https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xPMa4YgZWNQ&list=UULFr4dNcNC6p1xJiLjdc6KoFA&index=16

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LdIy2GnYdwE

Relocating to a new city, even within the same state,state, can be extremely challenging. Aside from pizza, Chinese food,and barbers, there are medical concerns. My experience has been as a retiree looking for medical, dental, and veterinary care, all can be scams so be careful.

Upon retirement, I received Medicare, not Medicaid; there is a big difference between the two. You have seen the commercials on television for private plans, which you may need an attorney to help explain. Social Security deducts about $100 or so each month from Medicare coverage. They offer HMOs and PPOs, depending on your needs. HMOs need referrals from their primary care doctor; you can’t choose your own specialty doctor. PPOs do not need any referrals, but it is more expensive. I moved from Tampa to Ocala, one hundred miles away, which put me in another network area. If I stayed with the basic Medicare program, I would be out of area for my present doctors, or what they now call healthcare providers. What a joke! I opted for the PPO to keep my current doctors. I will drive over 200 miles round trip to see my gastroenterologist and cardiologists; they are real doctors that actually listen to you.

Health care providers, which are not doctors but nurses. They have no six-year medical degree. They ask questions to determine how to treat you. You will always be put in a certain category. They provide health care based on numbers, not by diagnosis. You are a number.

Remember when the doctor made house calls? The doctor that delivered me, Dr. Violotti, made house calls until he retired. The medical field is controlled by insurance companies. If you need a life-saving medicine that is not approved by the insurance company, you are a royal screw.

Trulance was a medicine prescribed for me, a gastro medicine, for $500 per 20 pills. I sampled some, and it is a lifesaver for me. It will be generic in 10 years, I’ll be 81! Big Pharma is the greediest of all. They prefer to pay a nurse rather than a doctor. In 10 years, there probably won’t be doctors.

If you choose a PPO, you can get a cash allowance through CVS for $35 each month—stuff you really don’t need. We moved out of the area and forfeited this allowance and coverage for a month! We have no coverage until the first of the month.

When looking for a dentist, they are mostly run by big corporations. You visit a dentist; as I did two years ago, he wanted to remove my veneers; there were cavities, which there were not. They take X-rays and determine which root canal to do and which crown to put on, not to mention dental hygiene, which is a crook of shit. Then glance over your teeth. I quit smoking 10 years ago. When can I expect the stains to be cleaned? My projected cost was $12,000, but you can get work done slowly and pay accordingly. What they will do is remove my four front veneers and make me toothless until the work is hurried and I pay in full. The dentist has become a salesman, charging you for unnecessarily dirty work.

Some good advice I found is that there are always neighborhood sites that can lead you in the right direction, like a like a dentist, etc. A very useful tool.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mTa1Zr1JkLg

Aside from finding a good pizzeria when you relocate, there are more important things to search out. Bank, church, post office, and lawn service are just a few. I have been fortunate to be 70 years old and have a full head of hair, but for some reason it continues to grow. I never went for hair stylists; I prefer the old-time barbers. My father always took me to a barber as a kid. Searching for a barber is not that easy; it is a forgotten art.

Twenty years ago, before moving to Florida, I went back home to New York City. My barber was a guy named Isaac, a Russian Jew. He set up shop on 7th Avenue in the Chelsea section of Manhattan. He was the first barber to cut my hair in NYC. He was so good that one day, while getting a shave, I glanced over at the next customer, and it was Anderson Cooper. Isaac was the barber for the Manhattan elite. I was lucky.

What are the chances of finding a barber of that quality in Ocala, Florida? Luck struck twice, for low and behold, right next to #1 Pizza was a barber, King Cutz. I decided to try my luck after having a slice, with a guy named O’Nell. As I entered the shop, it was crowded. It was the Friday before school started in Florida. August 12 was, I thought, early; it seems school starts earlier each year. When I was in grade school, we started after Labor Day. Why would you have children start school in early August in Florida? It is so hot! The air conditioners have to work harder to keep class rooms cooler. Anyway, a dozen kids were ahead of me, all Spanish and black; razor cuts are a big style for kids, not me, who likes scissors. I didn’t feel out of place, but I was concerned about being older and liking traditional hair cuts.

