torn about Diane Sawyer leaving ABC News. I always found her attractive, professional and intensely competent. But she has one habit that drives me mad. She turns every two-syllable word into three syllables. Hence gambellng, sparkeling, troubeling, etc. And unfortunately this will not be the end of Three-Syllable-Sawyer as she seems to have infected others with this peculiarity, including David Muir. Oh, well, at some point I will have to accept that many Americans can no longer determine the number of syllables in a word, nor can they pronounced the letter t when it appears within a word, ergo: innanet, innaview, winnah (the season) and Atlannic (the ocean). So, I guess I'll just give up and wish Diane Sawyer a dazzeling future.

The next Miss Universe?

I think if scientists studied the minds of Republicans, they would find that something is missing. What? I don't know. Logic. Realism. All too often I read that a noted Republican (is there such a thing) has fantasied that he can be the president. This includes bubble-headed Marco Rubio, sexphobic Rick Santorum, the prematurely senile Rick Perry, misanthrope Rafael Cruz, and, most recently, the wimpy and ever-shiny Bobby Jindal. Where does this megalomania come from? What made John McCain think he could sourpuss his way into the White House, let alone saddled with an Alaskan chillbilly? And the delusions keep coming. I'm sure Joni Ernst thinks a dress will make her look feminine. Paul Ryan thinks if you keep spouting numbers people will think you're smart. And Lindsey Graham is certain that with constant praying John will leave his wife and family and finally share a home with him. Like I say, delusional.

"Give that little girl a cigar."

There were two stories in the news today that just made you feel warm all over, and gave you the feeling that there is some justice in the world after all. The first was about Douglas McAuthor McCain,
(HuffPost must have misspelled his middle name). It seems Dougie, patriot that he was, was fighting for the Islamic State of Iraq and al-Sham, affectionately known to traitors as ISIS. And guess what? He was killed over the weekend. Oh, well. The other story was closer to home, actually about 25 miles outside of Vegas. This involved the death of 39-year-old Charles Vacca, a gun instructor at Bullets and Burgers, an outdoor shooting range. It seems he was shot with an automatic Uzi while teaching a 9-year-old girl how to use a gun. I can't imagine how teaching a 9-year-old how to shoot an Uzi could cause such a problem.

Much ado etc.

I have absolutely no interest in the Emmys. I'm snobbish enough to still feel that television, especially today's television is far below movies. And frankly I've lost interest in the Oscars as well. Not only do I sneer at television in general, but feel that American shows are far less entertaining than British productions. To me nothing on American tv equals Call the Midwife, Mr. Selfridge, Silk, Endeavour, Death in Paradise, and Scott and Bailey.  I am astonished that a formula sitcom like Modern Family wins any kind of award, but even more astonished that the bland and tiresome Ty Burrell is singled out for praise when he's the weakest link in a week series. But judging from the hullabaloo and coverage, the American public is thrilled with their sitcoms, reality shows, and dismal swearing-up-a-storm cable series. So got to it!

"Hey, there's the camera!"

There is one belief I will absolutely cling to forever, no matter how many people say I'm wrong or that it doesn't matter: Showing a camera lens flare in a movie is sloppy film making. If you're watching a movie, notably a period piece and you're involved in the action and you see a camera flare, you are aware that you are watching a movie. It tells you that  that this is a set, these are actors, and there are all kinds of workers nearby. The fantasy is ruined. Yet even the most admired directors have frequent camera flares. Spielberg uses them shamelessly. In the golden age of movie-making if the camera lens was evident, the director redid the shot. Now, for some unfathomable reason, directors think this visual cliche is creative. Would they think it was creative to show the microphone boom? Of course not. But it's the same thing. A reminder of the technology, and a distraction from the story.

A killer of a fundraiser.

Isn't it nice that racists have their very own charity? There is no central agency to support the KKK or to buy crosses and kerosene. But, happily, there is a GoFundMe psge to support Darren Wilson, the officer who fatally shot unarmed black teenager Michael Brown for the unforgivable crime of walking in the street. How satisfying it must be for every skinhead and bigot to know their money can support a trigger happy Ferguson, Missouri, cop. Already the site has raised $137,000 which gives you some idea of how many people have no interest at all in seeing justice done. I doubt that these contributors believe that Wilson is innocent, not considering the number of bullets that riddled the young man. No. They just don't want to see a cop go to jail for a crime that's not a big deal in their eyes. Those involved in this successful fund-raising have said, "The positive messages, prayers and donations are truly heartwarming. We cannot put into words how thankful we are." Really, prayers?

