WHOM TO THANK?

 I AM SO thankful. Various current problems and reverses notwithstanding, there is a lot of good in my life. Also, I know that gratitude is helpful in maintaining good spirits and equanimity. Particularly in the face of difficulty.

BUT I AM AN ATHEIST.

No, not a namby-pamby agnostic, but a true non-believer. Of course, having been brought up Catholic, more or less, I have plenty of residue and issues. 

So, whom to thank?

Do I thank my crazy, dysfunctional addicted parents for bringing me up the way I am?

I can't thank god, or godess, or godesses--although I do like the image of lots of godesses on high, deciding on our fates. But only the good stuff.

Do I thank the benefactor of my life that got me out of Dodge? That would be Sister Charlotte Marie, my High School Principal at St. Mary's Girls High School in Lynn, Massachusetts. She saw to it that I entered the College of New Rochelle, a scant half hour from Manhattan, after I delivered my daughter to Catholic Charities and her adoptive parents. I never even applied to a school, thinking I would work in a diner and bring up my child in squalor. She got me to New York. What an incredible gift.

Yes. I'll thank her.

SWINGIN' 'TIL THE END--DOTTIE DODGION

 Dottie Dodgion dies at 90.

Famous jazz drummer I never heard of. She didn't like to do solos! Have you ever heard of a drummer who didn't? Well. 

She hardly ever did solos, 

and when she did, her solo approach "came from being a singer.

I'd hear the melody inside my head, so the rhythms I laid down always followed the song form of whatever tune I played."

Kidnapped by her drummer father at the age of 5--he had left the family when she was 2-- she toured strip joints and roadhouses with him and his band 'til she was 7.

Her mother had remarried and her step father raped her. He went to jail for 20 years.

She spent her weekends with her dad at Streeets of Paris, a strip clup in San Francicco.

Gradually her singing gave way to drumming, and she worked with such greats as Charles Mingus, and Nick Esposito. Marriages and breakups ensued.

Benny Goodman hired her and her third husband, she thoughit was just to jam. But he put her on stage. For ten nights she played with him, then he forgot to mention her name when he listed the band. The audience roared in protest,, and asked her name. After the long standing ovation they gave her, Benny Goodman's manager whispered, "Bye," in her ear on her way out.

She was fired for getting more applause than her boss.

WHAT ARE WE SUPPOSED TO DO WITH ALL THE MEN?

 AM I CRAZY OR have you noticed that there is a lot less attention paid to #MeToo these days. I'm sure I'm not alone in thinking that not everything that needs to be said is said, or needs to be done is done. The depth of damage going back millenia has left women so far behind that catching up is unimaginable. And yet we have to try.

As with many social movements, #MeToo has hurt a lot of people that it is supposed to help. An example would be the so-called sexual liberation of the sixties and the seventies. It was fun, but a lot  was just more pressure, and coercion, of women to give it up for free. I remember sitting at the bar in Maxwell's Plum in NYC. A guy sitting next to me was trying to pick me up but I wasn't interested in him. After a few polite rebuffs on my part he became angry. Accused me of being frigid, and worse, a Lesbian. What other reason could there be for not wanting to leave instantly and fuck him (not sure if dinner was on offer.)? This was not liberation at its finest, and I venture to say it wouln't have happened before. Or now.

A male psychiatrist told me, when I expressed my distress at being "admired" constantly on the street, that I should think of myself as a work of art.

What are we supposed to do with the men who have been called out, or those that haven't? Are we to deny them any afterlife? Do we count any good stories, movies, legislation they wrote as tainted? Is there a possibility of partial recovery? Is a legacy destroyed?

I'm not talking about true evil like Epstein and Weinstein, but more nuanced evildoers, like possibly Cuomo--although maybe he is really bad, too. I don't have the facts.

But what about Al Franken? 

A major disaster of #MeToo, for example, was losing a good senator. 

His comments about the hypocrisy of the GOP certainly rings true. 

As we wait for the other millions of shoes to drop.

Isn't it likely that most men have incidents that would clearly mark them for public castigation if only we knew?

