Daily Inflammation

Is it possible to give less of a rat’s-ass about anything as stupid as crypto-currency losing half its value?
Oh yeah it is possible, I forgot about the Kardashians.

In 1922 Robert Frost surreptitiously confessed to a crime that rocked the literary world to such an extent that the ramifications are still widely debated within the ivy covered walls of today’s most revered liberal arts universities**  Disguised as a masterful example of the beauty of the written word, Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening, the poem that Frost himself  called  “My best bid for remembrance,”  should be required reading for everyone.***  In the confession Frost admits he is trespassing but, having previously staked out the area, knows he can commit the crime undetected based on the fact the property owner maintains his primary residence in the Village some miles away.  Ignoring the foreboding bell shake of his equine companion, Frost did with intent and, some would argue malice aforethought, gaze at the magnificence of the ethereal tableau.
We are all familiar with the question “If a tree falls in the forest and no one hears it does it make a sound?” This begs the debate starting question “if a victimless crime is committed in the forest and nobody sees it, was a crime actually committed?  Frost created a work of art that is also an unsolvable conundrum inflicting on us countless nights of agonizing reflection and lost sleep.

The literary and legal controversy rages on in classrooms and moot courts the world over.  The intellectual arguments will continue long after we are gone.  And, as Robert Frost predicted, so will the Poem. 

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**Known to trumpers only as seething beds of radical-right socialism where students dangerously learn to think on their own.
*** If  you are a trumper have someone read it to you and don’t get in a homophobic frenzy when you hear the word “queer.” In this case it is a synonym for odd or unusual.  OMG do I have to explain synonym to you as well?

Words of Wisdom from the boss, Mr. Misrell, to his unhappy employee Gart Williams.  After calling Misrell “Fatboy,” quitting his job and pouring down a bottle of Maalox to sooth his ulcerated stomach, Gart boarded the commuter train home to deliver the news to his shrewish demon of a wife.  Fortunately for Gart the train made an unscheduled stop at Willoughby, a small town suspended in the 1890s, where the conductor assured him “a man can live his life full measure.”  Taking a deep breath Gart exited the train and immediately transformed into a local resident, accepting an invitation from two young boys (still acceptable behavior in those days) to go fishing the next day.  Gart Williams had entered Paradise; or so he thought.

While at first, dumping his job and wife was wonderful, reality soon hit him like a frozen snowbank when jumping off a speeding train.  There was no air conditioning and Willoughby was hot as…well, you know; indoor plumbing was a luxury that had not yet reached the rural areas, KKK membership was mandatory and the politicians so corrupt an observer might mistake it for this year.

We’ve talked about A-Hole bosses before.  Stay on the train, suck it up, and move on!

Norton 360 with Lifelock selflessly sent me an email this morning warning of the perils of the Internet. I wanted to pass it along and let you know they are offering a 30% discount on your first year of protection, (How do they make a profit at that price?).
Anyway, these good people have blown the lid off cybersecurity with this tip: “Do not accept friend requests from strangers!” BRILLIANT!
Just yesterday I was on my way to the bank to deposit $5,000 into the account of a Nigerian Prince so that he could send me $5 Million when a stranger I met on-line surprised me and asked me to get into his van (I loved his darkly tinted windows).  To repay his kindness I shared the tip with him.  He astutely pointed out that if I had not accepted a stranger’s friend request we would not have met.  In gratitude I cut him in on the Nigerian Prince deal. He was so appreciative he let me out unharmed on a desolate road in the mountains.

 The tip has kept me safe already! Pass it on!  

Don’t Worry, all is good…NOW.
I woke yesterday morning and something was definitely wrong.  I felt off; blah. That’s all I could think: Blah, blah, blah.

Stomach, head, feet, skin, all blah.  Food tasted blah, toothpaste not its normal minty self, coffee might as well have been tepid water, BLAH!  Fortunately the doctor on duty happened to be a geriatric specialist and had seen this many times before.  He placed an empathetic hand on my shoulder and said. “I’m not going to insult you by beating around the bush. I’ll give it to you straight. You have a persistent and protracted case of “the blahs.” Fortunately it’s treatable and I think we can knock it out in one day.  I am writing you a prescription and giving you detailed after-visit instructions.  Follow them to the letter.  Cancel any plans as you will not be able to leave the house or operate heavy equipment.”

I stopped at the drug store to fill the prescription: a six-pack of juice boxes and gallon of chocolate ice cream.  The, as instructed, I spent the entire day watching the SpongeBob SquarePants Marathon on Nickelodeon.

This Morning, Life is Beautiful again!