O’Nell had been a teacher in a hair salon in Puerto Rico. He spent 30 minutes on a six-year-old’s hair. He meticulously clipped each and every hair on this buzz cut, and I was impressed. I was next; he cut my hair, trimmed my beard, and not a hair was out of place. In the morning, I had no cow lick, which usually occurs after my hair is cut. I found my barber and my pizza!

Most New Yorkers agree that the best Chinese food is in Chinatown in lower Manhattan. I could never remember the names of the restaurants; I went by numbers: 17 Pell Street, 37 Mott Street. In the same strip mall, there was a Chinese restaurant! I have not tried it as yet; there is too much pizza to digest. What are the odds of it being as good as a New York restaurant?

My saga continues for new places in Ocala, especially to eat.

Being a New Yorker by birth and having lived there for nearly 35 years, my love for pizza has followed me to the West Coast and the Gulf Coast. I would always seek out pizza. I have, in the past, encountered many pizzerias calling themselves New York Pizza, Best New York Pizza, or New York Style Pizza. I would always avoid them like the plague, knowing they were the furthest thing from the original. I had a television show in Lake Tahoe called “Simply Food and Wine.” I would approach the owners of restaurants and ask if I could do a twenty-minute short on their restaurant. I would feature a signature dish and pair it with wine. There was a “New York Pizza” at the Lake. The owner called me several times for a twenty-minute short; he thought that with my New York accent, it would help sell more pizza. Bear in mind that I made money on each restaurant. I finally broke down and stopped by for a slice; it looked like a New York pizza and tasted like cardboard. I refused to sign him.

One should never believe New York Pizza; however, my wife and I recently moved to Ocala, Florida. Our house is a bit off the main road; we are rural with a twenty-minute ride to civilization, if a Dollar General is civilization. Low and behold, a little strip mall nearest our house featured a #1 New York Pizza. I thought, here we go again and I had to try some since the kitchen wasn’t quite set up for cooking. I have traveled to Italy many times and was spoiled by the pizza; it was amazing. New York had John’s, Pizza, and Lombardi’s, the first pizzeria in America, along with Ray’s, Famous Ray’s, and Original Ray’s. There were pizza wars in New York during the 1980s.

Suddenly, I stumbled on a gem of a pizzeria. During our first week in our new house I ordered pizza three times, and stopped in twice, they also featured Sicilian Pizza a square deep dish pizza. The owner, Orlando, lived in Queens and was New York-trained. The Best, Number One , New York Style Pizza I found right outside my front door, go figure?

So if you want to buy a house in Florida, you better research additional costs aside from mortgages, insurance, and taxes. The HOA, the dreaded Home Owners Association, or modern-day Nazis. When we researched homes in Florida, we soon realized the HOA was a big expense., sometimes $350 per month, which can cost more each year. You have no control over this. Okay, they give you a pool and some lawn service. Our last HOA had $375,000 in their account. Where does that money go? When we asked about fixing the sidewalks, their response was that this was the city’s concern. When we got in touch with the city, they said it was the HOA’s responsibility. The oak trees had grown over twenty years, displacing the sidewalks with huge root growth and cracking the sidewalks. It is very scary when you walk the neighborhood.

They drive past your house and take pictures; you never see them; they are as stealthy as the CIA. I heard that for each fine they write, they get $5.00. Here is a case in point. They took a picture of our gutter at noon, which created a shadow. They sent a notice that the paint had faded; when we checked later in the afternoon, there was no shadow, and the paint seemed fine. We received another picture taken at noon, and they demanded that we repaint. This went on for some months, and finally they conceded—the assholes that they are!

Our neighborhood was overrun with vehicles, sometimes four or five cars in driveways and parked on the street, often making it hard to pull in or out of our driveway. They said they have no control over who parks where. When we realized there was a meth lab across the street with 15 people living there, the HOA had no control. Good thing the police did, and they were evicted a year late. One of the meth guys started staring me down one day, thinking I had ratted him out. I stared back. I take no shit from people. He walked across the street toward me, and I simply told him, I am old, I can’t run, and I don’t dial 911. Life in prison would be a short time for me if you fucked with me or my family. He decided to go back across the street; he didn’t plan on meeting Tony Soprano, robe, and .38. The same house was rented to a chain of car thieves. Two stolen cars were found in their driveway. The HOA has no control over who rents what. Again, the police did, and I have them on speed dial.

