ANTECEDENT WARFARE

A company that specializes in computer-based home-schooling keeps advertising on television.  Its spokespeople are dressed in smart business attire, and all of the students presented are well-dressed with every head-hair firmly in place.

If one is to believe the commercials, children everywhere could become instant geniuses simply from buying into the company's program.  Look!  Look how happy and brilliant these children are!

But, then ... then the spokespeople talk at the television viewers:  "Each student can enhance their education..."  "Your child can improve their knowledge..."

Um, really? 

Here's where the grammarian puffs up her chest.  Oh, do not panic; I never judge social media grammar.  We are supposed to have fun with language (and symbols and GIFs and texts and postings) on social media.  These people, though, are selling their educational product.  They are essentially selling their own brilliance. 

However, these "expert educators/salespeople" cannot even properly match a personal pronoun to its own antecedent.

Correct grammar = "Each student can enhance his or her education" or "Students can enhance their education" is also acceptable.  Student is singular while their is plural; together connected to each other in a sentence, the two must never connect.  Same with "Your child" and "their knowledge."  This is only correct if your one-bodied child has multiple heads with individual brains.

Unfortunately for the idiots acting in the commercial and for the idiots who wrote it, this basic, fourth-grade grammatical mistake is repeated by adults over and over again on screen.  I know this is a mistake because grammar is one of my areas of basic knowledge. 

Grammar should also be an area of basic knowledge for someone selling a supposedly superior educational program.

Again, folks, I don't give a rat's patootie about your grammar.  However, if you're going to sell it as part and parcel of your product line and DIS MY JOB IN THE PROCESS, you're damn right I'll be coming for you.

I'VE HAD ENOUGH OF MENOPAUSE

I've had enough of menopause.  No, I'm serious; deadly, motherfucking serious.

The hot flashes are bad enough, but in the last couple of weeks, two dreadful things have happened: The maintenance staff fixed the heat at work, and the weather has been unseasonably warm.

It's like everyone's trying to kill me.

This is my day:

2:00 a.m. -- Throw covers off in fit of heat rage even though heat is off and fan is on

2:15 a.m. -- Pull covers back on as I am now frozen

4:00 a.m. --  Repeat 2:00 and 2:15 a.m. performance

5:00 a.m. -- Wake up for work; start making bed; have another hot flash

6:30 a.m. -- Run outside to defrost car; no need for a coat because I am sweating bullets

6:40 a.m. -- Drive to work with heat on the windshield to keep it frost free but with windows open so I don't die of heat prostration

7:00 a.m. - 3:00 p.m. -- Spend my day at work turning fan on, turning fan off, putting sweater on, taking sweater off, turning beet red from hot flashes, turning blue from being icy cold

3:00 p.m. --  Drive home with all the windows wide open so I don't sweat to death

3:30 p.m. - 11:00 p.m. -- Alternate between being boiling hot and freezing cold; fans on, fans off; sweatshirt on, sweatshirt off; windows open, windows closed.  Take a shower (sometimes the second or third of the day)

11:00 p.m. -- Turn on fan in bedroom and attempt to go to sleep.  Wake up about ten minutes later having hot flash

Midnight -- Have another hot flash, roll around kicking covers off then pull them back on frantically when body temperature drops suddenly

I've had enough.  This is going on year number five of this crap.  And don't tell me stupid shit like, "Oh, you should eat more soy," or "Try cayenne pepper pills," or "Ask your doctor about hormone therapy."  Hormone therapy?  FUCK HORMONES.  HORMONES SUCK.

  When the fuck does this bullshit end?  Don't tell me "never," because I will come to your house and cut you.  Yes, I'm mentally done with menopause, and I'm not even remotely kidding.

REAL, TRUE, HONEST, "VERIFIED" NEWS STORIES

 MOSCOW- Today Vladimir Putin dressed up as a flower girl to infiltrate the American political machine by attending the wedding of one of the Obama daughters.  Turns out it was just a fake email and Putin actually ended up attending Paris fashion week as a guest of Heidi Klum and Tim Gunn.  After being covered in more flowers in the infamous unconventional materials challenge, Putin flew home in a UFO with Bernie Sanders. 

MOSCOW - Today Vladimir Putin underwent extensive plastic surgery to turn himself into Greta Garbo.  Unfortunately, the doctor had never heard of Greta Garbo and turned him into Meryl Streep, instead.  Putin could be heard singing Abba songs from Mama Mia while in the post-op recovery room.  It has been reported  that he wants to star in a special remake of Kramer vs. Kremlin this summer.

