To MEN IN BLACK everywhere, HAPPY NEW YEAR

Tonight's the night that will usher in 2011. It will be an odd year. I will be putting on my Tuxedo along with millions of other men so that we can stand neutrally beside our wives who will immediately go home to change if any other woman in the ballroom has on the same dress. I have a natural resistance to wearing the "uniform" of the night, though I have worn real uniforms for many years in one capacity or another. Removing one's individuality on purpose so as to blend in with ALL the other males and a few females in the room...same fabric, color, tie, shoes, seems wrong unless you are going out to kill the enemy. Isn't it the MALE peacock (the female is a peahen) that has all the colorful plumage?

Real uniforms have medals, multicolored ribbons, and sashes, bars and stars and stripes of gold. The dress versions are often blue and red. And yet here we are, on the cusp of a NEW YEAR, and I will be going into the special place in my closet where I keep my black wool tuxedo, white shirt, black tie, and shiny black patent leather shoes. It will look exactly like every other guy there. Sure some will be rentals, and mine is an Armani which I bought for my daughter's wedding a few years back because it was, in comparison to other expenses of the wedding, a "rounding error." Despite the expensive varieties of tuxedos, from Kiton, Brioni, and others, it would take a haberdasher from Saville Row, or the average prowling divorcee to tell the difference.

So tonight, even though the invitation says "Black" tie, I will chose one of another color (so long as it does not "clash" with whatever the Kitty finally decides to wear). Speaking of the Kitty, I will be dressed and downstairs watching TV waiting for her to finally begin the "trunk show" of her closet. "Which looks better...this or this? and Which shoes etc.?" Eventually, once our bedroom looks like someone lobbed in a grenade, and I hear the clop-clop-clop down our oak stairs of her size 5 1/2 Manolos, I will know that soon we will be on our way, just in time for the last 5 minutes of the cocktail hour. She will be gorgeous in something that I will say "Is that new?" And she will say " No, I wore it at the Schmendrake wedding, don't you remember?" We will leave in her car because I can't stand to hand mine over to a sweaty teenage valet who has been running back and forth all night. Then I get in the driver's seat in my wool tuxedo and stick to the seat, while the Kitty sits in the passenger side and tells me to turn up the heat since the transparent wrap she brought to cover her bare shoulders is not enough, "Can I borrow your jacket?" Giorgio takes a brief trip to the dry cleaners the next day, then returns to my closet where he will await his turn to once again blend in with all the other tuxedoes at the next Black-Tie event. Happy New Year.

3 MONTHS AGO, and I can still taste it

The Kitty and the Oracle went to Something Natural, our favorite Nantucket sandwich place 3 months ago. This is my "signature" sandwich from there; oatmeal bread, smoked turkey, lettuce, tomato, and hot mustard, with a slice or two of swiss cheese. Sitting in an open Jeep Wrangler, on a sunny day, sharing a sandwich on Nantucket Mmmm...hard to beat.

The NEW QUEEN of WHITETRASHSYLVANIA

AWFUL SHAME that the lovely Christine O'Donnell seems to be embroiled in so many controversies. One would think that she has dethroned Tonya Harding and Gretchen Wilson as white-trash-Barbie. She is very articulate and when I was researching her "quotes" I came upon a left wing blog where they listed many of them in an attempt to prove her incompetence. I read them and agreed with every one of her opinions. Even today she is defending herself on charges of campaign finance irregularities. It used to be mostly that "witch" thing that she had to fend off.

I don't think the American press will allow her to run for anything ever again but I think that she will remain visible for one reason or another. Her highest and best use is as a lightning rod to bring out the left wing crazies and raise money for the Tea Party. In that regard, she is Nancy Pelosi's counterpart only without the years of public disservice. Queen Nancy's highest and best use is to rally the left wing crazies and raise money for the Tea Party.

CHRISTMAS at the CASA de ORACLE

Planning to leave most of the culinary comments to my daughter-in-law the "nibbler" who writes a foodie blog at notablenibbles.blogspot.com. My comments are more sociological and cultural. First of all, my 2 1/2 year old grandchildren were here and at no time during the day could anyone but Hellen Keller not be aware of their presence. As a scientist I have a solution to the global energy problem...find some way to attach a generator to all the 2 year olds in the world. Maybe large Gerbil wheels...I will leave that to the engineers.

We had tenderloin which was cooked to perfection which means I could get a piece from the end that was well done, and the folks who like it still mooing can take theirs from the center. There was a Honey-Baked ham. What, you think we cooked it? And lots of starchy things with cheese and cream. We had the traditional Ashkenazi Kugel which went nicely with Barbra Streisand and Neil Diamond singing Christmas carols. Very ecumenical. And of course, my favorite of any gathering... Pecan Pie. Having lived all over the country, this dessert can be pronounced Pa-cahn or Pee-can depending. Be specific when requesting Pee-can in Alabama, you never know. Whichever, it is yummy. There were hundreds of presents under the tree. I got one or two as did the other adults, but the grand babies had the rest. They went at the packages like an Asplundh tree shredder goes after a Melaleuca. There was paper everywhere (note to self...preventing identity theft by document shredding...consider child labor). and their faces were aglow. There had to be two of most things or a fistfight might have broken out. They are twins.

Last night we watched sisters Nancy and Ann Wilson, "Heart" the rock and roll band, on Palladia TV. One is blonde, wiry, and jumps around a lot while playing the guitar. The other is Brunette, more placid, and more vocal as she gently sways behind the microphone. It would have been great to see the Wilson girls as 2 year olds. I think I got a glimpse on Christmas Day.

BECOMING YOUR OWN PARENTS

There is not a child alive who has not said and perhaps continues to believe that his/her parents are a couple of idiots. Residents of cloud-cuckoo-land who did not know how life should be lived and who are clueless about modern day existence. Nothing they say or believe could have any relevance to my life. I know that I went through this in my teens at least and perhaps a little later. Eventually I either let it go or began to appreciate that from time to time one or two of their opinions had a little merit.

All the while, having within us, many of those same idiosyncrasies and annoying certitudes as they had or have. Perhaps that old psychological axiom of hating characteristics in others that we ourselves possess applies here. Anyhow, my point is that we have a choice. We can step back and think of how we were raised and look at our parents if they are still alive and dissect their "ways." What are those things that you are glad they imposed on you? Or at least made available to you? How many of those things have made you a better happier or more successful person, and how many of them have lead you to Rehab?