"Somebody had to say something."

Shame on Paul Ryan. Breaking one of Saint Ronald's cardinal rules, and speaking against a fellow Republican. And what did he say about John Boehner? He said he stinks. In a Q & A with Time's Belinda Luscombe, Ryan, in referring to John Boehner said, "...I try to sit as far away from him as I can in meetings that I know are going to be stressful.I just hate getting that smell on my clothes." This is a pretty catty remark from someone who should be showing allegiance and respect.  Tut. Tut. What will Paulie attack next,  Boehner's alcoholism?

"I 'ate to say it guvna, but...."

I saw a clip the other day of Andrew Lloyd Webber. In it he was praising My Fair Lady as "the greatest musical ever written. This seems to be a common opinion among musical theater critics. I can't understand why. I think My Fair Lady is a shamelessly overrated musical. While entertaining enough, it has major flaws. For one thing it's very claustrophobic, considering how much action takes place in Professor Higgins's stuffy library. Also the character's lack believability, much more so in this musical than in the play. Eliza doesn't just learn to speak properly, she becomes another human being. Pedantic  Henry Higgins would never say, "...should be taken out and hung." He would have used the correct "hanged". And who can argue that "Without You" and "Just You Wait" are too perfectly horrible book songs? While "On the Street Where You Live" can be charming it also come across as  maudlin. The much celebrated,  "I'm Getting Married in the Morning" while amusing is no greater than similar pub songs in such forgettable shows as Walking Happy and Blitz!  While Lerner and Lowe have done masterful charmers like Brigadoon, they have also written the leaden, yet surprisingly popular, Camelot. This is just one of their better musicals, not the world's greatest. So why is this show so over-praised?  For one thing it introduced Julie Andrews. Making her shine even more was Rex Harrison, the ideal Professor Higgins's. And you couldn't have a better foundation than George Bernard Shaw's, Pygmalion. And let's face it, Cecil Beaton's spectacular sets and costumes alone were worth the price of admission.  Besides Cinderella stories almost always do well.  My Fair Lady is a very entertaining, but the greatest musical ever written? I don't think so.

Don't imitate, orginate.

Despite being gay, I hate the word husband applied to one's partner. If one is the husband, does that make the other the wife? Or are there two husbands. And why do gays need to borrow that word from straight people? What's wrong with partner? Hell, why do they have to borrow the whole ceremony: the cake, the tuxedos, all the silly rituals. Gays have always been in the creative fields. Can't they come up with something original, meaningful and clear? The new freedom for gay couples is great. It's amazing how far we've come. More and more states are honoring gay marriages. But do we really need copycat weddings? What's next, tossing the bouquet?

"I shoulda brought a book."

I have a test I put doctors through. Of course they don't know it. And, even if they did they probably wouldn't care. But I think my test is a very good yardstick to measure how much a doctor really cares about his or her patients. It's a simple test. All it involves is the number and variety of magazines. Many doctors who are cold and greedy usually have very few magazines in their waiting rooms. The ones they do have are usually golf magazines, because that's what they subscribe to, or Today's Health, which they probably get free. If you're one of their patients, you'll have to bide your time reading pamphlets on cancer, adults onset diabetes, or—if it's a dentist—gum disease. I have a great doctor. He rarely keeps you waiting, and—true to form—he has piles of Time, GQ, Vogue, Readers Digest, The Smithsonian and lots of other popular reads. Trust me, if your doctor has lots of magazines for you to read, he cares about you. If he doesn't, he cares about money. On one of my recent visits to a new specialist, I could choose from about four magazines: a year-old Golf Digest and three medical journals. The decorations on his walls were advertising posters. Seeing this, I wasn't surprised at how long I had to wait. With nothing to read, of course.

The eyes have it. Maybe.

