PINOCCHIO HAS IT BY A NOSE

“The only people who get mad at you for speaking the truth are those living a lie.”

Attention! Unqualified post election ballot counters in Maricopa County, AZ have brought bamboo eating rats into the Coliseum to sniff if there is bamboo in 40,000 ballots that are suspect as having been brought to Arizona from China. High resolution cameras are supposed to help the rats find traces of all that bamboo.  In the meantime, the rat population has doubled but they have not chewed on any of the ballots.

My favorite game is Team Trivia because it is fact driven and tests memory as well as the ability to reason and ferret out the truth.  Denying the truth does not change the facts. Goebbels, the chief propagandist for Hitler in World War II said that if you repeat a lie long enough people will believe it. However, history has shown us that, “The truth is like the sun. You can shut it out for a time, but it ain’t going away.”

NOW! Here are some statements from me to you. Are they true or false?  Would I lie to you?

Bats turn right when they leave a cave.  FALSE! They always turn left. I don’t know why but they must be flying with the green arrow.

It takes a sloth two weeks to digest his food.  TRUE! That’s easy. Sloths are slow and lazy and don’t have incisors, so it probably takes them at least a week to chew all those leaves and twigs before smacking their lips. They would probably enjoy a cup of coffee.

Australia’s oldest living man (111 years old) claims his longevity is because he eats chicken brains.  TRUE! No twigs and leaves for him before he smacks those lips.

To vaccinate more Americans against Covid-19 officials are offering a give-away of donuts. TRUE! It give Americans the choice of dying from Covid or developing Diabetes.

Apes can’t laugh. FALSE! Apes laugh when they are tickled. That’s why they don’t laugh very much. However, I do know a brilliant scientist who has worked with Apes. Unfortunately, she lost a  bit of a finger, but I am not sure whether she was tickling him at the time.

If an airplane oxygen mask drops down you should sanitize the mask before slapping it on the face of the kid sitting next to you. FALSE! You should wipe the kid’s nose first.

A Neurologist from Mayo Clinic agrees that because of the Pandemic lots of people have forgotten to drive and have to regain their skills. TRUE! That good, Huh? Boy are we in trouble!

Congressman Matt Gaetz admitted that he was “naughty.” TRUE! He should probably be sent to his room without his pacifier for a permanent time out.

The problem with denying the truth is that the facts just don’t change. Man did walk on the moon, and Elvis is still dead! And, Yes, no matter how much I stomp on my scale, it tells me that I still haven’t lost all those pandemic pounds.  The truth may set me free but first it will really tick me off!

Esther Blumenfeld

NOW YOU SEE IT--NOW YOU DON'T!

My ears have become the suitcase of my face. I have to pack behind them the wires of my hearing aids, my glasses and a trusty mask. Of course, when I go hiking I  also have to add the strap of my hat just to provide an additional carry-on.

It took no time at all for my hearing aids to develop an intimate relationship with my glasses, and I suspect they are having an illicit affair with my mask.  Here’s the scoop: After an enjoyable evening with friends I came home to my apartment. I stepped into my well-lit closet, hung up my jacket and tried to remove my mask. The left ear cooperated, but there was an entanglement  between my glasses and the other ear’s hearing aid.  As I removed the mask, the tiny stinker silently dropped to the carpeted floor. I looked down. It had vanished!  How could that be?

That $2,500 (per-ear) midget had made it’s great escape, and was not to be found in that brightly lit closet.  I took out the few suitcases I had lined against the wall. It became obvious that  the hearing aid had not planned a get-away with my suitcases. I looked inside the one pair of shoes I keep on a rubber mat. It became obvious that the hearing aid did not plan a hike anytime soon.  I then removed all of the low hanging jackets, shook them out and laid them on the bed. The lower part of the closet was empty, and the hearing aid was no where to be found.

In desperation, I called down to the Concierge Desk and asked if beautiful eagle-eyed Emalyn could come up and take a look. Flashlight in hand she arrived and searched everywhere, but found nothing. The plot thickened! Finally, I put the suitcases back, and re-hung all of the low hanging jackets. Unlike low hanging fruit it had been slim pickings.

However, trusty Emalyn was not to be deterred. She said, “I’m going to look through all of these jackets.” “But,” I said, “I saw the hearing aid fall onto the floor.” Whereupon, she plucked that teeny-weeny run-away hearing aid out of the rolled up sleeve of a jacket — one that I never really liked. Sheepishly, I said, “It must have bounced.”

Two days later, I went to dinner and saw my new neighbors. They had just moved in the day before, so I went over to introduce myself.  We are allowed to go maskless in the dining room since it’s difficult to eat unless you want to chew on a mask. Consequently, I began to remove my mask. At that, my earring fell onto the floor— followed by my hearing aid. When I crawled out from under their table I said, “You are so lucky that I don’t have a glass eye.”

