COOKING with PAM

You loyal readers out there remember my "post" about Corazon del Mar, the Faux Mexican restaurant that reminded me of Pam Anderson....essentially, "not real but who cares." Well, we went to another one of those places a couple of nights ago. It was located in the historic Jared Coffin House in downtown, which by the way belongs to Steven Karp who owns everything but particularly The White Elephant Hotel. Inside this fine old building is a restaurant called "Harbor Wok." When I first heard about it, I thought it was Harbor WALK and was another chowdah-lobster roll place. Au contraire. It is WOK and the food is Chinese. Well, not real chinese but rather New England Chinese. They had a couple of actual asians in the place, unlike the mexican-free zone in Corazon del Mar. The service was good, the ambiance was historic without Foo Dogs and other indicia of chineseness, and the food was most excellent. Because we were in an asian place, and to americans, all asians are the same, we ordered an asian beer. Saporo from Japan. It came in a can the size of a fire extinguisher that said 650 ml. A bottle of wine is 750 ml just for comparison. Pamela is about 850 ml. Intoxicating...the beer that is.

At the end of the evening, after having two main courses and a large order of fried rice, two wines, two huge beers and a free-with coupon appetizer, the bill including tip was $100. This falls into the"practically free" category on this island. Bring lots of Yuan.

TWO ISLANDS, and I choose the one less travelled by

Just walking around from gallery to bookstore in the cool evening with the Kitty is reason enough to be here. I don't think I will ever be able to spend a hot humid summer in Sarasota again. I'm not sure if this is "the" place, though it sure is one of the places, including Aspen, North Carolina, and maybe some other mountainous locale. There is no Rocky Mountain High here since the highest point on the island is 200 feet above sea level. There is the smell of the Ocean, and the island way of life with all its inconveniences but more of its charm. The weekend has begun and the tourists are arriving.

There are two islands coexisting...one of them is the remnant of the old whaling village with its 200 year old houses, quiet streets, and yankees (not the baseball team) walking their dogs. The other island has throngs of people pouring off the ferry like ants at a picnic. Dragging their roll-aboards behind them, they make their way through town to their lodging. Not too many teeny-boppers among them, mostly families with young children and lots of college-age kids in herds buying beer and hustling to somewhere. These two worlds clash at some level but generally, as in most tourist destinations, the locals understand that the Whales are gone and the only industry on the island involves being nice and providing entertainment to people who have picked this destination out of all others to have fun. It's all here... bikes, scooters, jeeps, an ice cream store, T-shirt shops, and many places to eat, within 100 yards of the Ferry Dock. It's a short walk or ride to several beaches and on a few of them you can even drive your jeep on the sand. The whole island is only 5 miles wide and 15 miles long. Even when it is filled to the brim, you can find places to be alone in the cool breezes and sunshine, just not within 100 yards of the Ferry Dock.

WHAT IS THE COLOR OF THE RIBBON FOR PROSTATE CANCER?

The quick and correct answer to the above question is "there is none." The "funny answer," if one can joke about these things, would be "brown." It seems that every disease has its own ribbon. Breast cancer's is Pink, AIDS is Red, and Colon cancer is Blue. The statistics of prostate cancer vs breast cancer are very similar. 1 in 6 men develop this disease vs 1 in 8 for breast cancer. The U S Government spends half as much on prostate cancer as it does on breast cancer. Much of the "blame" for lack of a national awareness of this often fatal disease rests with men and their unwillingness to get an annual DRE (digital rectal exam) and a PSA (Prostate Specific Antigen) blood test. Women have raised breast cancer awareness in every possible way. So go out and get checked, men. I recently "lost' a very good friend to this disease. He was in the prime of his life and career. It is not just an old man's disease that can be ignored. It is as serious and common as breast cancer and deserves the same government funding, charitable opportunities, and public awareness. Oh, and its own ribbon. I propose a BROWN one.

While I am on the subject of medical care for men and women, I would like to mention HRT, hormone replacement therapy. I have not met any women who have not taken some form of estrogen at one time or another, even if only for a brief time. This medicine is pretty cheap. It is in pill form and easy to take. The reasons for taking it include emotional balance, treatment of hot flashes and cold sweats, and preservation of youthful bones, mucus membranes, and skin. The medical condition of "Menopause" is another of those things in the forefront of societal "awareness." Menopause comes on fairly rapidly in middle age and HRT is not uncommonly prescribed. Men go through hormonal changes too. Andropause is a slow process that begins in early middle age and progresses through life. Many of the same problems that women face...personality changes of depression, general fatigue, loss of libido, Erectile Dysfunction (men only), and old bones and skin, come on as a result of significant decrease in Testosterone production by the body. So, let us assume that your doctor takes your symptoms and looks at them as a package (no pun intended) and does the correct laboratory tests. Those include not just a total testosterone level but a "free" testosterone level along with tests for a variety of the female hormone Estrogen, and the stress hormone "Cortisol." Instead of just writing you a "scipt" for Viagra, he or she spends as much time figuring out what is wrong as an Ob-Gyn doctor would for a woman with similar complaints. The diagnosis of "Low-T" is made. Your obesity and heart disease and type 2 diabetes if you have any of those are evaluated for their relationship to your hormonal health. And then, possibly, a prescription for some variety of testosterone will be given. There are creams, gels, patches, and injections but no pills, at least none that don't cause liver damage. The form that is most like what women do for their HRT, that is to say, daily and stable maintenance of hormonal levels is the Gel... either Testogel or Androgel. Androgel costs $350 per month while Estrogen costs 80% less. What's wrong with this picture? Men get the short end of the stick (again, no pun intended) on their medical needs for Andropause as compared to Menopause? We need to get organized, guys. Women dye their hair, get nipped and tucked, and moisturize so they can look better. They take Boniva for their bones, estrogen for a host of reasons, and generally take better care of themselves. They have a great LOBBY. They talk to one another about their problems. We need a RIBBON for our disease, medicine for our "Pause" that does not cost $4,000 a year, and more awareness that we get old and sick and die of things that are preventable. Open your eyes as you go through your day and see how many times you see commercials about breast cancer awareness, Susan B. Komen, or Breast Cancer Awareness Month. All we get is the "quick fix" advertising for Cialis, Levitra, and Viagra and that insipid couple sitting in bathtubs at the edge of a cliff or that aging sports star throwing a football through a tire. We need less subtlety and more awareness that there is a big difference between erectile dysfunction solutions and your health. You need to be checked for Low-T, Prostate cancer, and everything else that is tied into your general health that women do on a regular basis. Take a lesson from your wife, your sister, your mother, and demand more.