Can you see yourself choosing from this list and for unknown reasons keeping the "bad" alive in the way you conduct your own life and how you raise your children? You can pick choose and refuse now that you are no longer a child under their domination and yet... you continue to blame all that is bad on how you were raised, and believe that all that is good is due to your own hard work. Look in the mirror? Have you become your parents? Is that a good thing? Entirely? You can craft your own life now? You have permission. Like making a meal, just because your mother considered black pepper "Just too spicy" doesn't mean that you can't mix a Habanero pepper into your next family dinner. How did they limit themselves? What put the ceiling on their lives... their immigrant parents? Religion? The Great Depression? Do you need to repeat this cycle or are you resigned to the idea that it's too late, I've already been formed completely and as Caesar said as he crossed the Rubicon "Alea jacta est (the die is cast)?"

VELVETEEN RABBIT

No, this is NOT one of my favorite movies, it is however a favorite Metaphor for life. If you are observant, and one should be lest one get run over etc., you can take an itsy bitsy out of body trip from time to time to watch yourself and how you relate or at times don't relate to those around you. And most important of all, how you can become invisible or "not-real" sort of the opposite of what happened to the Velveteen Rabbit. Don't tell me you don't remember that story. Rabbits are important in literature, take Alice in Wonderland, any story by John Updike and of course "Of Mice and Men." But I refer to Velveteen because in that story, as a result of the love and attention of a little child, this stuffed rabbit goes from a flattened mass of alopecia into a living being.

The opposite can happen as well. Because of the artificial importance we give to other things in life, gifts, work, social obligations, and the like, we can ignore those humans that are near and dear to us, take them for granted, and over time, they become un-real, inanimate, and are relegated to the pile of junk in the great toy-box of life buried among mismatched puzzle pieces and random legos. Making something real again is a more difficult process. All it takes to make someone un-real is to ignore them long enough, take them for granted, assume they are OK, and "fritter away the day in detail about all those important things that have to get done." Eventually, like a houseplant left at home while you go away on vacation, you come back to a leafless stick. Ever try to resuscitate a leafless stick? See what I mean?

Going back to my not-favorite movie, in the film, The Bruce Willis character is omnipresent. He contributes and is "there" and communicates with a young man. You don't learn until later in the film that Bruce is dead, which finally explains why nobody but this young man who can "See dead people" hears or acknowledges anything he says. So, go back to that out-of-body observation point where you can look down from above, as has been reported in people who have cardiac arrest and are then revived, and see how people really relate to you and you to them. Are you invisible in your own home, office, on the street? Are others invisible to you? Is this whole thing a Quantum Physics conundrum in which none of us is real and all of existence is a cloud of energy? Hmmm? To be or not to be, that is the question.

WISEGUY

A man was photographed going through a red light by one of those new cameras. There is a perception out there in civilian land that this is not only intrusive but illegal. Whether that is true or not, folks tend to think they can get away with this better than they can with an eyewitness and a police officer pulling them over and writing a ticket in person.

When this man received the ticket and photo in the mail he thought that "if all they have of me is a photo, then I'll just send in a photo of money as payment, HA HA." Upon receiving the photo of money, the police department sent back a photo of handcuffs. The fine was paid.

GUINNESS JUST CALLED

They wanted to put me in their book for most number of Blog posts per added comment by followers.

I DON'T want to turn into my parents

When I was a teenager, my parents were as judgmental as they could be about rock and roll and our idols, like Elvis Presley. They called him "Elvis Pelvis" and "Enis Penis" because of the way he gyrated his hips on stage. I was not swooning like my female counterparts but I did enjoy his music immensely and played it non-stop. I was reminded of this judgmentalism when I thought about the social networking, tweeting, facebooking, MySpaceing, and of course the incessant texting that goes on between our youth. I shall resist looking down my liver spot infested nose at these young people and the drivel that occupies their day as I am sure I was the same at their age. We had essentially no electronics except a phonograph and an AM radio (with tubes), later Black and White and then a ROUND color TV. I remember my first pocket calculator in the early 70s. It cost about $150 and could add, subtract, multiply, divide, do square roots and had memory 1 and 2. You get a better one now with a Happy Meal for free. Today I carry an iPhone that can make calls, text, internet, e-mail, and 1,000,000 other applications. If I had pulled this phone out of my pocket in 1970, they would have burned me at the stake as a witch. Especially in Maryland and Salem Massachusetts.

So I will NOT be an old judgmental bastard and believe that our country is going to Hell in a hand basket because of what I have read on Twitter and Facebook. Instead I will give it a good trial period before I conclude as I did with RAP Music and Hip Hop that it is complete crap.

TWITTER? Twittilation?

Some young person convinced me that I should get a Twitter and Facebook account so I did. Out of the first 4 messages (tweets) that I got, three of them were for erectile dysfunction and male enhancement. I hope it gets better. So far the random tweets are worse than spam, and when I looked on the pages of some young people in college to see what they were writing, I got a sudden lack of confidence in the future of our country. OMG.

When I went into practice about 35 years ago, my waiting room was filled on my first day. Unfortunately it was filled with drug detail men, copier salesmen, and druggies whose dog ate their prescription and they just need a few narcotics to tide them over until they get back to Ohio. This was my Twitter experience on opening day, only they are trying to sell me the drugs.

I will keep you posted as to my progress with this. I was advised that going on social networking sites will increase exposure for this blog. I linked it to Facebook and Twitter and we shall see. I really enjoy writing this stuff. I wish I could get more exposure. Maybe the male enhancement medication will help.

ATTRACTIVE BLONDE on her way to SARASOTA

Sandy the grand-dog is on Alligator Alley on her way to join us for Christmas. Accompanied by her parents.

SARASOTA GOES DIGITAL

A NEW CELLPHONE for the citizens of Sarasota. Makes AND receives calls. Also makes a good paperweight. No other confusing functions. Comes with extension cord for use outside the house.

SIESTA KEY

It's on the WEST coast of Florida, the side that was originally settled by people from the midwest not New York and New Jersey but that has changed. The beaches are way cooler than the EAST coast, Ft. Lauderdale, Miami, etc. but we do have many more members of AARP who drive in the left lane with their left turn indicator on for miles and stay 20 mph below the speed limit. When you have to pass them on the right, they give you a dirty look, through the steering wheel.