Do yourself a favor and avoid HOA, or Horrible Owner Assholes.

Were you aware that for a mere $100,000, artificial intelligence can create a virus that can kill millions of people? According to Jason Matheny, the president of Rand Corporation, a think tank that studies security issues, This article appeared in the New York Times. In response, it would cost billions of dollars to create a vaccine or antiviral.

Some years ago, a team created a distant cousin of small pox for $100,000. AI can be less expensive to refine, making chemical warfare cheap and effective. Russia has already launched chemical warfare on Ukraine, and the Chinese government has raised the possibility and targeted particular races. All this stuff is pretty scary. The big threat comes from China’s biowarfare. Robots are programmed to be killers—maybe not pillage and rape. AI robots would be less prone to massacres and tortures.

Technology has the ability to suppress this situation. A random study proved that young people who gave up smart phones enjoyed the simple things in life. All high-tech companies have the ability to weed through all the child porn; they can use immunities to stop these types of robotic AI postings.

If we don’t try to control AI, it will be the greatest challenge for our grandchildren since Prometheus defied the gods and gave fire to humanity in the form of technology to enhance civilization.

The Softening of America

Euphemism is a mild or indirect word or expression substituted for one considered to be something unpleasant or embarrassing. I thought I would use the dictionary for the meaning before the AI responses. When did America get so soft on words? We have the first amendment, so what’s the issue? We can say anything short of “fire” in a crowded theater. We drink, we curse at sporting events—what happened?

It started slowly generations ago; that’s when our language became more passive and non-offending, which is a big deal today. You don’t say, “partly cloudy,” anymore; it’s partly “party sunny.” When did toilet paper become bathroom tissue, right before sneakers became running shoes?

We have created the language to be more pleasant to the ear by substituting a harsh word for a nice one. Some euphemisms actually try to explain the phrase while saying the same thing. The CIA, as we all know, kills people, neutralizes them, or depopulates them.

It’s time to pre-board the plane; if I’m pre-boarding, I am actually boarding the plane. Constapation is bowel irregularity, and the dump is a landfill.

World War I, shell shock, World II, battle fatigue, Korean War, Operation Exhaustion

Vietnam War, Post-Tramatic Stress Syndrome, or PTSD. Over the last one hundred and twenty years, euphemisms have been used to ease the pain of war. To explain to the public in nice, easy words. Shell Shock is so accurate and appropriately named. Americans were up in arms to help the returning soldiers after World War I when hearing what the boys went through.

If returning Vietnam veterans had had shell shock, they would have received better treatment for the disease and a lot more awareness.

Special thanks to George Carlin

We decided to get a Doberman Pincher, we already have a twelve year old Labrador . Years ago we had a Husky and thought he needed a younger brother, so we adopted the Lab. They got along perfectly, so perfectly in fact the Lab mimicked the Husky. The Husky had a habit of removing a couple of pieces of dog food from the bowl, walk three feet and spill the food. Eating slowly while savoring every tid bit. The plan was to pass these habits and others on to the Doberman. Boy was that wishful thinking.

The five month old puppy insists on playing with the old lab, who has no interest at all! The plan was to introduce the puppy to the old man in the old man’s house. We recently purchased a new house and wanted the puppy to get used to the old man’s home. Maybe thinking the puppy wouldn’t be as dominant. That didn’t work. The old Lab can’t even crap in peace, the Dobie has to be up his ass, quite literally! What did work was the puppy had his on mind, we knew what we getting into, a stubborn breed of dog, but a five month old, forty five pound puppy had other ideas. He bites everything, not serious a nibble here a nibble there. He bites shoes, even when you are wearing them.

The fact about Dobermans is that they follow everyone in the family and cling to one person, i am the one he picked, lucky me. He is able to sleep by my side of the bed which is sweet, until you need a bathroom run, he must lead the way into the bathroom. While waiting for me nothing is sacred, he must inspect everything dozen of times. He sleeps seventeen hours a day, the other seven can be hell. He pretends he doesn’t know his name, but he will automatically sit for a treat. The pet store sells this spray to deter dogs from biting, he loves it!

