Category Archives: life as we know it

MORON

First of all: Hello! I know it’s been a while. But I’m still here…

Sometimes there’s a word that needs no explanation, a word that completely conveys an important truth or aspect of reality. Today the word “moron” has entered that zone. I modify it only as follows: Moron in Chief. Yes. That’s who he is. That’s who is sitting on his gold and bacon throne in the White House (you mean you didn’t know he had a throne made of equal parts of gold and bacon? Come on…where have you been?)

Not that naming someone or something defuses their power…enough to calm the jumping jacks going on in my stomach since the big “M” assumed the mantel of leadership (and I use that term loosely). No. The saying (or even braying) of that word doesn’t make everything all better. But it really feels so good to hear that particular truth sung out in public. Maybe next we can say “f…ing idiot.” Maybe.

For me the word demands that a question be answered: What the hell do we do while the country is being led (yes, yes – I know there is no actual ‘leading’ going on) by a moron? How do we cope, mitigate the impact, keep from crying all the time, or keep oneself from overdosing on Häagen-Dazs? No easy answer. But you know It’s the hard questions for which they pay me the big bucks.

First of all, the most important thing is not to surrender; no loss of heart please – keep hope alive. All those trite things your parents used to say: this too shall pass; what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger; right makes might; only the good die young – Oh, wait…I think I’ve lost the thread. What I’m trying to say is… as bad as it is with the big blond moron as head of state – if we stay present with each other and our deepest moral truths, we will still be here when he is but a weird footnote in American history.

Of course, I do realize that it is also true that we are balanced precariously on a precipice. (Is that redundant?) So we have to not lose sight of the delicacy of our position.

Here’s the thing about morons – of the truly deviant kind. They can produce a big pile of moronic shit, but we do not have to step in it. And, if we don’t, it’s kind of likely that they – okay let’s drop the generalization – he will turn all hurt and whiny; he – who has the thinnest of skins – will forget about everything else and just complain that he isn’t getting the respect he deserves, that we all are ungrateful and misguided (that is if he actually knows any three syllable words).

I would be happy to see that, because the more his narcissism becomes his only sensibility, the less likely he will be to put any of his moronic ideas into practice. And the ideal outcome of this horror show of a presidency will be to have his tenure pass without him setting permanently destructive forces loose on our land or in our world.

So, let’s keep the moron occupied with his cherished outrage; don’t let him catch his breath.

Say it with me:

YOU’RE A MORON!!

Oh, Birdbrain

Yes. You. I’m talkin’ to you. No – my dear readers – this is in no way a slanderous salutation. Rather, it’ me having a (one-sided) chat with a seagull.

She turns her head so she can look at me through one beady eye. What could you be thinking? She is standing off to the right of my beach chair, about ten feet away. Just standing – for quite a while.

I am, of course, free to project my notions of the inner workings of her tiny brain. Inevitably, I will give her more credit than she likely deserves.

I think she knows a storm is coming: we’re due for a soaker this afternoon. She has instincts if not much intelligence, so she can probably feel the change in barometric pressure or in the ambient energy.

She’s a seagull. I must give her a name: Heather Gale Seagull. She is not alone. I take note that birds of her ilk (and also something smaller – dunno what that is) seem to be arraying themselves. Waiting. They are waiting.

Do they capitalize on the churning waters that accompany the storm and find fish close to the surface or in a kind of distress that makes them easier prey? I’m just spitballing here. I don’t actually know.

Today, my PIC and I are well situated. Front row, to the right of the concentration of surf-gazers around the lifeguard chair.

As a flock (is that right – or is it a gaggle, a bunch?) of gulls fly overhead, they call to each other and I’m instantly reminded of Steve Allen (oldies know who I mean – others must google his name), who often said – in a high-pitched voice: SCHMOCK, SCHMOCK – the closest he could get – in 1950’s America – to saying “schmuck” on national TV.

