Author: skidaz

RAGE UP AMERICA

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I tried to read the recently released Epstein Files, but I became so enraged I had to stop. The pictures of leering men, the dental office, the bedrooms, the decadence and depravity were nauseating. Rumors of murder and mutilation swirled in my head. My thoughts turned to my own daughters, my nieces, and to all of the children. Allegedly even young boys were targets for some of these millionaire lechers.

Now my mind is haunted by a three-year-old adorable blond, Madeleine McCann, who went missing in 2007 while on a family vacation in Portugal. According to an FBI investigation, someone reported her being accompanied by Ghislaine Maxwell. A tip that was never taken seriously. Yet, the newest batch of files speak of the “recruitment” of children from abroad.

Americans are better than this. We must no longer accept these atrocities as things we can’t change. We must CHANGE the things we cannot and will never accept. Every sleaze in the Epstein file should be prosecuted and tried. Every enabler, including Patel and Bondi should be prosecuted and tried. And perhaps, when the dust settles America will be great…again.

Protest Songs

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For my tenth Christmas, I asked Santa for a clock radio. As the technology improved, I had a transistor radio, and by the time I went to college in 1966, I had a primitive stereo system. I also learned to play the guitar and strummed a lot of folk music, written by Bob Dylan, Buffy St. Marie, and Joan Baez. I played and sang, Universal Soldier, Where Have All the Flowers Gone, If I Had a Hammer, and Blowin’ in the Wind.

On my car radio this week, I heard Buffalo Springfield’s For What It’s Worth, and time stood still. I was blasted back to the past! To the mid- 60’s and 70’s. To my era of protest songs: Turn, Turn, Turn; Respect; Give Peace a Chance, Eve of Destruction, Requiem for the Masses, and my most poignant memory–Four Dead in Ohio.

And now, almost sixty years later the music of the past is alarmingly relevant. Have we not learned anything? I guess not, or Springsteen would not have surged to the top of the charts with The Streets of Minneapolis.

If You Feed Them, They Will Come

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(I’m not talking about teenage boys; everyone knows they consume volumes of food and drinks. When my brother was that age, he’d take a half gallon of milk and shred a bag of candy bars into it and drink the whole jug after school. My youngest used to have parties at our home after Friday night games, and I’d have to replenish the pantry and the freezer on Monday mornings.)

What I am talking about, though, is the new rage for birdwatchers: The Bird Buddy. Since my three-year-old grandson, Blake, is enamored with birds, I was gifted this high-tech, AI, contraption for Christmas, so I could share pictures with him of Arizona birds. In turn, he’d share his photos from North Carolina. As a technological immigrant, I was not jazzed about learning to navigate this pricey, solar bird feeder and camera, but…after all, it was for Blake.

Surprisingly enough, I buried the shepherd’s hook in the ground, downloaded the app, assembled the parts, and filled the feeder with native bird seed. I was ready! Over a month has passed. Not one bird has visited my luxury dining establishment. Why? I don’t know. Perhaps, they are camera shy. Perhaps, they don’t like my cuisine. Perhaps, they prefer to peck my nearly ripe tomatoes and devour my grass seed.

I can’t understand why the copious amounts of birds that live in my environs decided to boycott my restaurant. They’ve never hesitated before to flock to a seed block, nest under the eaves, or poop in my citrus trees. Realizing I can’t disappoint Blake, I’m searching for options. I considered posing fake birds on the feeder, but when I checked the camera photo–obvious fake news! I was seriously thinking I’d even buy parakeet and set it free after my Kodak moment. My conscience cancelled that decision; I couldn’t have a parakeet be hawk or owl bait. One of my friends sent me this suggestion:

Do you think I should try it?

The Trophy Wife

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Initially, some of you may find this moniker flattering. Is it? When I hear this term, I immediately think Anna Nicole Smith or Melania Trump. Granted they both were/are physically attractive and spared/spare no expense on maintaining themselves, from BOTOX to plastic surgery, exquisite wardrobes, and rigorous diets and exercise. In short, they are mere arm candy for their much older Sugar Daddy/husband.

With that being said, a friend recently asked, “If someone called you a trophy wife would you be offended?”

I laughed, “Me? I’d think they must be blind! I’m neither gorgeous, nor married!”

“Seriously, Sue. I need to know because when I told my husband about it, he said it was a compliment.”

“Hmm. He must be naive or doesn’t want you to feel bad about someone saying such crap.”

“So you agree? It’s derogatory?”

“Yep. Trophy wife has negative connotations. It’s reminiscent of Blonde jokes or BVD jokes.”

“BVD jokes?”