TORTOISE TERRORISM

Sarasota Herald Tribune, today, there was an article about a man who owns property and planned to build a 2.5 million dollar home on it. The State Attorney's office in Ft. Myers charged the owner with killing protected reptiles (Gopher Tortoises) and if he were convicted he could have served 60 years in PRISON. Fortunately there was a mistrial. Folks, this is a type of environmental terrorism. No not the land owner but the state against its citizens. Your government has taken your rights away in the name of some endangered turtle. And you take this lying down?

Doctor Hassan, the man who is accused of killing a dozen people at Fort Hood Texas deserves 60 years in prison. The guy that Shot John Lennon or that guy Charles Manson, sure, but a turtle killer? This is ridiculous. Sure we should protect our endangered species and a heavy fine, maybe even a VERY heavy fine for killing turtles is reasonable. But to have granted the State the right to imprison a man for killing a turtle is an abomination. When did turtles rise to the level of human life? and imprisoning a man for 60 years is taking away his life. Is this the country we fought the Revolutionary War to create? The environmental whacko Birkenstock crowd has finally taken over and their insanity is now codified in the black letter law of our state. Abortion, no problem. Roman Polanski an unsung hero. Kill a turtle or pet a dolphin? You're goin' up the river for a loooooong time, Buddy.

MERRY CHRISTMAS TO THE KITTY

Every once in a while after some encouragement like bringing out her laptop, turning it on, going to my blog site and placing it in her lap. The Kitty will actually read this blog. In the hopes that somewhere between cooking Christmas Dinner and helping my daughter take care of her babies, she might have a minute to read this.

Hello Kitty, I love you.

INTERNET COMMON KNOWLEDGE

If you Google Progressive Insurance you will find numerous articles about its Chairman Peter B. Lewis and his "ties" to organized far left causes, in the model of George Soros. Other than this Ditzy Biatch who is the front person for Progressive (Is it just coincidence that the name if the company and then new name liberals have resurrected for themselves is the same?) what do we really know about this huge insurance company and its Billionaire leader? I encourage you to do your own mini-research into this company and if you are in agreement with the support given to far left causes outlined on the internet (Must be a valid place to gent information otherwise Al Gore would not have invented it) then get your insurance from Progressive. Otherwise.....

START ME UP

The START treaty between the US and Russia is the latest in the hugely successful disarmament agreements we have had since the invention of the stick and rock. Efforts to disarm have increased since the invention of Nuclear weapons. Our Senate and House of Representatives RUSHED to passage of this legislation, again without actually reading it, as is their tradition. The lame duck session shoved this through as if we would have WW3 by next Tuesday if we didn't. After much fanfare and the signing of the agreement by our President with a dozen pens so everybody could get a souvenir pen for their collection, they announced to the world that we were on the cusp of global safety as a result of this landmark treaty. The Russian response was a deafening "We are not ready to sign and are going to take our sweet time and maybe get to it in a month or so."

I don't know about the rest of you but personally, I feel much more at ease knowing that the remaining nuclear weapons AFTER the treaty will only be capable of blowing up the entire world 100 times over rather than 200 times over as they were before the treaty. I guess we could call it the bigger particle treaty after the size of the pieces of Earth that would remain after we nuked one another with the weapons we had left. If this trend continues we might have no nuclear weapons by the year 2525, except for Iran and North Korea who are not signatories to this treaty. Here's an opportunity we have not though of before...what if we sell our nukes to Iran and North Korea and some unstable African Dictatorships for a whole lot of money? We could get rid of that huge federal deficit and the nukes with one move. Just saying.

GOING ON WALKABOUT

Or driveabout as the case may be. The Christmas Holidays are upon us and the inevitable next holiday's "Resolutions" can't be far behind. Yes, fans, it's that time of year again. New Year's Eve and those promises we make to ourselves.."I will not eat like a pig anymore, I will go to the gym 3 times a week, and I will not max-out my credit cards with no hope of repaying before they bang-me-out with a 30% interest rate. " There are others but you get the idea.

Most of my resolutions from 2010 lasted well into January 2nd. Some were kept. This year I am compiling my list with an eye towards making them easier to keep. This is sort of like giving up Broccoli for Lent. I have not finalized them as yet but I am thinking along the lines of "Never pass a Starbucks without buying a Caramel Machiato double espresso frapuccino. " There are others but I will disclose those on New Year's Day. There will be resolutions that involve the Walkabout project. For those of you that are unfamiliar with the term, a "Walkabout" is an Australian tradition where men just take time out of their regular lives, jobs etc. and roam around doing whatever to "find themselves and recharge their batteries." Getting out of the usual rut whatever that might be, and not necessarily traveling in the physical sense. I guess whatever the usual is... doing something other than that is the core essence of Walking About.

CAPTIVE KITTY

JOINT e-MAIL ADDRESSES

I have several friends who share email addresses with their wives. I send what I send to them and that includes all manner of (I will say three Hail Marys) smut, nudity and raunchy humor. Then periodically I will get an email message from the same address from the Mrs. thanking me for writing on such and such an issue on my blog, and I say to myself "WTF?" How do they handle the logistics of this? If the wife opens the email and it is entitled "3 pole dancers and a donkey" does she say "Honey it's for you." And if he sees something while he is on the computer from Saks, advertising triple points day.. does he leave it unopened? Or do they both look at everything? This is troubling. Some of these folks are in the health professions and are therefore more earthy than the average person and their wives have become inured to this kind of content over the decades of their marriages. The Kitty for example is impossible to shock unless there is someone else there in which case she kicks me under the table. Call it etiquette.

In the old days when we used "snail mail" and it came in an envelope, sometimes a plain brown one, there was an expectation that if you sent half-naked pictures of Raquel Welch to your friend, his wife would not open it. Email is similar when each has his or her own address. This BobSuzie@hotmail.com thing throws me. Call me old fashioned but unlike Bret Favre, I don't usually like to send neked pictures to women folk.

DON'T ASK DON'T LOOK

It's official. Don't ask don't tell is a thing of the past. Openly gay soldiers may now serve (as if this will cause an immediate mad rush to join the military). In keeping with the new ethic, new uniforms have been released today. Representative Barney Frank models one for us. We will now be able to easily defeat the Talliban as they will be laughing their asses off and unable to hold onto their rifles. Barney, it's just "not you."