They were an unusual pair in that Big Banana was so much larger than his work-mate, Little Banana.
They ordered two Yuppie Daiquiris and talked:
Little Banana:  It must be great to be you, so big and firm.  Did you get that way by working out?
Big Banana:      No, just the luck of the draw.  Why are you so hung up on size? It doesn’t matter.  It’s about how sweet and firm you are.
Little Banana:  Easy for you to say.  You drive a Prius and do great.  I had to compensate for my size by leasing an expensive sports car I can’t afford.
Big Banana:    Being a Big Banana has its downside, try to find a comfortable pair of jeans and more annoying, whenever I run into anyone, they automatically think I’m glad to see them. 
Little Banana:  All the same I’d rather have your problems than mine.
Big Banana:  Look at it this way.  Your problem is minor compared to that guy. 
He looks across the bar as Big Banana points to the pair sitting at a table in the far corner.  Little Banana nods his head in understanding as he watches the Foot-long consoling his friend, the Cocktail Weenie.

      It was the first day of school for the 5 year old children in the ancient remote village of Guilin, located in the Guangxi Region of China, nestled among the ethereal beauty of the limestone mountains bordering the Lijiang River.  As with every child in every country around the world, the boys and girls were apprehensive, excited and almost impossible to get under control.
     Their Teacher Miss Rei-Lee was trying, as she did each New Year, to match the names of the children with their faces. She watched and listened as the school nurse checked temperatures and recorded vital statistics such as height:  Kra-Kah 105 centimeters (cm); Si-Yah the tallest at 111 cm, 104; Lay-Tah, 110 cm; The new boy in the village with an Iranian father and Chinese mother, Ali 108 cm; Dye-Ahl 104 cm and her cousin Wy-Ahl 106cm; lastly the twins, Gae-Tah 107.5cm and Ahf-Tah 107cm.

     Miss Rei-Lee, in search of a method to bring some order to this chaos in a way young children would understand, devised a brilliant plan. Each morning, when the first bell rang alerting the students it was time to enter the classroom, they would line up according to height, a way they can visually comprehend and do without much supervision.  Then for roll call each child would simply state their name.  This solution seemed to work to take roll and teach responsibility to the developing minds.

     Miss Rei-Lee patiently explained the procedure and told the class to line-up by size and then, in order tallest first, to state their names.  It worked well at the beginning: 

“Si-Yah, Lay-Tah, Ali, Gay-Tah, Af-Tah, Wy-Ahl, Krah-Kah, Dye-Ahl.”

But after a few months, as the children grew at different rates, chaos ensued!

Linda and I were fortunate to have had the opportunity to visit and dine with so many friends around the world.  We loved tasting the favorite local dishes as we ate our way around and through the world. 
Among our (mostly mine) favorites: 
Vienna Hot Dogs with bright green relish and celery salt in Chicago;  Corned Beef at the Carnegie Deli in NYC;  Sacher Torte (dry Chocolate cake) in Vienna; Adobo and Pancit in Manila; Dim Sum in Hong Kong;  Drunken Shrimp in Beijing; Soup Dumplings in Shanghai; Sweet holiday tamales in Mexico; Falafel in Jerusalem; Ramen in Japan; Gelato in Venice, a lot of Gelato, also in every city with a gelato shop (Linda’s #1 food in the world);  Crêpes aux Fraises in Paris; Soda Bread and Irish Stew on the Quay in Westport;  1/4 Meter Bratwurst in Regensburg; Pannekoek in Victoria; Fish and Chips in London, (plus a special treat, Sunday Roast from Ginny’s Kitchen);  Pad Thai in Bangkok; Street food in Singapore; Pho in Vietnam and Palačinky in Prague.

As the Covid-19 pandemic hopefully wanes we will be back on the road.  One possibility is Palm Beach, Florida.  We hear that the Big Mac with Supersized fries is the local favorite. Yum!

HAPPY SHAVOUS, the joyous festival that commemorates God’s giving of the Ten Commandments to Moses.
(Yes, it is fashionable to use the Sephardic Hebrew pronunciation shah-voo-awt but I identify as Ashkenazy so shuh-voo-uhs it is.

Shavuos holds a special meaning for me.  After seeing the 1970 film “The Boys in the Band”  Shavuos became a euphemism for NEVER!  When the party was over Donald said, “Good night Harold, see you again sometime,” to which Harold cynically replied, “Yeah, how about a year from Shavous?”  You did not have to be Dick Tracy to understand that Harold had no desire to see Donald again.

From then on for me and eventually, by association for Linda too, Shavuos was a time never to come since nobody knows when it occurs. “Should we invite the Trumps over for dinner?”  “Yeah, how about a year from Shavuos?”

The problem is that now I know when it is, in one year I will have to see about 150 people I have put off until a year from today.  How do I get myself into these things?

Ever since the day I watched in horror as the New York soup nazi refused service to Elaine Benes simply because she inadvertently deviated from the onerous litany of his unpublished rules of soup ordering, I have been unable to sleep, consumed with answering two intricately philosophical and life-altering questions:

1. Should we as a society stay silent and be complicit in injustice when unfair punishment is meted out to the proletariat class in an establishment owned by an odious member of the corrupt aristocracy?
2. More than 2500 years ago Sun Tzu advised us if a battle cannot be won, do not engage.  Is soup worth the fight?

What are your thoughts, Hobson?