eBay-Oh, boy

    I just don't know what to believe anymore.  A sleepless night leads me to explore eBay listings, and it would seem there are numerous bids of  $100,000 or more for Hostess products, while others have sold for 1 cent, or not at all.  What, oh what, could the answer be?

OH! Well!

     The other day I read a single, brief, article that an entire band and their entourage, about 20 people, were kidnapped by a band of armed men  near Monterey, Mexico, from the club where they had just performed.   Some of the bodies, 9 or 10 so far, were found, tortured and murdered, at the bottom of a well.   I've heard or read nothing further;  evidently this is not news in Mexico, and is a happening of little interest in the U.S.  Every national station this week has delved into the mystery of T'eo's lovelife, and of Beyonce's lips, while every local media outlet is re-obsessed about pit bull pups and their missing toes. 
    Other countries, such as Mexico, are gun-ridden, drug-centered lawless societies.  If the U.S. continues its efforts to allow and decriminalize drugs, if gun control measures are abandoned, and if its citizens follow through on their insistence that it is permissible to disobey  any laws enacted that they do not agree with, then the United States may well be on its way to creating a society similar to that of Mexico.  Stories of hapless puppies and freezers full of dead cats will no longer have a place in the news, not after some of our favorite musical groups are disposed of.  (Come to think of it, I do recall that years ago, Frank Sinatra's son was kidnapped, but he was not found at the bottom of a well. 

Status Quo Forever

   When I was young, I guess I thought like most kids did at the time, that my teachers pretty much  lived in the schools they taught in.  Teachers kept a low profile, and were rarely seen, by their students anyhow, outside of the school.  I thought teachers were superior beings and I liked it that way, with them safely secluded in their ivory towers.  The same was true for priests, seen only in church, and since they were carrying the Holy Eucharist on Sundays, you were not supposed to engage them in idle conversation, or so we were led to believe.  Even the neighborhood grocer, the village barber, and other community figures were seldom seen outside their places of business. 
     The orderliness of it all must have made an indelible impression because while I respect everyone's right to live as they choose, I still prefer public figures to remain in their niches.  In my opinion, Johnny Carson had it right during his days on television.  He didn't make guest appearances on a multitude of talk shows (though there weren't so many as now);  he didn't expose his private life in a public venue.
      Even when today's celebrities and public figures proclaim their wishes for privacy in their personal lives, they don't seem to be able to resist going public, and I so wish they wouldn't.  I respected Bob Schieffer as a fair, thorough and sensible news analyst until I saw him performing in his hillbilly band.  Gayle King had my vote as the top morning news personality until I saw her luncheon interview with Jennifer Lopez, at a restaurant selected by Ms. Lopez.  The camera is an integral part of the working lunch, but when the waiter brought the beverages to the table, Gayle sent hers back because she didn't think it was the right color drink for a cranberry pomegranate with a splash of Sprite.   Really.  And isn't that rather rude when she was at her guest's favorite restaurant.  I admire Charlie Rose; I think he's great at every show he does, and I've never heard him mention his private life, except for his dog.  He seems so down to earth and supremely reasonable, so while it's not his doing, I'd rather not know that he is divorced from his first wealthy wife, remarried to another heiress, and that he owns 5 homes. When it comes to professionals or people who are experts in their fields,  I  prefer that they reside in their place of business. I have no desire to see Bill Clinton confessing to Oprah, or for Michelle Obama to appear on Dancing with the Stars, or for the Pope to be a contestant on Jeopardy.   Is that too much to ask? 

Say it ain't so, Lance

  I watched tonight's interview on the continuing case of Lance Armstrong.  He has struck so much fear into the hearts of brave men, and is evidently the epitome of such evil that I'm afraid I'll have nightmares tonight.  Reporters have been commenting on his cold gray eyes, but he can't really help that, can he.  My thought is that since he battled cancer so ferociously, which had taken hold in his brain, that he has come to consider himself different from other people.  He fought a  horrific enemy on a battleground  that has no rules, only his own determination to use all his strength and resources to save his life. Little wonder he has come to rely on his own sense of self to push himself to superhuman levels in order to overcome the  malignant foe who so often succeeds where the best treatments and experts fail.  After being poisoned by toxic doses of chemotherapy, what are a few more drugs.  And who was there for him besides himself.  Even in the event that he was surrounded by others during his diagnosis and treatment, cancer brings isolation to all afflicted.  So carry on, Lance; it was good of you to create and support Livestrong.  But I could have told you not to make a public confession; you should have gone to a confessional box where all sins go untold.  Public flagellation is never enough.  

The Emperor of Ice

  The emperor does  have clothes, but not many, not in the ice skating world anyway.  The girl skaters take great pains to be modest when it comes to their top sections.  Maybe because of comfort, but when they wear anything even slightly lowcut or that would hint at cleavage, they have the nude camisoles underneath their outfits.  But when it comes to the bottom part of their outfits, modesty beware.  While some skaters wear the more concealing full panties, a number of them flaunt the highcut bikini style, with only an inch or two of fabric between their body parts and the eye of the camera, which must follow their every move, even those moves where one leg is raised  skyward while the skater gracefully circles the ice.  When the announcer noted that one skater had recently suffered a torn labrum, I caught my breath.  Whew, that's the shoulder, isn't it? 

