Oh, Did God Choose Sunday for US?

Here it is Sunday and I am so sick and tired of “Christians” and their so called ‘beliefs’ taken right from the teachings of their ‘Christ,’ or Jesus? Almost always, it turns out that they are giving us something from the OLD Testament, or the Jewish bible. There is nothing there about a Jesus... that is all in the NEW Testament, which they will also drag out and quote from, but normally their quotes are from the OLD.

To my way of thinking, the Old Testament is actually the telling and retelling and retelling, and retelling, and retelling, ad infinitum, of stories made up by a bunch of old men to keep their flocks in order and doing what those old bosses wanted done. (Haven’t we all had a boss who told us “because we’ve always done it that way?”) The stories that have come down to us that were put into a ‘bible’ are the ones that benefitted the ‘bosses’ the best, and the ones that were the most interesting to majority of people. That ‘book’ has been ripped apart and retold by a lot of generations, and I think most people now have gotten the idea, finally, that no old man with a long white beard patted together a lot of dust and threw in a couple of oceans to make a place for his original pair of ‘humans’ to live some 60,000 (oh yeah?) years ago. What language did they speak? (I’ll bet most of the holier than thou in the U.S. will say ‘English.’) "Great glory, I been SAVED!!"

As to the “Christians” in the supposedly devout fundamentalist groups in our country, most do not know much about the bible, as they do not read, but simply take the word of some usually just as ignorant ‘pastor’ who tells them how to think and believe. If they had read the New Testament, they would find that Jesus was simply a minor prophet who headed a quite small group of people of the Jewish faith, who, like most Jews, were looking for ‘the Redeemer’ (or whatever your group called him in those days), to take them out of the slavery they were in, to establish them where everyone wants to be... as the bosses again. A lot of this was of course, cloaked in the pretty voices of ‘the humble,’ ‘the kind,’ etc., etc. After all WE wouldn’t treat our fellow humans badly, would we? Noooo. We are nicer, aren’t we? And all the ‘holidays were cribbed from the Pagans... Jesus was NOT born in December, the ‘elders’ needed to snatch that pagan celebration, along with all the rest. 

Now if you look at the New Testament, you will find very few real “quotes” from this minor prophet, Jesus, as almost all of what is written (or made up) about him was written long after his death. Matter of fact, he probably wouldn’t even have become known if it hadn’t been for a man we call St.Paul, who came long, long after Jesus, picked up stories and beliefs about this good and kind man and spread his name and stories about him all across the somewhat civilized world of that time. Had it not been for St.Paul and his wanderings and teachings, we might have wound up with Thor or some vague Viking god as our main venue of worship. But, because of St.Paul, who most assuredly was not one of Jesus’ “disciples,” we got Jesus, the man he referred to as “the Son of God.” He did a great job, My mother, a devout Anglican Catholic (Episcopalian) always referred to St.Paul as the first great salesman.

Then there is the New Testament itself. I get very tired of the people who say it is the ‘word of god’... one would really not like to imagine that old man with the white beard lounging around on the clouds with so much time on his hands when he could be helping out some of the poor refugees down here, writing some of the fanciful stories in that book. Now you find me a quote from Jesus that says gay people can’t get married, or that a woman who has been raped can’t get an abortion.

First of all, those stories were gathered, again by the tribal bosses, to keep people in line and doing whatever work had to be done to keep the community together. Further, that whole book was torn apart by Constantine when he was converted to this new faith, who destroyed the parts he did not agree with, and put in a few little extras to keep his bunch in line. It was ever thus, no matter what all those fundamentalist preachers in their fancy, expensive suits ('God WANTS me to look good!') tell you.

There is so much information today because of computers, and the work of archeologists, and the whole EDUCATED community, that it disturbs me to see the rise in uneducated people who go to these huge fundamentalist churches and believe what is screamed at them by guys collecting enormous amounts of money from the masses. It also saddens me. I do wish that instead of all these churches and Mosques and other places full of people who are simply taught to hand their money to guys who are preaching at them, we could have small groups of people who believe like the Buddhists, not in a god, but in the quiet, good and kind teachings of a man who did not (nor did his followers attempt to) make himself a ‘god.’