Someone gave me a book of Woody Allen stories. They are funny. Can I never admit to enjoying a Polanski movie? 

Remember when many vocal feminists were up in arms because Hillary stuck with Bill after Monica?

What are we to do with all the men?

Most of them have simply not been caught. Are those, guilty but unaccused, to be treated as it they are blameless? The good guys? If by some stretch of the imagination we allow that maybe they have not offended, are they, we, not gulty of collusion for not calling them out? More urgent, for not calling out the system that fostered and protected the undermining of women at every turn?

TRUTHINESS--SUCH A GOOD WORD

 

I am sure that among the many legacies of Stephen Colbert, a decent amount of attention will be paid to 

TRUTHINESS,

a brilliant coinage that I take to mean something that has some of the trappings of truth, but isn't. It works perfectly to describe most utterings from politicians. For the most part, when I hear a speech or an interview, say on NPR, of an elcted official, what I hear is truthiness. 

Most politicians have learned several things about speaking to the public.

One, to say the same thing over and over, using different words, althought they often use the same words, too.

Two, not to answer question directly or at all. They just carry on saying whatever they were saying, not even alluding to the actual question.

Three, never to answer a yes-or-no question with a yes of no.

Four, most common, to blame someone else.

These characteistics also apply to official corproate spokespeople, after a disaster, like an oil spill or deaths in a mine. Particularly when said corporations are clearly at fault. The Exxon oil spill comes to mind. To hear them (Exxon) talk, the problem was in the government cleanup response. Nothing to do with lack of safeguards that every knowledgable person knew would lead to exactly this disaster. But cost cutting and profit maximization won out over considerations of safety and environmental damage.

But I digress. 

TRUTHINESS

Why am I carrying on about truthiness? Because of Trump.

You understand, truthiness is based on a resemblance to truth, a certain plausibility.

But all that was lost during Trump. There was no relation to truth, however tenuous.

There was no acknowledgment of facts, however glancing.

There was no respect for the listener, however slight. 

The Ameirican people could have no expectation of honesty, and the Trump people, it seemed, had no expectation that they would be believed. Americans gave no hint that they expected their leaders to purvey anything at all related to the truth. 

MIGHT MAKES RIGHT

is the thing, the only thing. With Trump as Commander-in-Chief, anything goes, and anything went. 

So how could the concept, not of truth, but even TRUTHINESS survive?

It couldn't. Now, with a better president, perhaps it could be revived. With it we could poke fun at the blatherers and nothing-sayers, and the hemmers and hawers, in the good-natured ways of the past.

But what to do with the previous administration's four years of utterings? I call it 

TRUMPINESS.

CLUMSY REFLEXES

Someone commented on my good reflexes the other day. And you know what? It's true. I have great reflexes, better than ever, and they seem to be improving with age. 

I attribute it to my increased fitness regimen, which, not to bore you I will describe very briefly: 5 core barre classes a week, one 20 lap swim, and 3 sessions of live-ball tennis.

This is up from 2 or 3 classes. So now.

I still knock things over, and drop them, but because I am so fast, I usually catch them before they fall over or crash on the floor. Truly an improvement.

WHAT DO WOMEN WANT?

WHAT DO WOMEN WANT

Ah Freud. You have a lot to answer for.

Some of your stuff is so silly, yet it has taken hold.

People who would die before admitting the need for psychological counseling will blather on about Oedipus complex in all its 

Unlikely tawdriness. 

Egosuperegoid! Ego, superego??? and id? Enough said.

The unconscious--there is gold there.

I'm all for bringing the unconscious to consciousness to heal psychic wounds.

Let there be light, as it were.

But what about the women? Most of us eschew the cocaine that you 

relied upon.

Some have answered the question reasonably.

Women want, mostly, what men want:

Autonomy, equality, upper body strength and equal pay.

That said, there is a simpler more basic and happier answer to the question. 

What do women want?

Women want more dancing.

A BIG SCARE

 FOR A WRITER, little is scarier than losing one's writing. I have 2 screenplays and a novel, all brilliant, naturally, that have disappeared. 