Tomorrow I'm having cataract surgery. Now I'm really not that anxious about the operation itself, or at least I wouldn't be if I didn't keep getting calls from the medical center. Just now a woman called, Amy was her name. She wants to know my social security number, age, marital status, address and next of kin. Another person called two days ago with similar questions. It makes you wonder if they think there's a chance you'll check out during the procedure. I would also feel better if I had spent more than ten minutes with the doctor. But we had a quick face to face at which time he highly recommended the $2,000 per eye lens without ever suggesting anything else. I never saw him again. I did get a call from a technician who explained my four choices. The free lens didn't seem to impress him. But he was increasingly impressed with each costlier choice, and rapturous about the $3,000 per eye option. I shouldn't say rapturous because he didn't have enough personality to merit that description. Anyway, I went with the freebee. I'll soon know if that was the wisest choice.

Television's most important program. Really.

Just when you think no television programs could be as trenchant, as incisive, and as thought-provoking  as Real Time with Bill Maher or The Daily Show with Jon Stewart along comes Last Week Tonight with John Oliver. This is a truly astounding new show in which Oliver combines amazingly inventive humor with caustic and insightful commentary on our society, our villains, our heroes and our present and future obstacles. Oliver is incredibly knowledgeable and energetically covers stories that the lazy news media constantly ignore like the homophobia in Nigeria and the base stupidity of the Ferguson police department. His outrage at idiocy, bureaucracy and racism is hilarious and disturbing. I'm not clever enough to convey to you how beyond brilliant John Oliver is. But viewing just one weekly show will show you exactly what I mean.

Popular song lyrics,
then...

I get no kick from champagne.
Mere alcohol doesn't thrill me at all,
So tell me why should it be true
That I get a kick out of you?
Some get a kick from cocaine.
I'm sure that if I took even one sniff
That would bore me terrific'ly, too,
Yet I get a kick out of you.
                 Cole Porter

and now.

Sending out an S.O.S.
Sending out an S.O.S.
Sending out an S.O.S.
Sending out an S.O.S.
Sending out an S.O.S.
Sending out an S.O.S.
Sending out an S.O.S.
Sending out an S.O.S.
Sending out an S.O.S.
                 Who cares?

Note: Yes, those are the actual only lyrics to a song I heard this morning. And it is not the only song out there that has a single meaningless phrase repeated ad nauseum.

Talk about delusional.

Texas Governor Rick Perry has been indicted for abuse of power. Apparently he is accused of abusing the powers of his office by carrying out a threat to veto funding for state prosecutors investigating public corruption.  While that is amusing, it doesn't interest me nearly as much as another aspect of the story. What fascinates me is that he thinks this will hurt his chances at running for the presidency. Is he mad? Does he really think that a bimbo like him has any chance at the highest office in the world. The man is a doofus. Who can forget his memory lapse during the campaign season. What is it with these Republicans. Yes, some of them have a chance of running, distasteful as they are. I could see Rand Paul getting the nod, even creepy Rafael Cruz or "looks good, thinks bad" Paul Ryan. But Rick Perry, or Michele Bachmann, John McCain or Mitt Romney ? They have to be close to insane to think they have a chance of being elected. But then again, I think most Republicans are close to being insane. 

Toughie.

The pint-sized, helmet-haired, gun-toting, swaggering ex-farmer Jodi Ernst is the newest leather-clad tough guy to stomp on to the political stage. This Obama-hating Republican racist from Iowa is a member of the state senate and a Lieutenant Colonel in the Iowa Army National Guard. She's also the GOP nominee for the United States Senate in Iowa in 2014. Whether she is elected or not depends on just how gullible Iowans are. While Jodi can be very nasty in her comments about the President of the United States, her spouse, Gail, can be just as bitchy and has been forced to withdraw many nasty statements.

1. 
   

A valuable writing lesson.

I mentioned my brother Gary (1944-1995) in a previous post.  Gary, who was a well loved and greatly admired teacher of writing, has many books to his credit. Books on writing. Bios. And stories of true crime. Among his sage comments on creativity is this much-praised paragraph: "This sentence has five words." I include it here as excellent advice for anyone, whether they are writing a novel or just a letter.