Next I suppose I will do my little preaching on the division of salaries in my country... another crime against humanity. No person should make more than 250% (or I guess it is more now) than the average person who works for him/her. But that’s for next time...

More Tears... Another Hero Gone

A sad today today, just before 60 Minutes I heard that yet another of my great heros, Julian Bond, died today, far too soon. He was only 75. It is almost like the horror of being a parent and having one's child die before her to see so many of my heros go, leaving their sad old mother here, knowing, since she is a firm atheist, that she will never see them again. So Julian leaves, leaving me here wishing I had had the chance to meet him, that gorgeous, soft-spoken man who worked so hard at trying to make his country a better place for all of us. A kinder, sweeter and quieter person than most of the hard-driving people who fought for racial freedom in the south, one did not see him as often as the others, but I listened to his every word and watched for him at any rally. I brush away the tears that threaten to fall on my keyboard and can only say:  Goodbye dear Julian Bond, I love you and I shall miss you enormously. May you long be remembered as one of our country's greatest men.

Have I Gone Completely Mad?

Or has the intelligence of the average person in this country dropped to about the same as dubya or lower? I have NOT had a good day today. First, Ana and I opened up the two pckages supposedly with the kitchen pots I ordered from a company whose name I shall not mention unless they don't straighten out the problems they have involved me in. I had opened up their sale catalog some months ago and noticed some lovely kitchen utensils advertised as being made of 'steel with ceramic coating.' Since the gals who work for me apparently don't believe in using wooden or nylon stirring utensils, all of my old pans are now scraped clean of their black lining meant to make food not stick. So, I figured the lovely looking yellow ceramic coating would be like cooking on glass and just as slippery for food, and ordered two sets -- one of 1, 2 &3 quart pans, the second of a huge hi-sided frying type pan and about a 4 or 5 quart pot. Not so good... they started to crack and peel immediately, in spite of the fact that we used nothing but medium heat and were extra careful with them. That coating was THIN and I sure ate a lot of it... little yellow flecks in the food often... then grey water from the 'steel'... and I finally sent them a long letter about what had happened. I will say they were prompt in sending me a credit (covering only just barely the cost of the pans, no tax, shipping and handling). So I got out the catalog and found two nice little iron pots, and a set of 1, 2, & 3 qt. pans with lids and a frying pan... this time all red, with what looked like black interiors and in aluminum, so I felt they would be safe. But no.... here we go again... they sent the two red iron pots, and a packing slip with the CORRECT things on it, but the package contained a set of blue, yellow interior frying pans (they also are cheaper in the sale catalog than the red pans). So I wrote them a LONG, long note saying 'remember the old adage... three strikes and  you're out,' and please send me something I can use as I tossed the junk pans and have NOTHING to cook in. So they got another long, long letter today telling them I figured they would be a bit more careful and I feel that I should have my order here soon... and NO MORE SHIPPING, HANDLING, EXTRAS, TAX, etc. Of course I also told them if they screw up again, I shall use my expert skills in advertising promoting their lack of talent in the mail order business.

That was just the beginning. Ana handed me my mail and I noticed I had something from UC/SF and was amazed that they would come through with my stipend for doing the senior study with them, but pleased to think I was getting a little extra money, since my rent just went up a shockingly high amount. But, again... what on earth? It was a large bill for the weird PET scan I wrote about in my last entry... it said:
Patient:  Margaret Cartwright       Provider:  Franc, Benjamin L.  (now who the hell is he???)
Nuclear Medicine -  charge amount: 2,995.00 - Patient adjustment: -2,662.96 - Patient Liability - 331.04
I guess they figured... Oh, hell, she has a hole in her head, she'll just pay it. Jeeze... they asked me to be in the study, they told me I would get paid for being in it (not even the $331.04 they are billing me for), and even took my address a second or third time, so they could send me the money... now they bill me. I repeat... have I gone mad? Am I missing something? Or do all the mail order companies and the hospitals simply hire imbeciles to do their work for them? 

