Meet my new Love - he's an ANIMAL!

Not much time to devote to the computer today, so I thought I'd introduce you to my new heart-throb...


Cars aren't the Way Fleer Promised they were going to Be...

When I was a kid, back in the dark ages, pretty much everything kidly came with some kind of trading card. I wasn't interested in the sports cards, but oh, I loved those cards that showed 'cars of the future.'

This was during a time when pretty much every kid could name any make of car by sight, including the model and year. That was just part of being a kid. Cars looked different, too, one from another. A Chevy didn't look like a Buick, a Plymouth didn't look like a Ford, etc.

What happened to those cars of the future? They were really neat looking. They were low, and sleek, and aerodynamically perfect, with very little wind resistance. What would our reaction be to the Scion, above, as a 'modern' car of the 2000s? I'll tell you.

We'd quit collecting cards.


It all ADDs up

Adult ADD is a strange and sometimes wonderful thing.

It causes a lot of trouble. But the rewards can be interesting, too. I have a friend who also has it (I refuse to say 'suffers from'). We are both artists, which is a common trait of AADD'ers. Many writers share the syndrome, as well as actors, scientists...it is often an unrecognized aid to focused and determined research and other endeavors. It can turn nasty, it's true - we start things and cannot finish them if we lose interest unless you drag us kicking and screaming back to it. We tend to be impulsive and too quick to act on untried ideas. (We are best at being the idea-person in a group, letting the follow-thru'ers act on them.)

What AADDers do wonderfully well,though, is chat. We understand, intellectually, about staying on-topic for long stretches of time...we just can't do it. We'll be talking about a tv show plot, then something one person says ignites an idea and off we go on another topic, only to change the subject again in another few minutes. It's like watching a verbal tennis match. Or My Dinner With Andre without the boredom.

We hate boredom. That's why the picture above is wincingly appropriate for a lot of us. We are, or can be, attrocious housekeepers. It's just not as important as what we're already doing, and what we're already doing inevitably leads to something else not connected with housework. Then, suddenly, it's bedtime. Tomorrow is another day.


The Strange Case of the Multiplying Meds

I don't know if anyone else has this mysterious experience, but my meds seem to be multiplying, even factoring in the 28/30 day months during the year.

I take a lot of meds for a lot of minor but necessarily medicable reasons, such as an arthritic knee, sensitivity to nitrates/nitrites (which require antihistimine), prozac (for free-floating anxiety) and Concerta to counteract some aspects of the prozac that causes one to want to sit and watch paint dry. Lasix for fluid retention. and a couple of potassium tabs to avoid charley-horses from the lasix. That half-aspirin just for luck. Finally, fish oil caps and big honking vitamins.

For some reason, the prozac and the lasix seem to be multiplying. I hate to have the Rxs stopped for any reason, since that causes all sorts of problems with the health care programs, requiring a new scrip in some cases - a big problem for me until I get my car fixed. So I sit and listen for signs of shenanigans from these two meds, because I can't explain the voluminous amounts of both I have on hand any other way. Being frug...oh hell...cheap, I can't bring myself to throw them out, and they have miles to go before they expire.


The Best in Shorts

I really have nothing much to say today, so I thought I'd instead share what I consider the best short story ever written. It's not long, so don't, please, read the last paragraph out of order. And when you encounter references that might make you wince, remember that it was first published in 1930.

A Rose for Emily


Out of My Mind About Bernie

Just have to add my (last) two cents to the Madoff affair.

First, I have to wonder what went thru Madoff's mind as he closed the door to his penthouse for the last time. At his age, he must have known that was the last moment for a LOT of things, not just the high life. If he has grandkids...no more uninterrupted contact with them. No milk/cookies dunking and quiet chatter with them. No more staggering sleepily out to the kitchen for that first cup of coffee with the day unfolding in front of him, ready for his choice of agenda. No, his days will be planned for him, and probably not to his liking. And probably having nothing to do with spreadsheets, either.

