Louden Wainwright III

One of my favorite singer/songwriters singing about one of my favorite columnists in the New York Times. I miss the Sunday Times, but the delivery guy can't find me, so I can't receive it...sad. But I can now listen to Loudy any time I want to, and I don't have to get out the records, tapes or CDs... he's right here. Wish I had a video of him playing his guitar more... he's very good! Oh... and this is from The New Yorker... I miss then too.

No Wonder no one Comments (or reads?)

This is absolutely the dullest, most prosaic page on the web. I MUST ask someone how to fix it and make it look like all the other pages I LIKE... I have no idea how to do it. That's what I get for letting myself just slide along and not learning any of the new things that can be done. Terrible... and to think that I used to teach people how to use computers. How did I manage to get so dull?

facebook, ah facebook... can be a bit much....

I have a disgusting ad on my facebook page. It is a pic of Ronnie the Ruiner (dressed as a cowboy, of course), put there by a bunch of screaming nutsies (the man who started it is shown screaming in his rather disgusting photo) who obviously weren’t watching as he took the country down, and began the republican/PNAC lovely idea to really ruin the country, so that they could get together with 'leaders' in other countries and I suppose they felt: Rule the World.

What a shame that a group of old white men seem to think they can run the country any way they want. Yet they are elected by a tiny minority of ‘the people,’ as they are allowed the same two senators from the states with the smallest population that we are allowed in the states with the largest population. So MANY of the senators sitting in Congress screaming "NO" and "YOU LIE" and other nasty remarks are elected by a minority of the people of our country. And you may have noticed that the Senate is where things get stuck -- things usually desired by the majority of the people in this country. The old white men elected by the minority of the people of the U.S. will do anything to keep anything attempted for the good of the majority from going through. (Interesting... I highlighted the whole thing, but this would not go to red... very weird!)

Yet they feel they should run the country and hold up decent bills that would be best for us, the majority, who want them. Please notice the difference in the House, where people are elected by the majority of the populace. If they had been heard and been allowed to send their bill to the president at the beginning of the health care debate, we would have universal health care by now. Only the minority of the people are holding this up.

Don't listen to them, or allow them to rule the country by their delaying and underhanded tactics. Get out the vote in your state, sign people up... make sure this rotten minority doesn't take over again. And be sure to VOTE yourself. Remember, as the republicans used to remind us almost daily, the majority does rule... but we must VOTE, in the Primaries and in the General Elections.

And one last little comment... I am so happy to finally have someone in the White House who knows the name of our country, and doesn't say "...and god bless Amurica," but says it correctly:... "God bless the United States of America."

What a Week.....

And it's only Wednesday! I cannot seem to get everything DONE until around 3am, and therefore cannot seem to get up until afternoon, thus causing the same problem the next day, and on and on. Why is it that there is less time when you have finally retired? And time picks up so fast as one grows older? And you put off the things that you should be doing and start reading all the interesting things you find when googling for info, moving from one to the next, to the next and all of a sudden it is 3am, and you have lost the thought... and have not done any of the should haves?

Oh, well, tonight I will go to bed on time (repeat that 10 times and tell Sylvia to remind you). She just came shooting in, jumped up behind me and settled in to wash herself for the 10th time today (obviously she is psychic). Now my chair will shake with the washing and tail swishing constantly.

I have been cleaning out my mailboxes and had to read the 'what's going on in SF this week note.' Interesting. We have a hip-hop version of Dante's Inferno; a play about origami; the eternal 'Beach Blanket Babylon;' a story about a first grade teacher rescuing her physical therapist from harm (their description is five times longer); a gourmet dinner and show at NYC prices; a Valentine's day cruise; tennis in San Jose; back to the beginning?--Antigone, Phaedra and Oedipus, none in the original however; more cruises--many cruises; comedy, comedy, comedy and so much more, including a whole day of winetasting (they say nothing of how they sober you up to go home). Golly, we sure have lots to do.

I won't be doing any of it... I shall be putting strange old books on my Kindle; thinking about finally hooking up my new TV which has been sitting at the end of my desk, holding up the dragons, which also must be put up on the wall; cooking a bunch of meals from the things that are falling out of my over-filled freezer; listening to a bunch of new CDs; and looking up songs to put on my new purple ipod (all these things from Whitney's huge Amazon credit card she sent me for my birthday -- bless her heart!). So I may never go out again with all the googling and learning how to use all the new stuff.