We are having something of the same kind of problem in our building... we have had three different managers this year... each one seems to know less about managing a building than the one before. The latest is from Sudan and speaks Sudanese French, plus English with such a Sudanese accent that I (who can understand almost anyone who can speak a little English) cannot understand a word he speaks. He called a meeting just after ordering all new furniture for his office (which was fairly new before he came) and a lot of extra junk for another room they lock up... FOR OFFICE USE ONLY... and the bathroom on the first floor is now FOR OFFICE USE ONLY (meaning for 3-4 people only... that's all we have). At the meeting, with no microphone and almost no voice, he informed us that WE had to save money (OH, he can spend?) and that we cannot use the room that used to be open, or the bathroom... and that he will no longer receive packages in the office... we should make our own arrangement with the Post Office or anyone else delivering to us... they are there only to run things, but not for our business... I have no idea what else he said, as I got up, told the gal next to me that if they asked, I simply said, "Go to hell" and left. Luckily, the gal who delivers our mail knows me well (we chat a lot) and knows my apartment number and delivers stuff directly to me. But I have had problems with stuff being just dumped at the door that should be delivered to me. I finally wrote a letter to the girl who is our so-called "Program Director" (I'd love to know what the 'programs' are... so far none), telling her I was a little unhappy to find out that we now have NO RIGHTS in the building, we simply are asked to pay more rent and get NO SERVICE at all from anyone. I will say she came to discuss it with me, dragging along the idiot, who said nothing, but did listen. I think he got the story that the tenants here are not happy with the 'I get everything... you get nothing' attitude. And I am sad to say that Mercy Housing now has a MAN CEO... Sister Lillian is gone and there are no more nuns running things... well, I'm old and I won't be here to put up with all the idiots for long. So from now on I just keep my head down, my mouth shut and go about my  business with no help from anyone. Thank god I still have my wits about me... and I am sorry for the rest of the tenants. I also wonder where they find their 'managers,' and if they train them.

My poor, poor country. I wonder what the children are being taught. There was a wonderful story in the latest Atlantic about "The End of Work" --- we had better start training some of these guys on how to sweep the streets or something. If the republicans get in we are done for, as they are just interested in shifting any money to corporations and our infrastructure is rotting. We should be thinking of starting up a new WPA and rebuilding the country, and start thinking about it now... and we should start thinking about a completely different way of teaching... peer group learning, as I have said so many times before, and a lot better training of teachers, along with much better pay for the good teachers. I am a strong believer in unions, but I am also a strong believer in not having old teachers who simply float through their later years not learning new things and not actually teaching. I have seen this happen once too often. I am NOT a believer in 'charter' schools... anything with a corporation behind it shouldn't be teaching little kids. What's the answer?...... god, I wish I knew. But somehow, we had better start realizing that the average person in this country seems to be very, very, very unintelligent. We'd better find out why... and fast!

Mysteries and Latin Time With the Doctors

Always on a Friday... right? Well, actually it started on Thursday. I got a phone call from Dr. Rosen, who is the chief doctor on the Senior Depression Study at UC that I somehow got myself into. 

In the beginning I dealt with a dear young man named who did the original interview over at UC/SF on Parnassas... at Langly Porter. I was there all afternoon and when we were finished, I was told that I had been accepted for the study... and got my original $50 for all the time spent in being interviewed. Next, I was told that they would let me know about the rest, would send an email and let me know when and where... they don't do everything over at Parnassas anymore. Now most things are done down at Mission Bay or the other area down there, whose name I cannot remember. 

Of course when I did get the info, I picked up on the wrong name and gave that to the cab driver, as I had forgotten to put the printout in my purse. It was lying on my desk, of course. The people at the other named area didn't have any idea what I was talking about, but i finally found someone who did, and got there in plenty of time, as I am an early person always and had plenty of time to get lost. I found a charming young man named David... and we spent the greater part of the day doing all the things they do with old people to see how well their brains are working... numbers, names, places, objects... pictures of the objects, etc., etc. Anyone who has ever had anything to do with psych people knows what I mean. i had a great old time and was told that the next thing was to have a PET scan of my brain... and again, they would let me know... by phone or by email. Then I met Dr. Rosen and had a nice chat with him and went home.

