Thursday, June 29, 2017


We’d only been out two times before, but I already 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.

Shelby was superficial. Her conversation was full of sales at Nordstrom’s, the latest fashion trends, and clothing she’d bought that was Epic! My attempt to discuss cinema, books, and art fell as flat as her chest was not.

But I wasn’t ready to give up yet.

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

“Hi, Shelby.  Say …um … is that a new blouse?”

 “Yes, I just got it at Nordstrom’s, marked down from $75 to $37.50! Isn’t it Epic?

“Just as Epic as ‘Gladiator.’”

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

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

“I’d love that! 

Score No. One toward a night of fun!

As we entered Nordstrom’s, I turned on the “Shop till you Drop” charm.

“It’s so great here, Shelby!  Nothing better than being in a crowded department store on a Friday night instead of sipping Chablis at a cafĂ© downtown.

“I’m headed over the Point of View Department,” said Shelby. “I’ll see you soon.”

“Buy something that’s Epic!” I called to her. “While you shop, I’m headed to the Men's Department to look for a nice Hawaiian shirt with an alligator on it.

Score No. Two for the 67 year old Jew!

I milled around the Men’s Department pretending to look at stuff while reading the news on my phone. Shelby eventually returned with a bag big enough to pack lunch for Governor Christie.

“You didn’t buy anything, Perry?”

“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 bluntly, “I think we should call it quits.”


‘‘We don’t have anything in common.’’

“But we do. I love clothes! I love discounts! I love buying stuff that’s

“That’s just it.”

“What’s just it?”

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


Your bad taste is Epic!


Saturday, June 24, 2017

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 really 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.”

“Let me tell you what I’m offering.”

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

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


“Because Republicans have no spine.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You 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! What about President Trump’s broad-shouldered leadership?  He could carry two or three broads on his shoulders no sweat!”

All you do is regurgitate Republican talking points! Look, I'm offering Republicans my spine, flawed as it may be.

“What do you mean it’s flawed?”

“I have kind of a crooked spine. I'm sort of like Richard III except instead of being a king of England and subject of a Shakespeare play 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!

"We're doing fine just as we are. Did you know 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.”


"What's a spine?"


Thursday, June 22, 2017

There was a Crooked Man & Other Ailments of Boomer Life

Last week I sat down and made a list of all my current health challenges.

Sexual dysfunction didn't even crack the Top Ten.

The health issues we Boomers face as we age are nature’s way of telling us it's a little late to do Europe on a motorcycle. What constitutes an exciting summer now is being able to say to your neighbor "look how good the hydrangeas came in this year!" 

Would you like to compare my list with yours?

There was a Crooked Man

My back was recently voted the East Coast's Answer to  Lombard Street in San Francisco.  The only difference between my back and Lombard Street - the crookedest street in America - is pedestrian foot traffic.

I went to see my orthopedic doctor Dr. Simpkin and asked him if it was possible to straighten my back.  Dr. Simpkin thanked me for the laugh.

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

Got to love a doc with bedside manner.

Something Inside Starts Burning

That something inside is reflux, which catapults my esophagus into the state of global warming our descendants are expected to experience in the years Star Trek is supposed to take place.

With medicines known as proton pump inhibitors, I can out eat Anthony Bourdain on his best day in his most exotic land.

But should I forget to take them, it's the Great Chicago Fire all over again and even Spiderman can't save my thoracic cavity.

Vitiligo Whoah-Oh 

No, Vitiligo is not a hit song by the late Dean Martin. It is a hit to the skin by a disease that turns it to a blotchy white.

And no, Blotchy White is not a Catskill comic, but an apt descriptor for my hands, arms, and neck. 

That's just what this liberal needed: a disease to make me look more white. 

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 "inkspots" floating like dark clouds in front of my eyes. 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.  I sure hope the floaters 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, with help from Joni Mitchell, Linda Ronstadt, and Dean Martin.

How about you, fellow Boomer? What's on your list?

What's that?  

You're doing Europe on a motorcycle this summer? 

Well, wait til you see my hydrangeas!


Tuesday, June 20, 2017

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!”