 

And now – from the benign to the truly evil…SAND FLIES. First of all, they’re not supposed to show up until late afternoon. That’s the rule (Karen’s 2nd, in case you are keeping track). So why are you little demons biting my ankles at 10:30 in the morning? Fortunately, they are not fans of my suntan lotion which I have now slathered self-protectively.

Chair, Hat, Towel, Umbrella, Water, Notepad and Pen: That seems like everything I could ever need in this world. Sure, that’s a beautiful sentiment and it remains as my core truth for about two minutes until I realize I’m starting to get hungry. So now my focus is on figuring out the earliest acceptable time to eat and then planning backwards from that.

Boys will be boys…or not

So…I’ve been signing all my emails today: “We are all transgender.”

And – as you will understand – I’m reacting to el presidente’s evil words and would-be deeds.

But, I think my statement is true.

Consider this… If you are honest, you will admit that you don’t always feel like the gender you were assigned at birth. Men, don’t you sometimes feel a little (or a lot) like a girl? And I’m sure that my fellow women (see what I did there?) will acknowledge that there are times when you really feel like a guy. It’s normal (you should pardon the expression). We are multiplistic; an amalgamation. We are most certainly not one-dimensional in our sexuality or our gender identification.

Actually, I believe that embracing our trans-selves is both freeing and strengthening. To the degree to which we believe we have to play it like “a girl” or ” a boy” – that’s the degree to which we are self-limiting. Sort of like playing with only half the deck.

Parents are in the primary position of influencing where we stand on this issue of essential transgenderality. They can easily convey disapproval for any behavior outside the narrow bounds of a single gender. On the other hand, those mothers and fathers who are accepting of the blending of maleness and femaleness are most likely to produce children who are comfortable with all aspects of themselves.

Not to belabor this…I’m just sayin’…

THE COUNTRY NEEDS TO TAKE A SHOWER

I am far from an expert on matters political. However, I do know lies when I hear them. Our President lies. The Attorney General lies. Who doesn’t lie? Who can we count on?

Was it always so and are we just coming to the national awareness that the “Nixon Era” of underhanded and deceitful governance was merely the norm? The customary practice?

Whaddaya so exorcised about? This is the way it’s done. It’s just the way governments work. Oh yeah? OH YEAH? Let’s not sink into the false hopelessness of retroactive corruption-tolerance.

I do understand that politics is a fairly slimy business. But I also understand that there’s a big difference between the level of stupid disregard for even the pretense of legitimacy and honor that is in full flagrance currently, and what had heretofore been national business as usual.

But I ask you: How many are surprised that Donald J. Trump is a serial and compulsive liar and that he can’t be trusted as far as we can heave his overweight carcass? When you lay down with pigs you get mud on your clothes. N’est-ce pas? We have collectively laid down with a real PIG.

And now a word regarding the current New York outrage about Shakespeare in the Park – because Julius Caesar is being portrayed as DJT and – as the story goes – is stabbed repeatedly to death.

That’s what you’re all upset about? A play? How about redirecting some of that outrage toward the despot in the White House. Our White House. We have a rabid dog running around as our head of state.

Thoughts go back to Nixon, but – as appalling and devastating as Nixon’s crimes were – they t’weren’t nothin’ compared to those of the fair-haired sociopath now at 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue.

Is it that we have become inured to evil? Or is it just that we are otherwise engaged…watching our favorite shows, playing video games, enjoying the comforts and hypnotics of our culture?

Okay, kids. This is now the real deal. Our way of life, the U.S.of A. as we know it, is under threat. No insurgency could be more powerful than the loosening of our values in the service of avoiding the hard questions…and answers. Don’t look away. Yes, I know it’s pretty ugly out there, but we have a duty – to ourselves – to stay the course (yes, I quoted HIM).

Start burning up the phone lines to your congress people; make them understand that THEIR political future is at stake if they don’t push back against this toxic tide.