“This sentence has five words. Here are five more words. Five-word sentences are fine. But several together become monotonous. Listen to what is happening. The writing is getting boring. The sound of it drones. It’s like a stuck record. The ear demands some variety. Now listen. I vary the sentence length, and I create music. Music. The writing sings. It has a pleasant rhythm, a lilt, a harmony. I use short sentences. And I use sentences of medium length. And sometimes, when I am certain the reader is rested, I will engage him with a sentence of considerable length, a sentence that burns with energy and builds with all the impetus of a crescendo, the roll of the drums, the crash of the cymbals–sounds that say listen to this, it is important.”  Gary Provost

What idiots!

This post is sure to offend lots of people and I don't care. I think the Ice Bucket Challenge for ALS is one of the stupidest gimmicks I've ever seen and I'm disappointed that so many intelligent people are falling in line. The very premise is moronic: Donate to ALS or dump ice water on your head. But supposedly these people are donating and drenching themselves with ice water–duh! First of all I don't know what ice water has to do with Lou Gehrig's disease. But even if there is a connection, I am not amused by people wasting water by dumping it on their heads. Children are dying in this world for lack of water. California is losing millions from their economy for lack of water. Water is essential to life, to growth, to commerce. I hate to see it used as a fund-raising gimmick just as I hate seeing food wasted in such ridiculous events as pumpkin tossing or tomato-fighting. I'm sure this asinine promotion will continue, and more and more idiots will leap on the bandwagon and smugly dump ice water over their heads. Pity Americans aren't willing to donate to an important charity without this kind of idiocy.

The always angry whale.

Talk about pots and kettles check this out.  Rush Limbaugh, brilliant psychiatrist that he is, thinks that Robin Williams died of suicide this week because "unhappiness is the attitude of the political left." Fatty goes on to say that the leftist attitude is "one of pessimism and darkness, sadness—they're never happy, are they?" Here's the best part of his tirade, "They're always angry about something. No matter what they get they're always angry." Now I suggest that if you ask anyone who the angriest person in America is, your frequent answer would be Rush Limbaugh.  Robin Williams would not come to mind since he was always laughing, joking, doing a bit or working for charity. So this is another one of Limbaugh's half-cocked theories which appeal to his half-assed audience. When so many fools praise you, it's impossible to know how ridiculous you are.

The writer and the movie star.

I feel very sad about the death of Lauren Bacall. I loved her acting and she is, after all, one of the last, if not the last, icon of Hollywood's Golden Age. Actually I should resent her, though I don't. In 1994, my brother Gary wrote, Bogart, In Search of My Father along with Stephen Bogart, Lauren's son. With motherly pride Lauren pushed the publisher into giving Stephen top billing, though Gary had written the entire book. It turns out she didn't have do do much convincing since the book was published in 1996, and Gary died at 50 years old the year before.

Gary, shown here, was a great teacher of writing, a brilliant wit, and that rarest of persons today: a wise man.

Nation in forced mourning.

I hate lines like this headline from today's HuffPost, "The Moments We All Fell in Love with Robin Williams." I never fell in love with Robin Williams. I never found him funny. To me he was the irritating hyper kid in high school before the introduction of Ritalin. And while I accept that he was a very popular comedian and beloved by millions, I find this obsessive and overdone news coverage irritating as it is forced and artificial group-think. They are covering Robin Williams as if he were the second coming of Christ. Yes, he was successful, and he did a lot of charity work. But there are actual news stories we need to hear about instead of how he hanged himself. If you really loved him why do you need to know the gory details of his death. I loved Elaine Stritch. Someone else worshipped a rock star or opera diva. We mourn the celebrities we love. We do need the national news media telling us who we mourn or how diligently we should do it. Don't pull that crap that everybody loved the same somebody because it just isn't so.

Run that by me again.

This ad for Capri Sun is probably one of the stupidest commercials I have ever seen. The first mother points out her friend that the bottom of the package is transparent and says, "Now you can see there's no artificial colors and preservatives." What? How can you see that? What is there about seeing the colored liquid in the bottom of the container that tells you that is not artificial? What tips you off that it has no preservatives?  Did anyone working on this commercial see how dumb-ass stupid this spot is, or do they think the American consumer is so moronic that they can say anything and be believed?

The illiterate Sarah speaks out.

Though there's not a chance in the world that anyone reading my blog is a Sarah Palin fan, I include this post anyway. Present it to all those Palinites who actually believe that Sarah could write an entire book, much less a single paragraph. Show them this example of her literary skills. This was a recent comment in rebuttal to a speech by Elizabeth Warren. This should put to rest any question as to whether Sarah has one or more ghost writers.

