Now I understand. (I think.)

     I wondered how some of the new quiz shows could get away with being so obviously staged and phony, given the strict regulations imposed by the FCC after the Mark Van Doren debacle. That is until a well-known authority reported that shows featuring celebrities are exempt from those rulings. Believe it or not.

Birthday Cake Make-up Date

 

The Mind of America

    According to those in the advertising market, not of the highest intelligence. I admit I don't watch commercials deliberately, so I often miss the beginning. But take this commercial: A young woman presents her apparently significant other with some apparently small gift; "One for me and one for you,"  she says. I acknowledge I don't know what these gifts are. He reciprocates by leading her outside where a pair of brand-spanking-new trucks are parked in the driveway. "One for you and one for me," he tells her. Without any question as to how the vehicles showed up there, what they cost, why they would want 2 of exactly the same model, she runs to the darker colored truck, exclaiming "I love it."  No thank-you even. When the poor doofus tries to explain that the vehicle she is embracing was the one intended for him, she repeats her claim, "I love it."  He than concedes that "I like red."  

    I don't care what happens in that simulated interaction, but can't help but wonder what the creators of the ad were thinking when they came up with this idea. Who are they marketing to?  In what setting would one partner go out and buy 2 brand new trucks without consulting the other, as to make, model, need, budget, personal preference, not to mention who the heck surreptitiously delivered them. Are the advertisers directing their appeal to  millionaires, very young ones at that.

  Many Americans are presently not engaging in large purchases and it would not be smart of them to do so. Maybe the target  audience are those who watch fake and staged shows like The Masked Singer, I Can Hear Your Voice, The Bachelorette, Wrestling, Survivor, Jerry Springer----wait, there are a lot of those folks out there.

Maple Stump

 All that's left:   I rather like the stumps being there because it serves as a barrier. Off road traffic has hit that tree and others several times over the years. I can always put flower pots on the stumps for a classy look.

Bemis Heights 1844

 

Liar (N0, not who you think)

 I had a primary care doctor in his Waterford office, Dr. C. He left his practice abruptly and was replaced by Dr. N. My first 2  few visits to her were uneventful, but my last visit was different. The nurse had shown me to a waiting room. I waited a very long time. I went to the door and peered down a long hallway and was able to see Dr. N. in a glass-paned office at the end of the hall. She was chatting with another woman, and for a long time. I waited and waited in my exam room, so long that the nurse came by, assuming I had seen the doctor and wondered why was I still waiting. I told her the doctor had not been in. She left to talk to the doctor, and returned to tell me that the doctor had been to see me, but had said the room was empty, that I must have left to go to the bathroom, so she had seen other patients.  I had not set foot outside the examining room, until then. I left and never went back.

Yes, but...Virtual signaling, Apologists, Blah, Blah, Blah

    Yes, Democrats, we know, it's a mess. A great number of people voted for the incumbent, and we were not prepared for that, the Republicans gained seats in both the House and the Senate, much of the country is still under the spell of their Chosen One, the transition will be awkward and painful, COVID will remain disastrous for a while, the economy is in the dumps, our international status is in the basement, security threats are escalated.  There are many things to be concerned about . There is a lot of work to be done. There are recriminations about what Democrats should have done better.

   But enough of the self flagellations and regrets for now.  Let us rejoice---TRUMP, ALONG WITH  HIS DYSFUNCTIONAL FAMILY,  HAS BEEN VOTED OUT OF THE WHITE HOUSE.

Self Aggrandizing---Who cares?

     It was  some time in the early 1980's that I was invited to join the Board of Trustees of the Valley Falls Library. It seems the Board was short of members since 2 of the long-time members had passed away. I think there were only 4 women left, including B. , who may have been the one who submitted my name. 

  The VFL then was a stand-alone entity, a building with books and little else, and very short on income.  One of the then-trustees would recount the times the library had insufficient funds to pay its fuel bill. There were other options for added revenue, such as expanding its area out of the Village  but I was told that was not a possibility because our  Charter limited our area to the Village of Valley Falls. Unfortunately, a copy of the Charter was not available, due to a housekeeping cleanout by an overzealous trustee some years before.

   But I found out that high on the wall of the library was a framed copy of the original Charter. So one day I moved a table beneath that framed document, took down the vintage item and actually read it. The wording read the area was chartered to "The Village of Valley Falls and surrounding areas." That opened up a whole new world as far as increasing the library's population and therefore sources of income. I made copies of the Charter before returning it to its place on the wall. And we went on from there. Most likely, these findings would have happened anyway; that's if the library had been able to survive long enough.

