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♫ When I’m 64 ♫

♫ “When I’m Sixty Four”♫

When I get older losing my hair
Many years from now
Will you still be sending me a valentine
Birthday greetings, bottle of wine?
If I’d been out till quarter to three
Would you lock the door?
Will you still need me, will you still feed me
When I’m sixty-four?You’ll be older too
And if you say the word
I could stay with youI could be handy, mending a fuse
When your lights have gone
You can knit a sweater by the fireside
Sunday mornings go for a ride
Doing the garden, digging the weeds
Who could ask for more?
Will you still need me, will you still feed me
When I’m sixty-four?

Every summer we can rent a cottage in the Isle of Wight
If it’s not too dear
We shall scrimp and save
Grandchildren on your knee
Vera, Chuck & Dave

Send me a postcard, drop me a line
Stating point of view
Indicate precisely what you mean to say
Yours sincerely, wasting away
Give me your answer, fill in a form
Mine for evermore
Will you still need me, will you still feed me
When I’m sixty-four?
Ho!

(apologies to Paul McCartney)

Well, I turned 64 today.
There’s no one special person to whom this song applies.
I suppose I should be grateful I’ve made it this far.
But, frankly, doing it alone sucks.
(I’ll stop whining now.)
I DO have friends, family and animals to whom I can turn in time of need.
And that means everything.
Almost.
A touch, a hug, a kiss.  Holding a hand?
Doesn’t appear to be in my future.
(Okay, I will stop whining now!)
HAPPY THANKSGIVING, EVERYONE!

On Being Sisyphean

In Greek mythology Sisyphus (/ˈsɪsfəs/;[2]Greek: Σίσυφος, Sísuphos) was the king of Ephyra (now known as Corinth). He was punished for his self-aggrandizing craftiness and deceitfulness by being forced to roll an immense boulder up a hill, only to watch it come back to hit him, repeating this action for eternity. Through the classical influence on modern culture, tasks that are both laborious and futile are therefore described as Sisyphean (/ˌsɪsˈfən/).  (Wikipedia)

I’m on Facebook less (under my real name) since I’ve been producing a daily blog.  Not to mention, the idiocy encountered on FB (especially in the realm of politics) is astounding.

STILL, I do sometimes visit there, and less often participate in political commentary.  Because, sadly, there are some folks schooled in courtesy and debate, but many are not.

One of my FB friends is a guy I’ve known since grade school.  We also went to the same junior high and graduated in the same class in high school.  And attended the same Sunday school.

He claims to be an NRA member and a hunter, but sometimes repeats the time-worn arguments used by the anti-gun-rights community about controls over semiautomatic firearms and magazine capacity.

Not understanding the whole nose-under-the-tent thing, or, for that matter, The Second Amendment.

Regardless, he has a right to his opinion, and to post the same on Facebook.

I mostly just read others postings, occasionally adding my two cents worth.  Or just clicking ‘like’.

Unless I am directly attacked!

So this guy mentioned me by name and strongly suggested I knew nothing about the issue, law or history, and should understand HIS interpretation of The Second Amendment! (the whole militia meme).

I took a deep breath (to slow my roll) and responded politely that he read The Federalist Papers and Madison and Tench Coxe to obtain a better perspective!  I also recommended reading about how the first efforts on gun control were to stop freed slaves from firearms ownership (in 1809) and continued to the Sullivan Law in NYC (1911) to prevent undesirables (read immigrants) from having guns.

Then, I took another breath.

No response was posted.

BUT, in about a week, I saw another friend’s pro-gun Facebook posting generating a response from this same guy.  THE SAME RESPONSE, ALMOST VERBATIM!

Obviously, he had not taken my suggestion to do further research.

I will continue to ‘like’ his comments regarding his new retirement home in Prescott, or his new prosthesis (he is an amputee), but I won’t bother responding any more to his screeds on restricting all our rights.

‘Never argue with an idiot. They will only bring you down to their level and beat you with experience.’ – George Carlin

sisyphus-shirt

Running Away Doesn’t Mean You Did Something

Black men who try to avoid an encounter with Boston police by fleeing may have a legitimate reason to do so — and should not be deemed suspicious — according to a ruling by the Massachusetts Supreme Judicial Court.

Citing Boston police data and a 2014 report by the ACLU of Massachusetts that found blacks were disproportionately stopped by the city’s police, the state’s highest court on Tuesday threw out the gun conviction of Jimmy Warren.
MORE

-Crazyeighter

(from Wirecutter)

Okay.  I get if you come from a fractured subculture wherein male leadership is largely lacking, and you are poor and a minority, and have been taught to fear ‘the man’, you might want to run if confronted.

Even if you hadn’t done anything.

BUT, the idea that fleeing the police (IF you are a Black man) your flight cannot be viewed as suspicious(!?)

WTF?

Not to mention the whole racist component – What about a Black woman?  Or a Latino?  Or a White?  Or someone of mixed race?

I see a whole can of worms being opened here for additional court cases…

Once again, activist judges take the reins, in lieu of those who swore to protect and defend The Constitution.

What?  They DID swear?