 MOSCOW - This morning it was reported that Vladimir Putin attempted to become the scariest person on Earth.  Professionals hired to turn him into the Angel of Death II ran out of funding halfway through and simply turned Putin into an angel.  He was last spotted flying around St. Petersburg like Sister Batrille.  Sally Field has no comment at this time.

 MOSCOW - Vladimir Putin was escorted out of the country after he was discovered attempting to enter the Pentagon dressed as Harry Potter.  Putin's receding hairline revealed no lightning-shaped scar, and the Russian leader was quickly detained.  He was last heard screaming, "I am Grishna Potterskov!  I am not a muggleski!"  It is rumored that Slytherins have bailed Putin out of jail and are moving him out of the country via railway and platform 9 3/4.

MOSCOW - It seems that the language barrier has once again thwarted Vladimir Putin's attempt to infiltrate American culture.  When told to blend in he must "dress like a honey," his translators misread the directive and turned him into a honey bee.  Catch all the buzz later on the program All the News You Have to HIVE.

MOSCOW - The truth has been revealed.  Numerous extraordinarily reliable and unquestionably trustworthy  news outlets (such as FOX and CNN) are reporting today that Vladimir Putin is really BAMBI.  This explains why viewers have never seen Putin and the animated deer in the same room together.  Film at 11 ... and again two hours later ... and again two hours after that. 

MORE PATHETIC LIMERICKS

It's winter, I know, here's the thing:
The weather gives me static cling.
My hair stands on end,
And shocks I do send.
It's only ten weeks more 'til spring.

Students there are I can't reach
No matter how smartly I teach.
It makes me quite sad
And a little bit mad
That some don't know the parts of speech.

Correcting can make me quite tired,
Although late at night I feel wired.
The list in my head
Keeps me up, not in bed.
I certainly hope I'm not fired.

This is a bad limerick poem
I wrote while sitting at home.
I'd hope it be gold -
It's silver, I'm told -
But I think it looks more like chrome.

I'm just trying to fill up some time
Creating this ditty in rhyme.
It's not very good
(I'd write if I could).
I'll contemplate gin with a lime.

HOLLYWEED AND HOLLOW HOLLERING

I wasn't going to comment on the recent rash of Hollywood types attempting to indoctrinate the country into their warped, twisted world of debauchery by insulting everyday Americans.  Yeah, but I think I will.

I'm not talking about Meryl Streep.  I'm not talking about Mark Wahlberg.  I'm not talking about Oprah Winfrey.  I'm not talking about Chuck Woolery or Rosie O'Donnell or Ted Nugent or Miley Cyrus.  Honestly?  I don't give a flying fuck what any of them has to say.  I don't care if they kiss Trump.  I don't care if they lick Obama's rearend. 

I don't care if they threaten to leave the country because of a damn election.  LEAVE.  For the love of God, LEAVE already. 

You see, you actors and you musicians -- you still think you're relevant; you still think people care what you think and what you say and what movies you make and what songs you sing.  If you're one of the people who does still think anything anyone in the entertainment business has to say is remotely important or will change your own life, you're a straw man on a slippery slope.

The other day when the Hollywood sign became Hollyweed (not for the first time) ... Do you have any idea how well-policed that sign is?  That's a soft target for terrorists.  And yet, someone (anyone at all) got up onto that protected, policed hill and changed the sign over.  Hollywood, you are NOT invincible, and you are NOT relevant.  Nobody, not even the terror-watch, cares.

Do you want to know what rendered you irrelevant?  Technology.

Yes, technology.  Technology has already outsourced stunt people and make-up artists by going entirely green-screen and computer animation.  The big screen has already toyed with replacing actors with computer-generated imagery of actors.  Do you honestly believe people in the industry need you anymore?  High-powered producers and deal-makers and petulant actors, you're dinosaurs.

Don't believe me?  Look at television.  Remember when people like Aaron Spelling ruled Hollywood?  The Big Three (ABC, NBC, CBS)  ruled our lives and fed us propaganda via the Boob Tube.  Then, cable stations came along.  Anyone can run a television station now.  There is no Big Three anymore. 

And it's not limited to television.  I can watch dramas and comedies and what-have-you on my computer.  That's right -- HULU and ACORN and NETFLIX, to name a few.  I don't even need the frigging cable company anymore.  Imagine what will happen to that industry when people wise up.  Cable companies thought they were taking over the industry when they gained access to phone lines. 

Idiots, the lot of them. 

Wait until Verizon and Sprint realize that they can stream their own broadcasts, essentially take over the "cable" streams.  Already people are leaving the desk top industry behind, and soon the lap top industry will follow as we move toward tablets and expanded phone capabilities and product-based technology like Goggle Chromebooks. 

Who the hell needs a television anymore?  I watch more stuff via my computer than I do via television (except maybe sports).

