Lately, you’ve been feeling a trifle disappointed in many of the people in your life. Let’s start with the USA’s putative president, and work your way on down.
I would, however, stop short of my cat. Hobeydoo, thank you for standing by me in my hour(s) of need. You neither have intimacy issues nor are you medicated, and besides, you never fall off your bicycle. And for that I am grateful. Plus, your furry purrs and little lovenips are very comforting through what’s projected as five forthcoming days of relentless rain.
Someone I used to drink with ages ago, when I used to drink, which I don’t anymore, a chick, actually, sends me this Bob Fosse quote: “My friends know that to me happiness is when I am merely miserable and not suicidal.”While I’m momentarily too bummed to recall if he succeeded in killing himself or not – sorry, gang, it’s just a joke and a bad one at that, speaking of which, I saw “The Aristocrats” – perhaps you’ll understand what I mean when I say it reminds me of far too many folks I know, including the calamity-in-chief who’s purportedly running our country … but into the ground.
Today, I awaken to the news your president – Not mine! You voted for him, remember, Bunky? – wants the right to quarantine you, me and millions upon millions of hapless other Americans if the USA falls prey to an influenza pandemic – as it inevitably may to create a certain and hugely profitable market for the vaccines his cronies manufacture, one, and two, conveniently eliminate a sizeable chunk of the pesky populace in one swell foop, I mean, fell swoop. Let me say this in another way, so you can watch my mouth move: mandatory mass inoculations of vast quantities of flu vaccine yet to be manufactured by Bush-Wah’s cronies in Big Pharmacy, lest we suffer the consequences of our refusal, that is, internment, or is that interment?
This is after researcher Robert Lederman alerts me with an even more alarming report that mad scientists have recreated the mega-killer flu virus of 1918, and are now concerned it could either escape from the laboratory to infect everyone on the planet and/or be misused as a horrific weapon of bioterror, which is kind of the same difference, isn’t it?
Duh! Are these guys idiots, or what?
As for your so-called friends, are they there for you in crisis? Probably not. Excuses, excuses! Consider them the FEMA of Friendship. This one says something thoughtlessly awful, that one has a “PTA meeting” or “seminar” or “choir practice” any night you really need them, the next one’s on perpetual vacation when you have a problem, another’s draining sinuses prevent them from keeping your plans, still another forgets something important they’ve promised to do, yet another chuffs off your Homeland Security fears when the nearby subway gets closed down for a bomb threat.
I dunno. Maybe it’s the season. You know, to be elegiacally melancholy. After all, it’s High Holy Days for Jews, a 10-day period known as Days of Awe, when, besides repenting of your sins, it’s customary to seek reconciliation with those you may have wronged during the previous year.
Another useful ritual during Rosh Hashanah, Jewish New Year, according to Judaism 101: “Tashlikh, or ‘casting off.’ We walk to flowing water, such as a creek or river , on the afternoon of the first day and empty our pockets into the river, symbolically casting off our sins. This practice is not discussed in the Bible, but is a long-standing custom. ”
Soon, Yom Kippur, Day of Atonement, follows, forbidding work, sex, deodorant, even leather shoes. This is a rigorous day, an extreme Sabbath, with its attendant fasting, depriving oneself of pleasures, repenting of the sins of the previous year.
Which brings me to repent in advance for being curious about the new career choice called “Lifestyle Consultant,” getting between $1,000-$3,500 a day to yenta-fy your life.
“My new best friend … for $150 an hour. If your pals are all too busy to advise, lifestyle consultants can help,” burbles CNN/Money: “… Lifestyle consultants [are] the latest offshoot of the booming market of upscale personal services, and they promise to overhaul your wardrobe, arrange for sessions with hair and makeup professionals, give advice on what type of car to buy, what music to listen to, even what plastic surgeon to use.”
Shudder. Or, in the words of “Maggie the Brit,” not her real name, “Barking mad!”
“Lifestyle consultants are filling the void left by the dissolution of close familial relationships and neighborhoods,” explains Syracuse University pop culture professor Robert Thompson, in CNN/Money. “The things supplied by communities have been commodified.”
Say no more! For those whom the thought of outsourcing friendship might be a tad hard to take, I say, well, outsource this! Otherwise, sounds like Renta-Yenta to me!