TOO MUCH GREEN

As I was leaving the Stop and Shop on Nantucket today, some tree-hugger with a clip board came up to me and asked me if I wanted to help with his campaign for the imposition of even more recycling. It is already at the ridiculous level on this island with separate categories for plastic, glass, paper, and everything else all put into clear plastic bags so they can see you're not trying to pull a fast one and throw out a plastic bottle in with the food waste. You have to use a box of plastic bags per week for a family of two. How much more could this guy want us to do? Maybe we will have to bring our batteries and CFL lightbulbs back to the factory for disposal. Unfortunately, most of the CFL (Fluorescent) light bulbs are made in China, which would mean I would have to buy all those carbon credits to make up for the fuel used by the airplane, and so on. This could really get expensive. It could lead to the return of the "dark" ages.

Just before we left our home in Sarasota, I changed a few lightbulbs that would turn on automatically at night so it would look like we were home and also use less electricity. The natural selection and sooner or later your only choice in bulbs... the CFL, Compact Fluorescent Light, with more MERCURY in it than the average Swordfish. Upon entering our kitchen one day, I smelled the unmistakeable smell of a burning ballast. It was coming from a relatively new CFL in the ceiling. I changed it to an incandescent bulb. The offender looked more of less like the one in the photo above. It could have caused a fire in our absence. Sure we would have saved 53 cents in electricity, but would have lost our house, just as if we went through foreclosure. I better check my insurance policy, there may be an exclusion for CFL bulbs.

So now, not only do they give you less light and resist dimming unless you get the real expensive ones, they can burn your house down and release mercury into the landfill. Save the planet, use less energy, buy a hybrid car, CFL bulbs, and read your newspaper online. Just how do we recycle the huge Prius batteries, and the CFL bulbs? We will be up to our asses in Lithium and Mercury. But at least we meant well.

IMPACTION at the STARLIGHT Theater

Inception, the movie, was the feature film at the STARLIGHT THEATER here in Nantucket tonight. It starred Leo DeCaprio and yes, he was handsome, and he can act, but even with those two things going for the movie, it SUCKED. It was about the manipulation of the architecture of the mind. It manipulated the Kitty and I right out of the theater about half way through this stinker. If we had not bought a glass of Chardonnay to drink during the movie it would have been an even quicker exit. Sometimes it takes a while to realize you are witness to a train wreck. In this movie, it was obvious from the first scene and just got worse. Unless we missed Angelina (not in the movie) juggling naked in the second half...there would have been no reason to stay. The movie started at 7 pm. I had to queue-up at 6 to get the tickets as the theater only has 90 seats and the first ones go the those who dine at their attached cafe. After buying the tickets, I lined up again to get seat selection at about 6:30. So I had an hour invested in this process before the movie even began. I actually begrudge the waiting and lining up less that having to watch any part of this film. People have told us that this is a highly regarded movie whose script was kept from production for ten years until it was picked up and Leo agreed to star in it. Don't believe it. If they nominate this for anything but an in-flight movie, there is no hope for Hollywood's common sense.

BLACK LIST SUSAN

We had lunch today at a island local restaurant, Black Eyed Susan's. First of all, we ate there before and the food was tasty then and it was tasty today. Now for the bad news. Our waiter was probably from Bulgaria or some other Eastern European locale. Not that it's a bad thing, but he seemed pissed off at something the whole time we were there. Maybe he missed his Borscht or whatever the Hell they eat in his little village. Anyhow, My wife, the Kitty, and I went there with my daughter, and the Babies and we got 2 separate checks. When I asked Ivan (not his real name) to make separate checks he looked at me like I asked him for his secret Cayman Island bank account number. I was not very hungry so I ordered a toasted bagel with cream cheese and jelly. He brought 2 jellies...you know those little bottles that have a sealed strip on top. They were previously used and half empty. Not a problem, he brought 2 others. He had no powers of observation as to what a person dining in the restaurant might need to enjoy a meal and we had to ask him for utensils, napkins, syrup, and of course the jelly.

While I was eating I smelled that unmistakeable garbage can aroma. I walked 3 feet around a lattice fence and there were the cans for the entire restaurant, uncovered...hence the smell, and the associated flies. I kind of ignored that and was absent-mindedly looking under the table and saw that I was standing on an extension cord that was part of an intricate system of wiring that ran under the bricks from one side of the narrow patio to another and ended in a triple outlet. Into that outlet there were 3 other extension cords running to each of three tables and from them another cord running to a high wattage heater that was attached to the shafts of the table umbrellas.

At a nearby table I overheard a woman complaining that she won't go to the White Elephant because it is for tourists unlike this place which is for locals. I looked under her table and she was standing on a wire too. If it were to rain with the electrical Rube Goldberg setup they have here, we could all get fried like the Royal Family in the movie "King Ralph." I doubt they have this wiring design at the White Elephant but I will check the next time I go there. It might be worth the extra premium to eat on table cloths and not get electrocuted. I will not be coming back here no matter how good the food tastes because if their electrical code violations have the potential to kill you, God knows what the kitchen can do.

REAL MEN WEAR BLACK

Not in Nantucket. Here, men wear multi-colored patchwork shorts and Nantucket Red pants, pastel shirts, and belts with nautical flags or whales on them. Boat shoes, the scruffier the better, are a basic part of the uniform. Socks are optional but light colors and Nantucket Red ones are "in." Years ago, someone published "The Preppy Handbook" in which all things preppy were described and there were exemplar photos of a man and a woman wearing the correct ensemble, with each item labeled along with the store of origin...L L Bean, J Crew, Polo, etc. I brought some Robert Graham shirts with me from Florida. If you wear one of these up here, it screams "tourist"and even though they have "colors" they are not the "right colors." Wearing them to a club event would be as bad as wearing the wrong "colors" to a biker bar. Faded pastels of robins egg blue, rose, teal...in T-shirts, Polo shirts, dress shirts, short or long sleeve...very popular among the locals.

In case you think I am being pejorative in my fashion critique, I am not. Even though you could inadvertently be looking through a Ralph Lauren or Bean catalog that was 10 years old without knowing it and wishing you had that cable-knit on page 43, there is a certain freedom in knowing that you can go to your closet, pull out anything of any age, and be well dressed. In Miami, you wear something from 6 weeks ago and you don't get into a hot spot on South Beach. Here, a frayed collar, an impending hole in an elbow, or a pair of Bill's Khakis from the last century, and you are better than fine. In fact, even when you buy new, you try to get something that looks old, and pre-faded. There is lore about the best way to "age" your pants..."drag them behind your lobster boat for a few weeks" etc. Pre-sliced jeans are not fashionable here. Pre-faded Nantucket Red...now you're talkin'.

So as I look in my closet this morning, picking out what I plan to wear, I am letting Robert Graham stay at home, along with anything black, and will be wearing pinks and blues and tan chinos, a nautical flag belt, and my boat shoes. I am ready for anything. Bring it on.