   Needless to say, this did not increase my popularity with the long-established provincial members.  I didn't care, then or now.

  

A Cry for Help

   When we were kids, we would never take the long way around if we could go off the beaten path. For most of the time, the cinder block building next to our house was not in use. Next to that building was the Valley Inn, which had a wide gravel driveway which almost touched on the driveway to the Post Office. Actually, in most weather, you could bypass the Valley Inn driveway and cut through directly behind the building straight to the Post Office or to the sidewalk on Main Street. 

   That was the path all the kids on the street followed. There was a well-worn footpath behind the buildings. This route was not hidden by any means. It was a clear and open passage right from our back yard. You could see right through to Main Street (as we called State Street then.) In memory, I can see my mother standing in the kitchen window. She would wait there when we were little and we'd turn and wave good-bye to  her when we reached the sidewalk on our way to school.

   So it felt like familiar and safe territory. And it was until one day, as she returned  from  the post office, we heard Dorothy  on the path, running and crying and yelling out loud. It even drew my father's attention, and he went outside. Dorothy, about 9 years old at the time,  was being chased by a much older boy, Bobby C. who was running after her yelling the F-word over and over. She was a fast runner and made it safely home, Her pursuer slunk back and away, not approaching our house. We never knew what motivated his behavior:   Triggered by a child's flaming red hair, or his being "not quite right."

   

Strikeovers and Sirens in the Early Hours on 10-26-1957

     My college years. So many papers, if you majored in English. Lengthy ones, with deadlines, and they had to be typed. I was an okay, but not great typist, and any mistakes were not acceptable, as I recall. No strikeovers or erasures, so many times the page had to be discarded and you had to start over. Of course I never had enough time, and most often worked on the paper throughout the night.

    One winter night, I was doing just that, finishing a lengthy  assigned paper that as usual was due the next day. ELO was helping me by typing the pages as they rolled off my numb mind. We were in the kitchen when  we heard the sirens, first from the firehouse and then from fire engines. They sounded close. So what else but to get in the car to find out where. We followed the glare in the sky to what was Coon Road. I think their farm was about the only habitation on that road at the time, a rather bleak and impoverished and deserted-looking array of farmhouse and outbuildings. We drove by and saw the house standing but one of the sheds was on fire---red flames shooting up in the air. A chicken coop,  someone told us. We went home, finished the paper and the next day the newspaper carried the story that Bobby Coon's wife and children died in the fire. They were living in the chicken coop. Nobody seemed to know how many died,  his wife and kids, maybe a total of 5 deaths.

    The date was October 26, 1957. The deaths were Beverly Coon, age 22 and her 4 children, ages 3, 2. 1 and a baby. Robert Coon was burned, but escaped.

Turkeys Unaware

 Driving past  Hill's turkey farm on Rte. 40 in Schaghticoke, it seems the flock of white turkeys has decreased in size. And they're gathered closer together, maybe because of the colder weather, or could  be they think there's safety in numbers. It don't look good for them, even at $4.58 per lb.

License to Lie

    Perhaps not a representative sample, but it could be so, as modeled from the top down:   A woman posts on a sales site that she is selling one of those pricey baby items that end up unused, unnecessary. She says it is in new condition, with all parts present, but that the store, Walmart's or such, would not take it back, probably because it was past the return date. So she is listing it for sale. 

   In a comment on her sale site, a woman proposes that she tell the store that a part was missing. The store, Walmart's, will then accept it as a return. It seems likely she has done this herself, according to her assurance.  Not only would this be an outright lie, there is no shame attached. She may as well have told the would-be seller to steal something. Except for avoiding the likelihood of being caught in her lie, what she proposes is fraud, tantamount to theft. And  to publicly broadcast the lie, as if proud of the deception, signifies the decline of any moral compass. "Have you no shame?"

      

A Dream----After all these years

     I don't recall ever before having  a vivid dream about my father. I dreamt  of him last night though, maybe because the anniversary of his death looms so large this year, its being January 20. Actually this dream is about my father, he didn't make an appearance, his presence only spoken of.

           In casual conversation, G. B. mentioned that he had seen my father in the city of Troy, and my father had told him he was living there now. I was shocked and rushed to tell my mother and the rest of the family, in separate encounters. Each one already knew he had left home and had moved to Troy. Somebody even reported that he had been seen walking with a woman. I was shocked.  I was the only one who hadn't known. The consensus was that he hadn't been happy, especially since one of those bitter marital arguments about nothing: something about " a line," but I couldn't remember what it signified. 