YIKES

WHERE'VE I BEEN? GETTING VACCINATED

 WHEW! 

A thousand pounds has been lifted from my shoulders, that I didn't even know was there.

Our fabulous son-in-law hugged his parents for the first time in many many months--could it be a year? A picture was taken and it made me cry. 

I want to be doing some of that very soon.

We've been playing online poker with some tricoastal relatives. This way, twice a week, we get together and chat. Much more often than we ever were in touch before Covid. This was a good thing. Each of us used iPad, Computer and cell phone to utilize poker game app (luckily a genius nephew took care of setting it all up), and we'd play silly games (Elevator) and catch up and discuss hands and luck and so on. In fact, I think we all want to continue the games after we are re-normalized.

My adorable and gorgeous husband has set up my computer for me so I can blog more often.

Later.

BACK THEN, 2

Hunter College, CUNY, was not then, or possibly ever, a hotbed of anything. 

If we wanted to see the real deal "revolution"aries, we'd go upto Columbia, a subway ride away. There were speakers and ranters all around campus and in auditoria. Some quite famous but I forget their names. The Beatles chimed in with their song, Revolution, in 1971--can you believe the single had Hey Jude on the flip side?--, so this was a bit later. I think they were addressing the year 1968 with this song. 

Revolution

Beatles

Aaahhh!
You say you want a revolution
Well, you know
We all want to change the world
You tell me that it's evolution
Well, you know
We all want to change the world
But when you talk about destruction
Don't you know that you can count me out?
Don't you know it's gonna be
All right
All right
All right

You say you got a real solution
Well, you know
We'd all love to see the plan
You ask me for a contribution
Well, you know
We all doing what we can
But if you want money for people with minds that hate
All I can tell you is, brother, you have to wait
Don't you know it's gonna be
All right
All right
All right

You say you'll change the constitution
Well, you know
We all want to change your head
You tell me it's the institution
Well, you know
You'd better free your mind instead
But if you go carrying pictures of Chairman Mao
You ain't gonna make it with anyone anyhow
Don't you know it's gonna be
All right
All right
All right

All right, all right, all right
All right, all right, all right
All right, all right

Songwriters: Lennon John Winston, Mccartney Paul James

BACK THEN, FIRST IN A SERIES

I have a very beautiful friend whom I met when we were both at Hunter 

College in the late 60s. Hunter, an all women's college, had a very high academic rating which was to come crashing down. First, instead of the rigorous requirements from when I entered, the City experimented with a plan to allow any and all high school graduates admission, to sink or swim. And if that wasn't bad enough to send academic standards to circle the drain, they then started letting in men.

Because it was late 60s, we never knew if we'd have class or not, as I mentioned in an earleir post. As a result, we often came to class with our toddlers on our hips, not wanting to spend money on babysitters.I was thrilled when this beauty patted a seat next to her in logic, with a handsome young bearded professor. We liked him, he liked us. In fact so much did he like us, that he offered to pay our tuition (both of us) to medical school, if we would pay him back later. There is probably something I forgot about this putative transaction. But it was beyond generaous, yet in a way, in the sprit of the age. We were planning toremake the world in a kinder, gentler, more enlightened way. It was a remarkable offer, but not unthinkable in those innocent heady times, before Kent State.  

 

  TO BE CONTINUED

RIGGED ELECTION

 IF THERE ARE QUESTIONS ABOUT A RIGGED ELECTION SHOULDNT WE BE QUESTIONING THE 2016 ONE WHERE TRUMP LOST THE ACTUAL VOTE BUT WON BECAUSE OF THE ELECTORAL COLLEGE?

COVID, GOOD FOR THE SKIN

One of my dearest friend's mother was a skin specialist and cosmetician. When her daughter visited, the mother ran around after her, dabbing fancy emollients and applying moisturizer to my friend's face, exclaiming all the while about the damage caused by dryness, and more laments, many more..$5 version

It's interesting that her mother chose skin care, eventually opening several fancy spas around the country and creating a skin care line. Mom had been in medical school, in the 40s, on her way to MD-hood when she got a horrible case of acne. 