I had almost forgotten about the study, when a few weeks ago I got a phone call from Sam, another nice young man who was taking over for David... who seems to have moved on (well, it was quite a while ago)... telling me they needed to get my complete address again so they could send my compensation... and they had gotten more funding and were ready to do a PET scan of my head. Then the email, or course, with address, area, number, all the stuff one needs to find anything in that mess that is Mission Bay. Oh... I loved what a young guard told me when I asked why I had to go all the way to the other end of the long, long, long building to walk my walker up the ramp... then walk the mile back down to the end of the building that my cab had passed getting to the address I had to give him. Well, it was because there were only steps at the end where I was expected. He then said, "Yeah, they didn't think very clearly about these buildings... it was as if they just built a very tall building, then laid it down on its side, so all the entrance stuff is only at the one end that's like a ground floor." What an apt description of a building done by an arcitect who must have been thinking of a skyscraper, but was only allowed two stories. One could just see great giants picking up the tall buildings and laying them out flat... well, after all, down at Mission Bay they had lots and lots of nice flat land... not San Francisco-y at all. More like all the space one sees in Chicago.

So, anyway, I had a lovely time with Sam, leading me around all over this very odd building... it is divided up into little tiny offices, all of which seem to have been designed for 'something else'... anything else. The last room I wound up in with Sam had a HUGE giant chair he sat me in, plus one small one next to me and a sink next to that... and four chairs along the wall across from me... but very tight, we were almost knee to knee.  We chatted about the Midwest, the West Coast and families until they finally got the stomic stuff for my arm... and put it in... then Sam left and another guy took me across the hall to the waiting room across from the scanning machines. At last, across I went and was strapped into the PET machine... SO TIGHT... but I lay there daydreaming and finally went to sleep as I am wont to do in these  machines. Woke up being slid out of the machine and another aide took me out to the mile long walk to the ramp, and sat on my walker and wrote a poem about the noisy people waiting for buses, until my cab came and brought me home. Both my drivers were fun chatting with, as always with Luxor cabs.

Then... yesterday morning, the call from Sam, and finally that Dr. Rosen wanted to talk to me. He started with some vague chatter about "Now, this is probably nothing... but we just thought you should know and maybe check on it... and with PET scans one really can't tell... so I felt I should call you... well, it's -- then a bunch of Latin --- long Latin words." I must have sort of giggled, as he said... "Well, it's something like a hole in your head"... at which I burst into real laughter, and he said, "I must say, you are taking this well." So I replied, "Well, I am VERY OLD... and that is an old expression from my childhood for someone who is a complete dope... as in 'he has a hole in his head'." 

Well... I went through all the stuff about my doctor's name and phone number... and she called me and told me she had talked to Dr. Rosen, and he thought it was maybe... and all the Latin name... and that it was probably nothing... the usual. The upshot is that now I have to call Davies and make an appointment on a Friday morning before I go to the pool for my exercise program... this time for an MRI of the old Brain or head... whatever they have decided and THIS TIME I WANT A CD of my brain. I was promised one in the last study UC did and never got it, so now I want one. 

I just can't wait to see the hole in my head... but it is Friday and I got home from my pool exercises late. I may never live it down if this gets out! Not that I have anyone to share it with... all my old friends are dead... bet none of them ever had a hole in his head.

WOW!!

I just spent a bit too much time looking at videos and reading articles about the spacecraft that is up circling Pluto's moon, Charon. Absolutely fascinating... so much so that I know I started when there was sunlight shining in my window... now it is dead dark... ye gods... it is after 9:00pm! 'Wired' magazine has put all its articles online, along with all sorts of videos and scientific notes written so that I and a lot of other non-scientists can understand them. I love it. I'm hooked. I'll be there tomorrow and probably a lot of other days to see everything the experts are finding and trying to explain to us 'others.' How I wish I had a telescope to look at some of the planets... of course, with all the lights we have in San Francisco, it might be hard to look at anything but our own moon. I miss seeing Orion, the one constellation I could always see wen I was a kid, looking up at the stars. 