Those Were The Days

Those were the days my friend

We thought they'd never end

We'd sing and dance forever and a day

We'd live the life we chose

We'd fight and never lose

For we were young and sure to have our way

La la la la la la

La la la la la la

Those were the days

Oh yes those were the days

RAMBO RIDES AGAIN

Readers of this blog know that the Oracle has some unusual tastes. While Mrs. Oracle (aka Kitty) is a Fashionista and rolls in style in Mercedes, I prefer the surplus military "look." I came about this honestly in my babyhood when my father returned from WWII. My first major toy was a plywood jeep in Olive Drab green powered by an automobile starter motor and battery. My father made it in the garage. That was the start of it all. I bought an old military jeep in the 60s from a gas station. It had a makeshift snowplow welded to the front bumper. $350 well spent. While I was in the Army I bought a surplus M151 MUTT from the government for $100. When I went to pick it up, it had been cut into 4 pieces like Mel Gibson in Braveheart and was therefore worthless to me. They explained that they were not designed for use on the road and so were sold for scrap. They gave me my money back. Big disappointment.

I see the occasional Jeep Wrangler in Sarasota with a surfboard attached. In Nantucket, every other car is a Wrangler, and not just tourist rentals. My son in law completely scooped me by buying a green 4-door Wrangler Unlimited and is in the process of equipping it with all the right gear. Damn. Anyway, I am more of a two door Jeep fan. As I walk around or ride my bike here I stop and take photos with my iPhone of Jeeps with interesting paint-jobs and custom touches. There is a pink "Lilly Pulitzer" with flowers on it like the Kitty's motorcycle helmet from 1966, and another one in O.D. green military-style with a big star on the hood and stenciled serial numbers that I pass every morning on my way to North Wharf. That one is my favorite so far. I have an old SUV in my garage back home that needs to be replaced with something that Rambo would ride. Yo, Adrienne.

R and R

Back in the 60s and 70s when I was in the Army, soldiers who served in Vietnam on an unaccompanied tour of duty lasting 12 months would get to leave "country" for a week or 2 of R and R, rest and relaxation, often in Hawaii where they would meet up with friends "half-way" or just go wild and have fun. Not that Nantucket is in any way like Vietnam nor is it an unaccompanied tour, but when we are "On island (in country)" we are away from our usual amenities and many of our great friends. This week we took " R and R" in Florida. My son and his wife, the "Notable Nibbler" visited us in Nantucket for a week just before we flew home with them on JetBlue to Ft. Lauderdale. They had their car parked there and we drove to Miami where they live and we have a 2nd home. The following day the Kitty did a victory lap around Merrick Park mall (they don't like being called a mall but it is one) for some "retail therapy." That same night we were invited to Mike's in-laws/Grace's parents' home in Coral Gables for a dinner party. The food was delicious, the wine was intoxicating, and it was great to see everyone.

Since we had not seen Kitty's sisters and their families since we left for Nantucket in early June, we all went out to dinner at Maroosh, a middle eastern restaurant in Coral Gables, complete with belly-dancer. On Sunday we drove back to Sarasota in our rented Hyundai Sonata, a car I would recommend for rental or purchase, and arrived in early afternoon to our home. We had not seen it for a long time and everything was intact except for a couple of coconut palms that were still recovering from the freeze this past winter. I wish Al Gore would make up his mind... frozen trees in the winter, boiled Floridians in the summer....

I got a chance to visit a sick friend several times during our brief stay in Sarasota. We created a few special memories and relived some old ones. The Kitty and I also went out to dinner with friends we have missed. One night we went to the Bird Key Yacht Club, another to Carragiulo's Italian restaurant, The Bangkok thai restaurant, and finally Toojay's for some american food with a Yiddish accent. I had lunch at Demetrio's the best cheap italian-greek restaurant anywhere on earth and spent some time with another SWAT buddy of mine. And let's not forget my own "retail therapy" at BestBuy and Barnes and Noble, neither of which is available except on-line in Nantucket. We thoroughly enjoyed visiting with our friends and visiting our favorite "watering holes." At the end of the week we were ready to back "On island" after a great R and R. Thank you everyone who could spend time with us. If you get tired of the 95 degrees, feels like 105 weather, come up for a visit.

WELCOME BACK, DOC

Returning to Sarasota even if only for a few days was great and the warm friendly greeting from waitresses at my favorite restaurant surely was appreciated.

FREE GOVERNMENT CHEESE and MEDICAL CARE

WALKING EAGLE receives a welcome from Native Americans. He was given that "Indian" name because it means "A bird so full of crap it can no longer fly." I promised a few friends that I would discuss healthcare, or lack of it as the case may be. Americans seem to coming to their senses a little on the bill of goods that was sold to them by the present administration. While everyone wants something for nothing, they realize that you usually get what you pay for, just like public school, and non-cable TV channels. You folks out there who want the attention of a doctor will get it... about a minute's worth. That's all he/she will be able to afford to spend with you without losing money. Perhaps a brief lesson in medical economics 101 would help. An orthopedic surgeon who following college spent 4 years in medical school and another 5 years or more in internship and residency at slave-labor wages, is reimbursed $1,100 for a total joint replacement of the hip or knee. This includes admitting the patient to the hospital, doing the several hour surgery, following the patient in the hospital for a few days, and then in the office for several months, all included. The overhead just to keep an office open is more than 50%. The doctor pays income tax, social security and Medicare tax which adds up to 50% of the remainder. So at "the end of the day" he/she gets 1/4 of $1,100 to spend on himself and his family. Quick math reveals that this is about $275. These fees are constantly being reduced by Medicare.

When all medical care in America is run by the government and they pay even less, not only will smart people who could choose to do something else in life NOT go into medicine, but those in the profession will leave in droves to do something that pays better like, landscaping, or designing women's shoes where a single pair of Jimmy Choos or Manolos cost more than a hip replacement. Hey, there's an idea... free shoes! Maybe I should write to WALKING EAGLE and suggest this. We may be sick because we can't get to see a doctor immediately, but at least we'll be "looookin' good" while we stand in line. Alternatively, you might consider learning to speak Hindi so you can understand your doctor when you finally get your "minute" in the examination room.

Vacationing @ BEDSIDE MANOR

There are a few reasons for our return to Florida during Hell (summer and its 95+ degrees). We came to see our friends, eat some good italian food that was not cooked by family members (italian restaurants in Nantucket are inauthentic so we cook our own), and visiting my doctor friend who is too sick to travel to see us up in Nantucket. This guy is like a brother to me, without the sibling rivalry. He also happens to be a doctor's doctor, the highest rank in our profession. While I was visiting, my wife (the Kitty) came along. And that's when I witnessed a a special "moment." It was bedside manner, or a bedside consultation... only the doctor was in bed and the patient was standing at the bedside. Now there's something you don't see every day. My friend perked up and gave my wife his best medical professional opinion about something that was bothering her. I got verklempt. I always joked that he was so dedicated and caring that he would treat you even if he were sick in bed...and here it actually happened.

Later that day, after getting a haircut, I met another friend at Demetrio's, the world's greatest pizzeria. Since we are going out tonight to have italian food at another of our favorite joints, I only had the Chicken Parmesan. My friend had the spaghetti and meatballs...I was jealous. I had not seen Tess and Terry, the waitresses there, for two months. Dino, the owner was also there. We have known him for almost 35 years.