Now, in addition to being very smart, she was beautiful, and acne was not in the cards for her. Being almost a medical professional, she had access to the best , but after much money and time was spent visiting lots of the "top" doctors around the country to no avail, she returned home dejected. And still with spots.

Being a scientist, she was dismally disappointed and flabbergasted that there was no help for her in her chosen profession. Today, we'd probably have quickly hit upon stress as a serious factor in the outbreak, especially for a young woman trying to buck the misogynous tide of Med school. 

One day, pondering her future both as a doctor and beauty, she saw a cosmetologist's office. Figuring she'd try anything now, she went in. After a few treatments, she was back to her blemish-free self.

And out of med school. She had found her true vocation, and made a huge success of it, remaining beautiful way into

her 80s.                   $1,200 version

 

Now, thanks to in-sheltering and so on, I find myself wandering around my place, frequently ending up in the bathroom, and applying fancy emollients to my face.

It's barely a lining, but it is silver.

CE N'EST PAS MAURICE

EARLY SEASON'S GREETINGS!

My lovely, talented friend was hired to Deck the Halls of a fancy residential compound across the street from me. Loving me, and willing to cater to my predilections, she invited me over to watch her work when she realized pink champagne was being served. 

She told me to bring my own glass.

I did, and we had a lot of fun, masked, of course, except when sipping. The woman who hired her and her friend were well into the encouragement phase of the bottle when I got there, and we enjoyed a parade of very high class doggies (and owners) parade through the lobby on the way to elevators.

One such irresistible creature was a brindle French Bulldog. Painfully adorable, and so I exclaimed. 

The owner, an attrractive blond, was obviously used to the admiration her pet inspired. "Thank you. Would you like to meet him?" she said.

Eagerly, I fixed my mask, and offered my hand to the cutie. I leaned down, the dog leapt up, knocked against my flute, et voila! Champagne cascaded through the air.  Pooch, remaining aloft as only champagne can inspire one to do, deftly drank from the air, landing back down at the same time as some drops of champagne, which he scarfed up as if in fear I was going after it.

Laughing, all present admired the performance. 

"His name is Maurice," the owner said.

PROUST

HOW CAN I READ PROUST IF I DON'T LIKE MADELEINES?

MAKING SAUSAGES

OKAY OKAY OKAY

Now I've gone back to some exercise, since we are allowed to do classes outdoors with masks on,

I love PURE BARRE, and so do a great many extremely good-looking women.

 

It only stands to reason that many in my class would be in good shape, right? We are a self-selected group who have chosen to sacrifice time, money and effort to 

have good bodies.

These days, especially, it's a sacrifice since we are outside in a parking lot that the city of Santa Monica allows the class to use. It was filthy the first few times. I worked out on a broken-down cardboard carton donated by a classmate because I didn't know I had to bring my own mat. That was cute, and I have some pictures of me looking like a crazed homeless woman gyrating on the crenallated paper that was protecting me from the crumbling asphalt.

 

The next day I brought my mat, but it got so dirty I had to give it a full-on bath when I got home. So I bought a cheap mat at TJ Maxx, and that was better.

 

Then the city kindly started to wash the parking which was really great especially after it was done a few times, cumulatively cleaner.

But my new cheap mat let the water through. It seems they washed the lot minutes before the start of our class--9 am. (I had to throw away one mat already because it got so disgusting one morning when I had to be in the shade, ergo in a puddle, that I kept from evaporating by my presence.

So not only was the mat wet, so were my special socks, pants and top. I should mention that this outdoor workout is particularly impressive because of all the tiny muscles we need to shanghai in order to stay on the mat, and not let any part of our bodies stray onto said crumbling asphalt. So, good for the workout, bad for the outfit.

But my main point here, and I wish I had photos to show, and maybe I do and can add them later, is that we are a good looking bunch, dressed in minimal and skin-tight clothes, cavorting, stretching, lunging, and tucking--how suggestive is that!!!? Moves not unknown in strip clubs, even. Totally out in public.