PUT THE "X" BACK IN CHRISTMAS

It is a common misconception that X-MAS as a substitute for Christmas is somehow a slap in the face to CHRISTIANITY. Actually, the "X" in X-mas is not "X" as in "solve for X the unknown variable" or "X as in X-men" it is "X' as in the symbol pictured here. Two greek letters, Chi (X) and Rho (p) were combined together to make Chi-Rho the symbol for Christ. While there is a certain secularization going on in America with Happy Holidays and Happy Kwanzaa replacing Christmas, and the X-mas form seems to play into that, it is really not secular.

Back in the days when you could get crucified for looking cross eyed at the Emperor of Rome, Christians had to hide their religion for everyone yet have some way to identify themselves to other Christians. It usually involved drawing a fish or a cross or even a Chi-Rho in the dirt with a stick and if the other guy was a Christian too you could proceed from there. If you got no response you rubbed out the crude dirt drawing with your foot and moved on. The "X" has been an acceptable replacement for the cross for centuries. Now for an interesting story about just how much the X is associated with Christ.

The word kike was born on Ellis Island when Jewish immigrants who were there were also illiterate (or could not use Latin alphabet letters), when asked to sign the entry-forms with the customary 'X,'* refused, because they associated an X with the cross of Christianity, and instead made a circle. The Yiddish word for 'circle' is kikel (pronounced KY-kul), and for 'little circle,' kikeleh (pronounced ky-kul-uh). Before long the immigration inspectors were calling anyone who signed with an 'O' instead of an 'X' a kikel or kikeleh or kikee or, finally and succinctly, kike.

FRIENDS, ROMANS, COUNTRYMEN....

LEND ME YOUR EARS. The blogpost-de-jour is about hearing. Most of us do not arrive at their later years with perfect hearing. There is a natural degradation that happens and all those years of exposure to noise don't help. Then there are those whose hearing deteriorates because of some familial disorder like otosclerosis where the tiny bones of the ear get all hardened and calcified and do not transmit sound well. They are shown on the diagram as the malleus, incus, and stapes, which are latin words for hammer, anvil and something else I don't remember. I know it is not stapler.

If you don't pay attention in school when you are young, there is a good chance that you will not get a decent indoor, or outdoor for that matter, job and your income will be limited. Couple that with driving around town in your car with the 2000 Watt Stereo blasting at full volume or walking with your iPod turned up to "stun" and you won't even be able to hear the answer to that proverbial question "Do you want fires with that?" So much for the young people. What's with bands and orchestras at wedding playing so loudly that you can't talk at the table and it is painful to be in front of the band on the dance floor. The excuse is that the people like the energy and the vibration and the band is only responding to the demands of the audience. Next time...look at the band members. They are wearing custom molded earplugs. Are you?

GOOD MOTHERING

Being a parent is not an easy job. There are pitfalls everywhere that you have to protect your little ones from. It never ends. My kids are in their 30s and a day does not go by that I don't think about their health and safety and happiness. Somehow I deluded myself into believing that once they got out of high school or at the latest, college...that would be it...sayonara, adios, aloha, whatever. No more worries. Well you can kiss that good bye. The Kitty keeps her cell phone on (plugged into the charger) all night in case one of the "kids" needs to reach us and our home phone is not working. Every 10 years or so we do get an important call which reinforces the necessity of keeping the phone on for the other 3649 nights. Mostly we get calls at 3 am with some drunk asking if the bus goes by here.

This is one of those things that no one can fully appreciate until they are a parent. It seems so silly to spend any energy worrying about your kids once they are old enough to have kids of their own. A few years ago we were at a dinner, at a table of folks much older that we are and were talking about our "kids" and what they were doing. Blah Blah. An 80ish year old guy on the other side of the table joined the conversation by saying " I have 4 kids. They're all on Medicare." He still worried about them.

WHO COULD HAVE SEEN THIS COMING?

Congressman Vern Buchanan made today's Sarasota Herald Tribune front page. Being generally right of center politically, he would never get this honor except when the paper had something negative to report. This had to be something really special to dispossess the usual front page article "Nancy Pelosi walks on water, again."

It's not that I am heading up the Vern For Congress campaign but generally he seems to think like a businessman and not like a social worker. I think that is a good thing in a politician. Unfortunately he seems to be having a hand-in-the-cookie-jar moment. Today's paper describes a scheme in which a former business partner of our congressman/used car dealer allegedly coerced his employees into donating to his campaign and then would reimburse them for their donation...in clear violation of election laws. And you know how fair those are, ACORN. Anyway, if Vern were a Democrat, the paper would not likely have put this news on page one, perhaps because folks like Charlie Rangel are not held to much of a standard and Republicans being the preachy holier-than thou moralists that they are make the best targets. At least that's the impression I get from reading the paper.

We had a guy here in Sarasota who did this same thing and had to go away to Federal Prison from 6 months...Camp Cupcake with Martha Stewart I believe. On his return, tanned and with an improved golf score, he was forbidden to ever go into the insurance business again. Naturally, 15 milliseconds later... he was back in...insurance. Our very effective regulatory system failed once again to do anything but make life difficult for folks who try to do the right thing but nothing to thwart those who are schemers.

It's going to be interesting to see if this politician will be implicated legally as much as he was damned by association with his ex-business partner in the paper. Who could have seen this one coming? A dishonest car dealer? And the severe punishment that Rangel got... a letter in his file and having to write "I was a Bad Boy" 100 times...I wonder if this will be Vern's fate as well. And, will this whole sordid mess give politics a bad name?

YOUR CHRISTMAS CARD

YES this is the Christmas card for all my loyal readers, No, it is not my family. It is a Canadian family named Trudeau that got in all sorts of "trouble" for having their photo taken in real fur. I appreciate their "I don't care what you think" attitude. They are Canadians, and without fur, there would not have ever been a Canada, so I guess they are saying to PETA, "kiss my Coyote."

I was going to send out cards again this year as I have in the past with expensive foil envelopes, hand signed, a little note about what we have been doing since last year, and of course a 44 cent US postage stamp. The economy is in the crapper and to help preserve capital I did not buy the card, envelope, or stamp and have sent this free one to all of you. If you are on my Christmas list, you are probably on my email list too and I have sent you the link to my blog. So to all of you out there... MERRY CHRISTMAS, and wear fur, it kept the original owner warm and probably will do the same for you. Good will, and Hunting... sounds like a good title for a movie.