There is no book, “Doberman’s for Dummies,” but there is a training book, “101 for Dobermans.” We hope the book will give us some insight, or at least train us.

I better sign off now, I hear him stirring and must baby proof the house once agin. Oh, well we wanted a Doberman.

I posted on the forum some months ago, and on other social media, an article on Gustan Cho and Associates. How we met and the process of applying for a mortgage. I also explained how his team waded through misinformation on my wife’s and my credit rating. His diligent help secured us a mortgage on a new home in Ocala, Florida. Ocala is centrally located in the middle of the state, an hour and a half drive to the Gulf of Mexico and the Atlantic Ocean. We escaped the traffic and all the new arrivals in Tampa. This may be the last toe hole in Florida that is very nice and affordable. Gustan Cho was able to get us a very reasonable home mortgage and insurance, which we bundled and saved more money on.

The interesting thing about Gustan Cho and his team is that their values extended past the signing of our loan. He researched lower rates, and one week before closing, he had us reapply for the mortgage. A very scary situation with the closing the week later. He streamlined the loan, and we were giving a mortgage at a lower rate—1.75% lower—a huge savings each month. His business mantra, which I explained in my first article, held true even after closing.

His concern for people is something you will never find in a clause in a contract.

As of today, Gus is constantly looking for a lower rate. When the rate goes down and there is equity in the home, it might be time to refinance. If so, Gustan Cho is on it.

The entire moving process is extremely stressful, to say the least. Starting with the mortgage, then home owners insurance, not to mention the dozen or so phone calls for change of address and medical coverage. We moved 100 miles away from Tampa, and we are in a whole new PPO medical insurance district. All the prior information given has to be re-given. The insurance company must explain each and every plan; after two hours of nonsense, we had the same medical plan as before. I swear the phone calls, automatic messages, and the AI giving advice were the most stressful.

All the horror stories about moving are true, and for the most part, my wife and I were very fortunate. Starting with a wonderful real estate broker, who, as Gus, looked out for our best interests. I always wondered who a real estate broker works for. They need the house and the owner to sell the home, and then they also need the buyers.

The moving company was exceptional. We called four for quotes, and ironically, the one we chose was the least expensive. They arrived at 10 a.m., two trucks and seven guys. The packing of our items was handled with great care. The bubble wrap they used was close to two miles long! Nothing was damaged; they needed an additional truck at no charge; they kept to the quote on the contract; there was no small print to trip you up. When the ordeal was completed, moving everything in and arranging what and where we wanted items, it was 11 p.m. A hard day’s work. The work ethic with these guys was amazing!

Other nightmares you may have heard or experienced for yourself were about builders. We have friends who had a $400,000 home built. There were dozens of issues with plumping, electrical, etc.; calls were placed and never returned; they have been pursuing the builders for over a year. Our builder’s assistant has been over every day for the first week, fixing minor things that occur normally with a new home and keeping true to the home warranty. Each worker, and sometimes three workers at a time, showed up respectful of our home and continuously apologized for the inconvenience.

If you need a real estate broker in Florida, get in touch with new homes on a quarter acre for right now under $280,000! The same is true for an outstanding mortage guy. If your need is movers in Florida, let me know. I will be more than happy to pass on information that will make your Florida move actually pleasant.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Hccg8FWGy68

The doctor said I might have to lose three fingers on my left hand.

Will you still be able to write?

Maybe, but I shouldn’t count on it.

My 12 year old lab is getting a younger brother, a Doberman puppy. I have always believed in having two dogs for company, they understand each other. My old guy Amici will teach the new puppy Bullet all the habits of each family member.

Hi! My name is Amici! I’m a dog. I’m a Labrador Retriever, although I detest retrieving. I was born in New Orleans, a tough town, and then shipped off to Florida. I’m really a black mutt with a curved funny tail; I was also the runt of the litter, and no one wanted me. I also have a fleshy tumor on my neck. There were many strikes against me. First, I’m black; the second, I’m the runt, I don’t lick or kiss, but I’m friendly like my name. My parents found and adopted me just before I got the needle. I was so scared I stayed in the back of my cage shivering, just waiting for love. My future parents didn’t notice me in the back of the cage, but Andy their son, found me just when all hope was lost! Andy loves all animals. Boy, am I lucky.