Tonight we are dining with friends who came to visit Nantucket last month. As I walk around the island and encounter dogs, the 4 legged variety, I take pictures and send them to Stan and Merry, who are real pooch lovers. Anyway, that's it for today.

BUY from the BIG GUYS

For a long time, I did everything I could to avoid shopping at Best Buy. I especially wanted to support smaller local merchants or anyone but the 800 pound gorilla when I bought electronics and appliances. I bought a TV at Sound Advice and they went out of Business. I bought another at Circuit City...out of business. I got all my kitchen appliances at a local merchant, DeSears, along with their warranties....out of business. When it was time to get a new washer and dryer we bought them from a small local merchant and they delivered floor models with the sale stickers, still on them even though they promised NEW in box items. The dryer had been dropped and was badly dented. We took them back. A month later the company went belly-up. We eventually bought the same items at BestBuy and we got a better price, a better warranty, and probably they will stay in business. I am looking for a new acoustic guitar and guess who sells them at the best price and has them in stock and a sound proof room so you can sit there and try them out? BestBuy. There's a lesson here.

On our way back from Nantucket we stopped in Miami and needed to rent a car. I called Enterprise because they advertise "We'll pick you up." Well they don't exactly do that. They pick you up IF the small local office has a car. If they don't and you have to get a car from the next small local office which can be a mile farther down the road, they don't pick you up. The guy on the phone told me "It's like pizza delivery. We have zones and territories assigned to us for delivery." Well. as I see it, it's more like the Pizza you get in Nantucket. They have a lot of crust, and the whole thing is cheesy, but in the end it runs into your lap and you get burned. On top of that, they wanted $250 drop off fee to leave the car in Sarasota. HERTZ had cars, the rates were the same or lower, I got a free tank of gas, and no drop-off charge.

From now on I am going to try to buy everything from the number ONE company. They are #1 for a reason.

Cheese PIZZA in PARADISE

In a few more days we will be winging our way back to Nantucket from our visit to Sarasota. During this trip, in addition to seeing our friends whom we have sorely missed, I have availed myself of a few culinary delights that are unobtainable in Nantucket at any price. The first among these is the PIZZA. In comparison to the soggy soupy no ingredients except molten cheese pizza we last ate up there, this is ambrosia. Note the pieces of vegetables, the chicken, the perfectly baked crust and the cheese which is in a semi-solid state. Last night I had a very nice course of spicy Pad Thai at the Bangkok restaurant. It was as good, but not better than Siam-to-Go in the ice rink in Nantucket but you get to sit down at a table and be served, well. Tonight we are going to go to the Bird Key Yacht Club for "club food, " but the real reason for going is to be with our friends. Another couple of days and I will have had Indian Food at Chutney's, Chicken Parmesan at Demetrios, and Rigatoni and Meatballs at Carragiulos. Oh, and I forgot, I had a spicy Chicken Sandwich at Wendy's. There are no fast food restaurants in Nantucket which is both a good and a bad thing. Anyway, I am reminded of the Jimmy Buffett song "Cheeseburger in Paradise." In that song, a man who regularly lived on an island dreamt of what he would have if he could leave and it was not Lobster and Chowder.

REAL FRIENDS

A real friend is a person who will tell you "You are full of crap." An Italian real friend will tell you "With all due respect. you are full of crap." Meaning, of course, that you need a reminder that what you are thinking is not only wrong, but WTF were you thinking? I had such a moment last night whilst talking to a good friend who reminded me that I had no time to embark on some grandiose business plan because I had so many important things to do everyday that I really enjoyed doing regardless of the "value" placed upon them by "others." We spoke about a past Blog entry that I made entitled "Drone." In that entry I bemoaned the absence of a significant commercial enterprise in my life, particularly in comparison to many of my friends who are best self-expressed through business. He used complex psychological terminology which when translated into ordinary English meant "You are full of crap." He also inspired me to upgrade my involvement in athletic and fitness. He is a "Masters" weight lifter and it shows.

Speaking of friends, we have returned to Sarasota for a brief stay. On the way home we came through Ft. Lauderdale after flying the very pleasant and direct, though expensive, JetBlue. My son and his lovely wife the "Notable Nibbler" had visited us in Nantucket for a week and we flew home with them. Fortuitously, we were invited to the home of my son's in-laws in Coral Gables to a completely yummy dinner and way too much wine. The following night we dined at Maroosh, a middle-eastern restaurant in Coral Gables with my relatives in Miami. I rented a car so we could drive home to Sarasota on Sunday morning. It is a Hyundai Sonata. It had Sirius radio, and has been thoroughly competent though a bit Vanilla. It is 1/3 the price of our Mercedes E-class and about 80% as good. It makes one wonder why a person would spend $50,000 or more for a car.

As for the rest of the week. I visited my friend who is sick yesterday and other than a brief leaping and licking encounter with his overly friendly huge furry dog, it was great to see him. As for the next few days, we are capturing precious moments with our dearest friends before we return to Nantucket and its 75 degree days and 65 degree nights. I am already schvitzing thinking about leaving my air conditioned home to go outside.

DRONE ON, DUDE

A Drone is a male bee. He serves a function in fertilizing the eggs of the Queen and when his job is done he is then either allowed to just "hang out" or is driven out of the hive. Nature loves you as long as you can participate in the preservation of the species. Once you are no longer useful for this reproductive purpose, Adios, muchacho. In human society, we have our own version of Drones. Men who are no longer bringing home the bacon (or honey) even if they have accumulated bacon up the wazoo for decades, are either tolerated or driven out of the hive, metaphorically, by the colony. Your time becomes worthless. You are producing neither offspring nor honey and are therefore irrelevant. We think we are different from social insects like bees and ants due to our brain power. The world belongs to the young in their reproductive years. Whether in Hollywood where there are a thousand Linsey Lohans for every Meryl Streep, or in Hometown USA, we all have to get out of the way for the egg layers and bread-winners.

If you are a senior today, and if you do not have a full time job or are actively involved in the acquisition of more honey, you might as well set yourself adrift on an ice flow or wander into the woods to be eaten by a bear. And it's even worse if other future-Drones in your hive are still building businesses. Their time is "sacred" and uninterruptible while yours is up for grabs for any menial thing that arises. You could be writing the great American novel, or the next "Heartbreak Hotel" lyrics, it does not matter. There is no money in it (unless that was your job all our life and it actually once made money) and is therefore something that can be interrupted by anyone wanting anything.

Then there is the "cave." If it is an artist's studio, or a music room, there are no locks strong enough to keep a honey-do list out. Put in a computer, a bunch of phones, call it an office, and demonstrate the ability to generate income, and all of a sudden it becomes Fort Knox. "Can't you see I am working" is much more effective than "Can't you see I am writing a short story." Changing a diaper is a higher priority than anything that does not produce an income stream. So if you don't want to buzz around fanning your wings and taking out the trash 4 times a day, keep making honey, anyway you can. They don't need it, they just want it. Anyhow, you have no value to the colony unless you do that or you can reproduce, and clearly that ship has sailed. Bzzzzzzzzzzz.