For all the world to see. And we are in downtown Santa Monica. Loads of socially distant and masked persons, including men of all ages and types, pass by.

Loads.

You would think that all this toned and barely clad pulchritude would garner an appreciative audience. I don't mean anything I'd have to #MeToo about, but some smiles and lingering glances would not be inappropriate. We are out in public, after all. 

But no!

Nary!

Nada!

Women sometimes watch, and maybe come ask about classes. But men, never. Why?

Because while they admire women. They admire good bodies. They do not like to see what we do to get them.

Men do not seem to want to know how the sausages are made!

 
 

THE TRUMPED UP PRESIDENCY

These last few weeks have been so momentous, so fraught, so bursting with implications, that it scared me, stunned me away from my blog. The thing that sustains me is that it could have been so bad. Four years ago, when Trump was elected, no one imagined how bad it could be. Unthinkable, how bad it actually was. This time, we know exactly how it would go. So whatever fears and worries I have about how hard it will be to indo the massive damage to America's spirits, reputation, and power to do good in the world, I only have to think of how bad it could have been.

This thought usually restores my spirits. And we will just have to word hard for incremental victories, as done by our dearly departed RBG. And try to stay united in good will and willingness to compromise when possible. 

BTW there is a very good documentary series called The Reagans, about the family who came up with the MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN slogan, and how explicit its meaning was, then and now.

FYI--DO YOU KNOW WHAT Crispr MEANS?

Crispr--spelled just like that, is the gene editing technology that allows us, or rather scientists who do that sort of thing, to edit genes. Essentially, a damaged or wrongly-tuned piece of a gene can be removed to change a disease-causing gene into a benign gene. Or a piece of another, presumably better, gene or virus can replace a bad bit. Then the "repaired" gene can function without causing whatever problem it used to, and the host, plant, animal, or person, can carry on happily ever after. Weird and wonderful things can happen, e.g., the AIDS virus may be able to cure Sickle Cell.

Crispr stands for "clustered regularly interspaced short palindromic repeats". 

AMERICAN JIHADIS?

 

MY GOOD FRIEND, born in another country but a naturalized citizen, told me she saw on the news a woman who refused to wear a mask. The maskless crusader, and I say this advisedly as well as ironically, was asked if she wasn't afraid for her health, what with Covid and all. She answered, fervently, 

"I would die for that man."  

What is this about? Is this the same impulse that sends young people strapped to bombs out into crowds?  

If, in fact, this reflects a desire to be part of something bigger, what is the something bigger here that she so stoutly identifies with?

It's not a movement, religion, mission. What is it? I think that for those who identify with the caliphate, say, or the reward of 75 virgins, there is an important (to them) goal. Unity, kingdom of Heaven, sex with inexperienced (probably) minors--dubious fun. 

I look at Trump, and most of his followers, and I see no identity. I only see contrast, opposition. He is rich. They are not. He has a lot of influence, they don't. He spends $70,000 a year on his tangelo mop. They may want to, but they don't. Until recently, he belonged to that disdained minority, Manhattanite. Mostly, they don't. Many, in fact, gloat that cities seem to them to be losing ground.Twice divorced, mostly they are not--they may wish to be but, oh, the expense! Mostly they can't afford it.

Help me with this list here. I'm not coming up with things they can identify with.

I get the anger, but is that enough? It's not his anger. I don't mean he's not angry. He clearly is. But he's angry about his dad, or slights to his ego. His accolytes are angry about real things. Low wages. Dead-end jobs. A feeling that America isn't theirs any more. But this is not his anger. Is it enough just to be angry? DOES ANGER UNITE, NO MATTER THE REASON? Is that an emotion that can dig down into anyone's psyche and say, I'm with you there. Yes, I'm pissed off. Vote for me and let's be pissed off together. 

WE may be pissed off about different things, but isn't it fun to rage in a big bunch?

 

LET'S HEAR IT FOR THUNDER THIGHS

 

Not only is this woman gorgeous,

This is the ideal healthy shape

According to TODAY'S ScienceTimes. 