I’m not surprised.  So have Presidents, Congressmen, Senators, FBI heads and Supreme Court Justices over the past 60 70 100 years.

And no one (of any power) has called them on it!

frustrated

 

Customer Service, Part Cinco

(Here we are, revisiting a common theme in this blog.  It’s as if they are not listening!)

I was fully prepared (okay, 85% prepared) to post last night for today, as this morning I was to be occupied during my blogging time-frame.  Another medical procedure.  Sigh.

Another endoscopy.  A camera-down-the-throat (and biopsy) to see the ‘progress’ of my esophageal erosion due to chronic acid reflux.  Which might lead to cancer and/or surgery.

Otherwise, I probably wouldn’t be doing it!

This was set-up by my primary physician, as she saw I was suffering from this condition, and wanted to see the progression of the disease.

SO…I was referred to a specialist who saw me six weeks ago, and scheduled this procedure.  One day, outpatient, a few hours.  Roomie J will be driving, as I will be rendered unconscious by propofol (the Michael Jackson drug) for the procedure.

Last time I had this done, the clinic-de-jour called me (and sent me a letter) a month in advance to ask me questions about medical power-of-attorney, organ donation, that kind of icky stuff.  And advised me there would be an intake charge.  Up front.

I was grateful for the heads-up, as being on disability I don’t have lot’s of spare cash lying around for unexpected expenses.  I still wasn’t thrilled at the charge, of course.

But this time, the different facility (I changed doctors as the previous guy seemed to want to get as much Medicare money out of me as possible) had not called or sent a letter.  I assumed (NEVER do that – D. Brown) that if there were a charge, they would bill me.

WRONG!

They called me yesterday afternoon at 1630 hours (I was to be at the hospital at 0700 this morning) and advised me there would be a charge of over one hundred dollars!  They would not bill me, and if I didn’t have the funds, I would have to reschedule!

Of course, I don’t have the money.  And the caller had NO IDEA why I was upset, that this was in the very least an inconvenience and poor customer service!

THEN, she hung-up on me!

But not before telling me to reschedule I had to call my specialist’s office – THEY couldn’t do that!  At 1630 in the afternoon.

(I did rant, but used no foul language.)

Fortunately, my doctor’s office was still open.

SO…it’s been rescheduled for August 16.

Grrr.

PS – While I was writing this, the hospital called to see where I was.  I advised them of yesterday’s conversation and the rescheduling.  Must I do everything?

Pity The Nation

https://i1.wp.com/m.likesuccess.com/quotes/14/669678.png

h/t Brock Townsend

Federal Law: Title 18. Section 2071‏

(in part)

 “(a)
Whoever willfully and unlawfully conceals, removes, mutilates, obliterates, or destroys, or attempts to do so, or, with intent to do so takes and carries away any record,
proceeding, map, book, paper, document, or other thing, filed or deposited with any clerk or officer of any court of the United States, or in any public office, or with any
judicial or public officer of the United States, shall be fined under this title or imprisoned not more than three years, or both.
(b)
Whoever, having the custody of any such record, proceeding, map, book, document, paper, or other thing, willfully and unlawfully conceals, removes, mutilates, obliterates,
falsifies, or destroys the same, shall be fined under this title or imprisoned not more than three years, or both; and shall forfeit his office and be disqualified from holding any office under the United States. As used in this subsection, the term “office” does not include the office held by any person as a retired officer of the Armed Forces of the
United States.”

Yes, it explicitly states “shall forfeit his office and be disqualified from holding any office under the United States.”
I’m thinking of Hillary Clinton.
Anyone else?
Of course, there would have to be due process and a conviction first.
NEVERMIND!
h/t Former United States Attorney General Michael Mukasey

Doctor Visit And Internet Aftermath

A couple of weeks ago, I made one of my semi-annual doctor visits.  Having many maladies including diabetes and neuropathy make this a requirement.  To see ‘where I am’ with regard to my overall health and make certain my medications are up to date.

My numbers were ‘okay’ (same weight as 6 mo. ago (maintaining my lowest weight in years!), low bp from meds, good A1c, good fasting blood sugar, low PSA), but my doc did ‘recommend’ taking fish oil supplements, as my bad cholesterol number was up.

I had taken some before, but stopped because they made me belch what tasted like aquarium water!

But, I found a non-belching version on Amazon, and am now taking it!  Thus far, success!

So, I was feeling pretty good about myself.

And, I was doing my bit, looking at stuff online (always dangerous).

And found THIS:

Español

Standard Measurements View Metric Measurements
Your Height:
(feet) (inches)
Your Weight:  
(pounds)
Your BMI:
BMI Categories:
Underweight = <18.5
Normal weight = 18.5–24.9
Overweight = 25–29.9
Obesity = BMI of 30 or greaterThe BMI TablesAim for a Healthy Weight:
Limitations of the BMI
Assessing Your Risk
Controlling Your Weight
Recipes

And according to this, I remain OBESE!  (Just barely)

Sigh.

Christmas Movies

My roommate and I differ slightly in which movies we like to watch to commemorate the holidays.