The THIRD WORLD

I have had some discussions of late with some friends and relatives who come from the third world and are supportive of the way of life there. Which begs the question. "Then why are you living in America?" You can put a three pointed star on a donkey or lipstick on a pig and they are what they are....a donkey and a pig.

There is not a culture on this planet that does not have SOMETHING to teach us, or some virtues that we could profit from. These two-edged cultural swords are yin-yang, simultaneously dark-light, positive-negative. Take the "manana" attitude (Changes in Latitudes, Changes in Attitudes by Jimmy Buffett) and the restful lack of urgency for everything, sitting in the shade with your sombrero pulled down over your eyes with your faithful donkey tethered beside you. Restful, of course. Food on the table...not so much. This casual nonchalance is so good that all the Mexicans stay in their own country because it' just perfect down there. On the other hand... the frenetic pace in our cities and the "artificial urgency" of everything that has to be done (4 shots of espresso) this minute, is also not good for a person. There are places for this kind of approach to life. I know that if and when I have to go to the Trauma Center, I want the frenetic doctor, not the one in the sombrero.

What about a hybrid, or importing attitudes along with people to our land? Unfortunately, another yin-yang event, with the placid "con calma, tranquilo" folks come the "get the F out of my way ones who lean on the horn the instant the light turns green or go through a light 30 seconds after it turns red because that is the accepted practice in Monterrey. So, is East East and West West and never the twain shall meet? Or, do we have a chance to learn the good lessons of the third world without falling prey to the parts that my friends seem to forget? You know those parts...lack of consideration for others on the road or when playing the radio; not following our laws and not paying our taxes; and of course, not speaking our language (whatever the Hell that is now). Anyhow, it's time for my nap...now where's my damn sombrero?

MEDITERRANEO RESTAURANT in SARASOTA

A group of us went to the Mediterraneo Restaurant in downtown Sarasota last night from some italian food. I am not in competition with tripadvisor.com or many of the other fine restaurant reviewing sites out there like notablenibbles.blogspot.com. My review may say some of the same things like "great food, too noisy" but those are independent opinions of mine that I have come to after many visits to this place. It is located right across the street from the largest movie theater complex in Sarasota, which is also a sh*t magnet for skateboarders and other miscellaneous gothic creatures. Entering and leaving the restaurant, one must pass through a fog of smoke and gaggle of white kids dressed like Snoop Dog. But, once inside, the noise is deafening. My wife, the Kitty, kept saying "It's like being transported to some bistro in New York." I thought to myself. "Yeah, one located on the Lexington Avenue Subway tracks." Being a senior citizen and having spent many years shooting guns and listening to rock and roll, sometimes simultaneously, I can't hear that well to begin with. Conversation at a round table for 6 can be a challenge for me. I think I agreed to take my grandchildren to Disney World...either that, of my daughter wanted me to pass the foccacia bread. I will never know.

There is no draught beer, but they have the italian brands Moretti and Perroni, among others. The food is excellent. Northern Italian and Southern (red sauce or no red sauce) are equally represented. I had a lasagna that was covered with cheese. The notable nibbler would have swooned. I recommend this restaurant for its fine cuisine and service. Learning American Sign Language before you go would be helpful.

DON'T ASK, DON'T TELL, DON"T TOUCH ME

Well, that does it. The Senate has finally voted (the house previously) to eliminate that pesky military policy that has been the law for 17 years..."Don't ask, don't tell" when it comes to gays serving in the United States military. From now on, once the president signs the new law, openly gay men and women will be able to serve in all the military branches. Mark my words, there will be some changes, changes you can believe in, starting with the before and after uniforms above. Not that the original Marine Corps (corpse to Mr. President) was ever all that butch what with the gold and red and blue but things are going to get even more interesting. I Understand that along with Martin Marietta, Haliburton, and American General (maker of the Humvee, which may take on a whole new meaning) there is a big government contract going out to Hunter-Douglas and Levolor. The Star Spangled Banner will be sung by Barbra Streisand. And the military "blouse (shirt for you civilians)" for women soldiers will be made of flannel.

Whatever you may think about unfairness and segregation in the "old" army, it just was not true. I remember the first day at basic training and the drill sergeant saying "There are no black people in the Army. There are no white people in the Army. There are only GREEN people. Now I want the dark green people to stand over here, and the light green people to stand over there." There are way too many clever things to say about sneaking in behind enemy lines, so I shall just end this post here and let you think up the next joke.

FEEDBACK

This Blog began 7 months ago in Nantucket as a way to express myself by writing to an audience. If you only write for yourself, then that is called a journal or a diary. This medium, blogging, is a tremendous leap of faith. If you write a book, you have sales numbers. Go on TV and you have a Nielsen rating. Newspapers have circulation numbers. When you tell a joke at a table, people either laugh or they don't. You get what is known as feedback. Regardless of who you are, feedback is important. A woman at a fashionable event like a black-tie Ball, enjoys positive comments about her dress, hair, shoes, or purse. An athlete enjoys having people line up to get an autograph. Performers live for applause, even when they have more money than Fort Knox.... Mick Jagger, for example.

Anything that can be classed as entertainment, by definition, is dependent to some degree on feedback from the readership or audience. This can include good reviews, or bad. Either way, it is about the echo or the bounce back that comes once you broadcast your art form. Without that echo, it is as if the sound never happened, like the old metaphysical axiom "If a tree falls in the forest and there is no one there to hear it, is there really a sound?

Two men are walking in the woods when one of them is bitten in the ass by a rattle snake. This is not that story where the other guy calls the doctor... in this story, the companion takes out his knife, makes two small "X" incisions where the fangs penetrated and sucks out the poison. The man who was bitten did well. This is how you can tell who your friends are.

INSERTIONS (......)

Belonging to a private yacht and tennis club is very nice. Not that I/We play at yachting or tennis but we do eat there a lot. Every month they mail out a bulletin. It is filled with articles about the club that most people would not read...UNLESS...there were something in it for them like a picture of them, a complimentary review of their tennis prowess, or...the best of all...an insertion of the name and membership number of a club member (where's Waldo) into the text of one of the articles. This forces members to read every word in the hope that they will find their name and win a free bottle of wine.