IRONY--OR FORESHADOWING?

   A  trendy and overused expression from 2012 on into 2013 is the meaningless and unsolicited expression, "I won't lie."  TV personalities and even those lacking same use these words for everything from their choice of acting venues to their preference of ice cream flavors.  Try keeping track from this point on how often you hear the words.  For example, "I won't lie.  I think New England will win the Superbowl."  "I won't lie, "Lincoln should win all the Oscars."  "I won't lie, keeping these New Year's Resolutions for a whole month is more than I can bear."  All these proclamations of lack of truth-telling in the most innocuous of matters,  and from others than T'eo, Lance, Hillary, Subway, and Rensselaer County politicians. 

Wishes

I wish I didn't have to think about or see or hear about or know of:   Robin Robert's TV comeback (the poor soul), prostate exams, post-nasal drips, any mention of toilet paper for any reason, criminal investigations more than 30 years old (who cares anymore), fake girlfriends (even though funny as heck).  In my lifetime, there is only one movie I wish I hadn't seen, though many were awful; that movie is "Blue Velvet."  I wish I hadn't viewed Dr. Oz touching his tongue to his nose; he already looks enough like a reptile.  But as they say, "If wishes were horses, then beggars would ride," or if southern, "If ifs and buts were fruits and nuts, then we'd all have a Merry Christmas."   *****Somebody get me out of here---this will only get worse.

Name the Source

  Favorite quote of the week:   "What we need to be concerned about is extinguishing our sense of youthfulness through the attrition of life." 

IAM SO uncomfortable

First of all, I love dogs, and especially big dogs.  Secondly, I greatly admire members of the armed forces, and particularly women.  I think it's a great idea to film  members of the military reuniting with  the faithful canines they had left behind.  That being said,  the IAMS dogfood commercial where a returning woman soldier is being greeted by her Irish wolfhound is so unsettling  that I have to look away.  Maybe it's just me, but I find it hard to comprehend that with all the care  taken with every camera angle in modern commercials, that the final scene could be completely innocent of innuendo, to put it mildly.  Could it be that  in a society that seems to accept every deviation from the norm, bestiality is the new challenge?   I mean, just look at the final scene-------

So much for that theory....

  Talking about grandchildren, the rite of that formidible passage through age, one of my friends said her grandchildren, 2 preschoolers, were being raised by their parents with as little media exposure as possible.  The theory being followed is that children whose minds are not battered by the sensory explosions of media sights and sounds will develop their own intellects and their IQ's will be greatly enhanced.  I maintain, according to that theory, my brother, sister, and I would be pure geniuses because when we were little the only sound we were exposed to was the sound of my mother's voice, and each others.'  We had no electricity, no neighbors, visitors only rarely, and very few excursions outside our own back yards.  Certainly no noisy mechanical toys, only a cardboard box of blocks and farm animals, and a few little toy  cars that belonged to my brother.  We were certainly free to develop our imaginations without any artificial interference.  Geez, if we hadn't moved into the village when we became schoolage, with electricity no less, the three of us might have become intellectual giants.

Channeling Regis

  Something about the dynamics of the new partnering has turned Kelly Ripa into a caricature of her former self.  She was always somewhat perky, but lately displays such a frantic, antic energy level that she seems like a cartoon character.  An alpha female teamed with an alpha male results in an hour of  ego competition, made even fiercer by their determination to exhibit nothing but love and admiration for each other.  I find it exhausting, and I'm sitting down at home.  I hope Kelly keeps her nutrition level in line with her energy expenditure before she disappears in a cloud of mist. 

St. Agnes' Eve

   "Ah, bitter cold it was"
    January 20, 1966 
    Charles Anthony Madigan       Rest in Peace

    Suddenly, without warning or notice, a parent is gone and your life is changed.  Changed forever, as they are wont to say, but is there any other kind of change but one that forever impacts your life in some manner?  You grow up with two parents and one is abruptly gone.  The family circle is broken,  childhood's illusion of permanence is irrevocably shattered, and you now know anything can happen: to anyone, at any time.
     New Year's Day, 1978   Ma has a heart attack.  She was mashing potatoes for New Year's Dinner for us all, and was stricken with a terrible pain in her chest.  Helen called for help, and we drove Ma to the hospital, leaving the kids with Helen.  Ma survived that attack and lived for another five years, but the grieving for her began on the start of that new year.  Many say, when faced with the impending death of a loved one, that they want to crawl into the coffin with them, but we don't; we live on, we just bury a part of ourselves.

The View---Resolution?

  Whoopi Goldberg should resolve to finally stop smoking.   When she speaks, her wheeze is reminiscent of Starr Jones before she resolved to make herself into a healthier being.  I guess it worked.....

2013 Word List

    When the list of overused words for 2013 is compiled, expect to find on it the word draconian.  The word is gaining popularity  by both liberals and conservatives, as well as those who fall in between, and used to modify  matters both weighty and trivial.  Draco would be amused, or not.

