The (All Kinds of) Material Girl or "To Die For"

We’d only been out two times before, but already I had Shelby pretty well figured out. And although what I’d figured out left a lot to be desired what I’d figured out was more than offset by the desirability of  her figure.

The truth is Shelby was kind of superficial.  Her conversation was all full of sales at Nordstrom’s, the latest fashion trends, and clothing she’d bought that was “to die for.” My attempt to discuss cinema, books, and art fell as flat as her chest was not.

I wasn’t ready to give up yet, though, not until I’d visited the quote unquote Promised Land you rarely find in a woman on the far side of 50 and on the low side of my quote unquote natural female market.

So for our third date I decided to employ a desperate ploy.

“Hi, Shelby, my, don’t you look curvy … I mean, groovy tonight!”

“I know!  This is a new blouse I just got at Nordstrom’s. Marked down from $75 to $37.50. Isn’t it to die for?”

“Oh yes! In fact, I’d die a violent death, with swords and fire, for it!”

“What are we going to do tonight, Perry?”

“I thought maybe we’d take an evening and go to Kohl’s and check out the new sales.”

Desperate ploy now being deployed!

“Why! I’d love that!  Except let’s go to Nordstrom’s instead.  I haven’t been to Nordstrom’s since Thursday!”

Score No. One toward a hopeful night of fun!

On our way over to Nordstrom’s, I turned up the “Shop till you Drop” charm.

“You know, Shelby, you and I have so much in common.  We’re both materialistic …. I mean we both love all kinds of material - wool, silk, polyester.  I’m thinking I’d like to get me some suspenders with little elephants on them, that's so hip. ”

Over at Nordstrom’s I kept up the pitter patter of little shopping feet as Shelby headed straight to the ultra-trendy Point of View  Department.

“While you shop, I’m headed off to the Men’s ...  Men's Stuff Department to look for some nice Hawaiian shirts with alligators on them.” I called to Shelby as she trotted off.  "Buy something to die for!”

Score No. Two for the 66 year old Jew!

I headed over to the Men’s Stuff Department and pretended to look at shirts and shoes and stuff while reading the headlines on my phone. Before long Shelby returned weighted down with a bag big enough to pack lunch for Governor Christie.

“You didn’t buy anything, Perry?”

“Gee, I left my credit card in my other pants, darn it!  I wanted to buy some loafers, Ban-Lon shirts, and Dockers with humongous pleats.”

Score Three for the soon to Get Lucky Me!

We returned to Shelby’s place, where I felt sure we’d soon be modeling fashions, minus the fashions, long into the night!

“Perry,” she said cautiously, “I think we should call it quits.”

“What?!!”

‘‘We don’t have anything in common.’’

“Yes, we do!  I love clothes!  I love shopping!  I love discounts and three way mirrors and buying stuff that is to die for!”

“That’s just it.”

“What’s just it?”

“I thought you dressed like that because you weren’t into clothes and shopping but now that I know you are...”

“Yes?”

“Your fashion sense is ... to live for!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

There was a Crooked Man and the RNC

"Hello, is this the Republican National Committee?" 

"Yes, this is the RNC.  How can I help you?"

"Yes, well, my name is Perry Block.  I'm a life-long Democrat but I have a proposition that could help the RNC."

"Why would a Democrat want to help the RNC?"

"It's not really for the RNC, it's for our country."

"Our country doesn't need any help from Democrats!  You’re all obstructionists who would vote against tax cuts for even the neediest millionaire. Do you know there are millionaires who can’t even afford a really hot mistress with big tits?”

“Gee, listen to you! It's worse than I thought.  Let me tell you what I’m offering the Republicans.”

“Okay. Shoot!  Which is a right the Dems would take away from us if not for the glorious Second Amendment, which was written by Jesus.”

“I’m offering the Republican Party my spine.”

“What? Why?”

“Because Republicans have no spine.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You all stand in servile supplication to a duplicitous ignorant lout who is destroying our country and probably selling it out to the Russians.”

“All you Dems ever want to talk about is Russia! Why don’t you want to talk about President Trump’s broad-shouldered leadership?  Why, he could carry two or three broads on his shoulders no sweat!”

“OMG, you just regurgitate Republican talking points! Look, I'm offering Republicans my spine, flawed as it may be.  You could have copies made for all Republicans in Congress.”

“What do you mean it’s flawed?”

“I have kind of a crooked spine, sort of like Richard III's except instead of being a famous king of England and subject of a towering play by the great William Shakespeare I'm an overage Jewish guy from a dinky town in Pennsylvania."

"If it's flawed, why are you offering it?"

“It’s gotta be better than no spine!