I have had some concerns about who reads and who does not read my blog. I suspect that there are some secret followers out there who will not admit to reading, do not email me, and do not post comments. So, in an effort to "smoke-em out" I will INSERT something about them into the text of my blog postings and perhaps, like when my club members find their name and number, they might win a free bottle of wine. Bonnie. Or maybe, if they do not follow these musings, they will miss out on that vintage Mad-Dog 20/20.

CATWOMAN, aka Aunt MAE

Aunt Mae, my father's sister, was a "catwoman." Unfortunately, she was not at all that other kind of Catwoman like Halle Berry seen in the photo above. She was one of those people who lived alone and had lots of cats and then one day passersby smell something funny and they call the police and they break in and find that the owner had died a long time ago and was sitting mummified in a rocking chair like Tony Curtis' mother in Psycho and all the cats were roaming all over the house.

This did not actually happen to my aunt, she died years ago in a civilized way but I will never forget her, particularly around Christmas. While my parents and all my relatives would go to the store and buy me a Christmas present like a shirt or whatever, my Aunt Mae would go a whole 'nother road less traveled. Her husband was a Merchant Marine sea captain who spent years in the orient. In fact I only met him once in my life and I think my Aunt didn't spend much more time with him... he had the wanderlust, accent on the lust. Instead of coming home he would send gifts all year from the various places he would stop.

Every year, about the middle of December, my Aunt Mae would get a big box and make more room for the cats by putting many of those things into the box and wrapping it. That would be my favorite present. It would have anything in there from a Samurai sword to a gold watch in need of taking apart. Maybe this year, some of my relatives, instead of giving me another Barbra Streisand or Josh Groban CD would just walk around their house and put a bunch of crap they don't want into a big box, wrap it and give it to me for Christmas. One man's crap is another man' treasure. Merry Christmas, Aunt Mae, wherever you are.

PLASTIC

Years ago, in the movie "the Graduate" Dustin Hoffman was given the advice that the future was in "Plastic." Shortly after that we purchased a plastic Christmas tree and decorated it with all manner of ornaments. Over the years, we have added to this tree. When the kids were little they made paper mache' cookies, and popsicle stars, and strung elbow macaroni on fishing line. We still have these. Of course there are a few $30 dollar "designer" cut glass ornaments too but they get lost among the more sentimental ones.

Every year, right after Thanksgiving I begin to curse and swear that I am going to have to unpack the *#%$$!! storage closet under our stairs to get way into the back so I can drag out our pre-decorated plastic tree. Then one morning I just bite the bullet and schlep all the Chazzerai (my homage to Channukah) out of the closet and retrieve the tree. I put the shelves and water and paper products back only to do it all again in early January when the tree goes back into hibernation. Tradition!

About an hour after I put up the tree and the Kitty put the finishing touches on it, our grandchildren arrived at our house for a short visit. One of them said "They have a Christmas tree in this house." as if we were Taliban and wouldn't have erected one for the holidays. I fully expect that next year when they arrive they will say "They have the same Christmas tree they had last year." These kids are smart. Even hanging an automobile pine air freshener as one of the ornaments won't fool them. We may just have to go "real" for 2011. Nah, plastic is the future.

Osama bin Rudolph

Last year I was awakened in the middle of the night by this God-awful noise on my roof. I have barrel tile, the orange terracotta ones. Notwithstanding the Ho Ho Ho nonsense, the clacking noise was deafening. Fortunately these tiles are self cleaning so Reindeer poop did not prove to be the problem I expected it would be.

Thanks to the incessant public service ethic of our politicians, I believe I will have a better night's sleep this coming December 24th, unless I get a little too much egg nog. The absence of their leader should go a long way toward preventing the cacaphony incident of last year. As we all know from listening to government reports, it does not make any difference how many terrorists, drug dealers, or may I add, reindeer you have, when you kill their leader, they scatter like roaches and you will have "won." For example, once we have dispatched Osama bin Laden, the world will once again be at peace. It sure as Hell worked with the war on drugs at the border. We have worked our way through more decks of cards of famous terrorists than the average blackjack table in Vegas and yet... there are more. Number two becomes number one, and so on into the night. Yet, I believe my government and their optimism because of my personal mantra "My government, right or wrong." In fact I have a quilt with that famous quote from JFK on it, hanging over my bed..."Ask not what your country can do for you, but rather what you can do for your country." And that is this year's Christmas message..."The government is always more important than the individual." Thanks, Karl.

In this season, what with Santa flying the missing reindeer formation over my house, my only prayer is that will can eventually capture or kill everybody around the world who disagrees with us because as Santa knows, some of them have been just plain naughty. Oh wait...my friends have given me feedback on my blog that my humor is sometimes a bit... mean spirited. So may I close on a warm fuzzy note... "You think turkey and dressing is good for a family Christmas:? You haven't lived 'til you've tasted Reindeer tartar." Thanks, Sarah. You betcha.

GIRLS CANT BE TRUSTED

Clearly. women are more likely to steal the toilet paper out of public restrooms as evidenced by the lock on the door. In a world of complete gender equality, what else could this mean?

I MISS the ICE RINK in NANTUCKET

Loyal followers of this blog know that the best Thai food on Nantucket can be found at Siam-to-Go at the Ice Rink. On our return to Sarasota we have gone out for Thai a couple of times but with the Christmas Holidays, it just seems a little out of place. We have had Middle Eastern Hummus and Babaganoush a few times, but then again, these dishes were more likely what was served at Jesus' home than turkey and cranberry sauce. Thai food? Not likely. Buddha's home? Probably had something like Pad Thai. Moses...this brings me to that important historical fact...We are living in the 2010th year AD. In the Hebrew calendar, this is the year 5771...which means that there was a 3000 year period in history that Jews couldn't order chinese food. For those of the Italian persuasion, spaghetti is a Chinese invention. We have had a lot of pasta since returning to Sarasota. My favorite family-style restaurant, Demetrio's, is a regular stop.

After New Year's and well after the Winter Solstice (Saturnalia) on December 25th, We will once again go to Pacific Rim, or Bangkok, or Thailand and order something "Hot" with a Sapporo beer and a dish of edamame. In the meantime... Honeybaked ham. roast turkey, and all the trimmings, just like we had on Thanksgiving, will have to do.

