Methuselah Less 849

I recently read about a survey where 2,000 individuals were asked the following question:  If there was a medical treatment making it attainable, would you want to live to be 120 years old? 

56% of those questioned said they would not.  But 65% of the survey participants said they thought most people would want such a treatment.  Just over half felt that living to be 120 would be bad for society, putting a strain on natural resources.  Others said the treatment most likely would only be available to the rich.  Why do people have to go there?  This was a hypothetical question; yes or no. Would you want to live to be 120 if you could?  Who said anything about the treatment only being available to the rich?  These are the people we need to weed out anyway. 

My initial reaction was a resounding YES, I’d love to live to be 120!  I think it would be pretty darn cool to be around to see what was going to happen next.  What new breakthroughs could we expect in the war on cancer, space travel or low riding jeans for goodness sake?

Then I thought, what if I wasn’t able to take care of myself.  I wouldn’t want to live in a home. 

But then I thought, what the heck, my daughter would take care of me.  Until it dawned on me that she would be 98.

So maybe I don’t want to live to be 120.  Maybe I’ll just check out when I’m 85.  I’m expecting big things when I’m 80 and I figure 5 good years to enjoy them will be enough. 

Beg Pardon?

I ran into a neighbor of mine about six months ago.  He was walking a puppy.  When I stopped to inquire about the new dog, he was proud to tell me the name of whatever “Designer” mix it was that he and his wife had just purchased from a Pet Store.  Dollar amount undisclosed.  My only reply was an off handed comment that they had bought an expensive mutt.  My neighbor didn’t look amused. 

Knowing that I am very involved in greyhound rescue, my neighbor’s wife stopped to ask me, a few weeks ago, if I knew of an animal rescue group that might be able to take their dog.  She then showed me both of her arms, which were black and blue from wrist to elbow.  It seems their now 7 month old Designer whatever it was from the Pet Store, that she paid an undisclosed amount of money for, had bitten her repeatedly.  Unsympathetically, I responded that had she gotten a dog from the pound she could have been bitten for a lot less money.  She didn’t look amused either.  Neither of my neighbors has a sense of humor.    

I was able to find a rescue group that would take their dog and try to rehabilitate and rehome her.

I spoke to my neighbor after she had surrendered the animal to my contact.  She cried and said she loved animals and that she felt like she was a “bad mother.”  I wanted to tell her that, in my estimation, she loved animals like fish loved dry land.  If she really loved animals, dogs in particular, the way she said she did, she and her husband would have been part of the solution; not the problem, and rescued a dog from a local shelter or rescue group and saved a life.  Instead, they chose to purchase a “Designer” dog from a Pet Store, thus contributing to the continued breeding of these animals, not to mention the continued clogging up of an already overburdened rescue group with yet another unwanted animal.    

I say this with the 100% conviction of a proud person who believes in what they do for animals.

Last week I ran into Sharon, the woman at the rescue group who took my neighbor’s dog.  She told me that she had already successfully placed the dog in a home and that furthermore, there was nothing wrong with the animal.  Seeing that I was startled by that revelation, Sharon asked me if I had seen the cage the animal had been kept in.  When I told her that I had not, she told me that it was so small the animal was probably biting my neighbor because she didn’t want to be put back in it. 

Then she told me she had seen the bill of sale from the Pet Store.  Apparently it had “$3,700” written on it but that it was crossed off and the word “SALE” was written across it with a final purchase price of $2,500.  From what Sharon could tell, my neighbors put $250 down and were financing $25 a month.  Roughly calculating that, it may very well be that the animal will be dead before they had paid it off.

“Designer” dog breeders, I mean breeders who mix mutts to create mutts, and then pass them off as a new breed, prey on idiots like my neighbors who want to brag to anyone who will listen that they are the first ones on their block to have this new kind of dog.  Then, the breeders take their money and laugh themselves silly, all the way to the bank.  If there wasn’t a poor shelter animal out there that my neighbors could have saved instead, I’d be laughing too.  

$2,500 for a mutt?  Actually that is kind of funny.  I’m glad my neighbors got taken to the cleaners. 

And I say that with the 100% conviction of a coward who trusts they will never read this. 

No Phones, No Lights, No Motor Cars

There’s a show on TV called the Amish Mafia.  Is that supposed to be frightening?  I’m 100% Italian and have relatives who live behind concrete walls in Connecticut.  I’m not impressed.

I confess I have not watched the show nor do I have any immediate plans to do so.  I’m just confused as to the premise. 

