Sunday, September 18, 2016

For those who have attended this event before or other large pd events, please satisfy my curiosity. I imagine there being a sea of PDers in a huge convention hall,each carrying their promotional tote bag,laden with propagandized pens, sticky notes, rubber bracelets and other things they will schlep home with and immediately throw out. What's different about this gathering is that the norm will be people shaking, weaving speaking at decibel level far below intelligible and appearing to be drunk. Almost reminding me of the Twilight Zone episode where the pig faced was the norm and the beautiful was outcast. I cant wait to be in Portland and meeting the people ive facebooked with, and being among the pigfaced.

Wednesday, May 4, 2016

Riding on the R train, surprised by the dearth of straphangers on the morning commute. How totally nose in the air condescending does that sound. I am an unapologetic arrogant better than thou New Yorker in spirit if not reality for 11% of the year, but the first line would have even sounded better had I written: Riding on the R train, I was surprised by the shortage of commuters this morning. I was trying to think of which arcane New York commemoration was having their parade this morning. It's not Steuben Day; you know the guy who invented glass. It isn't Kosciuszko Day, the Polish guy who designed the modern day eyechart by writing his friends names on poster board. Whatever the reason, I'm grateful for the ability to ride the train unsquished.
I did hit the jackpot when I ran into Billy the hipster. This was no run of the mill hipster. He was sporting the trademark luden brothers full beard and the john belushi man-bun. But what was clearly unique was the lanyard like box stitch that the aforementioned bun was affixed to his skull with. Furthermore he was furiously crocheting something. Perhaps a niece's clutch purse, or a throw blanket. I couldn't really see the work in progress, but for this story's purpose, the end product is immaterial. What is important is that from my vantage point it appeared that the yarn was entering his body through the man-bun blowhole and appeared miraculously in his lap ripe for the crochet needle.

Friday, April 8, 2016

Early Friday (attempts at ) humor

Subject :  insects

1-my wife's cooking is so bad, I saw a fly trying to repair the screen door.
2-my wife's cooking is so bad, I saw a fly trying to commit suicide.
3-  a man walks into a fine, trendy, elegant French restaurant with his companion, a winged insect.
  He says to the waiter, I'll start with a Kir royale, and my dinner will start with the escargots provencale, followed by the chateaubriand , with pommes frites and mushrooms bourguignon. Salade nicoise, and creme fraiche and brûlée.    A bottle of Pinot noir 1967  ....and bring some shit for my fly.

Tuesday, March 22, 2016

Parkinson's has ramifications that you never even thought about.  On Saturday morning I went to see my personal trainer, Craig Marks (as opposed to my impersonal trainer that posts on the anti-social media). When I went to change from my long pants into my gym shorts, I noticed discoloration on each of my lower legs.  The color was candy apple red and it crept up from my ankle to about halfway to the knee.  It didn't hurt at all, and maybe a drop itchy.  But it screamed out at Craig who told me to make a beeline to the emergency room.  His fear was that I had cellulitis, a nasty staph infection.
I got to the Cleveland Clinic Cleveland Rocks
and the Triage Nurse said to me, looks like cellulitis.  I should have known right then to doubt the diagnosis; as the triage nurse who, based on the job title, had me expecting someone like Genevieve Bujold
  Instead ,
a male nurse named Bill, saw my legs, shook his head back and forth, and said, in no uncertain terms-cellulitis, as he reached for his cigarettes.

When I was brought back to see the doctor, he asked me a few questions, which my answers, led him to conclude I didn't have cellulitis, but dermatitis..

Here's the kicker, he asked me if he could take a picture of my leg; and offered me a document so that I could sign a release.  I said sure, but why---educational purposes.  May this be the last time I am asked to be the poster child for anything,

However, I did think I may be able to parlay this into becoming a shin model, a la George Costanza's hand modeling.

Monday, March 14, 2016

The odyssey continues.  I wrote a book, No I'm Not Drunk!  Taming my Parkinson's with Music, Humor Charity.  I'm very proud of it, have sold it reasonably well-considering it being self published and self marketed.  Yet what is hysterical is the fact that my site didn't have embedded keywords until yesterday.

So I guess you can say If a man with Parkinson's shuffles through the forest, and trips on some exposed roots, did he make a sound when he fell if no one heard him.  The correct answer is no, unless his support group or exercise group or physical therapist, or pharmacist or medical marijuana dealer was at least waiting in the car near the welcome station.

Hopefully, more people will now hear me.

Thursday, February 25, 2016

Pope/Trump addendum

Let's think about this for a second.  This week in presidential politics, we had a Jew win a primary, a woman win a caucus, a Bush not win a primary or caucus, and an isolationist win a primary.  None of these can hold a candle to the fact that the Pope weighed in with his anti-Christian criticism of Donald Trump.  Yes, the man who made popular the phrase, "You're fired" is running to be our Employer-in-Chief; and the Holy Father himself doesn't think that's such a good idea.

There is a blurry line separating church and state that our founding fathers so brilliantly wove into our Founding Documents.  Thus the comment should not even be heard; but you can't unhear something.  Because the media is so powerful now, this has become a much larger story than it deserved; our history is strewn with other examples of religious leader's comments about our political personalities.

In 1813, when the war of 1812 started, (we misnamed that war by ourselves) Pope Innocence I helped campaign for James Madison's second term.  Dolly was busy at the factory making cupcakes, his brother Oscar was making a mess of his NY apartment that he shared with Mr. Unger, and his sister Ashley was just a little too social.  The Pontiff was trying to drum up support for a new running mate, as his original Vice-President during his first term, George Clinton, (that is true) died in office.  Madison picked Eldridge Gerry while Innie, so nicknamed for his belly button, wanted Eldridge, Gerry.  This was not just a punctuation difference!  Ultimately, Gerry was the Veep.

In 1841, William Henry Harrison our ninth and greatest President was elected.  He was from the Whig Party, a precursor to the Thoupee party, and died 1 month after the inauguration.  Pope Irving, there to administer the oath, told Billy Hank, right at the swearing in to "Put on your coat, it's cold and rainy."   He caught a cold that day, and was dead one month later.  Controversial advice at the time, borne out as wise in retrospect.

We can't forget the time when the Dalai Lama told Rutherford B Hayes to go fuck himself.

The Catholics don't have a monopoly on church state blurry line crossing.  The Great Rebbe Menachem Schneerson, of the Lubavitch said about Jimmy Carter, What a putz!  What often goes unsaid is the line that he supposedly followed up with, “Billy Carter-now that’s a statesman.”

Indirectly, Ayatollah Khomeini in Iran in 1980 was very influential in our election.  Our hostages were held in Iran until after the election.  He was showing the world the impotence of Jimmy Carter thus allowing Ronald Reagan to win the election. 

What would happen if our church/state line was actually eliminated.  Would we have a continuous array of Jerry Falwells, Billy Grahams, Al Greens, George Foremans, and Jim Ignatowskis leading our country from the Oval Office and the pulpit.  I tend to doubt it, when it comes time to pull the trigger (Shout out to 2nd amendmentites) Americans generally do the right thing.  Besides when it came time to actually throw their hat into the ring, a rabbi’s yarmulke would float away, and that big Pope hat wouldn’t fit.