They brought me to their house to meet another dog, Budaj. He was a beautiful boy dog, just like me! He was white and a pedigree, and he loved me. He taught me quickly about mom, dad, and Andy. Budaj did not like men! Everyone was afraid of dad, so I learned from Budaj to dislike men. I was taught mom was the only one for us. Although I learned that dad and Andy were great guys, Budaj lived for mom. Dad has a big booming voice that shakes the house because he sings. Mom can curse like a drunken sailor during hockey games, and all is fine; dad just whispers, “drat or darn,” and me and Buds, we run in fear. I’m not sure why, dad has never yelled at me or hit me. He taught me “please,” “thank you,” excuse me,” and I responded. Budaj just doesn’t like him; he hates Andy even more. I don’t know why. Budaj says to never, ever go down the hall to Andy’s room; it’s evil. I’m beginning to believe Budes has issues.

Andy is soft-spoken and a lover of all animals. I’ve seen him capture water bugs and release them outside, and dad, well, you can only imagine what he does; it’s not pleasant.

I’m am very lucky to have a big yard with a pool. I never swim; I hate the water. That’s right, a lab won’t retrieve or swim, and I really hate car rides, all that wind blowing. I enjoy chasing squirrels around the yard. We have bunny rabbits, but dad says we don’t chase them, so I don’t. I’m a good boy. I have many pet names I’m called, and I always answer; you never know, there might be a meatball waiting for me. They call me Amici, Mici, Coco, Peco, Sweebums, Meatball; I actually have seasonal names, Pumpkin, etc.

I’m being raised as Italian, Polish, and Ukraine; boy, they can cook! Meatballs are my favorite. When dad begins to make meatballs, I can hear the wrapping coming off the meat, and I am there to help dad any way I can! Pierogis, Kielbasa, Stuffed Shells, Chicken, and Bacon are my favorites. I have so much love from my family, and the best part is that they are medically trained, not dad though; he just cooks. My Aunt Janelle is a veterinarian! Dr. Aunt Janelle says my tumor is no big deal. Love, food, and healthcare, what more could you want! I have three beds to sleep in, and I sleep in all of them, on the rugs and on the tiles when it’s hot outside.

I cried so much the night that Budaj died. He was so young and my best buddy. It took some time to get over him, I remember everything he taught me, but I love dad and Andy. Since Budaj passed, I have been barking. Budaj didn’t bark much; he woofed when Andy was near. We sold the big house with the big yard, and we are looking for a new home. I bark at everyone walking by in our present home, especially UPS; I hate those brown uniforms. My yard is small, but I go on many walks. I’m loved and well cared for. However, when dad corrects me, I feel sad, but no problem. If I don’t like what he said, I walk into another room and rest, there’s always a bed handy.

My day is full. I mostly sleep and pretend I’m guarding something. I watch western movies with dad. He exercises as he watches television, but I’m just waiting for my next meal. Wherever I’m resting, I keep a keen ear to the ground if someone steals the refrigerator or tries to sneak snacks.

My parents were told I was three months old when I was adopted. They lied so they did not have to give me a worm test. They named me Noel to pretend I was born during the Christmas season. Well, I had worms, and I was seven months old. Poor dad had to keep Budaj’s crap and mine separated for two months until I was better. Boy, if that’s not real love. I’ll be nine years old sometime in July; we aren’t sure because they lied at the kennel; no one wanted me. No one wanted a black runt of a dog with a crooked tail and worms. I give unconditional love; I’m a dog; we all do! My mom and dad, and Andy choose me unconditionally to love me. Now I know what love really is about. I hope all pets could be adopted like I was, unconditionally.