   It would seem odd that nobody knew he was leaving, or had left, but then I realized he didn't own anything, pretty much just the clothes on his back. (I didn't think of his car or his fiddles.)  I went upstairs in our old house and looked through that familiar small brown dresser of his, always against the bedroom wall at the foot of the iron bed. Opening the drawers, I saw some hankies, some papers, a few pairs of new socks and some type of 2-toned brown shirt or vest. It was remarkably similar to the shirt  that Dr. D. wore in the ophthalmologist's office yesterday.

So now it's my Wednesday Appointment

    I learned that my afternoon appointment was with Dr. Deere. Dr. F. had said to apprise her of the situation, to have her send the notes to him and to give her his cellphone number. Naturally, what had seemed a worrisome issue on Monday had pretty much resolved by Wed. afternoon. I'd been seen by Dr. Deere when she first joined the practice, maybe about 8-10 years ago or so. She looks exactly the same, with blonde curly hair and a friendly attitude. I underwent a few tests prior, vision and pressure check, all normal. She asked about my concerns, which I said were mostly resolved. She  said I had a large "rough patch" in my right eye, which could cause pain and swelling, even of the eyelid. (Really?) I asked her what could have caused it and she pretty much repeated what I'd told her---that it was probably attributable to the recent field testing and maybe to the insertion of the drops. She gave me a sample of Systane, an OTC medication. So besides the waiting periods, all went well. Except while I was waiting in front of the great big fish tank, I saw a dead fish in the lower corner of the tank. I told them about it. You know what they say:  One dead fish can spoil the whole tank."

My Health Record---Eyewise

 I had  a regularly scheduled eye appointment on November 10. The visit included a repeat of the dreaded Field of Vision Test.  I contend this test is not very accurate, and it should be redeveloped to eliminate the subjective aspect. And I think some young equipment developer should initiate the design of the various pieces of equipment so as to make them more user friendly. Why should the patient have to contort their body so as to fit the machine, and then strain to hold the pose while undergoing the exam. I suppose a major drawback would be replacing the office equipment, and that the manufacturers of such would not support a new development. Oh, well, I survived the tests, including the dilation, and Dr. F. said he was surprised to find  that a "blind spot" in the right eye,  I gather a symptom of macular degeneration, was gone, but that one such spot now appeared in the left eye. Why?  He dunno.  But everything checked out pretty good, and he set a  recheck appointment for 6 months from now.

      (I remind myself that besides double cataract surgeries and the follow-up YAG surgeries, I have had several retinal tears lasered, plus another surgery ostensibly to prevent the worsening of glaucoma, though of the more rare normal tension variety. I also was diagnosed with Fuchs' Corneal Dystrophy, which I gather coincides with  a thin cornea. Mild, they say, and my vision remains quite good.)

  On the drive home, which was a Tuesday, my eyes felt somewhat stiff and achy when I shifted my gaze, attributable to the testing I assumed. That persisted off  and on for the next few days. I'm used to such stuff by now. But early the following Monday, I woke up to pain in my right eye, in the upper inside corner very sensitive to the slightest touch. I looked in the mirror to find that my eyelid was red and swollen, so much so that part of my vision was obscured. Now I've endured much worse pain which I was satisfied to wait out, but hey, this is my eye. I don't ask much, but want to be able to see, walk and talk for as long as possible. So I called the office Monday morning for an appointment to check whatever was going on. I couldn't tell if the pain and swelling was on the eyeball, or the inside of the eyelid, or maybe even an eyelash or other foreign body speck got in there. I found that I could not get an appointment in Troy until Wednesday afternoon. Cripes!  On Tuesday, my eye felt much the same and I called the office again/ No luck, nothing available sooner. So I decided to call the bluff of Dr. F.. Every single time I've seen him, about 4 or 5, he has handed me his card, pointing out that it has on it his cell phone number. He is a fairly new import from Florida, and has recently become a partner joining Zieker, Sax and Rabady. I can't say I was overly impressed with him, maybe his seeming a little "flighty."  I left a message on his cell, and he later returned my call. The first thing he said was did I want to come to the office now. It was getting late in the day, so we agreed to stick with the Wed. appt.   (To be continued)

 

   

Non-political TV

    I've absorbed all the news I can for now. I get it. No mas. So I turned to ordinary tv shows. I've always been tuned in to Wheel of Fortune, just so I wouldn't miss Jeopardy, now so sad to watch. I gave up watching Kelly and Ryan when they began filming at home---so boring. I still watch Dancing with the Stars, even though the judges now seem to  pander to the social climate, and despite the misfit of this season's host, so bizarre in every respect. 