(From The New York Times:

Where You Carry Body Fat May Affect How Long You Live

Extra weight in some places may lower your risk of dying prematurely.

https://www.nytimes.com/2020/10/01/well/live/where-you-carry-body-fat-may-affect-how-long-you-live.html?smid=em-share)

It seems that, as with so many things, with body fat, it's location location location. As we've heard before, fat around the middle is bad. That's because it indicates that there's fat inside, around your vital organs. That internal fat is very bad, and stifles important stuff. 

But what is new and interesting is there is good fat--not chloesterol, not olive oil, but plain old body fat.

It's good to have it around your thighs. It's good to have it on hips. Good news, right?

But only if your waist is trim.  Waist fat is an indicator of visceral fat, that is itself an indicator of increased risk for heart disease, diabetes, and Alzheimer's, among many others.

FYI, I started back at my Pure Barre classes last week. That's how to keep waist small, tummy tight and butt firm with a smiley-face between butt and thigh.

I know it's

Pandemic time. 

I know that several naps a day seems de rigueur.

I know that 2 glasses of Cabernet are also de rigueur.

But, or should I say BUTT we gotta keep that girlish waistline.

MOON OVER PARADOR

"THIS IS YOUR DICTATOR SPEAKING." It's a great line spoken by a great actor in a great role. From a movie starring several great actors. 

For those of you who missed the 1988 film starring Richard Dreyfuss, Sonia Braga and Raoul Julia, I highly reccommend it. It's free on the web and it may have something to say for our times. 

To refresh: a not-that-well-known American actor goes to Parador, a Banana Republic, and while there, the dictator dies. For various reasons the powers that be want to maintain the status quo, such as them being the powers that be. A wildly sinister Minister of Defense (Julia) decides to force Dreyfuss play the dead dictator. Hilarity ensues, and the phenomenally fabulous Sonia Braga, mistress (or is it wife?) catches on and together they try to improve the country, opposed by the demonical Julia who has a spine-chilling laugh that alone makes the movie worth seeing. The movie was not well-reviewed, but I don't understand why. It was truly funny and imaginative, but oh well. Not my point.

The parallels should be obvious, and if Trump dies of Covid-19 I look forward to seeing whom they choose to play him.

In today's real-life version, our tall president would have to be played by two actors, like a horse in a kids' play. Fortunately both ends could be the horse's ass. 

THE THREE CLUELESSTEERS

 

 AM I BECOMING REPUBLICAN?

I'll admit, I am not a fan of these televised debates. Rarely do we see anything to change our already-made-up minds, nor is there much help or enlightenment. 

But a least last night's was hilarious. 

I would say it was a draw. Biden didn't falter the way his opponents hoped. Trump acted like the spoiled bully his supporters love. So, a draw.

But it was hilarious. Wallace could not control Trump, and even laughed at some of his antics. He even ended up doing Biden's job holding Trumps feet to the fire on a few issues such as taxes.

Biden got in a few punches, but in my opinion did not interrupt enough, tho' he did some.

It was funny and fun.

Why does this make me RepuIblican? Because it seems to me Republicans don't expect morality or even consistency. It's just about power and keeping their seats. And this did not start with Trump. May I remind you of states' rights? Admittedly, code for white supremacy, they were not defended when it would have cost Bush II (or Shrub, as Molly Ivins called him) the presidency. As Florida started a recount and it was taken out of the state's hands (State's Right) and given to the Supreme Court (Federal). Off with their heads, states' rights. 

That's to name an issue that may come up again.

The Republicans I allude to--and forgive me if you are a Republican of conscience, we haven't met--don't expect good behavior, respect for law and other institutions of governing, individual or minority rights (ecxcept their own, and then it's not a right by law but by power to make law). 

Consequently, they can enjoy the spectacle that is our trumped-up presidency, while they stay working hard to keep what they have and get more. Or merely aspire. 

And I, too, am beginning to enjoy the show.

