I have to wonder about the sanity of anyone who would stare at a picture of hours to find a panda bear. Go outside. Read a book. Take a nap. Clip your toenails. But, for God’s sake … DON’T STARE AT A PICTURE FOR HOURS TO FIND A F*CKING PANDA BEAR.
This has been a public service message. Now go on with your regular life.
My dad was a wonderful guy — and he had a great sense of humor and a big laugh. I was lucky enough to have those passed on to me. I remember one Easter when I came downstairs my dad had put chocolate covered raisins on the floor by our Easter baskets. He said “Look, the Easter Bunny pooped on the floor” and then picked up one of the droppings and ate it. I thought I was going to die at first of disgust then after I knew what it was I was going to die laughing.
When I was a bit older my dad came with us to church on Easter — this was unusual to have my dad in church with my mom, my brother and me — he preferred to stay home and watch reruns of “The Bowery Boys.” When we were singing an Easter anthem we all sang “Christ The Lord is risen today,” and during the alleluia my dad leans down and the next thing I hear is “Now we all are going to pay.” Well he and I are laughing so hard and my mom is giving us the dirtiest of looks.
Easter always reminds me of those great moments. Thanks Dad.
Yesterday the City cut down three trees on my block. I know they were sick or dead but I am always sad when I see a tree is cut down. It will take decades for a new tree to grow that big. When you are 62 decades are not guaranteed like they used to be.
Many years ago I wrote a column about losing a tree outside my apartment. I have published it here as a salute to those three trees that have been lost.
A SHADY FRIENDSHIP
Last week the City of Minneapolis cut down my tree. Well technically, it belonged to the rest of the city because it was on the boulevard, but because I had watched it for more than eight years from my window, I feel the rest of the city can relinquish their ownership and let me refer to it as my tree.
After all, I saw it without its leaves, it saw me without my leaves and that is just about as intimate as two living objects can get without becoming co-dependent, sharing bodily fluids, or ending up on Jerry Springer.
From today’s press conference:
Went with my friend Lisa yesterday to see “Hidden Figures. “If you haven’t seen it go see it. It is an eye opener. I was amazed to see the IBM Selectric being used and told Lisa I didn’t think that was around until the 1970s. Came home and looked it up and it actually was launched in 1961. I loved typing on the Selectric and miss the sound it made when you were typing. Now I want to buy one.
Back to the movie … it was an eye opener. What those women put up with to have a job was beyond the pale which, by definition, means outside the bounds of acceptable behavior, but in this case it has a double meaning because it was beyond what the pale (aka white) people had to put up with or probably would put up with. At the end of the movie when they show real pictures of the women who were depicted in the movie I started to cry — it was as if the movie morphed from “entertainment” to “reality.” I admire those women more than I can say — well I can say it but I don’t know how.
On a lighter side (again literally and skin tone wise) — at one point in the movie — during a scene much like the one in the photo below — I turned to Lisa and said “It looks like the cast of The Book of Mormon.” And it did.
Here is a video of Katherine Johnson receiving the Presidential Medal of Freedom.
An idiot in the Oklahoma senate said that women’s bodies are “hosts.” If this is true than a penis is an intruder and can be shot based on the stand your ground mentality.
But, of course, it is not true and this “man” is trying to control something that men have tried to control since the dawn of time. In the words of Obi-Wan Kenobi
“IF YOU STRIKE ME DOWN, I SHALL BECOME MORE POWERFUL THAN YOU CAN POSSIBLY IMAGINE.”
The harder you try to control us, the more powerful we have become.
To call a woman a embryo host is not only stupid, but it degrades the bond between a child and a mother and then a family. I think a child senses the difference between being born into a place of welcome as opposed to being the product of a host — a parasite of sorts.
Some people like to throw around the words “Life begins at conception.” I believe life begins at connection. When the parent(s) and the family feel that immediate connection to this child. I like to think that a baby can feel that connection — that he or she knows the joy of being wanted and loved the moment of birth, or even before.
I remember seeing a big billboard many years ago proclaiming life begins at conception. My immediate thought became part of my stand-up routine:
I wear sensible shoes. I’ve worn sensible shoes for most of my life with the exception of those horrible patent leather shoes that were forced on me to wear to church. If it wasn’t for the fact that I could rub the heels together and make one of the most irritating sounds you’ve ever heard, they would have gone missing along with a bottle of bad tasting cough syrup and a note from my teacher about my inability to concentrate.
Part of the reason I wore sensible shoes is I inherited my dad’s wide feet and the fancy shoes were not made for wide feet; apparently they weren’t dainty enough. But I did try to squeeze my feet into more stylish shoes but they hurt and I don’t care how nice they looked, I prefer to not have my feet hurt to wearing shoes that are like small torture machines.
The other reason is I just didn’t want to wear the shoes with heels that a klutz like myself could and would easily fall off of and break some bones. They were also way too expensive. When I see shoes that cost hundreds of dollars I can’t imagine buying them. I spend a lot for a good pair of shoes but not hundreds of dollars. If I want to fall and break something it would be cheaper to just throw myself down the steps.
So the “Sex in the City’ gang can have their designer shoes and gigantic shoe closets — I’ll take my sensible shoes and one of those shoe bags that is hanging on my closet door. Now if we are talking about sensible socks vs. funky socks I am definitely on the side of funky.