PAMELA ANDERSON goes to MEXICO

We dined at Corazon del Mar last night. It is a "Mexican " restaurant in downtown Nantucket. They tried very hard to create a mexican atmosphere. The benches and chairs were blue-green, the tables heavy wood, the walls were a soft orange, and the piped in music was " La Cucaracha-esque." The menu had authentic sounding mexican dishes and an assortment of mexican beer and Margaritas. That is the extent of the authenticity. I did not see ONE mexican anywhere in the restaurant. There are mexicans in the gardens of Nantucket, but mostly, south and central america is represented by folks from el Salvador. There may have been one in the kitchen, but I don't know, I did not check. That is not to say the food was not delicious, it was. From the fish tacos, to the salsa and guacamole, it was yummy. I ordered Mole' Poblano and though I thoroughly enjoyed it, it was not Mole'. I had a bottle of Negra Modello beer for $6. A whole six pack costs $7.50 in a grocery store, maybe not in Nantucket. The whole experience reminded me of Pamela Anderson...FAUX but pretty good all the same. I recommend CDM mostly in comparison to other Nantucket restaurants. Bring lots of Pesos.

There seems to be an ANGLO version of almost anything here. The whole island screams MAYFLOWER. There are lots of jamaicans who come here every year to work, and a very authentic jamaican small restaurant/take-out called the Rotary, which coincidentally is located at...the rotary. It is the real deal, dialect included, mon. The Italian restaurants, especially the one I wrote about yesterday, are as if someone read a couple of recipes on the back of a box of Barilla pasta, and then cooked it after deleting the spices so as not to offend the New England taste buds. So many up north here are of Irish and English backgrounds where spice is a 4-letter word. "Ah, Paddy, what's that exotic taste you snuck into the stew...could it be black pepper?"

I see a tremendous opportunity to write a cook book. "Ethnic foods of the world, cooked New England Style." Moo goo gai pan with a side of french fries. Chowdah and Lobstah Francaise. And the unforgettable Pasta cooked way beyond al-dente with a sauce made from diluted Campbell's tomato soup. Oh, and I am forgetting the pizza-fondue? Well, maybe the lesson is..."when in Rome..." and leave it at that. I sense a disturbance in the Force. I think I will return to a Lobstah Roll for lunch and confine my true ethnic dining to home where everyone in my family knows where the hot pepper, curry, and cilantro are kept, and use them.

There's no such thing as BAD PIZZA. Really?

We went to dinner last night at a pizza place here on Nantucket. My son and daughter-in-law are visiting and they had experienced the Choudah and Lobstah scene and were in the mood for a good old italian-american PIE. We drove to the restaurant and saw people waiting outside. We gave the host our name, got a couple of glasses of wine, served in what looked like a grapefruit-juice glass, and sat at the aluminum lawn-furniture table outside. It was a cool and bug-less night and we did not mind the hour wait anticipating a lovely dining experience. When we were finally ushered in, we sat at a corner table that was in the process of being ceremoniously cleaned with what seemed like the dishrag they bought when they opened the restaurant years ago. A waitress came to the table anxious to ply us with drinks or sparkling bottled water, but we declined and opted for tap water since we had a bottle of wine before we left our house and drinks while waiting at the outside table. She could not hide her disappointment. We asked if they had bread and she said "Yes we have garlic bread." We asked her to bring us some and we ordered Chicken Parmesan with a side of SPAGHETTI and a large onion and green pepper pizza with extra cheese. We might have ordered more but it was already quite late. Traditionally, it is during this hiatus between ordering at 10 pm and the actual serving of the food that restaurants bring people who have not eaten anything for 8 hours "the bread." None arrived.

A while later she brought the "dwarf" chicken parmesan in a small plate with a side of PENNE. We divided the meal into what was basically 1 bite of chicken and 6 noodles each. Sometime during the mastication process, a pizza arrived. It had no evidence of anything but a crust and melted cheese. We asked her what kind of pizza that was and she said "Plain Cheese." We reminded her of our order and she said "Oh." and disappeared for another long while, still no bread, and eventually returned with what looked like the same pizza with almost no peppers and onions in it. We waited the appropriate time so we would not burn the roof of our mouths. My daughter -in-law, who is a professional foodie tried to separate the slices. It was immediately apparent that they must use the kind of cheese that never hardens and onion and garlic powder as there was no evidence of vegetation anywhere in this pie. The cheese slid off the uncooked crust into a small pile on the tray. Subsequent slices, regardless of time elapsed did the same. And once the liquid cheese slid off, the crust glared at us saying "cook me."

As is customary, employees of the restaurant came by the table and asked "How is everything?" to which my son said..."Not so good." and recited a litany of deficiencies that included the no bread, the wrong pasta, the wrong pizza, the cheese avalanche fondue-like pizza with no evidence of either onion or peppers, and so on. The manager then came by. He asked us which pizza we ordered and we revealed that we had the audacity to ask for extra cheese and he said "Ah Ha!" that's what happened. The extra cheese kept the crust from baking and made the vegetables disappear, the cheese never congealed and it is basically a fondue on a raw crust because we ordered extra cheese, so there...it's your fault. To which I replied that I was 66 years old, had travelled the world, eat pizza an average of once per week (66 years x 52 is a lot of pizza) and that this is not my first pizza-rodeo. And politely implied "Are you F'ing kidding me?" He offered to "buy" my pizza (which I guess means "comp") and asked if he could bring us some salad as a peace offering. Not wanting to try the salad which could have been grass clippings based upon the pizza-experience, we declined.

So that old saying, "there's no such thing as bad pizza or bad sex." I must comment....We went there for pizza and got F'd. I wasn't going to Blog about the pizzaster of last night but the experience was just too "memorable" not to share.