“Beautiful but Very Dumb. Women who are uneducated, unsophisticated, and have little substance. You, on the other hand, are the antithesis. You are educated, intelligent, and articulate. You can’t help it that you’re also good looking and blonde. Whoever called you a trophy wife is envious. And just remember what our moms taught us.”

“Sticks and stones….”

WTH? It’s A Scam!

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The other day, my friend received these four pieces of plastic in the mail. No invoice, nor instructions were included. She and two of her neighbors tried to assemble the contraption and reached this conclusion.

WTH? They were clueless. “Look up the company listed on the return address. It’s Gathers Fottys.“

Hmm. Gathers Fottys or Geathers Fottys, 3646 S Wolcott Ave., Chicago, Illinois, 60609 is a scam.In fact, it is called brushing–short for brushing up. The scammer finds its customers by trolling the Dark Web for addresses, particularly online advertisers on social media, like Facebook and Instagram. Then he/she mails his/her target a cheap, useless what-not. The unsuspecting targets are clueless, unless they notice an unauthorized purchase on their credit card, Pay Pal, or Venmo. When they report this to their creditor, the scammer provides proof of delivery. Or in some cases, simply uses the target’s name to brag about the quality of their products online. The same tactic is used in bait and switch schemes, when one orders an electric scooter for the low price of $99 and receives six battery-operated tea lights instead. The scammer has proof of delivery, and the target has little recourse.

Of course, victims can report these incidents to the Postal Service, to the Better Business Bureau, and to law enforcement, which is informative, but offer little prospect of monetary compensation. Additionally, by Federal law, the victim does NOT have to return any unsolicited item. In fact, victims are advised NOT to return items because the scammer is now assured the address of his target is correct. Talk about a waste of intelligence! These perps who set up elaborate scams could make money if they used their talents in legitimate endeavors.

Now if you receive one of these packages with random crap, I repeat you can kept it, recycle it, regift it, or trash, but check your credit card or other methods of payment. You’re welcome.

GIRLS: A True Story

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Allison is a young friend of mine, who’s originally from New York, as in the City. Yes, she has the Naw Yawk accent. She was educated in elite private schools, holds a degree from Hofstra, and is an accomplished equestrian. Given her very pricey hobby of owning horses, she has three jobs. By day, she’s a supply chain manager for a large corporation, she’s a professional, three-night-a week bartender, and she teaches riding lessons on the weekend.

Surprisingly , Allison is one of the most upbeat persons I’ve ever met. She’s uber enthusiastic and energetic, yet on my last encounter she was sad. Oh dear, I thought. Did something happen to one of her horses? Or one of her adopted chihuahuas?

“Allison, talk to me. What’s going on?”

“Sue, I got called into HR today.”

“Wow, are you being promoted again?”

“I wish. No. I used inappropriate language.”

I smiled. “Like what? Called someone a name, like jerk or horse’s ass?”

“According to HR, I did something far worse; in fact, totally inappropriate in the work place. I manage a seven-member team of women. The HR Director overheard me say, ‘Hey girls, where shall we go to lunch today?'”

“And you got called in for that?”

“Yep. I was told to refer to them as ladies or women. Girls is inappropriate.”

“Allison, sit down. Let me tell you a story–a story I know you studied, given your classical education. Remember when Juliet asks, ‘What’s in a name?’ What does she say next?”

“That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet.”

“Correct. My dear Allison, girl is more appropriate than the current government’s use of piggy or fucking bitch.”

What do you think?

Questions: Some Answers

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Journalism majors know their front-page lead sentence is to explicitly answer WWWWWH. Who, what, when, where, why, and how. True I’m a just a retired English teacher and not a journalist, but I’ve been struggling for the last year with these five W’s and H.

I can answer some: Who: Donald Trump. How: A toss up. Stupidity? Bigotry? Immorality? Idolatry? Where: Obviously America, duh, Los Angeles, Chicago, Portland, Minneapolis, and all the other cities where ICE has reared Barbie’s rage. (Pardon me, but her Botox lips look like a possum’s ass in pokeberry season–my grandfather’s favorite line.)

I also have a what and a when: January 7, 2026, Renee Good executed by ICE. She was a WHITE mom, she was a US citizen, she wasn’t armed, her dog was in the back seat of her car, her last words were, “Hey, dude, it’s okay….” Yet, she was shot in the face, not once, but 3 Times!

WHY? There were other alternatives, like shoot the air from her car tires. Ram her car from behind. Fire tear gas or taser her smiling face? Why murder her? WHY?

Sadly, I don’t know.

The Folly of Insurance

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While the current hot topic is health insurance, that debacle is a political hot potato I shall avoid. As many of you know I was involved in a car accident last week, courtesy of a teenage driver, who hit one car and then mine. Thankfully, no one was hurt, and the police report clearly indicated I was not at fault. Great! But what has ensued is an endless nightmare.