  Desperate for some innocuous viewing, I sat through a show, The Costumed Singer,  where the object is to have a panel of judges, including the annoying Dr. Ken,  guess the identity of elaborately costumed performers.  Nope, not for me, so the other night I decided to watch  a show called I Hear Your Voice. Improbably, it appears to be a spin-off of the mind-numbing Costumed Singer, with a judge being  the now   even more obnoxious Dr. Ken, among other judges apparently contending for that title. 

    The show may have had potential, even in the room of its creation, most likely formulated through the drug fueled aspirations of out-of-work performers, but it is doomed to failure, at least through my lens, for its outright phoniness. Wheel of Fortune, The Price Is Right and other quiz shows are held to a pretty rigid standard, FCC rules strictly adhered to after the Mark Van Doren scandal. I think this show is staged. (In addition to a complicated and absurd premise. Here's my take:

     The contestant is a poised young woman bearing a remarkable resemblance to Katherine, Prince William's wife. She is impeccably clad in a stunning dress. Her quest for fortune, way more than the meager amounts on Jeopardy for any first contestant, depends on her figuring out which of the presented performers, all of whom are lip-synching, is a real singer or a non-singer. The contestant is poised, only briefly and charmingly indecisive,  as she listens to the advice of the show's panel of judges, one of whom is no other than the inimitable Dr. Ken.  A round of performing, a round of questioning, with answers given in a muffled voice, a round of dissecting the judicial opinions, before she presses the button selecting her choice. She wins--20K. She loses 40K. But don't despair; her fortune soars again with another correct choice. And, oh, at one point the performer enters a sound booth and screams as loud as possible. The Decibel Rating could be a clue. Or not. The real singer is allowed to lie or dissemble. Only the bad singers are held to the truth. 

Cold Cold Moon November Evening

 

Paperwork at Kitchen Table 11-11-20

 Lest  40 pages sound like an exaggeration, copies came today---52 pages to be signed.

Testing

 

Parlez Vous

 Feed me. Feed me.  Parler

Still Grifting

 

7:00 a.m. Nov. 15

 

Things I Wish Were True

 1) ...that all the disgruntled folks who so bitterly complain about being denied visitations to nursing homes will actually do so when the quarantine is lifted

2) ...that all the recently departed who are remembered in their obituaries as being "great story tellers" were actually listened to during their lifetimes.

Waiting Room

   You know the one, the graveyard of dinosaurs.  She was sitting a "safe" seat away from me when her name was called. She stood up, wobbled for a moment, and appeared dismayed. I asked her if she felt dizzy. she said no, but thought she might fall. A male assistant approached her; she took his arm and proceeded into the examining room, for one test or another.

   After a while, she re-appeared and took her place back in the waiting room along with the rest of us. While I was still waiting, her name was called again, for another step in the process. She told them to wait a minute. She was sitting there, with a baggie of cheese nips, slipping them into her masked mouth. She announced that earlier she almost fell. They waited for her to finish her snack, though seemed a little impatient doing so. Time's a'wastin' you know, regardless of your hypoglycemia or whatever.

CMA

    I watched the show last night, sort of. I was reading, and it made a welcome change from politics. I saw only one person wearing a mask, so it seemed like the old days. I recognized only a few of the performers, and even fewer of the musical numbers. Except for the few old standards, the music sounded much the same.  Charley Pride appeared frail, and grew emotional accepting his tribute, a moving moment. A female singer wore a dress that looked like a Rorschach  Test. and a big winner, Maren something, may have forgotten to wear underpants. 

Stan Lee ...and Ted Williams

 I just read "The Last Days of Stan Lee," David Hochman's account of the heartbreaking tragedy of the Marvel Comics creator. As Lee grew old, and after his wife died, Lee was pretty much controlled by his dysfunctional daughter and a trio of his onetime inner circle employees who chiseled away and drained much of his family fortune, as well as being participants in elder abuse. The writer describes an account of Lee becoming completely dependent on these associates. They would present him at Signing appearances, where according to some observers, they would place  a Sharpie in his hand and dictate to him how he should sign the Marvel Comics presented to him by his adoring fans, who paid $80 for each signature. He was tired and fatigued but he was forced to oblige.  A complicated and tragic tale still unfolding, as I understand it.

