I love fox news. They are already harping and snarling at President Obama (oh, that sounds so nice). It's rather funny (if it weren't so pathetic that there are loyal viewers who actually believe their crap) to see these rabid "newscasters" twist and pervert any current event that does not pass their litmus test (anti-gay, pro-gun, pro-life...unless you're already born,  anti-immigrant–pretty much anything that smacks of tolerance and peace will be their target) so that it always comes out distorted and mean-spirited. 

I'm so glad we live in a country where assholes can have a forum. 

Really, I am.

 

Ode to the computer: It's soul-less window to the world beckons like the "siren song"–hard to resist, but often leading to tragedy if heeded. Especially if you are a naughty pervert, which it seems many Americans seem to be, given the proliferation of online porn. 

Would we want to go back to Precambrian Times, which makes up about seven-eighths of Earth's history? Well, technically, we weren't there, except as a gleam in God's eye (I'm not being literal here, just cute), but you get the idea. I like many of the technological advances that have come about in a very short space of time–when they are useful to me. It would be wonderful to understand why I'm sometimes overcome with the same urge to chuck the equipment into a snowbank or other type of natural resource, giving it the ultimate delete. I think there might be some kind of metaphysical satisfaction in doing so. Or, it could be the simple knee-jerk reaction to something irritating...like older siblings, etc.

A Healthy Appetite for 2009

So far, it feels pretty much the same as last year, but how would I know if I'm not paying attention? If there was calamity I would hear sirens and see streets filled with panicked people fleeing, wouldn't I? I haven't, but from the little news that manages to slip through, all seems to the usual SNAFU. On a different planet (so it feels to me) Israel and the Palestinian territory is going at it. Is that really a big surprise? 

My New Year was a gastronomic orgy. I had filet mignon and lobster tail. I dipped everything in the drawn butter and I could not stop eating the garlic rolls, which were practically soaked in more butter. This, after consuming appetizers of calamari and lobster bisque soup. I didn't just impress my better half; he was shocked and awed by my ferocious appetite.  Yesterday, I ran five miles outdoors and spent two miles on an elliptical. Then I had a loaded baked potato. I had been fantasizing about this tuber since the previous day. I was going to be near the restaurant that serves some really fabulous BBQ, and I always get it served on top of the biggest, mutant potatoes I have ever seen. The cook peels back the foil that it was baked in and then "pushes" it from both ends to give it a deep pocket for the fixings. From a vat of butter he scoops out a generous glob. He dumps a large portion of pulled pork onto the melted puddle and ladles sauce over the whole thing. But we're not done. Oh no. A scoop of sour cream, bacon crumbles and chives top it off. Pickles on the side. Oops, forgot about the cheese. Somewhere in the assembling of this masterpiece he grabbed a huge handful of shredded cheese. I have finished it on occasion, but not this time. Close, though. Time to hit the gym. 

It's been a tough year and I'm worn out. I think I'll take a little breather and let the world struggle on while I relax. The news is turned off,  I selectively choose my online information, none of my family is in jail– life is good. I'm not only tuning out, I'm dropping out for awhile. I'm going to clean up my finances, get better at everything I want to get better at–I'm getting off the stressmill. 

Party on in 2009!

Resolutions are the poor stepsisters of goals; they rarely get asked to the ball, instead being relegated to cleaning the ashes out of the chimney. Goals, once achieved, get all the attention. Anyone can make a resolution. So you want to lose 45 pounds. I want to have a six-pack set of abs. Never mind that I've never had them for the past thirty years, but I could resolve to acquire them.  You, on the other hand, have been 45 pounds lighter and you remember it was good. You are more likely to take your resolution and turn it into a goal than I have of reducing my very little pudgy mid section sufficiently to uncover my taunt muscles lurking slyly beneath. Why? Because yours is a worthier resolution. Mine is silly, as I'm already an amazingly toned middle aged chick. Mother nature gifted me with a naturally slim physique and gravity does not seem to be my enemy. All my body parts remain where they have been since puberty. The best advice I will give you on this: Listen to your body. It will tell you when to quit eating. Then, do something physical everyday, even if it's simply using the stairs instead of the elevator. 

Now, on to the matter of your age: Imagine my surprise to find out you had qualified yourself to membership with AARP. As long as I'm not expected to follow suit. What it means is that we are finally at an age where it's becoming irrelevant. One day, I'm 30, the next I'm 45, and I move around the decades effortlessly, not too concerned about the number. It only matters when you start to feel a "certain age." The best cure seems to work for just about everything in my world right now: Tune Out! Turn off the TV, ignore the fashion and 'women' magazines and just go about your business creating your own meaning to your existence. 

I'm considering my ONE New Year's Resolution. What shall it be this year? I like to get going early, to sort of take it out for a test drive, or swirl it around in my mouth, if you will. 

Right now, I'm thinking about limiting the amount of news I receive per day. By its very nature, the news we receive from all mediums is no better, nor is it any baser, than the salacious gossip between two people shared over a fence separating their pesticide-fueled lawns. Because we rarely know our neighbors well enough (if at all) to have a shared history, we seek a common tidbit of gossip with the world,  depending on the newslebrities to sate our need for a common thread with humanity. 

Never mind that we often get a surge of pleasure over other people's misfortune. 

Especially if they are rich people who have fallen on hard times. This especially includes gazillionare ponzi brokers.

Or movie stars arrested for a DUI. And political figures with self-destructive tendencies. Hint: To successfully pronounce Blagojevich, you have to reel it off without giving a pause in thought. Once you hesitate over "ye", as in Blah-go-ye-vich, you're toast. Ask Lou Dobbs.

It goes on and on. You know what I mean. Right now, it's the economy, stupid. I don't need to keep hearing about it. I know what it's doing to my life and so do you. We have to quit spending, cut up the credit cards, pay off the past debt and live under our means. We don't need Suzi Orman, Cramer or anyone else telling us what we should have done years ago. Save.

We don't need Oprah telling us how to live, either. She needs to work on her own issues and leave us to ours. She's got every advantage that a human on the face of the planet can have and she can't control her weight. I think there are a lot of people who are enjoying that irony. 

I don't need to have the Matt Lauers, Dianne Sawyers and Brian Williams' pretty people commiserating about the woeful "hard times" hitting the "average American." They are as far removed from the realities of everyday life as, hmmm, Bush. Does that mean they can't understand what has befallen millions of people? No, but I know this: They chase whatever content that will, from a ratings success standpoint,  fill the vacuum between commercials, which is what keeps their dough rolling.  It's a bizarre form of entertainment, cashing in on our very real problems.

Yup. I've talked myself into my next resolution. That one I did a couple of years ago didn't work out too well. This might be a keeper.

I hope I look this pretty when I turn 50! As the year winds to an end, I'm trying to keep a perspective about my place in time and space. I'm part of a universe that seems to be off kilter. There's this odd juxtaposition between beauty and peace and honor alongside horrible evil and greed and distruction. You can't tune out or check out and deem it everyone else's problem. At the least, you have to demand that your voice be heard, even if it's every four years. 

This too shall pass. I want to be better for it.