CHICK FOOD

Food can be divided into "Chick" food and "Guy" food. This photo has all of the elements of the former. There are tomatoes, there is lettuce, a light dressing, and it is in a small bowl. There are a few other unidentifiable veggies that also taste like the dressing. That is, after all the essence of salad. By itself, it has NO taste, until you put on the dressing. Real chick food uses Low-fat or no-cal balsamic vinegarette. To bias this in a direction that would make it edible to a man, a change in dressing to... Barbecue sauce, or Bleu Cheese with all the calories left in, might help, but not much. If you are a guy, and this is your idea of a meal, consider a career change to Interior design or Ballet. Cancel your ESPN channels on TV and save some money. This is one of my daughter-in-law's creations. And it does taste good, as a side dish. That is the real purpose of salad. It was never intended to stand on its own as an entre'.

Consider the lowly hamburger. It has all of the major food groups represented. There is the Bun, often with natural seeds on it. The meat, of course, and as we know, cows eat nothing but grass, so this is vegetarian by proxy. There is an onion ring, a leaf of lettuce, a slice of tomato, and catsup (ketchup) another vegetable (ask President Reagan.) A slice of cheddar or American cheese is optional. Voila, the perfect male salad on a bun. All the vegetables you need for the day, unless you are in the mood for a Pizza later on, in which case, add peppers and onions. So maybe "Chick" food and "Guy" food are not so different after all. It's just that we are more conscious of our protein intake and add cheese and meat. Call us health conscious if you must.

I WONDER WHY TRAFFIC IS SO SLOW TODAY?

I was driving from my home on Siesta Key. I line of cars moved slowly in front of me. I figured it was some construction. One by one the cars made turns to the right or left. All except one that was traveling at 20 miles per hour (MPH) in a 40 MPH zone. As I approached the car in front of me, the license plate became readable. Apparently, the driver came all the way down from Michigan for the chance to drive slowly in Florida. Based on the plate number, this was pre-meditated.

EMILY POST ....Who?

Emily Post is famous for writing a book of rules about what is right and what is wrong from the standpoint of etiquette. She has dictated to generations of people rules about wedding invitations, thank you notes, bringing a gift when visiting a friend's home, and the like. I am not very conscious of these things but fortunately my wife, The Kitty, and my daughter are up to speed on these things. For my part, I have an almost pathological resistance to rules like these and have frequently told the following joke…”Why do Junior Leaguers dislike Orgies? All those thank-you notes to write.”

I am aware of the reasons behind Emily Post. It was not just about doing the socially correct thing, it was about taking a moment to consider the feelings of others regardless of how busy you are. Emily codified this by implying that you were an uncivilized clod if you did not immediately and forthwith send a thank you note for a gift received, for example, a wedding present. With the casual nature of the internet today where “I” isn’t even capitalized (as if we were all little e.e. cumming clones) and it is considered an imposition to have to open and read a “thank-you” reply and of course Txtng, I mean texting… it won’t be long before we eliminate all niceties from our lives.

Does this mean that we will also be eliminating caring about the feelings of others? Folks who may or may not have spent time picking out your present, in person, with an eye toward what they think you would like rather than something from the first table they reach at Home Goods? Or, more likely, a REGIFT from their “gift closet”? I don’t know. Maybe it’s just the way things are today. I go into the bank and the teller, who looks like a high school junior, calls me not Mister or Doctor but simply... Phil. I spend time selecting a gift for a hypothetical friend who loves Ferraris by not just going to Macy’s for a tie but running by the Ferrari dealership when I am in Miami to get a Red hat or an auto related trinket, whatever. Meanwhile my hypothetical friend might get me a CD of Barbra Streisand’s Greatest Hits. WTF? I know a lot about fashion, and window treatments but I am not really Gay. How am I supposed to react when it is painfully apparent that No thought went into a gift I was given? One of my favorite gifts of all time, other than from my Aunt Mae (future blog) was a pewter Volkswagen Beetle model that my friend gave me for my birthday. It is prominently displayed on my library shelf and I have made provisions for it in my will. Class will tell.

Finally, I write this BLOG. After I write it, I link it to many of my e-mail contacts so that they might read it and perhaps, drop me a short line in an e-mail or text, saying “You can’t write, give it up.” Or, “I loved the one about the frog.” Anything. But, alas, I guess this is a subject that is not covered in Emily Post. Maybe I should quit the blog business and write a book entitled “A Guide to Etiquette in the Internet Age.” I fear that it would not be a great seller, which reminds me of the story about the man who said “I was going to buy the book The Power of Positive Thinking, but then I said to myself, What good would that do?”

ANCIENT ROCK STARS

Sir Paul (McCartney) was a major presence on Saturday Night Live last night. He is lookin' pretty good for a 70 year old guy but based upon his crackling voice, and the drowning out of it intentionally done by the instruments, it may be time to live on your royalties. There was an article in the New York Times about aging rock stars particularly Bob (Zimmerman) Dylan. It described his voice in uncomplimentary terms.

The rest of the show was also enjoyable. The skits were funnier than usual. SNL has its ups and downs but is still a major force in entertainment as evidenced by 50% of the still living Beatles appearing on last night's show.

FEAST ON THIS

http://notablenibbles.blogspot.com/

JUDITH goes to the BALL

No, Judith is not my wife, my wife is Kitty. Judith is Judith Lieber, a women's handbag designer who makes jeweled purses that hold.....nothing. OK, maybe one lipstick and a single kleenex. So, we are at a Black Tie affair and I am in my Tuxedo. Where does the Kitty put all the other essential items that women need when they go out on the town in style? Answer...in my pockets.

Tuxedoes do not have a lot of room either because they are designed for their looks not their function. I had room for my wallet and iPhone but found room for the rest of "her stuff" somewhere. Even if women "need" room for all these things and when in New York going to work they carry a handbag in which a small child could get lost, they will never bring a roomy one to the Ball. Though I am not a fashionista and have little to no credibility among their Gods...Coco, Ralph, or Gianni, I am going to write them with my suggestion for next season... the Cargo Tuxedo. Instead of those flat useless pockets, two of which usually stay stitched closed because you never put anything in them anyway, my Tux design would look something like the jacket above. That way, my wife, or your wife, could bring their flat iron or hair dryer in case they need a little touch up at half-time, or whatever that hour is called between the salad and the entre'. Add some fine double stitch tailoring and an Italian wool fabric to the above design and voila ! The cargo Tuxedo. And my wife can continue to carry her purse which holds....nothing.

WHY I DON'T GO TO LIVE CONCERTS

You pay a fortune for tickets and then Some Drunken Bimbo has to sit on the shoulders of her boyfriend right in front of you and yell throughout the whole performance. I get Palladia Chanel 411 on my TV.

