Just in time for Easter, Fran has posted The 23rd Qualm - no disrespect intended. It begins:
George Bush is my shepherd; I dwell in want.
He maketh logs to be cut in national forests…
You can read the rest of it at Fran’s blog, Sacred Ordinary.
Ever wonder how the federal government is spending the dollars you’ll be sending it tomorrow? Type in the amount of your tax bill at tompaine.com for a great pie chart showing exactly where it all goes.
One of the Honorary ElderBloggers listed down their on the right sidebar is Rana of Notes From an Eclectic Mind. Besides being eclectic, Rana is a one of the best storytellers on the Web and this week she relates the true tale of a wrong number gone completely haywire. A great laugh coupled with some excellent advice for handling those pesky wrong number calls.
A housekeeping note: The conversation got a little testy this past week on my post about whether President Bush, in planning for the possible use of nuclear weapons against Iran, is in his right mind. In the two years of TGB’s existence, disagreements have never before turned personally snide and snarky. Crabby Old Lady asked me to remind everyone to please keep it that way in the future.
There’s Always Something is new this week to the ElderBlogger list. Check out this essay about the hows and whys of choosing an assisted living facility before you need one. Good advice.
A lot of elders aren’t interested in retirement. But it’s one thing if your employment involves tapping computer keys, quite another if you’re crawling around people’s dark, dank cellars at odd hours. Frank Paynter of listics recently required the services of his 74-year-old “pump guy”: “Leo gets up between 4:30 and 5:00 every morning and he’s at his shop by 6AM,” writes Frank. “He says he starts to get tired toward the late afternoon, but then he goes home for supper and gets his second wind.” I get tired in the late afternoon, too, but there’s never a second wind. Maybe that doesn’t happen until you get to be 74.
My corner deli sells Mary Janes for TEN CENTS apiece. Miniature Tootsie Rolls go for 15 cents each. So it’s a delight to read Bob Brady’s reminiscence at The Blog Brothers blog of The Empress of Penny Candy from his post-World War II childhood in Albany, New York.
Ageism is so acceptable that age is often used, when no other failing is apparent, as the ultimate putdown. Case in point: Seems Wonkette was carrying on the other day about Stanley Fish (gadfly law professor at just about every top-ten college at one time or another) starting a blog. Wonkette didn’t think much of his effort promoting Hillary Clinton for president prompting commenter “Chris” to post:
“Another step in the geezerfication of the blogosphere…Once the old folks crowd in on the latest fad, it becomes terribly uncool... and now with Stanley Fish, George 'I didn't blog' Clooney, and, sigh, Ariana Huffington, I hereby declare the blog-o-sphere dead. Or at least lame.”
Fish is 68 years old. Huffington is 56 and Clooney is only 45, but that’s beside the point. It’s the casualness of the prejudice that - oh, never mind. I get so tired of this.
[Hat tip to Liz Ditz of I Speak of Dreams.]
Slow Road Home, vignettes and essays, stories and meditations, is Fred First’s first book. I had an early peek and it is everything you would expect from the guy who writes so beautifully at Fragments From Floyd. You can order it from its own website.