AMBITION

I WAS GOING TO BY A COPY OF THE BOOK "POWER OF POSITIVE THINKING" BUT THEN I SAID TO MYSELF..."WHAT GOOD WOULD THAT DO?" He went to Paris looking for answers To questions that bothered him so He was impressive, young and aggressive Saving the world on his own But the warm Summer breezes The French wines and cheeses Put his ambition at bay And Summers and Winters Scattered like splinters And four or five years slipped away Then he went to England, played the piano And married an actress named Kim They had a good life, she was a good wife Bore him a young son named Jim And all of the answers and all of the questions He locked in his attic one day ‘Cause he liked the quiet clean country living And twenty more years slipped away Well the war took his baby, the bombs killed his lady And left him with only on eye His body was battered, his whole world was shattered And all he could do was just cry While the tears were falling, he was recalling The answers he never found So he hopped on a freighter, skidded the ocean And left England without a sound Now he lives in the islands, fishes the pilin’s And drinks his green label each day He’s writing his memoirs and losing his hearing But he don’t care what most people say Through eighty-six years of perpetual motion If he likes you he’ll smile then he’ll say Jimmy, some of it’s magic, some of it’s tragic But I had a good life all the way And he went to Paris looking for answers To questions that bothered him so ("He Went to Paris" by Jimmy Buffett)

SAILING in my LIVING ROOM

As the light streams through our bedroom window at 5:30 a.m. I wake up and begin my day. My usual routine includes making 12 cups of coffee in my Cuisinart coffee maker, turning on my computer, and checking my e-mail. I thought about adding a new item to my routine. I turned on the FOX Business Channel which airs IMUS in the Morning, I used to watch IMUS all the time back in Sarasota until he was forced off the air for making a racially sensitive remark about a women's sports team which, had Chris Rock said it, would have been "hilarious.". The basic premise of the show was and still is to bring to light the hypocrisy in politics and public life. I have to turn the volume way down because the Kitty sleeps until 8:30. After about 30 minutes I turned it off.

As much as I love my family, I enjoy this time alone. The Little River Band did a song years ago called "Cool Change." One of the lines in that song goes... If there's one thing in my life that's missing
, It's the time I spend alone
, Sailing on the cool and bright clear waters.

I don't have a sailboat, only my living room at 3 North Beach Street in Nantucket. And it is peaceful. There are no crazy babies running around in circles bumping into one another screaming "Mommy, Mommy.". No one asks me to take out the trash. It's just me, my coffee, and my thoughts.There will be plenty of time later in the day for all the chaos and sensory input. Imus demanded too much of my attention and I will save his show for another day. The only sound I hear right now is the gentle hum of the air conditioner... a pleasant white noise like the sound of waves in the open sea. Ahhhh.

I know a guy who wrote a book called the "Body Clock Advantage." He wrote that there are two types of people...Larks who enjoy the morning hours and Owls who enjoy the night like Ed and Shelley. I am definitely a Lark. The Kitty is probably and Owl though more often than not, she falls asleep watching TV so maybe she is some other kind of bird. Maybe a cat-bird.

Jimmy Buffett's yacht was here in Nantucket this week. It is a huge luxurious craft. "Music been berry berry good to Jimmy." There is a disconnect between the singer and the song. Here is a guy with yachts and airplanes and a home in Palm Beach who sings about simple pleasures like Margaritas and cheeseburgers. I like the lyrics to "He Went to Paris" especially the part about moving to the islands, fishin' and drinking rum every day. I find it strangely attractive. I live on an island in Florida, and now on Nantucket. The only thing missing at this moment is the rum. It's just too early even though "It's 5 o'clock somewhere." I think another one of those 12 cups of coffee I made will just have to suffice.

BE STILL, MY HEART

Spain won the world cup. For those of you out there who did not watch the game and would like to reproduce the experience, just go outside and watch you lawn grow for 2 and a half hours then for 30 seconds, go watch the final scene of some action movie that has a car chase and lots of gunfire. Yep, that's what it was like. The final score was 1-0. It was like baseball but without the constant excitement.

TAKE IT OR LEVI IT

Before you think I am comparing myself to Jesus, like the Beatles did, please understand that even though some of my colleagues knew they were God, I never did, even when I was a surgeon. There are a couple of things that JC and I do have in common. We try to be helpful, but more often than not are disregarded. Oracles and gurus, prophets and the elderly (like me) are "without honor in our own country.". While we think of Jesus as a wise and patient man, the son of God, and our savior, there were some things that just pissed him off. Mostly it had to do with the Pharisees. To list a few of these things...making a pretense of holiness and righteousness, stealing from the poor, making long fake prayers, following the letter of the law but not the intent to be truly beneficent. You get it if you have read the Bible. There is controversy about what was meant about "a voice crying in the wilderness" but it is accepted in some circles as meaning "Talking to a wall."

So, I write this Blog in the hopes that some of the observations I make are worth taking in and doing with whatever you choose, and other wisdom gained from just having been alive for 66 years may be worth at least disregarding once heard. Sometimes I feel like Bruce Willis in the "Sixth Sense. " I am among friends or relatives and I opine on something, thoughtfully, and I wonder if the words only rattled around in my head or if they came out of my mouth. No response, no acceptance or rejection, no acknowledgement that words were ever spoken.

Like the definition of insanity..."Doing the same thing over and over again and expecting a different result" I seem to be living in "Groundhog Day." I wonder why I bother.

ANOTHER INJUSTICE?

There are thousands of needy people whose businesses have been negatively impacted by the Oil Spill in the Gulf. These include fishermen who have been running cash businesses with sketchy record keeping and who may or may not have been paying income tax for the past decades. Now those "Greedy Bastards" at BP, who admittedly are culpable in this Oil Spill, have the audacity to ask people who want cash money to be given to them to actually produce some form of proof that they actually had a business, that actually historically made money, and that actually was affected by the spill. The hubris!! Of course a 1040 would be the gold standard and would be more likely to get the filer of a claim a check for lost income that was documented on the tax form than, say, a handwritten application without any written proof. In a world where scamming is our national sport...mortgage fraud, phishing, Madoff, and our friend the Nigerian banker, whatever, do people really expect that anyone would just send them a check because they want it but have not submitted anything to show they are a real victim with documentable economic loss? This is a legal principle since biblical times. If you have an economic loss from, for example an injury, you have to show somehow that you actually had an income before the injury, an income that you no longer have. What next...walking into a bank and asking for $100,000, and telling them that you have no CD certificate or statement, but "trust me" ?

CULTURAL PERVERSITY

I'm more culturally diverse than most, and fully understanding of the ethnic differences that make up America. I preferentially eat at exotic restaurants, I drive foreign cars, speak other languages, and most of my electronics are made in China, but not my drywall. I would never look at or hear a Mexican speak and assume he came over the border in the middle of the night without a visa. I have a home in Miami where I am often the only Anglo in the room (including when I am with my extended family) when I go to a business or restaurant. None of this bothers me, in fact I celebrate it as being the basic building block of what has made out country great. We were known as the MELTING POT, where we all joined together, contributed our differences and became alloyed into Americans.

Somehow the a-holes we elected to lead us spoiled all this . They invented the HYPHENATED-American. Now we are no longer just plain Americans whose ancestors or we ourselves came over here from some other place, we are now African-Americans, Polish-Americans, Transylvanian-Americans.. whatever-Americans. It has caused balkanization and separation and fragmented our society into a SMORGASBORD where none of the tastes and smells touch one another. Instead of "E Pluribus Unum" (out of many one people) we have decided that every child going to school has to be taught in his or her native language, and if you vote or get a driver's license, you can do it in Swahili or Bulgarian if that is your wish. In fact, in CA-lee-for-nee-ah, they don't even ask you how you want your children educated. If you have a latino surname, your kid gets shoved into a spanish educational track.