WANTED...DEAD OR ALIVE

Like most responsible Americans, I have life insurance. I bought it years ago. Periodically, I drag the policies out of the file and attempt to read them. This dragging usually corresponds to the notice I get to pay a premium. I not only can't understand the policy any better than a congressman understood what was in the Obama Health Plan, I am angry that they are still sending me requests for premium payments. When I bought these policies, I was assured that the Insurance Companies would generate enough income from investments that the the premium payments would cease after 10 years. Well, it's 20 years now and I still get requests for premiums....because their investments were not good enough to cover the premiums so "I" have to make up the difference which by the way is DOUBLE the initial premium. It's no wonder why the biggest buildings on any skyline are insurance companies. What a deal. You lure people in with promises and when you can't make enough money to satisfy the higher-ups at the company you just ask for more than you promised you would ask for from your customers.

Wouldn't it be great if I could go back to patients I had treated in the past and tell them "That total knee replacement you got in 1994... I just can't live on what you paid me so I am sending you a bill for another $1000." When they balk, I remind them of the 437 page contract they signed prior to the surgery. Or your car lease.... you get a notice from Toyota that the Prius you drive daily can no longer be $250 per month because the company had all these fines. lawsuits, and recalls to pay for so please send in another $200 per month.

I am currently in the process of reconsidering my existing policies. I have had some good help in this process but I still have the feeling that most of the promises that My two big insurers made me were, like the BLIMP in the photo above, "A bunch of HOT AIR."

All that GLITTERS...

Christmas is just around the corner. The stores are buzzing with shoppers trying to get bargains. This brings up a major difference between women and men. To a man, a bargain is getting something he specifically went to the store to buy, at a cheaper price than he would have usually paid for it... for example... a three-pack of Jockey shorts, usually $18, for $14. A woman's idea of a bargain is seeing something she never wanted, ever, but it was marked down so much that it had to be bought... example, anything from Home Goods. She proudly brings home her purchase and announces "I saved you $85 on this Etruscan Bedspread protector."

So, even though Mr. Macy and Mr. Nordstrom are not Bernie Madoff, they nevertheless will not lose sleep at night worrying about selling you something you don't need, at a price you can't afford, and will regret someday soon. It is up to you to guard your own wallet during these frenetic last shopping days 'til Christmas. Make a list, check it twice... and don't bother buying your husband Jockey shorts, he already found them on sale. As for you men out there, size does matter...small, as in jewelry, is King.

US and IRAN

I was watching CNBC, the business-stock market channel on TV today and they had an article on Iran, one of our current political enemies. Their country had a large cohort of births back about 25 years ago similar to our "Baby Boomer" generation., These young people are in love with western things like our music and fashion, and the population of the country is apparently NOT anti-American. We (our fearless leaders in DC) have placed sanctions on Iran the way we did to Cuba for the past 50 years (how did that work for us?) and yet this Middle Eastern country is doing very well, economically, at least according to MSNBC. So, we have a country, far away, whose leader is according to most reports, a "nut-job" but whose people are western-thinking. The younger Iranians practice a kind of "Muslim-light" where the women, as I saw with my own eyes in another westernized muslim country, Morocco, wear a whole spectrum of attire from the full Burkha to jeans and a T-shirt. Most wear western clothes with a head scarf.

The article on MSNBC was about an Iranian expatriate who was an investor in many foreign funds and asked his portfolio advisors if a fund existed that would allow him to invest in his native Iran. The answer was no, so he started his own fund. It invests in the increasing number of privatized companies in Iran in such as areas as mining, banking, and manufacturing to name a few. The fund is UP 37% for the year. Everyone on the planet can invest in this fund, except Americans who are forbidden by our government from doing so. The fund has not invested in any companies on the UN or EU sanction list.

Meanwhile, here in America, while Iran is increasingly becoming westernized in their business practices and becoming more entrepreneurial, productive, and of course well educated, we are trying to pass laws to legalize MARIJUANA. And we wonder why we have to import everything and our economy is in the crapper. Really? Conquer the world? Maybe tomorrow, Dude. Pass the potato chips.

CHRISTMAS is UPON US

We see things as we are not as they are. Political correctness, among other things, has made us more "skittish" about the things we say and do. Like labor unions that started with good intentions and morphed into what they are today (insert your opinion here) political correctness was a legitimate attempt to protect others from insults and abuse. Unfortunately, this too has evolved to the point where the insult is wholly in the eye of the beholder. If the person who thinks he or she was insulted is an abject illiterate moron with a limited vocabulary, or has a different cultural connotation to words than you do, and you say certain words, you may be found responsible for the insult that the other person experiences. I have taken more than my fair share of cultural diversity classes and attended political correctness lectures. Without exception, the teaching is directed to mainstream Americans upon whom it is incumbent to know the customs and jargon of the culturally diverse. An example of this might be... a Japanese tourist comes to America for a visit. You toast them with a glass of wine. While clinking your glasses together, the rim of your glass is higher than his. This is an indication in his culture that you consider yourself more important than he. Another tourist from the middle east is siting with you in a restaurant. You cross your legs and the bottom of your shoe points toward the stranger. Where he comes from, this is a sign of disrespect. You are supposed to know this. It is your country, and you are responsible for knowing his cultural quirks. When a former president visited Japan and was asked how his trip was going, he made the OK sign (thumb and index make a circle) and everyone swooned. Apparently this is the Japanese equivalent of the middle finger. Who knew? Anyhow, our president in their country was responsible for knowing this. When they come here we are responsible for not offending them. So, wherever we are, we are responsible. We are Americans after all.

Then there's the exceptional lengths we go to in order to make foreigners feel at home here. You can now get a Spanish language version of every government form. You can get your driver's license in Spanish. Can you imagine going to Mexico and going to the driver's license bureau and asking for the forms and exam in English? "We doan gotta cho you no steenkin' application in Eengleesh" will probably be their response. Yet here, we have foot baths for taxi drivers in New York, doctors are required to provide translators at their own expense when seeing non-english speaking patients, and of course, PC courses for police, fire, and other service personnel. OK, imagine you are in France. You are in their PC course. The first lesson is...when addressing an American tourist who just asked you a question in the best French he could muster.. you reply: "Sacre bleu, you speak Fronsh like a Spaneesh cow."