My roommate likes everything Christmas, especially SANTA CLAUS related.  The three Santa Clause films (Tim Allen), Miracle On 34th Street (two versions), It’s A Wonderful Life, Holiday Inn, White Christmas, The Bishop’s Wife – you name it, we’ve (I’ve) been subjected relegated thoroughly enjoyed them over the past week or so.  Some multiple times.

On DVD or BluRay, in Stereo High Fi…

Don’t get me wrong.  I like some of those, in small doses.  Some even get me a little misty…

But over-and-over tends to be a bit much.  (Sorry J.)

I blame commercial television.  Most networks essentially shut down production for the holidays, having fall or winter finales, promising new shows in February!

And giving us fewer choice in the likes of reruns, cartoons and the stuff enumerated above for our viewing pleasure.

It’s like Steve Martin said.  127 channels and nothing’s on.

For television addicts like me, it’s dire.

But, I found a way to counteract the Christmas movie doldrums.  I’ve included in the DVD rotation, Lethal Weapon and Die Hard!

As was recently stated on Facebook, it isn’t really Christmas until Hans Gruber is seen falling from Nakatomi Plaza!

Merry Christmas to all you movie fans like me out there…

What’s In A Name?

Billy Shakespeare said that.

I’d a recent experience, wherein I left a blog post comment @ one of my blogfriend’s™ blogs.  A few minutes later, it occurred to me that I’d addressed him by someone else’s name!

And there was no method in his blogging software by which I could make a correction.

(I did go back and make a second comment, apologizing.)

This reminded me of a year-or-so ago, when a kind soul sent me a few dollars on my sidebar Paypal link.  (hint, hint).  It was late, I was preparing to retire, and had taken my evening meds.  (HALF of the medication I am prescribed has possible side effects of memory loss!)

And I thanked him profusely, using a wrong name!

Then, I sent him another email, apologizing.  Hopefully, I got it right the second time(?)  I’ve not heard from him ever again.

Sigh.

At least, in the few significant personal relationships I’ve had in my lifetime with the opposite sex, I’ve not uttered another woman’s name whilst in flagrante delicto!

I don’t think?  I wasn’t on this kind of medication, then…

I don’t know…

The Great Escape

(Sadly, not the exceptional book by Paul Brickhill, nor the film based on it by John Sturgis)

I rent-a-room from my ex-gf J.  We dated a few years ago for about four years, and have remained friends.  Hell, she offered me a room in which to land when I lost my home!

The point being, we have been acquainted for going on eleven years(!)  And I with her menagerie – a smattering of chihuahuas and cats.  Some of whom have passed on (Mike was a terrific boy kitty!).   Others remain, and continue to age.

Fooling us into complacency.

The drill used to be to make certain the gate from the back yard into the parking lot was secure, because DYLAN could escape.  And has.

When I first met Dylan (which I privately spell Dillon – gun folk will get it), she was three, and very animated and active.

And she did get loose a couple of times, running willy-nilly, constantly checking for pursuers over her shoulder and laughing.  She was a rescue dog, and had probably lived on the street for some time.  Of course, the main fear was she’d run into the street and get killed.

Now, she’s going on 15-years-old, and has an arthritic back leg.  Spends most of her time sleeping, sometimes with one eye pealed for the cats or the puppy.  She moves kinda slow.

We were alerted by the (evil) HOA to keep our back gate unlocked (an impossibility, due to the spring-loaded lock) lest they need access to make ‘authorized’ repairs and improvements.  For a specific three day period.  And we were used to the gate being closed and secure.

So we had to leave it ajar for the three days.

I wasn’t worried.  Dylan could barely walk, and D.J. (the happy boy idiot dog) wouldn’t leave, regardless. And Lola (the puppy) generally used paper inside by the back door.  (She was a showgirl, ya know!)

Part of the morning routine was to check the backyard for maintenance folk, close the gate, THEN let the critters out.  But the habit, based on years of programming, was just let them out.

You can see where this is going, can’t you?

I let them out, then looked up to see the gate still ajar about a foot.  I wasn’t worried.

Then, Dylan looked at me and bolted out the gate like a shot!  I quickly ran (well, relatively quickly) and called to her.  There she was, as if she were again three, running away, looking over her shoulder at me.

And laughing.

I let D.J. back inside, secured Lola in her kennel and yelled to J that Dylan was loose.  She ran out back with her car keys.  I searched the opposite direction on foot.

J. is asthmatic.  Going to her car is her best bet.  I’m crippled.  Hobbling slowly after a very fast puppy old lady dog is the best I could do.

Dylan did her best to stay about 60 feet ahead of me, even taking time for a ‘rest stop’ – just to mock my pursuit!  J. drove around the parking lot slowly, searching.  After about 15 minutes, I chased her to Judy, who scooped her up into her car and went home!

She ended up running a few hundred yards.  Which I ended up walking.  Slowly and painfully.

The important things are Dylan is back home safe, Judy is breathing okay, and I have additional pain medication.

Here is Dylan, after her little ‘adventure’.

20150922_191529

BITCH!

"Round up the usual suspects."

In Loving Memory…