I celebrate my birthday July 4th, and boy, oh boy, so many people celebrate my birthday with firecrackers, which annoy me. It’s good to be an All-American Dog!

years old sometime in July; we aren’t sure because they lied at the kennel; no one wanted me. No one wanted a black runt of a dog with a crooked tail and worms. I give unconditional love; I’m a dog; we all do! My mom and dad, and Andy choose me unconditionally to love me. Now I know what love really is about. I hope all pets could be adopted like I was, unconditionally.

I celebrate my birthday July 4th, and boy, oh boy, so many people celebrate my birthday with firecrackers, which annoy me. It’s good to be an All-American Dog!

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0bJLSrNiqyE

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BzjnRYvtw20

The Old Man and the Chair

Every month or so I visit my ailing uncle in a nursing home on Long Island. He is the last living sibling of my mother. Alfonso is 91 years old, his memory is intact, but his body is failing. Just ask the nurses about Zio, he a regular Don Juan. His greatest joy when I visit is to wheel him out on the patio for fresh air, we reminisce about our family which are long gone, he asks of my children, but can’t remember their names, all is good with Zio Alfonso, I was named after him, my name is Al.

Every time we take the fresh air I notice an old man sitting off by himself in a make shaft rocking chair. He sits under this canapé, well not exactly, it is an old canvas tarp riddled with holes, and stares directly at the sky. The wind blows and the canapé flaps, I would find this mostly annoying having the wind in my face. The old man sits an stares for hours with a look of serenity on his face. His face is weathered like that of a man who worked outdoors, his hands were large and strong, they are calloused. His neck is broad and leather wore from direct sun. He appears to be about 90, when I ask my uncle about him, my uncle turns and says in his broken English, “pay no attention to him, he is an old fool, just sits and stares, and one comes to visit him.” My uncle lacked social skills and always had an opinion on everything. However, I paid the old man no mind as suggested.

Month after month I visit my uncle and see the old man, finally I had to ask the old man why he sits and stares. One day after visiting my uncle, who was nearing the end of his life, I got the nerve to ask him. I asked, “ why do you sit there old man?” He answered, “ this is my life now as I am an old man with no family, I sit and remember the past.” “Do you have any children, I queried?” “No,” replied the old man, “never had any, I was away from home most of my life and never settled down,” I thought how awful for the old man, alone and old. The old man said,” I am most content sitting and staring at the sky, I lost most of my eye sight some years ago from diabetes.”

I was intrigued, “ what was your occupation?” “I was a sailor,” he answered. “My home is the sea.” He went on and added, “ I joined the Navy at 16, fought in WWII, been sailing ever since.” Wow, I thought to myself, this guy is a living history book. “I long for the sea, the salt air, the wind that caressing my face, the burning of the sun on my neck, and the singing of whales.” “When was the last time you sailed?” The old man let go with a hardy laugh, some what similar to an old pirate. “ Argh, ha, ha, ha, its been maybe thirty years since I’ve sailed a schooner.” Now I’m thinking, a schooner is a small two masted boat. “Now, I just sit and feel the wind and listen to the flapping of the canapé, reminds me of the sails.” I said good bye and promised him when I returned to visit my uncle I would stop by and say hello.

The next month’s visit was saddened by the passing of my beloved Zio Alfonso. He had lived a long wonderful life, I soon realized that he was the last of the Italian immigrants arriving at Ellis Island over eighty years ago. I sat on the patio where I would wheel my uncle, I sat and stared, looking through the old man in the chair. When suddenly, someone yelled, “ hey, kid, I’m sorry about your uncle, come sit with me a while.” The old man in the chair sensed I was near.

“Why, thank you sir, he was the last of the elders.”

My Zio had left an inheritance for me, nothing big, I was his only close relative. Ten thousand dollars and a note that read, “ do something good for someone, or do someone something good.” He spoke in Yogi Berra-isms.

Never making sense at first, but eventually there were words of wisdom. I sat with the old man for an hour where I would sit with my Zio, on the back patio of the nursing home. The old man and I sat for hours never saying a word. When he suddenly said, “ would you please come see me time to time?” How could I possibly say no, he was lonely and I was still mourning my Zio. I reposted, “Certainly, maybe not every month but I will come visit with you, is there anything you need?” The old man though for a moment and said, “just a visit now and then.”