Sunday, June 18, 2017

If Everyone Had a Panel of Experts of Their Own Like Hosts on CNN

Incredible!  I just got invited to a last minute party at Farbman’s house and if I’m going to go, I've got to get ready.  I need some advice fast!

Okay, I’m going to bring in my panel of experts:

With me is Senior Perry Adviser Dana Bash, Perry Historian Gloria Borger,  Adviser to Four Presidents and to Perry David Gergen, Neurosis Analyst John King, Self-Deprecation Strategist Van Jones, and Trump Supporter and General Prevaricator Jeffrey Lord.”

"Dana, I'll start with you.  Should I go to this party?

"Perry, I've been around this town a long time, and I’ve learned when someone is as far down in the popularity polls as you are the best move is to hit a party. But this time, try not to spill your drink all over the host!"

"John King?"  

“I would agree you should not spill all over the host as you have frequently done in the past.  And don't throw up all over the host as you have also frequently done in the past!”

“Gloria Borger?”

“You're in trouble, Perry Block!  The most recent Quinnipiac poll shows that you have an approval rating of 13%."

"Is that bad, Gloria?"

"Put it this way:  your approval rating makes Donald Trump look like Tom Hanks."

“All right, let me ask you, David Gergen:  assuming I go to the party, should I bring a bottle of wine or is Entenman's crumb cake good enough?"

“I think you’d be absolutely fine with the Entenmann’s crumb cake. Both Ronald Reagan and Bill Clinton always brought crumb cake to parties while Richard Nixon favored Twinkies, and we all know what happened to him.”

“Do you agree, John King?”

“No, I don’t.  As you may recall, Dana Bash and I were once married, but we broke up because I always wanted to bring Entenmann's, she argued for Beaujolais. That and the terrible sex.”

“You’ve been known to like a good bottle of wine, Van Jones.  Can I get away with something under ten dollars?”

“Well, that depends.  Do you want to be viewed as a jerk who brings to a nice party cheap shit wine that makes Listerine taste like Dom Perignon, or do you want to ever be invited anywhere again?”

“Invited anywhere again. Any recommendation as a good wine to bring?  Gloria Borger?”

“Spend at least $25 and don’t get Chardonnay. It screams I’m a douche bag!

“Dana Bash?”

“I completely agree with that.”

“Don’t get Chardonnay?”

“No. You are a douche bag!”

“One more issue to discuss: Does the panel think I have a shot to meet a woman at the party who takes a hankering to me who’s around 50 and still hot?"

“Dana Bash?”


“Van Jones?”

“Clearly no.”

“Gloria Borger?”

“In all my years of observing you, Perry, I can pretty well conclude the answer is no.”

“John King?”

“I agree.  Nothing in your history would support that.”

“Jeffrey Lord, haven’t heard from you yet tonight.  Do I have a chance to score?”

“Allow me to be a contrarian here.  I think it's a certainty you will meet a hot early-fiftyish woman with large breasts who’s going to be very interested in having sex with you later tonight.”

“Jeffrey Lord, you really think that?”


“But as a Trump supporter, you lie all the time.”



Friday, June 16, 2017

"Your Kind!" - A Modern Mystery

I found something very unusual outside my front door yesterday. 

Maybe it was a gift. Maybe it was an omen. Maybe it was whatever you decide that it was.  

As I left my house yesterday morning I spotted a small blue stone on the bench next to the front door.  Painted on it in a sort of purplish color were the words:

Your Kind!

And I thought "Your Kind?"

How Sweet!

Did some neighborhood child leave this for me?  Was someone trying to thank me for an act of kindness I didn't even remember?

I assumed the stone was probably from a child because the misuse of the word "your" instead of "you're" would indicate that the person who left the stone at my doorstep was either a child or Donald Trump.

But what had I done that was kind?

Yes, there was the time I was backing up too fast and almost ran over the neighbor's child Kevin. I think Kevin appreciated my jamming on the breaks in time to prevent him from flying the friendly skies. I kind of doubt he was the one who left the stone, however, because every trash day since then his father leaves the family's garbage can on the hood of my car.

Nevertheless I eye my stone lovingly,  a constant reminder that all of us should seek to find ways to say "You're Kind."