One of my favorite things to do at the cottage was to take a blanket down to the beach and make a little nest by the tree roots of the big trees on either side of the path... and lie there watching for 'shooting stars.' One was supposed to make a wish on one of those... wonder what I wished for... that I have forgotten. I miss those lovely long summers at the lake... I miss my beautiful carved wood Victorian bed that Mama threw out, so Jess took it, along with all the other stuff Mama got tired of, up to the cottage. I think I could do a complete drawing of every room in that cottage... the only place I have ever considered really 'home.' Funny... the apartment I live in now I have been in for about the same number of years I spent summers in the cottage... 18 years. When we all went off to college and various other places, Mama sold the cottage... signing Jessie's name, for it belonged to my mother, not to that mean old witch who was my grandmother, who had always hated the fact that we preferred the cottage to her. Well, the apartment is/was nice and kinda 'home' for about 17 years, but things change and we have new 'management,' all the people I knew here in SF are dead... and it is no longer home... simply a place for me to exist until I die, I suppose... god, I feel like I'm in a Trenet song... and very much alone.

Ah well... Great voyage little spacecraft... you are doing a wonderful job at letting us see almost close-up what other planets and moons are like. Thanks to all the scientists who are bringing us this exciting info. At least I lived long enough to see little Charon close up on my computer.

Ye Gods....

Yeah, it's me being snarky... but I just couldn't resist. Vogue magazine can manage to turn me snarky any time I look at it online... the 'interviews' by one of their editors of people at the Met Gala are among the most hysterical things online... "I LLLOOOVVVEE your outfit!! Who made it?! ADDOOORable!!!" (Barf, barf!!!!!) "Oh is Beyonce here yet?!!!"  (Double barf... she's wearing that naked lace thingy... I think they did a special article on what to wear under it........).

And then of course, a photo of Buce Jenner, pardon me, Caitlan Jenner on Vogue.com -- he had better stick to the cute curled up sitting down Vanity Fair style photos. Standing up, surrounded by at least three short men with their arms out to catch him in case he falls off the high heels, he is the joke of the century. The short skirted outfit doesn't help either. he may have had his face and neck resculpted, but he can't hide the HUGE paws clutching the evening bag and the straight legs and big feet... pure man. Even the belt placed up on the chest just looks uncomfortable. Maybe he should start dressing like Lady Gaga to hide all the faults, or at least not try to look so damned 'ladylike'... a few long dresses, sandals might help... but going overboard to look 'dainty' is not the way for him to go. Pardon me... as with Vogue, I should be more polite and say 'the way for her to go.' Dainty ain't it. Well, he does refer to himself as a 'girl' so maybe he is also trying to be terribly young again too, which is hard to do at his advanced age... but dressing a little more age appropriately might help her look also. When you are a grandmother, you should try for a little less 'youth' look. All I can say is, "Grandmother, what big hands you have..."

Finally... Something to Write About

I just watched the US Soccer Team win the FIFA title in a GREAT game against Japan. They lost in a terrible game last time, so this was an even better evening game, as they played so well... making THREE goals FAST... then another, making it 4-nil... then missing one to Japan in the first half. They made another goal in the second half, but so did Japan, but what a game!!! 5-2 the final score. Carli Lloyd made those first two... then a third goal and a new record for a championship game getting a hat trick.  They all... both sides... played so well, it was a joy to watch. Those first two goals were so fast... fastest ever in a championship game... both of them. Carli must be overjoyed.

I am fond of watching male soccer, and watched the FIFA games this year, but I will say that this game was more exciting than any of them in the men's championship. I will never understand how those kids can stay on their feet running so fast and turning so fast... and kicking so hard. Just amazing... and it is THE BEAUTIFUL GAME! I loved every minute of it... and was exhausted when it was finished... just from watching all the great work they did. God... I have to get my strength back. If I keep having to go down to the Apple Store for lessons, I just may... it's a long walk down to where a cab can pull in on Market.

Oops... "60 Minutes" is on... must go watch that now. Guess cheese and crackers will be my 'dinner' tonight, as there is a lot of stuff on KQED right after 60.