A month went by and I didn’t visit, I was feeling guilty, so the next Saturday I drove to the nursing home it was at the end of Long Island, Montauk. “Do something good for someone,” my Zio’s words resonated in my head. I had to make one stop before I visited the old man. When I arrived he was happy to see me and said, “ thanks for coming, I feel my end is near, it hasn’t been a good weak for me.” I spoke to the nurse, he was depressed and lonely. I asked the nurse if he could travel, she responded, “ only short distances with an aide.” Would he be able to take a quick ride over to the Montauk pier?” The nurse said as long as she went along.

The three of us hopped into one of the nursing homes’s van with the nurse driving.” Where are we going?”she questioned me. “Just to the pier as I winked my eye.” The old man was thrilled to be out and about. We pulled up the pier and we walked to the end, the old man knew he was close to the ocean as he inhaled deeply and sighed. I had rented a schooner for the day,” do something good for someone.” Yogi again in my head. I wheeled him to the bow and sat him in a fishing chair. As we slowly pulled away from the pier I could see the joy on his face. He finally had the wind in his sails, the sun on his neck and the seagulls were serenading him with the flapping of the sails. He quietly cried tears of joy.

When the sailing trip was done he thanked me for the wonderful memory and I promised to visit next month. The next month’s visit was my last, the old man passed away. The nursing staff said they had never seen him so happy during the last month. Before his cremation was scheduled I called the State Department to let them know of his passing. They said the Navy will depose of the his body. Three days later the United States Navy showed up with an entire fleet of sailors. He had been one of the last survivors of the USS Arizona in Pearl Harbor.

The old man in the chair was given a full naval funeral with a burial at sea in Pearl Harbor, where he now rests with his shipmates.

I have learned recently that Venice, Italy, is charging 5 euros to gain entry to the city. The city has experienced a high volume of profit. There are peak times that they charge; there are 29 dates from April to mid-July, mostly holidays and weekends, between 8:30 a.m. and 4 p.m..

Realizing that nothing in Venice costs under 5 euros, including coffee, it’s not too expensive in the big picture. The profit so far is 2.43 million euros, or about 2.75 million US dollars. That’s a lot of espressos.

Some people asked, “Why should I pay an entrance fee to a city?” It wouldn’t fly in New York City; imagine putting a turnstile at all the various ways to enter the city. They actually do have tolls, which is sort of the same thing. The E-Z pass for bridges and tunnels entering the city is $11.00-$14.00, depending on peak hours. Chicago and San Francisco all have these tolls; travel is a curse. They charge to enter Disneyland and Epcot. The only advantage is that in Disneyland and Venice, you don’t drive. Trams in Disneyland, gondolas, and water taxis in Venice.

There is always a side hustle to these fees, and there is no way to escape them. If you drive or walk, you are charged. Parking at sporting events is so expensive that gas is taxed and relaxed.

Wouldn’t it be Utopia if there was a society that existed with no cars, no gas, no taxes, and no entrance fees?

Can anyone make a suggestion? Maybe artistic intelligence can answer this riddle.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wcegWjnPm3k

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FbTv1HjBKIk

If you sat through that rendition of the National Anthem during the home run derby last night. You may be eligible for compensation. First Trump’s ear now ours.

Once Joe Biden realizes he quit, he is going to be pissed off!

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9Lnb9fLFWiI

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RG1H-KkxwpQ

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=F2KRlwKiyl4

Do we love our pets too much?

Two-thirds of the people in the United States have pets. If they all voted, they would be the majority. This is a 138 billion-dollar business with nearly 40 million pets.

We treat our pets like members of the family; we have pet spas, pedicures, jewel-studded collars, and boutique hotels disguised as kennels. They are not family; they are animals, and I am one of those pet owners.

Years ago, animals stayed outside; barnyard dogs and stray cats were everywhere. Cats came and went whenever they wanted. Now we have scientific studies and biological proof of why we love our pets. Wounded Warriors has dogs available to vets because dogs understand. A dog will love you more than they love themselves, an unconditional love found nowhere else.

The problem with pets is that they never grow up; they remain children, and we treat them as such. Your pet animals get expensive, and we spend thousands of dollars to keep them alive and healthy. We wheel them outside to do their business and think nothing of it. When do we end their misery? Do we keep them alive because of selfishness?