COSPIRACY THEORY

In today's ScienceTimes (NYT) there's an article about the psychology of conspiracy theorists by Benedict Carey titled “A Theory About Conspiracy Theories.” Among many intersting things it says that about a third of us think the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention exxaggerated the threat of Covid-19 to undermine Trump. 

Guess who they'll be voting for?

Apparently we like conspiracy theories more now that we are in pandemic. Not that beliefs such as therse are new. In early times, in smaller communities, looking for these theories was a life-saver. But what is new is the widespread belief in THE BIG LIE, ie, that the "official story" is just made up to promote the interests of shadowy powerful groups. This can apply to anything. In THE RABBIT HOLE, the NYT limited-episode podcast about how the Internet, especially YouTube, sucks people deeper into whatever they already seem intersted in. The result is that rather than aerating your thinking with a wide rancge of opinion, it funnels you more and more narrowly into the areas you already selected. It is not neccessary. There could be healthier algorithms, but this is good business for YouTube.A former alforithm-creator who left youTube for this very reason, offers her experience and a good analysis of how it happens and why.

If the promotion of conspiracy theories is good business for YouTube, and we can extrapolate to the rest of social media.

According the the Times article, estimates are that over half of us believe in at least one discredited theory, and that may be understating it. 

There are a few personality types that really go for these theories. The Injustice Collector is, "Impulsive and overconfident, eager to expose naivete in everyone but him or herself."

Another may be an anxious, lonesome, perhaps older and isolated person, likely with a touch of real pathology.

Sudden illness may make us want to blame drug companies, for example, and now with the virus, we have a perfect storm making us want to discredit the purveyors of bad news, scientists and doctors. The fear itself is a distraction, reducing our likelihood of examining the accuracy of what we read online.

All this is very interesting, and I reccommend the article, and the study, "Looking under the Tinfoil Hat." Its posted online in THE JOURNAL OF PERSONALITY. 

A tidbit I found interesting was one question designed to identify a narcissist: "I often have to deal with people who are less important than me."

All that being said, I think these scholarly researchers have overlooked a very big reason that folks like conspiracy theories.  IT'S FUN!

I know several very smart people who believe in conspiracy theories from fluoride to vaccines to Roswell. They are having fun. It’s fun being in the know. Even more when they are among the few who are clued in.

It’s fun plotting out graphs and tables and arguments for things only a few are privy to.

It’s fun to bethe center of attention at a party with a simple conspiracy explanation of various phenomena, especially when most of us are caught flat-footed trying to explain the same things rationally.

It’s fun to blame specific groups with simple ideas, especially when compared to real work—the real work of maintaining our democracy.

Conspiracy theories are fun.

TWO LOBSTERS

 

AS I'M SURE YOU RECALL

I love seafood. Being from New England. lobster is a true fave. Whenever I go back I'll have it every night. When my mother and I rented a little place on the Cape one summer, Falmouth Harbor, I think, we'd go to Sam's Clams and have a lobster roll every day.

Recently, my wonderful friend from college, who still lives in Manhattan, told me one of her pandemic coping mechanisms. She would plan some really nice thing to do each day, a kind of reward to look forward to, and that day it would be lobster. In fact, she was on her way to buy it right then. She was going to cook it and melt the butter and have a private little feast.

Oddly, I had been thinking of lobster myself. Another friend who now lives in Maine told me of a place near her where they boiled the lobsters to order, out on the pier, right where they came off the boat, and then boiled the corn on the cob right in the lobster water. Yum!

My father owned his own business but mainly he was a salesman. He traveled all over the country selling mops until it was the second biggest mop company in the states. Part of his success was based on telling jokes. I am sure many of the jokes he told were not suitable for his five little kids at home, but he did have at least one for us. About a lobster.

"A man was walking out of the fish market with a lobster under his arm. He bumped into his buddy who said, "Hey, what are you doing with that lobster under your arm?" 

"I'm taking it home for dinner," said the first man.

The lobster popped up and said, "I've already had dinner. Take me to a movie."

See? suitable for children.