     Some years ago, when we had an avid baseball card collector in the family, we drove to a Card Show, at the Polish -American Club, a large venue which had dozens and dozens of booths set up. That was where the young collector's interest lay. I noticed a raised platform along one wall. On it sat a slightly  disheveled and definitely disgruntled-looking Ted Williams, autographing his cards for $25 a signature. Ted William's golden hour was too long past to interest our collector, so we didn't buy his signature. Since he was seated on a riser above floor level, I  could see Ted Williams was wearing white socks slouched down over a pair of scuffed brown loafers.

K's Suggestion

 

Alarm in the Night

    It's 3:00 a.m. and the detector starts emitting a loud steady sound, more than a beep. I take the detector from the bedroom to the kitchen, trying to figure out what to do. There is nothing  written on the unit, and it is the type with a 10-year battery, not replaceable. I seem to remember I bought it only about 3 years ago. I can't find any instructions, and I also seem to remember it's a combination First Alert Smoke & Carbon Monoxide Alarm. I find a notice : "--Actuation of your CO alarm indicates the presence of carbon monoxide, which can KILL YOU."  I open the windows. It starts to get chilly.

   Another detector in the hallway remains silent, so maybe I have a chance. First Alert #1 will not stop beeping, so I put it outside on the porch railing. It's very loud and I can still hear it. I close the bedroom window and turn off the furnace. I've checked for fire and I figure CO can only come from the furnace. It gets chillier.  I turn on the computer to try to assess the alert, but I can't see the Model No. because it's not visible on the cardboard backing under the sealed unit. I get first a screwdriver, then a can opener to make the hole a little bigger, and finally see Model No. P1210E.  Just as I try to check this model number to see if it has a history of premature beeping, the internet goes dead. It's 4 a.m. I grab a few extra blankets and go back to bed. What is the alternative.

   I do wake up  a few hours later, and find the internet is back on. I research the product and find I am not alone with this alert. Others have complaints that it did not last anywhere near 10 years. And I'm still breathing.

   The next day, I go to Wiley's and buy a new alarm, again the combination sealed unit. I mention my issues to the clerk who is showing me the alarms. He said he had the same problem, was unable to stop the alarm. We know that once disabled, these units are useless, defunct, but the beeping persisted. He said

he put his in the driveway and ran over it with his car. 

   

Battery 11/9/20

 

Cat & Caterpillar

 

EeK!

Well, it looked like a mouse to me.

Portent of What Kind of Winter?

 

A Place in the Sun

   You need to move a little.

Que Sera Sera

 8:30 turned the TV off. Went to bed. Had a very busy day.

Paradise-------Lost!

 When M. took dance lessons at Valenty, and parents were not permitted in the studio. I chose not to stay in the waiting room, but to drive a few miles  to Colonie Center, the happening place at the time.  During rehearsal periods, and when she was practicing for several different numbers, tap, jazz, ballet, the wait could be lengthy. I did a lot of shopping, was able to take advantage of unadvertised sales, a special offering at Macy's. 

  Of added interest was the sighting of local celebrities, if that would be the term. Liz Bishop was frequently a presence, probably shopping for her next TV appearance. And I occasionally saw Dick Wood, walking the mall, sometimes with others, who I assumed to be his family. People would greet him, and he always returned their hello's. I would have to say he was quite a handsome figure, tall, with black hair, and always well-dressed. I recall he used to model men's clothing prior to his television days.

   Yesterday I saw an account of a drive-by celebration his wife had arranged for his 90th birthday. He was pictured, smiling.  I can't recall the last time I saw him, maybe a guest appearance on Channel 10 and while he may have let his hair go white, he had still looked much the same.  No longer. When the powers that be added the aging process to us mortals, payback must have been part of the price we must pay.         

November Decor

 

Is it what it is, or not?

   At 3:30 this morning, one of the 3 smoke/CO2 detectors started beeping, 3 loud beeps in succession. I can't remember what that means, whether fire or carbon dioxide,  so I turned the furnace way down, just in case. Detector is the 10 year sealed type, no batteries to replace. I'm sure it's not 10 years old.  I put it outside where it continues to beep. The cat is unhappy with the sound, but seems coherent. I did the online word puzzle, but could only come up with mostly 4-letter words. 

   It's now 5:15 and the beeping has stopped from the sensor's position on the porch rail. so I brought it back into the house. I'm going back to bed. If it beeps again, I guess I'll call the Fire Dept.  But wait, they have hardly any staff. Oh, well.

Once,Upon A time, in A Blue Moon

 

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