Paper Goods Queen

Once, many years ago, an observant and very forthright patient dubbed me the Paper Goods Queen. She was merely reacting to what she saw everywhere. In addition to the napkins and paper towels in prominent spots in my kitchen, there were – and are – a large box of tissues in each and every room. In my office, there are three boxes of tissues – in strategic locations.

I confess to experiencing an instant frisson of anxiety when there isn’t a tissue in reach.

It’s all just paper, right? No. You’re ignoring the all-important nuances of thickness and softness: the absorbency of paper towels and the thin layers of two or three-ply toilet paper. These differences matter greatly to me.

Have I been brainwashed by Big Paper? Have I been indoctrinated and programmed by clever or insidious advertising? You bet. For me, a clear indicator of the demise of civilization will be when I have to blow my nose with a dinner napkin. The horror!

Look for my non-fiction book, FEAR OF LANDING, The stories we tell about commitment and their meanings. It’s available on amazon.com: https://www.amazon.com/Fear-Landing-stories-commitment-meanings/dp/1539179095/ref=sr_1_3?ie=UTF8&qid=1476027342&sr=8-3&keywords=karen+krett

Also available on amazon.com is my science fiction novel, RAYMÒN AND SUNSHINE, It’s about the relationship between an autistic man and a female android three hundred years in the future, when what was once seen as a disability is merely a difference. http://www.amazon.com/Raym%C3%B2n-Sunshine-Karen-Krett/dp/0692660887/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1461866431&sr=8-1&keywords=krett+sunshine

You can find more information about me and my books at www.karenkrettauthor.com/

ARE WE THERE YET?

I’m so weary of all the political news that my ass is dragging…Wait a minute – that’s not my ass, it’s the President. Sometimes I get them mixed up.

Okay. I know I’ve just cleared the decks of anyone who might be even a little sanguine about the Trumpster. Sayonara! See ya around.

It feels like we are in the early to mid stages of a festering process. Like there’s an infection that wasn’t treated with antibiotics and now it’s traveling through the body (politic), causing a progressive malaise. I should probably give that a name: what about the “DT’s?” Yes. We are all shaking and twitching – even if only on the inside. What’s next? Is there a bottom to this pit? Are we in for a protracted display of the worst of our system of government?

I know, I know. There is a powerful impulse to avoid dealing with the mess that the man in the White House is making/has made/will make. It’s like discovering that your three-year-old has silently puked in the back of the car. Perhaps if you don’t talk about it, it will go away. Nah. It never does. It just begins to smell worse and worse.

Well, my fellow Americans, there is one fetid stench coming out of 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue. Someone spray some Febreze on it, or put it in an airtight bag and throw it in the river. I’m just looking for a simple solution. I fear, however, that we are in for the complex route – in a buggy with no springs and a wooden seat. My ass hurts just thinking about it. Yes. I’m mentioning my ass again. It seems fitting, somehow.

Let’s think for a minute. What would be the best outcome for all of us? I’ve got it! (Dare I say, “Eureka?”) The next time Trump comes to New York, I would like to invite all the stellar citizens – who regularly commit various kinds of mayhem – to collect out in front of Trump Tower. When Donald leaves his residence, that will be the signal to throw a large bag over his head and spirit him away to a “safe” space. That is… safe for all of us; in other words – somewhere that he can’t escape from. Feed him and give him a TV – he’ll be just fine. If he asks why he’s a captive, tell him it’s Hillary’s fault. He’ll buy that, I’m sure. If not, then suggest it’s part of a Russian test of his true mettle. That should induce a level of compliance. After all, he would never want to piss off Putin.

Let’s keep him off the streets until his term of office is over. I’m just thinking of the country, you know.

President Pence? Lesser of evils.