According to Wikipedia, a “Mafia” is an association of criminal groups whose common enterprise is protection racketeering.  A Protection Racket is an extortion scheme whereby a criminal group or individual coerces a victim to pay money, supposedly for protection services against violence or property damage.

Don’t the Amish live without what most Americans would consider to be conventional necessities?  I'm talking about telephones, televisions and lights.  If the Amish Mafia is coercing its victims out of money, what are they buying with it?  Is there a Walmart in Amish Country that sells nothing but hand operated farming equipment?  How many butter churns can one Mafia have?

And while I’m asking, are Amish Mafia members allowed to own cars and guns?  If not, how on earth would they pull off a “hit?”  Horse Drawn Carriage?  Instead of a Drive-by Shooting would it be a Trot-by Fruiting?

I’m thinking a program like this would appeal only to the Amish.  But how on earth would they watch it? 

Overboard or Overextended?

Are you familiar with the 1987 movie Overboard starring Goldie Hawn and Kurt Russell? 

Here’s the plot:  Kurt Russell, a poor handyman with 4 boys all under the age of 13 and two mangy dogs, customizes a closet on the yacht of rich bitch socialite Goldie Hawn.  Goldie, a bitch, is unhappy with the work, refuses to pay and ultimately throws all of Kurt’s tools over the side of the yacht.  Later on that evening while searching for her wedding rings, Goldie accidently falls overboard, plunging into the Pacific.  When she is rescued the following morning by some fisherman, she is taken to a hospital where it is determined that she has amnesia.  She is still a bitch.  Seeing the report on the news, Russell visits the hospital where he claims Hawn as his wife and brings her home to his porn-watching children, dogs and hovel.  His children, obviously, are in on the deception.  His plan is to keep Hawn with him for a month, where she will cook, clean and care for his children and dogs until she makes up the $600 he was owed.  They never said what he was going to do with her when the month was over but naturally they didn’t have to because in typical Hollywood style, Goldie has a catharsis, becomes a model wife and the two fall in love.  Blah, blah. 

Meanwhile, Hawn’s mother keeps calling the yacht looking for her daughter.  Goldie’s stuffy husband is aware that Hawn was taken to a hospital with amnesia but he left her there, since she was a bitch.  He makes up excuse after excuse to Hawn’s mother as to Goldie’s whereabouts until his Mother-in-Law tells him he has a week to produce her daughter.  That’s when Stuffy Husband goes to find Hawn.  He appears at the Russell hovel, where miraculously, after one look at him, Hawn regains her memory, realizes what Russell did to her, falls out of love with him and leaves with Stuffy.  Kurt Russell, a man in love, enlists the help of the Coast Guard and pursues the yacht.  Heroically, he jumps overboard to swim to the yacht, which by Hollywood standards, is always a first rate idea.  Goldie, of course, realizes that she can’t live without Kurt and jumps overboard as well.  

They meet somewhere in the Pacific and  hang on to each other until they are rescued by the Coast Guard.  Kurt Russell is stunned by Goldie Hawn’s love for him, saying that he can’t believe she gave up the yacht and wealth to be with him.  She confesses that she didn’t.  It was all hers you see; the money and the yacht.  Kurt is delighted as you can well imagine as are his dirty-faced children.

As far-fetched movies go, we can certainly believe that Goldie Hawn would leave Stuffy Husband.  After all she still had all the money. 

But what do you suppose the outcome would have been if the money wasn’t Goldie’s, but rather Stuffy’s?  Would she still have given it up?  I’m thinking no. 

No woman in her right mind gives up a yacht, and millions of dollars to go live in a hovel with an out of work handyman,  4 snot-nosed, porn-watching kids and two tick-infested dogs.  I don’t care if it was a shirtless 1987 Kurt Russell. 

   

Let's Hear Some Noise

What is it with golf anyway?  No one in the crowd can make any noise?  During the PGA tournament last weekend I actually saw pro golfer Jim Furyk turn around and point menacingly at a fan who made a comment just as Jim made contact with the ball.  Is Jim Furyk supposed to put the fear of God into anyone?  Have you seen him?  Honestly, this man could attend the Purdue family picnic and win the Best Looking Chicken contest.  Similarly, a few months back, Sergio Garcia and Tiger Woods engaged in a nasty verbal exchange because Tiger removed a club from his bag during Sergio’s back swing, making a noise.  Sergio felt Tiger did it on purpose.  All this bluster from a Spaniard whose country routinely hangs their dogs from trees after the hunting season is over.  Perhaps Sergio should be hung from one of the Magnolias at Augusta National the next time one of his balls goes in the cart path.   