"We believe, wait, I thought fast food joints, don't you guys think they're like the devil or something? Liberals, you want to send those evil employees who would dare work at a fast food joint that you just don't believe in, I thought you, I dunno, wanted to send them to purgatory or something. So they all go vegan. And wages and picket lines. I dunno, they're not often discussed in purgatory are they? I dunno, why are you even worried about fast food wages?" 

Published author, Sarah Palin

Tell me this isn't absurd.

Next to Mad, I think one of the funniest magazines on the stands is Esquire. A much better name for this would be The Extreme Narcissist. What could be funnier than all those handsome and not-so-handsome male models doing their best to look stern and macho while dressed in some of the most prissy and effeminate fashions ever. Certainly not all these models are gay, but if they have any interest in the beautiful woman in these ads, it doesn't show. Besides all the gay men I know smile, which is not something you see in the pages of this glossy confection.  Of course many of these silly long coats, silken scarfs, dainty hats, unisex glasses, and multi-buckle shoes would be eschewed by any man with a sense of true fashion. It is amazing that Esquire has stayed in business for so many years offering little less than how-to articles for intensely self-centered poseurs along with the occasional celebrity profile, usually of someone who wouldn't be caught dead in the fashions featured in the magazines ads. Oh, yes, they generally include an erotic cartoon or an article on sex to prove that they are not just impotent
designer-obsessed fops.

Dumb and dumber.

Here we see two dodos in Iowa. That Rick Perry or Rafael Cruz think that they have a chance at being the president is hilarious.  But they are not the only dummies in this fantasy. Add Bobby Jindal, Rick Santorum and Mike Huckabee. Of course they were addressing more than 1,000 evangelical voters, the most non-Christian group of racists, bigots and Obama haters you can find. What will happen when they have to address thinking Americans?

How can we scare you tonight?

I'm beginning to think that the purpose of the network news programs is to keep American in a state of constant fear. Right now they are busy pushing Ebola, though the chances of it becoming a national epidemic are infinitesimal. Today, they are showing signs of leaping on the, "Isis could attack here" theme. Another non-possibility. But every day brings new, and false, reasons to be wary, fretful, paranoid, or downright panicky. I guess they feel if we are in a state of anxiety, we will check in with them regularly for some comforting news, which, by the way, we're never going to get. Good news is not good for ratings.

I hate these swimmers.

This is one of the most irritating commercials on television. It's not bad when you see it for the first time, though one wonders what the subliminal message is. However, once you have been exposed to it dozens of times, you leap for the remote to avoid seeing it again. Not only is it annoying, but it's long: a full 90 seconds when other commercials are 30 seconds or less. What could seem more endless than a long commercial for a product you don't need?  I don't really understand the beach side scenario and the apparent gay flirtations, but I suppose it has some kind of relevance to the product.

Snake oil comes in many shapes.

I have often commented on this blog how much I hate Kellogg's for being so greedy and charging a fortune to American families for what is essentially a handful of grain and a box full of air. But I also hate their competitor Cheerios for a different reason, Ever since I was a child I have seen their fraudulent commercials for Cheerios aimed at children—like the deceptive 1961 ad shown here—promising that their sugar-loaded cereal somehow gives you strength and endurance. As a child I, of course, believed this crap, but I see they are still doing it in commercials for kids and for adults with all kinds of suggestions that eating their empty calories will reduce your cholesterol, improve your heart health, and do everything except cure ED.  Pity there seem to be no more truth-in-advertising rules and companies like General Mills can—to use an old expression—hoodwink the public. Probably the second most popular lie in America after, "the check's in the mail" is "He's feeling his Cheerios."

Score more deaths for George and Dick.

As you know if you watch the news, thousands of civilians are dying in Iraq as Isis moves forward with its violent attacks on cities and villages. Where do you suppose they got all those tanks and guns and rockets they're using to slaughter innocent men, women, and terrified children.  They got them from the poorly trained and cowardly Iraqi army troops who left them behind. But where did they get them? They got them from the good old U.S.A. who deluged Iraq with all these killing machines when they arrived for the fake war that was dreamed up by George Bush and Dick Cheney. It seems the US soldiers fighting this fake war didn't bother to take the weapons away or even keep track of them, assuming the "good" soldiers left behind would put them to good use.  Ergo: piles of human bodies, deaths of whole families, fear everywhere. Yet George and Dick live comfortable lives in America, still not willing to accept full responsibility for the continuing horror they have unleashed on Iraq.