"Wolf Blitzer’s beard is fake news! Obama was not born in the United States but sprang fully grown from the head of Saul Alinsky! Grabbing pussy supplies the daily requirement of eight essential vitamins and minerals!”

"It's hopeless. Look I'm sorry I called." 

"Thank you for calling the RNC.  One thing I did want to ask.”

"Yes?"

"What's a spine?"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~`

There was a Crooked Man & Other Ailments of Boomer Life

As an Aging Boomer, I realize I'm never again going to do Europe on a motorcycle over the summer.

That wouldn't be so bad if I had ever done Europe on a motorcycle over any summer. For me an exciting summer is having the opportunity to remark to the gardener "gee, the hydrangeas really came in good this year." 

As an aging Boomer, last week I sat down and made a list of all the health challenges I'm facing these days.  Sexual dysfunction didn't even crack the Top Ten.

Here's a few of the challenges that did show up on the list:

There was a Crooked Man

Recently my back was voted the East Coast's No. 1 Attraction to Equal Lombard Street in San Francisco.  Lombard Street is known as San Francisco's crookedest street and perhaps the most crooked street in the world.

I'm thinking of building a Comfort Inn to accommodate all the tourists.

Recently I went to see my orthopedic doctor Dr. Kropotkin and asked him if it was possible to straighten my back. 

After about a minute and a half, Dr. Kropotkin thanked me for the laugh.

"Straighten your spine? For what? So you can have excellent posture in your coffin?"

A master of bedside manner, he ain't.

Something Inside Starts Burning

That something inside is reflux, which catapults my esophagus into the stage of global warming our ancestors will experience in the years Star Trek is supposed to take place.

Fortunately there are medicines known as proton pump inhibitors which totally handle the problem to the degree that I can out eat Anthony Bourdain on his best day in his most exotic land.

But if I should forget to take my medicine, my chest returns to five alarm fire status for which you'd need Spiderman to save any innocent tourist who happens to be taking selfies at the time in front of my spine.

Vitiligo Whoah-Oh 

Vitiligo  is not a hit song by the late Dean Martin but a hit to the skin by a disease that turns some of it so white that you come to resemble 1/4 to 1/2 of rock star Johnny Winter, but since he's dead, I'll revise that to say 1/4 to 1/2 of his brother Edgar Winter.

My forehead now has a mark on it which makes me look like I'm observing Ash Wednesday which has  Rabbi Debbie King eyeing me nervously every time I run into her, especially on the High Holy Days.

Vitiligo Whoah-Oh?  Shut the fuck up, Dean! 

I've Looked at Clouds from Both Sides Now

I've looked at floaters from both sides now, and frankly I don't like either side.

Floaters are black blotches floating like dark clouds right in front of my eyes. They can be annoying, but sometimes I don't see them.  If I look quickly out of the left side of my eye, it looks like the Grim Reaper is sneaking up on me. 

Which he is.  Which makes me hope the floaters will all float away before I do.   

My Analyst Told Me That I Was Right Out of My Head - Don't ask. 


And that's what life is like for this Boomer these days.  How about you, fellow Boomer? Do you have a similar list?

Ah-hah.  Let's look:  a hangnail,  small amount of plaque,  split ends? That's it?

What's that?  

You're doing Europe on a motorcycle this summer? 

Well, wait til you see my hydrangeas!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Aquaman, Ruler of the Deep State

If there's an annoying term that right wing ideologues bandy about these days, it's the "Deep State."

Some believe this term is used to describe people in government who are trying to hinder the Right’s favorite deranged demagogue from destroying the country, but that turns out to be wrong.

The Deep State is Atlantis.

What state could be deeper!

Atlantis sank beneath the waves because Trump convinced its leader Aquaman that global warming was a hoax created by the Thracians. Everyone in Atlantis survived, however, because Aquaman had the foresight to get roadside assistance. 

Under cover of oxygen, Aquaman and his army of clams, shrimp, and other little fishies in the water attacked the White House. Unfortunately Trump was waiting for them with cocktail sauce, oyster crackers, and little forks.

“Mr. President," said Aquaman calling Trump the next day, “you are too brilliant for me. Please come as my guest of honor to an all-you-can-eat seafood buffet in Atlantis featuring lobster, crab, and many of my other relatives.”

“Will there be mermaid pussy for me to grab?” asked Trump.

“Will there be mermaid pussy?” replied Aquaman. ”You’ll be grabbing so many flippers they’ll call you the Pinball Wizard!”

“I'm there!" said Trump, and hung up.

“When you leave Atlantis, Trump” laughed Aquaman, King of the Sea and Ruler of the Deep State, “the only crabs you’ll have will be the kind you can’t eat!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~