Who are these people? Where did they come from?

I think we've been infiltrated. Who are all these people...Ann Coulter, Sarah Palin, Rush, O'Rielly and some jackass with a chalk board. I can't even name them all.

Some are around my age. Where were they sitting in grade school? Do you think they attended? The ones with the Irish surnames I can almost envision. Mouthy, drunk, mean and highly verbal-I've met them. Joe McCarthy was a fine example of the genre. Why aren't they confined to bars as they should be? Who the hell let them out for strangers to find?

I know where some of the women were. Ann Coulter was the bitch in the back, on the window side because she was tall. She didn't talk to anyone in her class because the inferiority of the masses was obvious. She didn't attend her classwork much either... too busy imagining where she really belonged. Why is this woman getting noticed? Obviously her place is behind a cosmetic counter where she can sneer at the customers.Her nasty mouth and eternal disdain for all who are not her ensures her singularity. Who let her out? Who would spend time with her?

Sarah Palin is a cheerleader. Then she was a weather woman on TV. She attended 4 colleges and finally one of them gave her a degree in "communications" to get rid of her. Communications may be a more serious study today, but trust me, when she did it, it was the major for dummies. She's pretty and fertile. Sadly she's a lousy mother. You know the type. Interested in one thing only, herself.

Then there's the jackass with the chalk board. I know exactly where he was in grade school.  I'd have found him behind a wall bullying some smaller child, spitting on the girls going by, and telling the one he fancied she was ugly. Who in the hell let him out of school-where he could  gainfully be kept busy learning history. The man needs the old fashioned Jebbies. Badly. They might reinforce his bent towards fascism and his belief in male superiority, but at least he may learn some basic logic. He needs a clue: "Don't start with false premises."

New Memories keep time at bay.

When persons are young, time moves slowly. When people are old, times runs and runs and runs.
A man on the radio said the reason for this perception is that the world is new for the young. The old experience fewer new things.

Ha!
I can't begin to list the new things that happen to me every day. When I get up I face a veritable feast of new experiences. What part of me hurts today? It's such a revealation. I didn't even know I had these parts in the past.
Suddenly I have grown little brown "skin tags." I look for new ones. Then I look for my sewing sissors to snip them off. Much easier than having the doctor torment  me using lydocaine.
What face do I have today? I find my face familiar but smudged and a tad etched. All those magazines I've been getting make me keenly aware that I now have furrows...and I think crows feet, definitely a wattle is sneaking around my neck.
Those same magazines have sold me some epic moments. The time I put a paper face mask on, settled down with a book and waited, and waited and waited...John became hysterical. He asked me what I was doing. I explained that the mask was absorbing into my skin. I expected renewal.
When he got his breath back, he pointed on that after an hour the paper was all dry. He made me cross.
"The description said the mask would be absorbed, I'm waiting"
That started him off again.
"The paper isn't going into your skin,"
"It said it would."
"The stuff ON the paper went into your skin. Paper doesn't go anywhere."
I checked my face in the mirror. Not only was he right about the paper but my skin did not look renewed.
It looked embarassed.

Is this March?

Ma was worried about Johnmybrother's speech. Today I was able to reassure her. I brought the I Pad with the speech program, the newest book by his favorite author and pictures of Nanoq. I made a brief attempt to show it to him when he raised his fist and belowed, fairly clearly, "I HATE YOU!"
Joy.
Ma also lost her checkbook. She attempted to call Aldi's only to find she couldn't see the print. Rather than spend money calling the operator, she called me. I went through four current phone books. No Aldi's. No listing under groceries, food sellers, purveyers of fine food. Nothing. I called the operator and was connected to a lady in Chicago. She announced she wasn't the one to speak with and briskly passed me to an operator in Springfield (Indianna?). The woman there said she'd call the store in Erlanger, Kentucky-where my mother shops.
I insisted on getting their phone numbers. They were reluctant to disclose, but finally did. The company is, I was told, unlisted.
Aldi's called Ma shortly thereafter and said they had her checkbook. Ma called me.
Joy.