As I left my house yesterday morning I spotted a small blue stone on the bench next to the front door.  Painted on it in a sort of purplish color were the words:

Your Kind!

And I thought "Your Kind?" 

How Disturbing!

Did some neighborhood bigot leave this for me?  Was someone trying to tell me they didn't want my kind in the neighborhood?

I assumed the stone was probably from an adult because the proper use of the word "your" instead of "you're" would indicate that the person who left the stone at my doorstep was an adult and couldn't possibly be Donald Trump.

What had unleashed hatred against my kind?

After all, our neighborhood is more known for schlepping than goose stepping! The only white sheets you'd see around here would be on a carload of students from Villanova lost on their way to a toga party. But there could always be a random miscreant. Maybe it's my neighbor, who always leaves the family's garbage can on the hood of my car?

Nevertheless I eye my stone knowingly, a constant reminder that all of us should seek to find ways to never say "Your Kind!" 

So what is the mystery of the stone?  Am I being lauded or lambasted?  Am I viewed as someone who is wanted because I'm kind?  

Or am I someone whose kind is not wanted? 

You're Guess is as Good as Mine!


Note: That's the actual stone shown above. It really does exist.  It is not photo shopped, an artist's recreation, or an actor portrayal. Nor is the stone being compensated for its appearance here today.

Wednesday, June 14, 2017

Trump Fires Mueller for Poor Performance

President Donald J. Trump today fired Special Counsel Robert Mueller, the man charged with leading the investigation into the possible collusion of Trump and members of his administration with Russia, for poor performance.

"It has long been my practice," explained Mr. Trump "to complete a performance evaluation for every new federal employee at 27 days of employment.  Mr. Mueller's review was a total disaster, so I had no choice but to terminate him."

"Look at these ratings:  'Has Small Hands'  -  Below Expectations; 'Lies on Command' - Below Expectations; 'Takes Direction from Narcissists' Below Expectations, and on and on and on! 

"You want to see an amazing performance evaluation?  Ben Carson received all Exceeds Expectations,  including for 'Broadly Criticizes Mission of Department He or She Heads.'"

President Trump conceded that Mr. Mueller had performed well in one criterion on his performance evaluation. "True," said Mr. Trump, "Mr. Mueller did receive an Exceeds Expectations at 'Aggressively Pursues Investigation into Trump's Shameless Collusion with Putin.'"

"But one good rating, I'm afraid, just can't counterbalance all the other poor ones."


Tuesday, June 13, 2017

Little Old Ladies of My Dreams

 Little Old Ladies of My Dreams
Then and Now

Ever since I was a kid back in the black and white 50's, sexual fantasies have been as much a part of my life as insecurity, Coca-Cola, and being shitty in sports. Over the years, however, the objects of my mighty mental desires have changed every bit as much as the times. 

I used to lie on the carpet as a child in the family den and rub myself whenever Sally Starr - the somewhat chesty blonde cowgirl who showed Popeye cartoons and the Three Stooges -  appeared on screen. I didn't know exactly what was going on but I was constantly begging my mother to serve me spinach in volumes vastly beyond those ever envisioned for the average American boy by the sailor man's creators.

Or, for that matter, by Moe, Larry, and Curly either.  

From Ms. Starr I progressed to a steady succession of actresses (as well as choice classmates, office mates, and elite composites) usually aged, as I aged, in their 20's, 30's, and 40's.  But nowadays in springtime, summer, winter, and fall this not-so-young man's fancy  --- and fantasies --- have turned  to those women whom I (tongue-very-much-in-their cheeks) refer to as the 

                Little Old Ladies of My Dreams!

those actresses on the far side of 60 who can still send me to the den floor with the best of 'em! A sampling of these sexy over-sixties includes:

Karen Allen - age 65
Adrienne Barbeau - age 72
Kathryn Bigelow - age 65
Gates McFadden - age 68
Susan Sarandon - age 70 

But how do I mentally project myself into the amorous embraces of the Little Old Ladies of My Dreams?  Well ...