Esther Blumenfeld

WHAT'S GOING ON?

When Alfred E. Packer ate five companions in a Colorado blizzard in 1873, the furious judge shouted, “There were seven Democrats in Hinsdale County but you voracious man-eater, ate five of ‘em.  I sentence you to be hanged by the neck until you’re dead, dead, dead as a warning against reducing the Democratic population of this state.”

Although chances of a blizzard are slim in Arizona, some Republicans in Maricopa County (Phoenix included) are chomping at the bit and baring their teeth as they support the “Big Lie,” and look for unsubstantiated voter fraud in a secret 2.l million ballot audit.

It’s been almost six month since Joe Biden won this red state, but Doug Logan, a supporter of election fraud claims, and CEO of Cyber Ninjas, is supervising the secret audit.  The Republican sponsored recount is like wading through elephant doo doo after lots of flatbed trucks hauled voter equipment and 78 pallets containing the 2.1 million ballots to a shabby local coliseum for a by-hand audit.

Three previously held recounts of the entire state ballots showed no fraud or reason to doubt the voting results in Arizona, and the Republican Governor signed the paperwork to affirm that Joe Biden did win the Electoral College votes for Arizona. So what is all this hoopla really all about?

Do these bozos (who will not let journalists monitor what is going on) think they can overturn the election results?  Not likely unless they brazenly change the already often counted ballots themselves. However, the results of this unseemly audit could be an excuse for state lawmakers to change how we vote—starting by making it more difficult to  Vote-by-Mail.

The reason all of you in other states should be interested is because your lawmakers are watching very carefully what is happening in Arizona. Some have voracious appetites to also push through changes that will make voting more difficult.  Beware! Our democracy may be the main dish at that banquet.  Georgia has already prepared the appetizers.

Esther Blumenfeld

KEEP YOUR COOL

One of my Father’s favorite activities was to officiate at a wedding. The chapel was full, and he noticed a highly pregnant young woman seated in the front pew. As the organist began to play the wedding march, Dad said, “Please rise.” Everyone stood up including the highly pregnant young woman.  Suddenly, there was a “pop,”  and her skirt fell down around her ankles. However, since she was in the front row, and everyone was standing, few people noticed.  That was when I learned a lesson from my Father.  “When the unexpected happens always keep your cool.” All he said was, “Please be seated.”  He never added, “and pull up your skirt.”

Several times in my career, I encountered the unexpected when I wanted to yell, “Sit down and quit rocking the boat!” but I never did. For instance my co-author, Lynne Alpern and I were often booked as guest lecturers at various meetings and conventions.

At a convention in Tampa, Florida the venue was filled, so, when a busload of senior citizens (old folks) arrived, they were seated in chairs on either side of the stage. Obviously, our humorous presentation was a hit, because one of the old men laughed himself right out of his false teeth, and they scuttled across the floor.  I whispered to Lynne, “Don’t step on the teeth.”  She whispered back, “Don’t step on the WHAT?” But before I could clarify, the old man shuffled over to his teeth, popped them back into his mouth and took a bow. He stole the show!

At another venue in Texas, we started to speak after a  dinner, that had also included a cocktail hour. A humorous talk is always funnier after cocktails.  The elevated stage was very dark so we couldn’t see the audience, but they could see us. Suddenly, I looked down and I was standing in a puddle of water.  A stream of water was slowly coming out from behind the stage. Again, I had to warn Lynne, “Don’t touch the mic,” but this time it was a matter of life or death. I did not want either one of us to be electrocuted in Texas.  Oh, Yes, we did go on with our talk, and no one noticed that we were drowning.

In Atlanta, we were scheduled for a talk show at Ted Turner’s Cable News Station at 2 a.m. It was  dark outside, but lights were blazing in the News Station, and people were calling into the show from other time zones. One man called and said, “My wife has no sense of humor!”  I said, “Mister how long have you been married?”  He snarled, “45 years.”  I said, “Believe me!  Your wife has a sense of humor!”

Another late night TV host invited us to talk about our books. We were seated with other guests in the Green Room (which is never green). One guest was a female hypnotist accompanied by her husband, and another was a man who had invented a video for cats. He had brought two cages filled with cats, and assured us that his cats would sit quietly and watch the video when he was called into the studio.

I chatted with the hypnotist and she told me that she was going to hypnotize her husband on air. I said, “I hope you will be able to snap him out of it.” Offended, she replied, “Of course I can,” and then she proceeded to zone him out.  Then she was invited to go on air. She snapped her fingers and nothing happened. She snapped her way throughout the entire interview and he never emerged from his stupor.  To this day, she is probably still snapping.

