Don’t call me Shirley…
In case I forget…
MERRY CHRISTMAS EVERYBODY!!
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That’s what gave up the ghost of Santa’s fake for me.
When I was six, I had to bring a note to school for my teacher to advise her that I was scheduled for surgery and would miss school for a spell. My mother never learned French, and my teacher never learned English.
The teacher would ask me to translate, but I didn’t know cursive and, being in French school, could barely read English. When I think about it now, what an absurd scene: the teacher wrote the note on the blackboard so I could make out the letters and after we spent half of the lunch hour methodically trying to parse the message, I said something like “I better ask Dad to write the note for when I’ll be going to the hospital.”
The teacher was stunned. Her jaw literally dropped. And then she broke out laughing so hard I felt like I’d done something wrong. She reassured me that I hadn’t and that she was laughing because we would’ve saved a lot of time if she’d asked me what I thought the note could be about.
Any way… That Christmas, there was a “special present” under the tree for me with a note from Santa. I recognized the penmanship as my mother’s thanks to the forensic analysis I undertook with my first grade teacher earlier in the year.
As a post-script, I ran into that teacher when I was Christmas shopping when I was 17 or 18. A woman approaches me with a piece of paper mistaking me for a store employee. The note in cursive, identified a brand and type of battery for a ski-do. Suddenly I recognized the woman as my first grade teacher and I said
“I’m sorry, I still don’t read cursive. But I have since learned to read English in books as well as off blackboards.”
At first she just stared at me in confusion. But then the light went on and she burst out laughing again. She instantly remembered my name (which left me impressed) and we reminisced about that day and chatted about a few other things.
I guided her to the service desk where the staff took over. We exchanged holiday greetings and I left (with the gift of a story to tell I suppose).
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I understand he was the very first rapper, the OG.
Think about it.
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No risk, no reward…
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Because this “look over here, not over there” approach worked so well for Mark Meadows.
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There is a tv channel on Directv called RFD TV, whose culture is entirely farm related. Wheat prices, tractor shows, the whole route. They also show HeeHaw a couple of times a week.
When we still had Direct, we would watch the show for the music guest and for Roy, who was amazing on any instrument he touched.
I cannot find RFD TV anywhere now that we are on Comcast. More is the pity.
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My decision was greatly influenced by the fact that two people in the family circle are currently being treated for cancer – and one is a blood cancer. Besides that, another is seriously diabetic. So better I stay away.
But now I’m envying you your prime rib. Standing rib roast is at least semitraditional in the family, though sometimes pork happens. I will miss that. I love roasts – and especially roast beef.
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And God bless us every one! 
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Gutfeld embodies the kind of comedy Fox News viewers enjoy. Namely a guy simply being a nasty jerk. He’s not funny. His delivery is terrible. The jokes are poorly written. However, he’s an asshole to liberals and that’s all he needs.
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Can no one tell me why the Godfather Trilogy are now considered Christmas movies? Is the horse’s head?
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Good polls are an accurate measure of public opinion. But a poll indicating that Biden’s ratings are down because of inflation seen in supermarket prices (thanks NPR you morons) is only a measure of people’s ignorance about how government and economics work.
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And Seth Meyers
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“The rats in my kitchen are so bad the kids won’t eat the raisin bread.”
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Coming of age in the sixties, the more i learned the more radical i became. Speaking with friends became difficult as they were more concerned about soap operas, and other things. When visiting a friend who still lives in that area, he assures me that many of our former friends, show a very concerned interest in the news nowadays, and their go to is faux.
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No, but recently uprooted…
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Just make like a tree, and leave…
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The shit is everywhere, a mile wide and an inch deep. We need the return of the fairness doctrine, which said that news really did have to be fair and balanced, and the spectrum was to precious to waste on any broadcaster who couldn’t hold to that standard. This is like saying that because of scarcity of life boats, Fox News “journalists” would be left to drown on a sinking ship. That’s only fair, since they are a total waste of oxygen. I am particularly fed up with the wing nut noise makers at this time of year, when I see how how much they try to make “merry Christmas” feel like “sieg heil”.
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Not usually into the crude stuff, but this post definitely triggered a memory. So what is it again that rolls down hill?.. 
Oh yeah:
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Hope your friend, if a sailor, gets his weather somewhere besides faux. Having sailed past Owl Pt. down the Eggemoggin Reach to Acadia, then out to Hurricane Island. Was fortunate to do a 24 hr. shift on rescue station radio (no calls), the weather can become difficult quickly on the water.
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