Look for my new non-fiction book, FEAR OF LANDING, The stories we tell about commitment and their meanings. It’s available on amazon.com: https://www.amazon.com/Fear-Landing-stories-commitment-meanings/dp/1539179095/ref=sr_1_3?ie=UTF8&qid=1476027342&sr=8-3&keywords=karen+krett

Also available on amazon.com is my science fiction novel, RAYMÒN AND SUNSHINE, It’s about the relationship between an autistic man and a female android three hundred years in the future, when what was once seen as a disability is merely a difference. http://www.amazon.com/Raym%C3%B2n-Sunshine-Karen-Krett/dp/0692660887/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1461866431&sr=8-1&keywords=krett+sunshine

You can find more information about me and my books at www.karenkrettauthor.com/

The Great Chambermaid Debacle or…Hilton, I Hardly Knew Ye.

As those of you who have been following this blog already know, my partner-in-crime and I have been visiting South Florida for the past week. Tomorrow, we return to civilization…I mean, New York.

It has been a fine visit, with just a few exceptions…the most distressing having occurred last night at midnight. After a full and quite pleasant day, it was time to get some shut-eye. As soon as I turned back the covers it became quite apparent that something was terribly wrong…with the sheets. They were, to put it mildly, askew. Helter-skelter would not be too strong a description. nothing was straight or tucked in as it should be. It was completely untenable. Tired as we were there was nothing to be done but to completely remake the bed.

Amidst a number of what-the-fuck’s and other exclamations of extreme displeasure, we corrected the situation. In the morning, I called the Hilton concierge and reported the housekeeping failure. I searched online for an email address and sent a note of irritation as well.

A few hours later, there was a knock at the door. It was the offending chambermaid herself, sent to reassure us, no doubt. What she did, however, was confront us: Did you call and complain? How is your bed now? What was the problem? She said any number of similar things, which I found extremely unpleasant to deal with.

And now, to you – dear Hilton, I ask: What the fuck? Why add insult to injury with an in person confrontation? Why not send a manager or some other individual? Why did I have to deal with the trying-not-to-show-how-pissed-off she was maid?

Get your interpersonal shit together – for the other guests. We won’t be returning.

Look for my new non-fiction book, FEAR OF LANDING, The stories we tell about commitment and their meanings. It’s available on amazon.com: https://www.amazon.com/Fear-Landing-stories-commitment-meanings/dp/1539179095/ref=sr_1_3?ie=UTF8&qid=1476027342&sr=8-3&keywords=karen+krett

Also available on amazon.com is my science fiction novel, RAYMÒN AND SUNSHINE, It’s about the relationship between an autistic man and a female android three hundred years in the future, when what was once seen as a disability is merely a difference. http://www.amazon.com/Raym%C3%B2n-Sunshine-Karen-Krett/dp/0692660887/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1461866431&sr=8-1&keywords=krett+sunshine

You can find more information about me and my books at www.karenkrettauthor.com/

The bounty of the early bird special

Guess where I am? I’ve been enjoying the languid lifestyle in lovely Ft. Lauderdale, Florida. It’s been almost a week and my nervous system is complaining with increasing frequency. “Where,” it asks with a plaintive but essentially pissed-off tone, “is the noise – and I don’t mean the crashing of the waves? Where are the stone-faced, make-no-eye-contact denizens? What’s with all this – ‘hello, how’s your stay, where are you from?’”

Let me assure you, no one you don’t already know asks you anything back in NYC – unless you count, “WOULD YOU MOVE THE FUCK OUT OF THE WAY!”

So, I’m almost saturated with the niceness. Am I twisted? Am I – okay, I’ll say it – sick? To yearn for the prickly-at-best energy that hits you in the face as soon as you step out your door in Manhattan. Maybe. But, here in the land of palm trees and sunshine, there is little that I can feel in terms of palpable energy of any kind. I’m sure it’s me. I’m just so used to the jarring and the loud that it feels a little like death to be in this quiet zone. Wait a minute! Maybe I HAVE crossed to the other side. Maybe this is…(I’m inclined to think it’s hell not heaven)… the afterlife.

Oh boy. Oh no. Don’t tell me this is it forever. I understand the old joints do better in the heat and humidity. I recognize that it may be comforting to be on the four-meal-a-day plan and to spend the rest of the time thinking about and discussing the next meal. But I must, with respect, say: HELP! GET ME OUTTA HERE!

