Tag Archives: books

And So It Goes

Today is Sunday, July 20, 2025. Elliot and I have returned from our second minitrip, this time driving upstate, to Sullivan Country, specifically the hamlet of Phillipsport, located in the town of Mamakating, which is part of the Shawangunk Mountains Scenic Byway. We were visiting Elliot’s old girlfriend from the Lower East Side who now resides over 20 years in rural upstate. We spent about 24 hours visiting “Sue” at the former bungalow county where Elliot spent idyllic summers there over 60 years ago.

We had breakfast on the way, on Route 17, in New Jersey, at the Suburban Diner. Then we took the New England Thruway to Sullivan County and to Sue’s country abode. There she spends her days with her aging companion, Baxter, who barked his welcome at us as we walked down the grassy path to her front door.

After having bagels and cream cheese, Elliot and I took a short drive to Ellenville, the neighboring town, where we visited a local bookstore called The Common Good. Sue decided to stay home with Baxter. This time I resisted the temptation to buy another book that would just sit on the shelf. Even though I was attracted to a nonfiction book on the Christian far right and how it’s destroyed America. I forgot the name of the book and didn’t snap a picture of it, so I will now have to locate it in other bookstores under “new books.” I think this will not be such a tragedy if I can’t track it down.

Close to 7, we went out again to Wurtsboro to an Italian restaurant called Pasta D’Oro that had a very ecletic menu – everything from fish to steak au poivre. Their portions were astounding. Sue’s salad could have been easily shared among three people, let alone just one famished patron. I ordered the polpettini and the veal sorentino which was not only delicious but also bountiful. Elliot ordered nonna’s lasagna which he termed the “best he’s ever eaten.” Sue ordered the veal sorentino like me and was also very impressed with it. All of us had doggie bags brought to us. We eschewed dessert this time to have just coffee and cappuccino.

We left the restaurant after 9 and I was a little apprehensive about Elliot driving home on these dark country roads, fearing an encounter with deer or other animals along the way. Luckily, we had no such encounter last night.

When we got home, we turned on the television to watch a 1949 film based on a William Faulkner novel, Intruder in the Dust. By this time, Sue left us to retire upstairs. I stayed to watch the entire film, as Elliot left after an hour or so. The film was set in Faulkner’s own town of Oxford, Mississippi. The plot concerns the jailing of a strong, proud African-American by the name of Lucas Beauchamp who is accused of murdering a white man in small-town Mississippi in the 1940s. As the town’s white, bigoted residents prepare to lynch this innocent man, a teenage boy named Chick (Claude Jarman, Jr.) joins forces with an elderly morally leaning woman by the name of Mrs. Haversham (Elizabeth Patterson) and another Black youth whom Chick hangs out with to clear Lucas’s name and find the real killer. Of course, the true murderer turns out to be a white business partner of the murdered man.

An aside to the casting of Patterson as the elderly woman convinced of Lucas’s innocence. I thought she looked quite familiar and it turned out that Patterson portrayed Mrs. Trumble on the I Love Lucy series in the 50s. When the film ended, Eddie Mueller, the host of Noir Alley on TCM, provided this interesting tidbit on Patterson: during the latter years of her life, she maintained a residence at the famed Roosevelt Hotel, in Los Angeles, the site of all of the TCM festivals. Pretty interesting, eh?

Surprisingly, I stayed up past 1 when I trundled upstairs to sleep in the spare bedroom next to Sue’s. I managed to read and finish The Day of the Locust and was quite happy.

The next morning, we slept until past 10 and had breakfast with Sue in the dining room. We had more of the bagels that Sue bought. Then I let Sue and Elliot reminisce over 60 years of fond memories. We left around 12:30 or so.

We drove to Ellenville where we had coffee and rugelach (I had it, not Elliot!) at Cohen’s Bakery, the local bakery that attracts visitors far and wide. It was quite crowded before 1 and we had to wait on line to get our food. Elliot bought their famous pumpernickel bread.

Now we prepared ourselves to drive back to Queens, which took a long time (almost 3 hours) to do so. Elliot took the scenic route where we had a wonderful vista of the valley below. This added more time to our drive.

We finally got home about 6 since we stopped at Uncle Bill’s diner, in Flushing, to have a lite bite before getting to Forest Hills.

It’s late here owing to Elliot and my watching an intriguing horror film from 2019 called Saint Maud on Hulu. The story is set in a seaside town in the U.K. and concerns the travails of a private nurse called Maud (Morfydd Clark) who is sent to look after a dying patient, Amanda Kohl (Jennifer Ehle), an imperious “dancer, choreographer and minor celebrity,” as Maude intones in a voice-over when she arrives at her house.

Soon an instant power battle ensues between nurse and patient. You see, Maud is on a self-appointed mission to save Amanda’s soul before she loses her mortal coil. But Amanda has no religious beliefs like Maud. At one point, Amanda scoffs at her and says, “You know it’s all not true. He doesn’t exist.” This sets off Maud, naturally.

This debut feature by Rose Glass brilliantly captures Maud’s descent into religious mania amid elements of self-mutilation, rumbling noises heard on the soundtrack, insects scuttling on the wall, and even a little levitation in Maud’s dingy one-room apartment.

This film is not everyone’s cup of tea since it moves at a glacial pace, and you wonder where this movie will lead the audience. You do get your reward, but this only arrives at the last few moments of the film.

Another week is almost upon us.

Have a good week.

And so it goes!

Here is faithful Baxter lying on the floor in the living room. I think the sneakers there belong to Sue.