Letterman (one of my guilty pleasures) is making a huge deal out of 'where did the money GO??' Well, a lot of it was bitbucket-money. It never existed, except on Madoff's profit report. See...if you gave him $100 to invest, you got a wonderful report of what that money was doing, advancing like a fiscal pregnancy, growing by leaps and bounds. You might even get a 'dividend' or so to keep you 'on the hook.' (In reality, other investors' money.) You THOUGHT, and he told you, that it had grown to $5000; that is what you'd see as your loss. However, your actual loss was your initial deposit - nothing more. The other $4900 was your expectation. One of these days they will figure out what the real losses are, and it will be WAY lower than the beaucoup billions touted now. Did people "lose it all"? Oh, yes. But 'all' isn't the amount they think right now. Little consolation.

Another possibility regarding the 'disappearance' of the actual investment money is 'other folks' crimes.' Huh? you say...

Think about this - Madoff hired 'accountants' supposedly unsophisticated in the day to day profit/loss shenanigans going on within and around the faux accounts being massaged by Madoff. It's likely that most of them had no idea they were links in a financially diabolical scheme.

But it only takes one or two. Just suppose, in one of those over-the-watercooler moments, one of those more-savvy-than-you-thought employees sidled over to ol' Bernie and mentioned how interested the SEC, FBI, IRS, and probably NBC would be in his wonderfully creative investment abilities. However...just put some real cash in this sharper-than-average employee's hands (not in an account, please) and lips would be sealed.

In the course of 20 or so years, there could have been quite a few employee realizations of what was actually going on, all completely separate from the others.

That's quite a bundle of blackmail payouts. It could put a serious dent in one's actual unmassaged financials. And given the possible personalities of said 'employees' it could even induce an old goat like Bernie to plead guilty rather than answer questions about where 'all that money' went, rather than put himself or others at risk. Not that Bernie is a softie at heart - he asked his 'best friend' for a few million to invest just a day or so before being arrested - but an implied or actual threat to immediate family might have found a way into that stainless steel heart of his. A message such as 'you talk about our hush-money dealings and there won't be anyone left to come visit and buy you vending machine coffee' could inspire all sorts of guilty pleas to avoid pointed prosecutorial questions.

I'm just sayin....

(c)2009 KellyK


Way back when, around January, I posted a sad tale about my car (not quite like the one above). Here's an update. It's still dead, waiting for the $450 repair cost that isn't forthcoming as long as the freezing weather lasts and my money (literally most of what's left after the rent is paid) dwindles into my village's utility coffers.

It's amazing I've lasted this long without going completely insane, since I'm a single person in a town without even a bus service. It looks glum for the foreseeable future, too, since the utility bill is always a month behind real life; the result of energy frugality during one month only shows up about 6 weeks later after everything is tablulated and the most costly spin (it seems) put on it by the utility company.

I wanted to go to nickel bingo today. I didn't have any cash with me, but I had access to my Paypal account, which could, thru various massaging techniques, result in a $5 payment to a friend in another city. So last Friday I sent an email to her, requesting that she put five $1's in the mail to me in return for a $5 Paypal payment (a 'currency' she is accustomed to using). She didn't get the message in a timely manner so that's still pending, but she did some eyeball-rolling, presumably because it all sounded so silly.

But was it? She wondered if someone in the neighborhood had a five or five ones, forgetting that I didn't have actual money to offer, but Paypal funds which were trapped in my computer. Once with the $ in hand, the in-village mini-bus was available by regular route to go to 'geezer lunch' (my name for Peacemeal in-house lunching) + bingo, but what point is there to go to nickel bingo without a nickel? Hop in the car and go to the market or bank, where I could get change back? Hardly...no car. Walking would be fine for the kids in the neighborhood (if it weren't for the distance to store, etc.), but when you have an arthritic knee it produces diminishing returns.

How did this relatively new invention get to be the main 'ingredient' in so much of our daily life and survival? It's not by accident that the strength of a car's mobility is measured in horsepower.

I am quietly going nuts.


Breaking the laws of physics...

...sometimes weighing someone's words can give a negative value...

Much has been said about the former President's term, but no one can say it better than the man himself:


Doing it better the second time around...

Serious title, but I think it fits. The Oscars are a guilty pleasure of mine, and I usually think better of the broadcast than the critics do. This time, though, I really feel they fell down on the Memorium segment. Hard to read, hard to see in some shots. Roger Ebert agrees, and he posted the following UTube clip in his blog. Thanks, Roger...I'm passing it along:

Not earthshaking, but people who bring us joy, touch us in some way, devote their lives to sharing their talent should be acknowledged in a seemly manner.