Fortunately or unfortunately, this is not my first rodeo with car accidents, so I thought I knew the drill. In the past, the insurance company of whom caused the accident took care of everything. But not in this case–I’m the one who has done all the reporting and spent hours answering the same questions over and over. Since the driver’s insurance company indicated they had no knowledge of the accident, I can only surmise that he failed to report it or disappeared. Finally, my agent advised I contact her main office. (I guess her job is to sell, not handle claims.) I did, which resulted in more phone calls, answering the same questions, more trips to the towing service, who impounded my undrivable car, and my miserable headache.

It seems ludicrous that in this hi-tech age the communications between insurance agencies remains in the dark ages. Lord knows we pay more than enough for our worst-case scenarios. Of course, I have no idea if my car will be repaired or totaled. I have no idea when or if I’ll be compensated, but I’ll let you know. Until then…hope your new year is off to a great start.

How One Town Rallied: A Story of Hope

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With both our nation and our world in such disarray this week and with all the personal struggles and uncertainties our family and friends are experiencing, I offer this true story of hope.

Lakeview, Oregon is the Lake County seat, with a population of 2,418 (2020 Census.) It dubbed itself as the “Tallest Town in Oregon,” for its elevation of over 4,700 feet above sea level, and its residents are primarily loggers, ranchers, or government employees. This past spring, the town officials informed the community, there were no funds to open the public swimming pool, due to a hefty loss in tax revenues. Realizing the importance of providing that recreation, the folks came together and donated enough money to open the pool.

Then as summer edged toward fall, town officials delivered worse news: there were no funds to plow snow this winter in a town that typically gets 44+ inches of snow! Why? After all, Lake County is nearly the size of New Jersey, yet inhabited by less than 9,000 people. Most of the land is under the Bureau of Land Management or Forest Service control, and thus it is not taxable, which further contributes to the town’s financial woes.

Faced with this potentially critical dilemma, the community had to do something. How would their children get safely to and from school? How would mail be delivered? How would stores and offices be able to open? Thanks to the ingenuity and creativity of several community members, they decided to print and sell a 2026 calendar–not just any calendar–but an Outback Naked calendar, and dedicate 100% of the sales for snowplowing. Using volunteers from senior citizens to those in their mid-forties as the monthly models in scanty clothing, they published a most hilarious calendar, which went viral. Even The New York Times published this article: One Town’s Plan to Address a Financial Crisis: Nude Calendars by R. Fernandez. (Don’t be alarmed, the models don’t let it all hang out; it’s no more skin than you’d see at the swimming pool.) The Drew Barrymore Show is also scheduled to feature Lakeview’s project.

I would urge you to join me in supporting Lakeview’s endeavor. Check out: Outback Naked Calendar’s Shop on zeffy.com Trust me, you’ll get a kick out of each month and applaud the resilience of a town who refused to accept the unacceptable.

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year, Dr. Suze

(Photo courtesy of: Tiffany Paull. Model: Kenda Fuhriman)

The Scrooges of Capital Hill

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As a child, I was moved by Dickens’ A Christmas Carol. Why? I guess because I was young and had never met a ruthless, nasty Ebeneezer. When How the Grinch Stole Christmas appeared in 1957, I was nine-years-old and certainly still too young to understand the heartless green, evil guy.

Today, I’m a septuagenarian–more experienced, worldly, and battle-worn, who has encountered a mere handful of abominable folk. Until now. Now? They’re everywhere. Yes, everywhere, particularly in Washington, DC. The newfound colony of millionaires, billionaires, and even a trillionaire, who are clueless about the rest of us. They don’t go to the grocery, nor the gas station. They don’t shop Black Friday sales, nor do they use duct tape to repair a broken pipe. Their pension and health insurance is guaranteed for life. And when THEIR company shut down, they got paid, while our military and air traffic controllers did not.

This past week, these egotistic villains failed to act on health care plans, causing over half of us to be faced with increased costs of as much as 500%. Imagine the young teacher, who is currently paying $180 per month. In January, her bill will be $1,200 a month! To me, this is unconscionable and irresponsible–and inhumane. It seems these elected politicians are oblivious to their looming reelections in 2026, since 57% of those on the expiring Affordable Care Act are Republicans.

The holiday memories of my childhood are crystal clear this time of year. I sat in the upper choir loft of the Methodist Church and joined my friends in singing, Glory to the newborn King. On Christmas Eve, I looked out my bedroom window to see if I could spot the jolly, old soul. I believed in the spirit, the miracle birth, and the love and the joy.

My greatest wish this season is for those on Capital Hill to wake up from their oblivion! Your constituents are hurting. You should embrace and act on Peace on Earth and Good Will to All. My question is: Will you?