During tournaments, officials hold signs that say “Quiet” and make announcements that no pictures are to be taken.  One broadcaster, who is out in a booth behind one of the greens, actually whispers.  Why is that?  My husband says it’s because it’s a “Gentleman’s Sport.”  Really?  How gentlemanly was it when Tiger Woods cheated on his wife and ended up with a Nine Iron in his ear?  Most recently Tiger was reported to have been falling down drunk at a party with his new girlfriend.  Truthfully I could not care less.  Let’s just cut the pretense and stop putting golfers in a higher class than other athletes.  Are we really expected to believe that Tiger Woods is the only pro golfer who behaves like this?  I doubt it.  The only reason we only hear about Tiger’s indiscretions is because no one in the viewing audience gives a rat’s patootie about the rest of the golfers on the tour. 

If the PGA wants to move golf into the mainstream sporting arena, the first thing they have to do is ban the players from wearing pink pants.  And I’m talking about when it’s NOT National Breast Cancer month.  Then they need to allow hecklers, give fans objects to wave when crucial putts are being made and encourage the throwing of water bottles at the player’s heads. 

Golf spelled backwards isn’t FLOG for nothing you know.

Then they have to  get rid of the sissies.  Honestly, what other sport has players named Keegan, Boo, Rory, Charl and Brandt.  Oh and Graham DeLaet.  I thought he was a dessert plate.

Don't Talk to Me

Every time I think I’ve heard it all, I have to have a conversation with my daughter. 

It seems her future sister in law, barely 24, has had some issues with drinking and driving.  The young girl has had several DUI’s and lost her license.  During the most recent incident, the young lady injured herself and ended up arrested with the promise of incarceration.  As she was to celebrate her upcoming birthday during her six month stay in the Gray Bar Hotel, the family decided that they should all go out and have a birthday/farewell dinner.  My daughter had to go.  All she said was, it was uncomfortable and a bit bizarre.

From what I was told afterwards, they all hoisted their alcoholic drinks and toasted the young girl’s birthday.  The young girl included. 

Now it all makes sense.    

Where on Earth is Julia Child?

I can’t cook.  I try but I can’t cook.

Somewhere along the line I signed up to receive daily e-mails from a site called AllRecipes.com.  Now, each and every day I get the “Daily Dish.”  There are usually 3 recipes to “Complete Your Meal” which could be a veggie, a drink special, an appetizer or a salad; then there are the Side Dishes which has a featured recipe and a link to “More Recipes Like This.”  Finally, there is the Featured Daily Recipe, an entree with its own link to “More Recipes Like This.”  If you like the featured recipe, you’re in luck since the link gives you a veritable plethora of similar recipes to review. 

What perplexed me one day was when the featured recipe was a breakfast sandwich.  The related link had a recipe for Cinnamon Toast.  Really?  Isn't that just buttered toast and cinnamon?  If someone can’t figure out how to make Cinnamon Toast, I’m not sure I’d want them touching a can opener.

My favorite recipes on this site are either from the Hunts or Campbell’s kitchen because I’m confident they’ve been tested.  The rest of the recipes seem to be posted by rotten cooks like myself, only these people like to put recipes on the internet.  The recipes have names that either start with “Famous,” “Perfect” or “Superb” and contain words like “heavenly” and “most delish.”  I have also noticed that many of them are Mom’s or Grandma’s recipe.  Is that supposed to provide some credibility to the quality of the meal?  My grandmother cooked with lard.   

I confess I have found a lot of very interesting recipes on this site and have uploaded them to my RecipeBook app on my iPad.  I love my RecipeBook app.  It has made it delightfully easy for me to save recipes for my husband to cook for me. 

As a bonus, I can also key in my own treasured recipes.   Just this morning I was reviewing all of my saved RecipeBook recipes when I came across one I forgot I had hand keyed.  Right in between Skillet Beef and Slow Cooker Au Jus Pot Roast I found one of my favorites; Skunk Spray.

It's Not We We We All the Way to the Bank

What is it with men and their use of the word “we” when it comes to professional sports, as if they’re on the team?

My husband is a NY Giants fan and every Sunday during football season I have to hear about how “we” played well that weekend or how “we” are going to the Superbowl.  Last time I checked “he” was not making $8 million dollars a year nor did anyone care if “he” was wearing a Nike shirt or not.  And after a quick review of his most recent pay check, I learned that it was not signed by Giants manager Tom Coughlin.  In fact, Tom hasn’t even called to find out why Jack hasn’t yet reported to training camp. 

I noticed however that it’s “you” when it comes to cleaning, cooking, laundry, food shopping and paying bills.

I wish we would mind our own business.