I adore the Kindle -- I can download all the books from the Gutenberg Website for free (of course, I volunteer at their website, one of the 'jobs' I have chosen to do the 'giving back' that Jessie taught us to do. I am 'proofing' the old books, something I always managed to push off on someone else when I was in advertising... but here it is fun, and you get to read some really interesting old books. Also, new books are a tremendous price for the Kindle -- often books that would cost you $30 to buy are $9.99, as are most from Amazon... or less, and often free. (I fear ABEbooks will miss me... books for the Kindle often are less than from them. I do love ABEbks though, and hate to say it, but just ordered something from them.)

And then there are the two new applications I just got for my Mac... a drawing one that I MUST get to, as I haven't done any drawing in ages, except doing some heads from Charlie Rose programs awhile back -- but in pencil. A couple of them were pretty good, so I want to do some more. Ah, that takes us back in a circle to WHEN do I find time to do...............? What a week, what a month, what a year -- OMG, it is no longer 2009, it is 2010 -- when did that happen?

Now For Another Rant....

What is it about old men. Not only do they grow long ears and bushy eyebrows, they also get stuck in their ways and cannot stand it if a woman might know a tiny bit more about a subject than they. Or even if she has a different opinion about something than they do. Are we to have no thoughts of our own? Are we to be considered ‘communists’ or ‘fascists’ if we take another ‘side’ than that of a man? The one I am most amused by is the guy who said that I was a ‘fascist’ because I had said I was a Socialist and after all, Hitler’s party was called a “Socialist’ party. GOD! Cannot a woman disagree with a man? And if she has plausible proof that what she said is true, is she still to be called a ‘liar,’ simply because she has disagreed with the ‘more intelligent’ man... well, more intelligent simply because he is a man, i guess. Surprise, guys... I read several news magazines (two present ‘both sides; of U.S. politics -- two or three don’t), have gone to school my whole life, listen to radio and TV and assiduously avoid ‘commentators’ from either ‘side.’ I love the BBC for its lack of ‘side.’ So I think I know whereof I speak. I do have an opinion... everyone does.

I think of ‘the men’s table’ in the cafeteria of a college in SF where I took classes. Bunch of scowling old men muttering to each other about their money (their ONLY lives so often). I saw a friend sitting at the table one day, with an empty seat opposite him... so, for a laugh I went over, said hello, put down my tray and pulled out the chair and sat down. An alarming growl went up and the men on either side of me slid their chairs away from mine. I sat down to silence and even worse scowls than usual. My friend, who was as amused as I, and I talked brightly about classes and world politics (more growls... we were the WRONG party). When I was finished, I arose, said, “Goodbye boys, nice seeing all of you!” and left to final growls.

Makes me remember both my younger sister’s and my grandmother’s admonitions: Georgie (after I told an engineer friend of her husband’s he was wrong about some territory, and finally went and got the encyclopedia to show him: “Come help me in the kitchen...you NEVER tell a man he is wrong! How COULD YOU! Now he’ll NEVER ask you out!” (Like I’d have gone... the guy was a jerk.) Grandmother: “Now Peggy dear, tha shouldn’t hae told your cousin he was wrong, e’en tho he were, no mon likes to be told when he is wrong.”

Well, I know, but I forget. After all, I had a wonderful GROWN man friend who could argue with me and admit when he was wrong and I was right, and I could admit when I was wrong and he was right. We were actually equals and I loved that. Unfortunately he went back to the wife who didn’t want to be touched, and a very dysfunctional family... I guess they needed him more than I did. (He always said he admired the way I could take care of myself... if he only knew how tough it was, particularly with men other than those like him.)

Well, there is one thing I have learned even though I am still told I am wrong. It is getting easier to make men disappear. There is no longer “As god is my witness,” today it is “As Google is my witness.” If it ain’t in Google, well, it jes’ AIN’T! And yet another man runs for the door. They are all cowards toward the ends of their lives. Strange, as when I was young and working in advertising, because I had ‘a man’s job’ it was OK for me to sit in the living room and argue with the guys and not be told I didn’t know because I was a woman. If I had a cogent argument, I was allowed to express it and it was accepted. Of course, the crowd I belonged to was young and we pretty much agreed with each other. However, I really must adopt a new rule: Never talk (or, particularly, argue) politics with an older man.