The cat guy was on next.  He started his video, released the cats and they ran all over the studio with the studio crew in pursuit.  Our interview went very well since the host was inordinately happy to see us. He laughed a lot.  It might have been hysteria.

My husband, Warren was also an author of funny books, so sometimes our  publicity folks would schedule us together on radio or TV shows. One time we were booked for a radio interview in Phoenix.  No one can see you on radio, therefore radio stations are usually messy places—and no one dresses up. However, this radio station was different. The men were dressed in suits, and the women were also in formal outfits. Warren had worn a shirt, shorts and flip flops.  I was dressed a bit better but not by much. When we got into the booth, the engineer came out to fit us with headphones and said, “Are you going to speak about your ministry?”  Oops!  it was a Church Station. The host was an elderly lady with a braid of white hair on her head, wearing a dress with a Peter Pan Collar. She conducted a pretty good interview, but occasionally, Warren would emit a  surprised, “whoops.” When we left, I said, “What’s with the ‘whoops?”’  He said, “She had her hand on my knee.” Now that was a religious experience!

I won’t tell you about the time our publisher booked Lynne and me to do stand up at a comedy club, and the host introduced us by mooning the audience and dropping his pants.  That’s a hard act to follow…but that’s also another story.

Esther Blumenfeld

ADJUSTING THE REARVIEW MIRROR

Recently, when I stumbled upon my Kindergarten report card from 80 years ago, I remembered how much I had been looking forward  to first grade. That must have been the case because my Kindergarten teacher wrote, “Esther is a bad rester!”

After that, I was always in a hurry for the next years to come.  I was never just 6-years-old.  I was 6 (and-a-half) 7 (and-a-half) or 8 (and-a-half).  Then at 14, I looked forward to 15 and that magical path to freedom called a Driver’s License.  A few years later, my 21st birthday offered legal voting and drinking booze (not necessarily in that order.)

I celebrated my 21st birthday as a student at the University of Michigan. A restaurant called “The Pretzel Bell” offered a free pitcher of beer for the auspicious occasion. Not especially liking beer or being much of a drinker was no excuse not to gather a group of friends, stand up on a table, and chug-a-lug a mug or two.

The problem was that I had a date that night, with a very nice fellow, who had blown a wad of cash on tickets for the opera, “Aida.” He offered to call a cab because of the inclement weather,  but I said, “Oh, No!  Let’s walk.” I sobered up enough to sleep through the opera with my eyes open.

At 22, I was married to a different fellow named Warren, who had been devoutly opposed to blind dates, but his Aunt had said to him, “All you have to do is take the girl out. You don’t have to marry her.” He married me out of spite!  Several birthdays just slipped by as I worked to help my husband pay for graduate school, and then move from place to place as his career flourished. Suddenly, my 31st year arrived, along with motherhood. Then my years were measured by our dear son, Josh’s accomplishments. And, of course, the years slipped by all too quickly.

However, during this time I had managed to establish myself as a free-lance journalist with steady work, including two full time humor columns. My 50th birthday marked the publication of OH LORD I SOUND JUST LIKE MAMA written with my friend, Lynne Alpern.  It made several best seller lists and sold a quarter of a million copies. Our second book came out the same year (that is another story). When our 7th book was published I was 57 years old.

Then, I retired at 58 (and-a-half) and we moved to Tucson, AZ. However, life took a cruel turn when my husband died two months after my 62nd birthday. For a year, my creativity lay dormant until a woman suggested, “Why don’t you write a book on widowhood?  You do it so well.” That snapped me out of my Zombie state. All those years ago at Michigan, Professor Rowe had advised me to continue playwriting. It was time to take his advice.

At 67, my first play, HERE AND THERE had a two month run on the 45th anniversary of the celebrated Detroit Repertory Theatre. At that time, I said to Josh, “I think that’s it.”  He replied, “No, Mom. You have another play in you.” So, when I was 72, my second play, UNDER MIDWESTERN STARS appeared at the Kansas City  Repertory Theatre featuring a Broadway cast, and a Director, and an Emmy Award winning set designer—both from Los Angeles.
When a journalist from the Kansas City Star asked me, “How could you have written a play at your age?” I said, “I’m not too old to dream.”

When I was 76 my third play, FATHER’S ASHES” won two awards and had a staged reading at the Scottsdale Center for the Performing Arts in Phoenix, Arizona.When I was  82-years-old, a staged reading of UNDER MIDWESTERN STARS was finally held in my hometown.

Now, I am no longer 84 (and-a-half ) because on May 3rd, I will celebrate my 85th birthday. Some people live a life with their glass half full. Others live a life with their glass half empty.  Frankly, I am happy just to have a glass—while appreciating every precious moment— of every passing day.

Esther Blumenfeld