Nothing personal, Mom, I know you like it – and, I am glad we got to spend some quality time. It’s not you, it’s me. But I need to get an infusion of New York or else I’m going to start to disappear. What’s that you say? It’s only Wednesday and I’m not going home until Saturday? This is not the news I was hoping for. I will tough it out. What’s the alternative? Succumbing is not an option I can consider.

In the meantime, I’ll scour the airways for news stories about my crazy home town. I’ll listen with the requisite horror, but with secret longing. And I’ll count the days. My partner in crime offered me this method of counting he learned long ago in Vietnam. It lessens the pain by considering the last day of the stay as a “wake-up.” I’ve got three days and a wake-up. I can do that. Can’t I?

Look for my new non-fiction book, FEAR OF LANDING, The stories we tell about commitment and their meanings. It’s available on amazon.com: https://www.amazon.com/Fear-Landing-stories-commitment-meanings/dp/1539179095/ref=sr_1_3?ie=UTF8&qid=1476027342&sr=8-3&keywords=karen+krett

Also available on amazon.com is my science fiction novel, RAYMÒN AND SUNSHINE, It’s about the relationship between an autistic man and a female android three hundred years in the future, when what was once seen as a disability is merely a difference. http://www.amazon.com/Raym%C3%B2n-Sunshine-Karen-Krett/dp/0692660887/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1461866431&sr=8-1&keywords=krett+sunshine

You can find more information about me and my books at www.karenkrettauthor.com/

COOLSTEIN MEETS TRUMPSTEIN with a little help from BROWNSTEIN. And it all turns out so well.

Behold. The fates and other esoteric forces have congealed and landed on DJT. When the smoke and other foggy stuff clears, what is left is a new variation on the personage. As events unfold, he will be known as “The Good Trump.” Brownstein is the force of nature behind this transformation. She is a wizard after all. She can reconstitute and reshape energy. Her mission was to bring out the Best O’ Trump. Which actually is the name of a candy bar Coolie is now selling at the Shoppe. It’s a little like Good & Plenty except it’s made of Jujube’s and jam (it only sounds bad – but tastes pretty okay.) Miss B drew on all the available magic – any less would have been ineffective.

How does the world absorb and accommodate this shape-shifting? With a good old emotional smorgasbord.

First we have the dancing-in-the-street crowd. Are they happy? Have their dearest hopes been realized? You betcha! Many classic styles are represented. We have the tango-ers, the Hora circle, quite a fair number of jazz hands (and feet), some slow dancing cheek to cheeky folks, and a hearty few doing an earth-shaking Russian Kasatsky.

Then we have the celebrate-till-you-barf folks, the indulgers who have few – if any – realistic boundaries. Let’s just say they are prone to taking things to the extreme, and then driving a few more miles. They crash and burn pretty quickly, and their group hangover is painful to even think about.

My favorites are the new true believers. They always knew everything would turn out. So they say, but I recall a number of down-payments having been made on property in Costa Rica. There were go-bags packed and practice runs taken.

All that is now moot. Since the new Trump is kind and generous and a great listener and not a narcissist. I know. It’s hard to believe.

Could this all be an act, designed to suck us into a state of unprotected bliss, only to have our property nationalized and our freedoms amputated one by one? Could be. Nah. The Trumpster is not really clever enough to be that diabolical.

But wait: the coast is not really clear. There’s Bannon, who is (I’m quite certain) in league with Lucifer himself; and the one I fear most of all – Jared the Underestimated. Donald’s consigliere is about to be given access to the world. He is tasked with reinventing the federal government and bringing peace to the Middle East. Sure. He can do that…can’t he? After all he’s a bright lad with no real experience and that’s all it takes. And – we should ask – what does it mean that Trump trusts him so implicitly. How can that be a good thing?

Grab your gold and go to the bunkers. Now.