“I looked it up in Google”... great folk song material, “Oh, I looked it up in Google and what did I see/ big drum roll and a fol de rol, rol/ a band of republicans comin’ after me/ big drum roll and a fol de rol, rol.... Fol de rol rol, fol de rol rol/ republicans, republicans acomin' after me!! (obviously they were going to waterboard me until I told them what it was I couldn’t find in Google.) I love Google, but it is the biggest time waster in the Universe.

My poor old cat is winding down at the ripe old age of eight. She wasn’t interested in playing with any of her old toys (kept in a paper bag she was more interested in than the toys), so I went to the ancient Christmas stocking she got from a friend one year and got out a new tiny green mousie and tied it to a piece of red yarn. Then I flew him around a few times and she almost went mad. She’s been dancing after that mouse for half an hour, and just lay down to rest, but I now have the damned thing hooked onto the file drawer so she can play without me and she’s up and after him again, as now I am worn out from throwing him in the air.

Notes on nothing... notecards and nonsense...

I just spent my evening in the silliest way possible... writing notes to put on the face of a note card. I have decided that I really need to have note cards to write snail mail to my friends. They don't read my blog, I am not that into Facebook, and I get carried away on my emails, so I figured I would order some nice stiff notecards that I could use to write shorter notes. Anastasia (my Wednesday 'helper'... she 'shops' and belongs to CostCo.) got me some more 'forever' stamps also. I'm sticking with the 'purple theme' like my hair... and found one just like my cards, but I may use the one with the girl reclining on a purple sofa, behind a book. I'm taking them to poetry group to see which they think is best. Oh dear, I suppose I should write a poem.

Anastasia also brought me some dark chocolate Bliss, which Ms. Katt cannot have as it is bad for kitties, so I had to search for some 'Kitty Gourmet' which is what we call anything in the way of cat snacks. All I have to do is say 'Kitty Gourmet' and she lights up in anticipation and wolfs down the little morsels. The ones I gave her were very dry, so she want in and had a long drink of water, then came back and grabbed my arm and asked for more, as usual. She's not getting any more, however, so she's gone back to trying to get the insects who bounce against our window because of the light. Sylvia loves to eat flies and any other bugs that manage to get inside. I was surprised that she simply played with the teeny grey mouse that came in through the heater along the wall. She brought it over to show it to me, played with it for a while, then just let it go and the poor little thing raced back to the corner and disappeared into the heating unit. I guess it goes down to the basement. Everyone has been complaining that they have mice. I don't think I will have them ever again.

Christmas seems such a pagan festival to me... after all, that's where it came from. And all the other celebrations are silly, too. All made up, but I suppose the winter has to be broken up somehow. Good old Jack had bought himself some skis and is off skiing like all the LA people I knew... rush off to Tahoe ... Heavenly... somewhere in the mountains and ski down. Not me... you couldn't get me on skis, and I do not ever want to see snow again. My grandchildren are reveling in it at the moment and Mel has put pictures of them on Facebook, playing in the snow, bundled into their snow suits. I wonder if I ever liked snow. I do not remember. I do remember moving from Memphis (where the snow melted as it hit the ground) to St. Paul, where one walked through almost tunnels of snow to get to school, and I had all sorts of problems with the cold and snow and mean kids who teased me about my "Mimphis accent," which no one could understand. The nasty little northern kids poked me and said, "Talk, girl, listen to her talk funny!" and laughed at me. I really despised everyone for the couple of years it took me to learn 'to talk Northern.' It trained me well, though, for I now have a good ear for accents, and take on whatever one I am surrounded by now. When I was in England, I sounded just like them, and particularly when I was in the Netherlands I sounded rather 'posh English' as all of the deBrauws had gone to school in England and most of the time I was simply introduced as "Elsie's husband's cousin from England, Peggy Bentnick, the niece of the Duke of Portland. My 'cousin,' the present Duke of Portland is a very good looking actor and I have been tempted to write to him and tell him about his lost American cousin. Elsie, the oldest of the children in the family I lived with was married to Rolfe, Baron Bentnick van Schoonhaten, a very tall, good-looking man also, with a lovely deep voice who could easily have been an actor, but who worked in the family bank in Arnheim. I adapted so well in Holland that when we were getting together with a group of young people to go to a festival, one of the boys spoke to me in Dutch, and when I said I couldn't understand him, said, "Oh, you're the English cousin then, right?" So that's the part I played, except when Mrs. deBrauw wanted me to tell about my childhood in the South, one of her favorite things. I think she had read "Gone With the Wind."

As usual, this seems themeless and silly. It is... ah, well..... rather like the notecards.