So as I think back at what made our country great, the union of the 13 colonies into the original United States, the boatloads of immigrants coming to America to become Americans (without the hyphen) still holding onto their Kielbasas and Tacos and their religions and perhaps their language for a generation or two, I know why we were a strong nation and why TODAY we are rapidly throwing ourselves over a cliff like lemmings. Just like Steel which gets stronger when other metals are alloyed into it, we were stronger until race baiters and opportunists learned that cultural diversity can mean divide an conquer and power for them. If the morons who push this crap on a national level had been around when our country was born, it would not have been born at all. We would be thirteen countries....Massachusetts, Virginia, etc.

The height of stupidity was evident the other day when I heard some PC jerk refer to a black speaker on TV as an African-American. The speaker was an ambassador from an African country. I will NOT use the hyphenated-American term. You are either an American or you are not. You don't have to speak English, or wear Jeans and a T-shirt with Hillfiger on it, you can have a turban, a beard, or a serape. You just have to drop that HYPHEN or you and your children will NEVER be Americans. You will still have one foot in your home country. Bring the customs here, but leave your HYPHEN. We already have enough.

SLICK vs HICK

For all you folks out there who thought that "W" Bush was God's gift to America, do yourselves a favor and just spend about a minute online (WIKIPEDIA is a good start) looking up what happened to federal spending and the debt and deficit under the Hick from Texas who was barely articulate in English and Slick Willie, who was barely able to keep his pants on, but spoke eloquently about what does and what does not constitute SEX.

Even the briefest of perusals of the facts will tell you that George Bush, the son, spent money like a drunken sailor, complicit with the Republican Congress, while Bubba basically balanced the budget, aided by a very different Republican Congress. I know the jury is still out on President Messiah, and it "don't look good" from here. Generally, with the exception of the peanut farmer from Plains, Georgia, our biggest shopping sprees were during Republican administrations, particularly when the name Bush was involved. The canonized Ronald Reagan was no walk in the park either, fiscally speaking. So there you have it, youngsters, you have inherited a massive debt and gone and elected another Jimmy Carter instead of a Bill Clinton, so things are going to get even worse. And there is no safe haven for you to save and invest. So, why not just have a party. That's what congress has been doing, with your money.

If history is a good teacher, stay the course with your Democrat president even if he has no leadership skills, and elect a Republican Congress like the one Clinton had and life will get better for us all. One party in power like "Stretch" Pelosi and Hound-dog Harry Reid, with the Community organizer.. you see what you get...MASSIVE spending. All Republicans...NO DIFFERENCE. Government was meant to be in balance so that neither "side" gets to max-out our Platinum Card. That's the way I see it. History don't lie, Pilgrims.

I GET A KICK OUT OF FOOTBALL

My sweet South-American daughter-in-law and I are having a little "pissing contest" over the plusses and minuses of American Football vs Soccer (football to the rest of the world.) It is my impression that soccer is a much more feminine sport, whose popularity is based upon the more universal ability of "everyman" to participate no matter what his/her body size. Football is a sport of behemoths with bursts of power and speed and sudden impacts.. Soccer is a more graceful endurance sport with an hour and a half of running per game. I almost forgot, when describing the violence of football that in soccer, the violence occurs in the stands as the fans kill one another over which side is better. Both sports are surrogate battles, but in the South American version of war, when Chile plays Argentina, for example...it is for blood and is much more ingrained into the national Psyche than American football. The seriousness of the world cup is more like World War 3, rather than the entertainment spectacle which is the Super Bowl, where Americans watch as much for the million-dollar-a-minute advertising and the halftime show (where wardrobe malfunctions are de-rigeur) as for the game.

We never really celebrated soccer in America until two major social changes took place...we become overrun by foreigners whose national sport is "Football" and we became a more feminized country in which the school yard fist fight was replaced by the personal injury lawsuit. Though we did not have "soccer moms" back in the day (1950s-60s) we did have kids who played 3 varsity sports, as I did, and the mothers attended the games. They did not have Mini-vans and SUVs but station wagons galore were parked at the stadium. I am multilingual and am not threatened by the invasion of the little people, but sometimes I wish we had more tussles on the playground than in the courtroom. Anyhow, on the positive side, as I look at the soccer ball, I notice a strong resemblance to Yin-Yang, the symbol of universal harmony of opposing elements...the masculine and the feminine, dark and light, etc. all contained within everything. And, I say to myself...perhaps soccer is more in sync with nature, the Universe, and the circle of life and more deserving of a place in the America of 2010 than the game of football which can only be played effectively by 300 pound people who can bench press an SUV.

THOREAU-ly BRILLIANT

Henry David Thoreau...my wife thinks he was a "loser" who lived in the woods and never took advantage of his Harvard degree. Almost 200 years later, however, his book is still a best seller and studied by students in schools everywhere, at least by those who can read. (If you can read this, thank a teacher. If you can't, thank your cell phone provider.) Admittedly, he does not personally enjoy the royalties, but even if he does not gain the unconditional approval of the Kitty because of his lack of economic success, I think he felt good about himself after publishing "Walden." He was an inhabitant of Massachusetts and visited "The Cape" several times and wrote about it. He was in Provincetown before it was "P-town" and had gay bars. He lived in a small cabin for a year at Walden Pond while writing his epic and built it at a cost of about 20 dollars. That same cabin today, on Nantucket, would sell for $5,350,000. Even though it was the size of a large dog house, it was nevertheless, "waterfront." And as we know, it's all about "Location, location, location," possibly in 'Sconset.

E T PHONE HOME

The USA has a Declaration of Independence so why not individuals? I carry a cell phone with me all day. It is on, and the ringer is set to loud so I don't miss calls from people who want to talk to me. Every one of my family members also has a cell phone. They leave theirs at home, or in the car, or deep within their purse, or with the ringer turned off, or they give it to a 2 year old as a bribe. When I call other people, a recorded message tells me that they can't come to the phone right now and I should please leave a message because it is important to them. If it's so important, why don't they answer in the first place? Because they value their independence and their right to not be interrupted more that your right to find out what you need to know. They may be on to something there. Tomorrow, and maybe for the immediate future, I am going to declare my independence too...independence from being immediately available to any and everybody who wants to talk to me. So, when you get my message, know that "I can't come to the phone right now but your message is extremely important to me, so leave your name, number, and the time of your call, and I will get back to you as soon as I can. "

CHEESEBURGER IN PARADISE

The Notable Nibbler and her husband, the Bombastic Barrister, have arrived in Nantucket and are staying at the magnificent home of Mark and Jennie. Courtesy of Mark, we went out on a cruise aboard the "Belle" a wooden yacht built in 1925 and beautifully restored. The weather was perfect, the snacks and cocktails were too. Parked on the same private dock, across from us was an ocean-liner sized private yacht.. robin's egg blue and absolutely amazing. It belonged to Jimmy Buffett who is in Nantucket for some R and R.