When you decide to get a dog, or a cat, for that matter, it is a lifelong commitment. What happens when you decide that you made a mistake? Bringing the dog back causes psychological issues; the dog feels abandoned. Fido gave all of himself to you, and you abandoned him. The dog may have a problem with trust; all they want to do is love and please you.

I have had many dogs in my life; my current dog now is 12 years old, and I have sworn to him that I will be with him until his last breath. I know he is here for me until mine.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GJIFGv85YEc

Hygiene is a set of rules to help preserve health. We all remember COVID from a few years ago. We went around wearing masks and washing our hands constantly. We avoided people, movies, weddings, and everything else to practice proper hygiene. Here is one guideline you will not find that prevents bacteria from spreading. Flush with the lid down. That’s right, flush your toilet with the lid down. I don’t know why a lot of people have not figured this out.

Looking at new homes recently, every toilet lid in pictures was not shut. Why? We all know what the toilet looks like; do we have to see where you sit and conduct business? Think about it from a practical point of view: your flush lid is up, and bacteria is being sprayed throughout the bathroom. Do you store your toothbrush nearby? It’s getting showered with bacteria. Whatever is exposed is collecting bacteria; you wouldn’t wash your toilet with your toothbrush, but it’s the same effect.

We used to be annal, no pun intended, about hygiene during COVID. Why did most of us abandon these practices? You thought COVID was over and all was safe. There is bacteria everywhere. If we start with this, it will most definitely help us stay healthy. I think we should start a new campaign. “SHUT LID! SHUT LID!” “Game of Thrones” had, HOLDDOOR, HOLD DOOR!

We must SHUT LID to remain a bit more healthy.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ow027axnpow

I am trying to get my head around and grasp this AI; it’s not working. While at my cardiologist recently, we had a discussion on AI. His son is a cellist and has played professionally for years.

He stated, “There are good things about AI.” He went on to say his son played cello two years ago in a recording studio in Kentucky. He played the first part of a symphony he wrote, had it recorded with AI, and AI finished the symphony. My doctor said it was musically perfect—no mistakes from any instrument. The only thing missing was passion; passion in music cannot be duplicated. The essence of music is to feel its energy radiate through your body. If it doesn’t, something is missing.

I’ve been experiencing a similar reaction to my short stories. My critics read the post, not the story, then break down each phrase and each word. Here is an example: my book. “If The Creek Don’t Rise There Will Be A Parade.” I know what the title means; AI doesn’t need to explain it to me. Pretty condescending. However no one reads the book. “Wow Wine Wednesdays,” a short post on a certain wine I like. AI explains “Wednesdays,” ‘the middle of the week break.’ No one mentioned the wine. This AI is erasing all the passion involved in writing. If AI critiqued “Old Man and the Sea,” it would say, “Old man, a male of old age,” and “seas,” a large body of water smaller than an ocean. Sure it makes me want to read the book.

AI, as far as I’m concerned, always misses the point. Although you can’t argue with the facts of AI, they will always be correct. My definition of AI. AI is a big windbag that states truths, never having an opinion on any discussion. It’s like that smart ass kid you grew up with who knew all the facts about baseball but couldn’t hit a ball or catch a ball. He may know the facts, but he will never know the feeling of running down a fly ball in the outfield on a warm summer afternoon while your teammates are cheering for you to catch the ball. AI has no feelings; it can’t register passion. In truth, you can’t explain something you never really experienced.

AI will never give me goose bumps, or that warm feeling when hearing the violin, how the strings be so soothing it will erase any depression. It will never give me the tingling sensation that’s engulfs my body when a soprano hits their high C in an aria.

Let’s break down Artifical Intelligence like AI would.

Artifical: an adjective which modifies a noun: made or produced by a human being rather than occurring naturally. In other words FAKE.

Intelligence: a noun the subject of the sentence: the ability to acquire knowledge and skill

To make logical chooses, to be able to solve problems, apply critical thinking and think in the abstract. In other words being able to THINK.

AI is really a phooey, its fake and it can’t think. Ergo an oxymoron.

Oxymoron: Greek, “Oxus” means sharp and “Moros means” foolish.