Liar, Liar....Who's next?

   Since Oprah has heard the Letterman and Armstrong confessions, when is O.J. going to appear for his interview?   That one I might watch. 

The Crush

  Today would have been Elvis' 78th birthday.  Five years older than Dorothy.  She had an intense crush on him: she absolutely loved him, the first and only star she felt so deeply about.  One time, reflecting, she seriously asked me if I thought she would ever meet him in person.  She had grown so stunning at this time in her life, I thought it possible that she might well meet him, and said so.    Now I wonder.  I'd like to think so, but I can only wonder.

TMI !

 Dear David Letterman, Why, oh why, at this point in your life did you have to spill your guts---and to Oprah at that.  She is the pope of the world, but did you really need to jump the shark to seek her forgiveness.  You didn't have to become an antichrist, but your antiestablishment, renegade attitude was the foundation of your appeal.  Did your psychiatrist advise you to do  a mental cleanse, and for that matter why do we need to know that you are in therapy?   And isn't that supposed to be enough to enable you  to avoid a public humiliation?   You didn't exactly jump on her couch, but it's even ickier to lie on it and await her absolution.  Maybe you thought you were too old to be cool, and that's all you had.   Who's next---Kid Rock, emnem?   I'm grateful Gary Cooper and John Wayne are safely entombed with their character intact.  Mental stability, self assurance----the Last Frontier.

Break-in Bad

  Twice I have broken into my own house, the two occasions about 30 years apart.  The first time was in 1969, and my first-born child was just 3 weeks old.  It was morning and I'd fed  the baby, put her back in the crib in her bedroom, and run downstairs to put in a load of laundry. When I came back upstairs, the door into the kitchen had locked, as was the front door---I was locked out!  The front of the house has steps so the windows are not as low as you might think, but I managed to look in and see the little thing alone in the crib, her very life at stake.   I was afraid she would die, being left alone, or the house would burst into flames, kind of a normal way of thought for a first-time mother, I guess.  To compound matters, I was still wearing my nightgown, and even more problematic, the gown was one of those flimsy silky trousseau types; I did not see myself flagging down motorists, or running next door for help.  Not wanting to leave the baby, I went around back, dragged a garbage can to the front of the house beneath the window.  It was summer, and the window was up, though the screen was locked.  I found a screwdriver in the garage and used it to pry the aluminum side strip off the window, was able to push the window up, and quickly and easily pulled myself up and in.  Tragedy averted.
     Forward to about 15 years ago, and a similar  scenario presented itself.  I'd ridden over to the high school to correct examinations with a teacher performing the same task, and when she dropped me back off at my house, I  realized that since I hadn't driven myself, I'd left my keys, all of them, in the house.  Locked out again!  But this time a precedent had been set, so I thought I'd just repeat the process from years before.  I got the screwdriver, dragged  the garbage can to beneath the same window, climbed up on it, disassembled the parts of the sash, pushed up the window (again it was summertime) and climbed in.  Well, almost in.  Whereas before, I simply slipped through the opened window, seemingly effortlessly,  this time was different.  Entering from the window meant I had to place my  hands down on the floor while the rest of me  was still  outside.  Fully dressed this time, my fervent hope was that no passing motorists would notice me.  I could have used a little boost, but definitely did not want it.  I had to heft the rest of me through the window frame, leaving a portion of  my skin on the dismantled aluminum frame.  Entering meant crawling up, over, and down all at the same time, and I have to say my body moved in segments.  It had seemed so easy the first time.   The lesson learned is that things are not what they seem, nothing stays the same, and thank heaven for cell phones if I ever lock myself out again. 

N.Y.'s Resolution

YOLO

Bad Medicine?

  He was a licensed medical doctor and appeared on TV to relay health strategies for the new year, so his advice must be worthwhile.  One of his helpful hints had to do with the difficulty in administering medicine to children.  Kids don't like the taste of some liquids, so pills might be a better option.  And since kids often have difficulty in swallowing pills, the doctor's suggestion was to have them practice by swallowing a TicTac.  It just seems so wrong, on so many levels, doesn't it? 

Word to 2013

I've seen several other lists of words to avoid for 2013, mostly because of fatigue from overuse.  I would like to add: 
 1) babybump----how was pregnancy ever described previous to the coinage of this graphically repulsive term?
2) amazing-------especially when someone replies to the question asking how you are feeling, and the answer is "I feel amazing!"   Really?
3) I'll return with more later: I need to go throw acid on the TV.
   ......I just heard some reporter talk about "kicking the can down the road." I don't even think they know the actual reference, but it's in vogue to say it.
  ***AND, now that it's a new year, the media is providing us help with our New Year's Resolutions.  They suggest for weight loss to park your car at the far end of the parking lot and walk into your building. and to take stairs instead of  elevators.   Since it's still dark when many arrive at and leave work, and since stairways are usually in secluded areas of buildings, we need to wait for media suggestions on how to deal with crime.  We'll worry about avoiding being mugged after we drop a few pounds.