A few years ago, my two sisters, two husbands and one brother rented a house right on the sand for a week. It rained every day we were there, and only one bedroom was suitable for a couple, so we had to switch off. We still managed to have fun. Brother went to market and bought lobsters, which we prepared to cook by taking two huge pots, and boiling water. When I, oldest, designated lobster killer, put the live lobsters into one roiling pot, one of them leapt right out and landed in the boiling pot right next to it. AS I said, we still had a good time, tho' the lobster scared the shit out of us jumping like that however futilely.

So when my son asked me to host a birthday dinner for his fiance outside on the pool deck of our condo building, where it is easy to social distance for small groups, I thought of lobster. It's festive, rare enough, and by golly, the supermarket was having a sale. Small cooked lobsters for $12 each. Cooked! Perfect and red and festive.

It was amazing. Son and I split the cost. I had fun getting the accoutrements--huge lobster bibs, butter warmers, sharp little pokey things to get the meat of of the claws, and of course the shell crackers. We had corn on the cob and salad and bread.

It turned out that the birthday girl and another friend had never taken a lobster apart (thermidor only?) before, so I gave a demo. I stood, took my lobster in my hands (after donning my bib) and twisted off the tail and the big claws. We had a discussion about the tamale (green, liver, delicious but not for everyone) and I showed how to crack the claws and slice the softer underside of the tail. When I sat down, my lobster was ready, and everyone else was happily attacking their meal. Really yummy to be all having such a luxurious yet kind of DIY meal together.

You are not going to believe this, but there was one lobster left over.

I looked forward to it all the next day. And here is where I finally make sense of the title, TWO LOBSTERS. Because sitting alone, with butter up to my elbows and dripping down my chin, I enjoyed that one even more. Or at least differently.

AS WE MOURN

I JUST RETRIEVED THIS BOOK FROM MY SHELF. A few years ago we did a remodel of our small condo, and did away with a wall of books. The thinking was we had Internet, E-books, Audio books, Library books. Who needs actual books? Especially ones we had already read. So the very few books we have are important to us.

This particular volume was given to me for my birthday by one of my dearest friends. I actually hate getting books as a gift except in certain circumstances, for example, I adore dictionaries of all sorts and in every language. So my brother knows to get them for me when he comes across something in a used book store, like a dictionary of slang, or French curses. I even have the single volume complete OED that comes with its own little, but powerful, magnifier. Still almost impossible to read the tiny type.

The point is I love this book. I read it aloud with Husband, and loaned it out a few times. It is an unusual biography in that it follows her life, with lots of pictures, then her career, with detailed annotation of quotes from her decisions and dissents. In chapter 9, titled I JUST LOVE YOUR FLASHY WAYS, for example, the authors detail aspects of her physical workouts. Her personal trainer for decades was Bryant Johnson, an army reserve sergeant, who took her on after Marty told her she looked like an Auschwitz survivor after her colorectal cancer surgery. When she gave a tour of the court to some Olympians, it included "the highest court in the land," the basketball court upstairs at the Supreme Court. 

RBG went whitewater rafting on the Colorado River with some friends, one of whom told her to sit in the back of the boat because she was so light. "...if they hit a rock, [she] would go flying over."

"I don't sit in the back," she answered.

There is an appendix titled HOW TO BE LIKE RBG which offers 7 pieces of advice: 

-WORK FOR WHAT YOU BELIEVE IN

-BUT PICK YOUR BATTLES

-AND DON'T BURN YOUR BRIDGES

-DON'T BE AFRAID TO TAKE CHARGE

-THINK ABOUT WHAT YOU WANT, THEN DO THE WORK

-BUT THEN ENJOY WHAT MAKES YOU HAPPY

-BRING ALONG YOUR CREW

-HAVE A SENSE OF HUMOR

I think these are helpful ideas for today. 

But back to my point: it's a really good book that's why I have it now, when I only have a few. 

WE all knew RBG's death was imminent. WE all knew it would seem catastrophic. Here it is. Let's follow her good advice.

I also recommend this book for an understanding of the jurist as well as the woman.