Look for my new non-fiction book, FEAR OF LANDING, The stories we tell about commitment and their meanings. It’s available on amazon.com: https://www.amazon.com/Fear-Landing-stories-commitment-meanings/dp/1539179095/ref=sr_1_3?ie=UTF8&qid=1476027342&sr=8-3&keywords=karen+krett

Also available on amazon.com is my science fiction novel, RAYMÒN AND SUNSHINE, It’s about the relationship between an autistic man and a female android three hundred years in the future, when what was once seen as a disability is merely a difference. http://www.amazon.com/Raym%C3%B2n-Sunshine-Karen-Krett/dp/0692660887/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1461866431&sr=8-1&keywords=krett+sunshine

You can find more information about me and my books at www.karenkrettauthor.com/

LEAVE THAT MAN ALONE: HE CAN’T HELP IT… or: Why they do what they do.

When girls of my cohort were young, there was a common chant that became interwoven in what was generally known as play:

First comes love; then comes marriage; then comes Karen with a baby carriage. (Of course, any name would do.)

We singsonged this as we jumped rope or played games with a high-bounce ball known as a “Spaldeen” (Made by Spalding – you can see the simple shift of emphasis). What we did with the ball was “turn over:” an act of physical coordination whereby the regular bouncing was placed under the simultaneous lifting and slight rotation of the leg, all on the beat of the half sung little stories we told.

Back to the message: There was an understood and expected flow to a little girl’s life. She would, it was preordained, become someone’s wife and then (not before), someone’s mother.

And what about the boys? Little did they know that there was a life path they were compelled to follow. They would marry “us.” They would become the Daddy and (back in the ancient days of my youth) – the expected breadwinner.

At that time, men weren’t raised to be sensitive and understanding; they weren’t taught to be cooperative and gracious. Rather, they were encouraged to be boisterous assholes, smacking each other around “playfully” with the occasional bloody nose or black eye merely a rite of passage.

Fast forward to the outcome of the female quest to wind up with the baby carriage. Women almost always succeeded; their programming was unshakable. Men were just not equipped to resist. Unfortunately, they were also not equipped to do a very righteous job of being a “life partner.” They tended to hang on to the qualities which served them in their pre-married state: a kind of babyish narcissism which generated a reflexive reaction to the new woman in their life. Isn’t she “Mommy” in a different guise? Won’t she: Pick up after me? Forgive all my infractions? Dote on me and find me to be the best thing she’s ever seen? Won’t she listen endlessly to my “story” without any observable trace of boredom?

Women, I don’t have to tell you that we have our work cut out for us. Civilizing or training (your choice) that man you just had to corral, seduce, charm is (you will quickly find out) a lifelong quest, a goal you will probably never achieve.

Which works better? To bitch him out on a daily basis for all his shortcomings, failures to learn, non-responsiveness, etc? Or to accept the limitations that come with the male territory, i.e. make the best of it and give him little grief when he acts in those predictable but quite undesirable ways?

You know the answer. You just don’t like it. Cause if we stop pushing at him to be different, then we must resign ourselves to the end of our quest to find the prince.

Can I hear that collective sigh of resignation? The dream must die, but life goes on.

Look for my new non-fiction book, FEAR OF LANDING, The stories we tell about commitment and their meanings. It’s available on amazon.com: https://www.amazon.com/Fear-Landing-stories-commitment-meanings/dp/1539179095/ref=sr_1_3?ie=UTF8&qid=1476027342&sr=8-3&keywords=karen+krett

Also available on amazon.com is my science fiction novel, RAYMÒN AND SUNSHINE, It’s about the relationship between an autistic man and a female android three hundred years in the future, when what was once seen as a disability is merely a difference. http://www.amazon.com/Raym%C3%B2n-Sunshine-Karen-Krett/dp/0692660887/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1461866431&sr=8-1&keywords=krett+sunshine

You can find more information about me and my books at www.karenkrettauthor.com/