Our ugliest good friends.

While the lazy and useless media continue to give major coverage to the two, and possibly only one, person affected with the Ebola virus in the United States, they glossed over or ignored a far more important story: the death of millions of bats. It seems that in the Northeast and other areas millions of bats are dying of the white-nose syndrome (WNS), a disease caused by the insidious fungus Pseudogymnnoaascus (Geomyces) destructants.  If you're only slightly smarter than a news reporter, you will know that bats consume millions of insects that carry disease or just plain make  our lives miserable. We need bats, desperately. Ugly as they are, we love bats. You will recall how little attention the news media gave to the disappearance of bees, which are essential to our food supply. So while the media cover non-stories like Ebola in America, they continue to ignore those serious stories which  truly affect our lives. Why? Because they require more research, energy and intelligence.

Give the bigot a call.

Just yesterday I returned to Miami from a visit to Tampa. Having never been to Tampa I was very impressed with how clean, attractive and orderly it was. While I was still recalling all the red brick streets, magnificent river walk, and the nice people of Tampa, I read a news article. It seems a Baptist church in Tampa cancelled the funeral  of Julion Evans with less than 24 hours notice after the pastor learned the deceased was gay. The pastor in question was T.W. Jenkins, who, being a bigot and homophobe and not a true man of god,  was horrified to learn from the obituary that Evans had a husband, 40-year-old Kevin Capers. Naturally Jenkins, pastor of New Hope Missionary Baptist Church, who never heard of love thy neighbor says he was doing his duty as a "man of God" based on the preaching of the scripture, which, of course, has not such bullshit dictate. So, with this petulant, self-righteous act, Jenkins has not only disgraced himself, but made the city of Tampa look a bit less progressive as well.

Run for your Lives!

The lazy incompetent media are it again. Instead of covering real news which is difficult and expensive, they have leapt on a story that is sad but insignificant: ebola. Two Americans have contracted the ebola virus in Liberia. Both are being flown here to Atlanta to be treated. There is no chance of the disease escaping and spreading. There is no story here. But all the networks have amped up this insignificant item, trying to create fear, attempting to make it into a huge story: American at danger? Will ebola spread? Are we doomed?  More significant is what's happening in Toledo. The water there isn't safe to drink. Tap water is dangerous. Store shelves have been emptied of bottled water. The news is eager to cover all the dramatic panic. But why don't they find out why the water is polluted? Who is responsible? How did the get away with it? But the news won't cover that. Why? It's too much work.

A deja vu death.

I saw a news item today that an American Idol alumni named Michael Johns was dead at 35.  Obviously this is a sad story. I have never seen American Idol and certainly don't know Michael Johns, but this kind of early death is always distressing news. The cause they gave for his death was a blood clot in the ankle. This may be true. Such things happen. But I recall that when Dorothy Dandridge died on September 8, 1965, they gave them same diagnosis. I recall how many people were spooked by the idea that a clot in the foot could result in your death. I'm sure many will feel the same again with this newest death. But it was later shown that Ms. Dandridge died of a drug overdose. I am not suggesting that that is the case here, but I certainly hope that authorities don't give false causes of death which save the reputation of the deceased but give lots of other people attacks of paranoia.

I don't get it.

There's something weird about many Americans. At least I think it's weird. They seem to be obsessed with being crude and vulgar when it isn't even necessary. A friend send me a video today of cats knocking items of counters, etc. It was very amusing. But it was titled "Cats Love Knocking Shit Over." Why was "shit" a necessary word for this charming video? It wasn't. A second video was titled, "Cat's Just Don't Give a Fuck?" Now if these titles amuse you, then I am talking to the wrong audience. I find the title and the video incongruous. To me swearing is almost always unnecessary, angry, juvenile, and antisocial. Yet it is the accepted standard today for just about everything. TV shows that can use swears, use them non-stop. People who once would never curse, curse endlessly. Call me a prude, I think it lessens the pleasures of social communication. But most people don't seem to give a fig, yes, fig.