Gates McFadden, age 68  - we meet at a Star Trek  convention when I obtain her autograph in a moment when everyone else in the place is deluging William Shatner.          
"Thank you, Ms. McFadden.  You know, you were always my favorite Star Trek doctor.  After DeForest Kelley, that is."

"Then I was your second favorite?"

"Yes, but a close second. And I always thought you were hotter than Bones!"

"Thank you. May I buy you a drink? I find you a very attractive man about my age."

"Great! And later I'd like to boldly go where no man has ever gone before!" 

"I can't say that would exactly be true."

"That's okay!  I'm not a Star Trek purist!"


Kathryn Bigelow, age 65 - We meet in a bar in Philadelphia where she is directing a film. 

"Why, you're director Kathryn Bigelow! I'm a great admirer of your work!"

"Thank you very much."

"One day I might even see one of your movies."

"May I buy you a drink?  I find you a very attractive man about my age."

"Thank you. You know I'm not at all like your ex-husband James Cameron."

"You mean that you're not a jerk?"

"No, I mean I'm Jewish. The word Titanic will never be used as an apt descriptor for any part of me!"


Susan Sarandon, age 70 -  We meet when I spot her leaving the theater on the streets of New York City.

"Ms. Sarandon? I really liked you in Bull Durham!"

"Thank you, but I thought Kevin Costner was the one who made that movie."

"I didn't find him as fetching as you in the bathtub scene."

"May I buy you a drink?  I find you a very attractive man about my age."

"You find me a very attractive man?"


"About your age?" 


"Like to buy me a drink, would you?"

"I would indeed!" 

"Well, instead of that, Ms. Sarandon, there's something else you can do for me."

"What's that?"

"You can fuck yourself!  Thanks for not supporting Clinton!"

(Sometimes I love my country more than the Little Old Ladies of My Dreams.) 


Note: The two additional Little Old Ladies of My Dreams above are Adrienne Barbeau and Karen Allen. Boy, would I love to spend an evening drinking tea and knitting sweaters with either one of them!

Saturday, June 10, 2017

Adam West at the Pearly Gates

"Yes, next in line, please."

"Hello.  I'm a little confused.  My name is ...."

"Oh, I know who you are!  You're Adam West, television's first Batman!  Welcome, I’m Peter."

“St. Peter?”

“Nah, Just Peter.  That other guy retired years ago.”

"Thank you, Peter. Where am I?"

"Let’s just say this is Superhero Heaven. You don't really need the costume now, Adam.  By the way, great eyebrows! Best of any Batman!"

"Superhero Heaven?  Is that why I’m in a shorter line than the others."

"It's short now, but given all the superhero movies and TV shows these days in 40 or 50 years it's probably gonna be longer than the line for Larry King's ex-wives."

“Who’s inside Superhero Heaven?"
"Actors who've played superheroes, animated superheroes, and panel art superheroes.”

"Artwork too?"

"Yes, legendary comic book artwork. You should see the way Wonder Woman is drawn in here! Makes Gal Gadot look like Perry Block!"

"But you know, I wasn't the only Batman."

"Of course you weren’t.  In time Michael Keaton and Christian Bale will be here as well. If not for Batman, Ben Affleck would have made it too.  George Clooney's being waived in for other reasons."

"How about Val Kilmer?"

"No fucking way."

"What's Superhero Heaven like?"  

"It's whatever you want it to be. You can chase down the Joker and the Riddler or just play the harp. In time you get born again but we'll go over all that later."

"But I'm not really Batman.  There isn't any Batman."

"Adam, Batman isn't a person.  He's a concept, an ideal.  He stands for decency, self-sacrifice, and helping others, and not being afraid to do it in unorthodox ways if necessary. And that's true whether he's portrayed as goofy, serious, or even troubled and conflicted."

"But I'm not as good as all that!"

"No, Adam, you played the role well. Personally I like it better played straight but you did what you could with the times."

"I agree. I could have done without all the POWs and SOCKs too."  

Go right on in, Batman!

"Peter, about Robin ..."

"Don't worry, Burt Ward isn't coming here. We couldn't stand him either."


Are you secretly Batman by any chance? 
I'm asking everybody because Cesar Romero is just driving us crazy up here!