We don't need Hollywood/Hollyweed anymore.  Computer animation creates perfectly acceptable actors all on its own.  Don't believe me?  Just peek at the latest video game animation and how realistic and interactive it is. 

We don't need the music industry anymore, either.  Seriously, how many of these recent flash-in-the-pan singers are only where they are thanks to studio auto-tuning?  Hell, we can create our own music.  Vox humanas and Moog Syntehsizers have been capable of it for decades.  Technology is finally catching up to them, not the other way around.  We don't need crack-heads and coke fiends and industry "insiders" making our music choices anymore.  Still doubt me?  Check out Sirrius and Pandora radio. 

Wake up, Los Angeles. We don't need you anymore, and, surprise, you don't run the damn country.  Hell, you don't even represent the damn country.

So, go ahead and spout your rhetoric (liberal, conservative, communist, fascists, libertarian -- I don't care).  But remember -- you are completely and totally expendable and replaceable.  It will happen, maybe not in Betty White's lifetime, but probably in mine.

Here's my one question to Hollywood -- Since you're all so passionate, will you house the illegals and the refugees and the poor and the sick and the suffering and the disenfranchised in your mansions when your gilded city collapses?

If your answer is no, shut the fuck up and go back to the rat hole from whence you crawled.  YOU ARE THE PROBLEM.  Take your useless, gilded figurines and your hideous fashion choices and understand that your time as the industry elite is rapidly heading toward the wall faster than crash test dummies hitting the concrete end wall.  A word to the wise, though: the more often you open your mouths, the faster you're sucking the life out of what's left of your crystal castle on the Hollyweed hill.

EPIPHANY CONTINUES

Up early to shovel the snow.  Thank goodness it is light and fluffy, so the clean-up goes quickly and easily.  It's cold out, maybe 7 degrees, but there is no wind.  I find that boots, gloves, snow pants, fleece jacket, down vest, and a hat are all I need to protect me from the elements this morning.

My son has missed shoveling for the past five years --  four of them because he was away at college and one year because we had just about no snow last winter.  He missed the year of 102" of snow, so I need to retrain him on how to successfully shovel with the minimum effort for maximum efficiency.

After all, we are both in a hurry this morning.  He needs to get west of Boston, and I need to get to a concert in Maine. 

It's a sloppy, crappy, shitty mess out on the roads; even the highways spit up salt and slush all over my car.  By the time I get to my sister's house outside of Kennebunk, my once-white car is encrusted with brown.  I don't care, though.  The trip is totally worth it.  My sister's concerts are always worth the trip, not only for the music but for the venues.  Everything is breathtaking.

But, I cannot lie.  The most breathtaking thing I see today in Maine is my sister's Christmas tree.  It is perched on her porch, waiting for its turn in the woods to be mulched.  It stands perfectly tall and  sparkles with newly fallen snow on its branches.  Remarkably, the tree seems like it is part of the porch, as if it belongs there.

I know in my heart and my brain that the twelve days of Christmas are officially over.  Epiphany has just passed.  Coincidentally, today's concert is the group's Epiphany concert.  Truly, the only epiphany that I have today is how wonderful the Christmas tree looks all undecked on the deck, decorated only in the crystals nature intended for it all along.

This will have to hold me over for ten months until the holidays roll around again.  Well, that memory and the fact that my tree is still up and decorated and lit.  That's what happens when Epiphany comes on a busy and stormy weekend.  My sister's tree gets more time on the porch, and my tree gets to stay up a few extra days.

Happy Holidays, all.  It's not quite over yet, even though it is, but I'll enjoy the scenery until the bitter winter's end.

SNOW AND MUFFINS

Snowing, snowing, snowing, snowing!  Finally.  First real snow of the year.  The other two or three snow appearances barely warranted shovels, and this one, though not epic, is certainly not disappointing.  As I write this blog, it has been snowing steadily and quietly for over ten hours.

I'm not one of those crazy people who goes grocery shopping before a storm, although I do make sure there's gas in my car.  I always have food and basic staples in the house, anyway.  My recent Whole Foods obsession means that I also have some blueberries (bagged when they were fresh) that I threw in the freezer recently.

By mid-morning the snow has started, and I decide to bake.  I've also been on a health kick lately, so rather than my usual brownies or cookies, I bake blueberry muffins with oats and cinnamon.  When I take them out of the oven, I steal one and slather it with butter.  The muffin is still piping hot, and the butter melts easily. 

Over the course of the day and into the evening, I eat a second muffin and my son steals one, as well.  At the end of the night, it is still snowing.  The rest of the muffins will be saved for shovel-ready energy boosts in the morning.  For now, though -- snow, snow, snow -- snow on.  It's absolutely breathtaking.