I used to play the guitar and sing pretty well when I was a kid. My neighbor, a really pretty italian girl name Adrienne (Yo), was dating a high school friend named Felix Cavalieri, a founding member of The Rascals, a major rock and roll group. Another high school friend, Geoffrey Muldaur, went on to become a folk-singing legend. He even has a Martin guitar named after him, like Eric Clapton.

I thought back on my life as an orthopedic surgeon and the wonderful things it gave me in exchange for staying up all night bent over someone's broken whatever and those thousands of opportunities to spend time in an 8x10 closed room listening to the lamentations of the injured, aching, or otherwise unhappy. And I said to myself "I coulda been a contender." Maybe I couldn't but I guess we will never know. So here we are 50 years later and I am a passenger on a club yacht living in a garage apartment and Mr. Margaritaville is on his 150 foot yacht, the spoils of singing to millions of people all around the world. Well, at least we have one thing in common. We are both in Nantucket, and the weather is awesome. We went to the club and Mike had a cheeseburger in paradise. I had the Lobster roll.

I got HOOKED UP

Neighbor/landlord, George, told me before we came up here that he had internet in the apartment. Some days he does, and some days he doesn't. In true island style, the power goes off all the time. This messes with his modem and router and I lose my signal. Without the internet, I can't look up stuff on gOOgle or publish my Blog. I went back to Comcast where I got all those channels I wrote about in the past, and got what I need to have my own internet in the apartment. I set everything up and now I am in bidness. It is more resistant to failure as it resets itself quickly after brown-outs.

In a couple of hours I will call and or visit Marine Center to get my new air conditioner. The weather is getting cooler and by the time I install it, I probably won't need it. Unless Al Gore is right in which case maybe I should get two. The first month up here we never turned it on and slept with one or two windows slightly open. Speaking of windows, most homes up here have one size window, 27" wide by 53" tall double-hung, in white, with the same storm screen window combination outside. Unlike Florida where we have these huge panoramic windows everywhere and you have to order 12 foot wide blinds or drapes, there are only a few of these kinds of windows, and then only if you look out over the sea or some big view. Everywhere else, if you want more light, you add more of the same windows. Our living room has 6 of them strategically placed around the perimeter. Lots of wall space and easy placement of furniture because the sills are a little over 2 feet off the floor. There are no overhangs on the roofs. In Florida since the sun shines 23 hours a day, and it is hotter than Hell, you need large overhangs so the intense light and heat don't cook you in your home like a melted cheese sandwich in a toaster oven. Up here, they reduce the light and heat in the summer by a smaller glass/window area and in the winter, without the overhangs, you get the same light and heat from the Sun.

By the way, we use two expressions... "Cold as Hell" and "Hot as Hell." How can this be? It has to do with where on the globe the people live who coined the expression. In The coldness of Scandinavia, the Vikings' mythology described Hell as being a cold and frozen place because the worst thing that could happen to you is freezing to death. Hence it was their biggest fear and Hell was imparted with this horror. In warmer climes, like the Middle East where Christianity originated, our biggest fear was burning up in the desert and hence "Hot as Hell." Of course we also use the term in other situations now, as in "It's time for me to get the Hell out of here and do something useful."

RED PANTS in the SUNSET

Who knew that I would be wearing red pants this summer. Not just any red pants, mind you, but NANTUCKET red, which is a faded red. These pants are considered dress casual anywhere on the island. They might even rise to a more formal occasion...they're that important. There is one store that can call this color Nantucket Red, but there are several that sell the exact same color but call it all sorts of cutesy names. It's the same color and it comes in long and short pants, shirts, socks, belts, you name it. Men and women can wear it. It is usually worn alone or with one other accessory like a hat or socks. I have seen people dressed from head to toe in it but this is rare and "tacky." If you see someone anywhere else in the world and they are wearing pants this color, ask them how long they spend in Nantucket every year. They will smile and say "How did you know?"

Cold Hard Faith

Every man, wherever he goes, is encompassed by a cloud of comforting convictions, which move with him like flies on a summer day. Some of those convictions might involve the certainty of materialism, or just as easily, the condemnation of materialism and the celebration of faith in a grand deity and an ultimate reward to compensate for the lack of material success in the "here and now." Religion seems to be strongest where earthly rewards are weakest. If God did not exist, mankind would have certainly invented him, and perhaps he did. What do you think? Has anything happened in your life that gives you the same assurance of the existence of God as you would get of the existence of your income tax bill, for example? These material concerns are a sure thing...you don't have the money to pay the rent, you're out on the street. You hold up a convenience store, get caught, you go the the slammer. Cause and effect, hard facts, reward and punishment, right here. You have a business that sells widgets. You sell 2 million of them at a 50% profit, voila. You are a millionaire, before...taxes (see above). Sure, once in a while your friend sends you a photo in an e-mail of some naked chick standing on the beach on the French Riviera and you say to yourself "Yes, there has to be a God." Or you see a miraculous sunset or a cloudless starry night... But mostly, you wonder all the time, "What's it all about, Alfie?" My biggest conviction, is that I am absolutely unsure whether I am a material animal with no such thing as a soul, or a piece of God, made entirely of energy who always was and in some form always will be. I feel strongly both ways. Like agreeing to disagree, my conviction is to not have to choose.

HOT HOT HOT on de island

I complained to my landlord today. That's right, I live in a rented garage apartment. About once a week something goes awry that prompts me to say something. This week it is the air conditioning, or lack of it in the unseasonal 90 degree heatwave. We have two 5000 BTU air conditioners, one in the living room, which is not big enough by half to cool the 500 square foot space, and the other in the bedroom which is a bit long of tooth and grunts like the guy in Slingblade. They sell window units on Nantucket but not this week. They had one cheaper (Suplise...Chinese) unit in the Stop and Shop that I took home. The GE units will arrive at Marine Home Center on Thursday but there are only 40. Ah, the joys of island life. 'Ave annudah rum, mon. Evrytin' gonna be ahrite.

I felt like the monk who joined the monastery and took the vow of silence. Every five years he was allowed to say two words. At his first meeting with the abbot, he said "Food bad." Five years later he said "Bed hard." and finally, after being in the monastery for 15 years, he said "I Quit.' To which the abbot replied..."I'm not surprised. You've done nothing but complain since you got here."Anyway, it's not my landlords fault that "We're having a heat wave. A tropical heat wave."

The Kitty will be cooking home tonight. The two best restaurants in Nantucket are Famiglio's House of Pasta, and Casa de Kitty. Chicken and Noodles, spicy island style on the menu tonight. Nothing showing at the North Beach Theater ( our home ) since we forgot to check our P O Box for the Netflix mailings before the post office closed. Comcast's better than basic package has lots of channels to pick from and there's always MSNBC. My girl, Rachel Maddow, is in Afghanistan wearing an Army uniform, combat boots and no makeup, just like she does at home. If there's nothing else at all on, except test patterns and reruns of Gilligan's Island, I will tune in to see her.