And So It Goes

Today is Friday, July 18, 2025. Elliot and I have returned from spending less than 24 hours with my friend’s son, his wife and toddler daughter. But it seemed much longer because of our interaction with “Naomi,” “Zander” and “Nalah’s” whirlwind of a daughter. When we last saw her for her birthday on May 3, she wasn’t this verbal, but yesterday and today, she was as voluble as a wind-up doll. She was actually almost a little shy for her birthday, and that was just a few months ago.

We left Forest Hills yesterday around 9:30, had breakfast at Jackson Hole, and drove straight to Princeton. When we arrived a little after 1, we learned that Naomi was in day care and we had some time to ourselves before we had to pick her up. So after the usual greetings and hugs, we piled into our host’s white SUV and drove to the Dinky Bar & Kitchen, located nearby, in Princeton. We learn that this casual restaurant serving beer, cocktails, and small and large American plates served as a onetime train station. For lunch, we shared several small plates among us and everything was very tasty. After lunch, Zander and Nalah drove us to the Main Street in Princeton where we browsed the Princeton Record Exchange and the bookstore called Labyrinth Books. Actually, I walked into these places with Zander, while Elliot sat in a park with Nalah. It was quite hot then. First, we had to have some ice cream at the Bent Spoon.

We then picked up little Naomi at her day care center which was a private residence nearby. It was then time to decide on dinner. Instead of going out again or even ordering from somewhere, we ate Nalah’s food that consisted of rice, mashed potatoes, and fish. We found ourselves watching a film I’ve seen before and have forgotten much of it, 2005’s Red Eye starring the man of the hour, Cillian Murphy, and Rachel McAdams as two supposed strangers who meet on a red-eye flight from Texas to Miami, Florida. Lisa Reisert who is portrayed here by McAdams is a hotel manager at a luxurious hotel in Miami and Murphy is a mysterious charmer. Soon we learn that he has a sinister purpose in seeking her out as they first meet on line getting their tickets back to Florida. He soon informs her that he works for a terorrist organization which is planning to assassinate Charles Keefe, the current United States Deputy Secretary of Homeland Security. Lisa’s managerial responsibility at the Lux Hotel in Miami, where Keefe and his family are staying, is crucial to the plot. He also tells Lisa that an associate is outside her father’s house in Florida, who is here portrayed by Succession’s Brian Cox. If she does not carry out what he wants her to do concerning the Deputy Secretary, which is to call her hotel to tell her coworker, Cynthia, to move the Keefe family from their regular suite to another set of rooms, he will give the order to kill her father. The tension soon builds as McAdams has to find a way to fight this once-charming stranger and avert an impending catastrophe. There were some good fight scenes and moments of suspense in the film, I thought. However, Murphy does not come across that convincingly as an amoral terrorist. So the film loses something in his portrayal.

Anyway, it was a little over 11 and it was time to go to bed. I had little ability to read my new book, The Day of the Locust, by Nathanael West. I had read this book many years ago and just picked it up again. I still can’t find the book I have to read for my gay men’s reading club, so I just have abandoned the idea. I’ll read anything now.

I have no time to write about what happened today. Suffice it to say we left our genial hosts right after breakfast, had coffee in Grovers Mill, New Jersey, which is well known for its association with Orson Welles’ 1938 “War of the Worlds” radio broadcast. This amazing broadcast depicted a Martian invasion beginning in Grovers Mill which caused a widespread panic and hysteria among many of its listeners who took the program as the God’s truth. We had coffee in a shop that is themed around many iterations of “War of the Worlds.”

After this wonderful find, we drove back to our hosts for the day after I realized I left a charger for my phone and a bottle of water. Then we drove to Edison, New Jersey, to have lunch with my newish friend “Harvey.”

We spent a little time with Harvey in his ranch house (we met only two of his six cats) on a quiet residential street and then followed Harvey in his red sports car to a mall where we had lunch in a restaurant called Seasons.

Now we began the drive back to New York after saying goodbye to Harvey in Edison. It took almost two hours to get back to Forest Hills. I just hate the traffic you have everywhere these days.

Tomorrow we have another drive: this time going north, to Sullivan County, in Phillipsport, where we will stay over “Sue”s house until Sunday. Another sleepover!

Have a great weekend.

And so it went!

This was on the wall of that coffee shop in Grovers Mill.

A picture depicting the supposed Martian invasion at Grovers Mill.

More stuff on the wall.

And So It Goes

Today is Sunday, July 13, 2025. I had another busy day today right after my viewing of Audra McDonald in Gypsy yesterday, even though I didn’t stay in Manhattan after having dinner at the Westway Diner after the show. Again, there would have been no reason to go to a gay bar so early in the day, so I decided to come home instead.

Today I headed again to Manhattan around 11:35 a.m. to meet my Astoria friend “Seth” at a supper club called 54 Below where comedian/singer/actor Lea DeLaria was holding court in a show that was advertised as “Brunch is gay.” I hate to say that I had no idea who this celebrity was since I had never seen her in anything, especially her most well-known series Orange Is the New Black from 2013 to 2019. According to her Wikipedia page, “she was the first openly gay comic to appear on American television in a 1993 appearance on The Arsenio Hall Show.” Remember this one, folks? She is also the originator of the U-Haul Joke which she began performing at comedy shows in 1989. This is the joke that begins with a question: “What does a lesbian bring on a second date?” The answer: “A U-Haul.”

The show was supposed to have started at 1 and brunch was an option if you so wanted it. I had no trouble getting to the venue on West 54th Street, but Seth had some trouble with trains not stopping near there, so he was a few minutes late. When I entered the club, I descended stairs to the main area and was ushered to a table where an elderly couple was sitting. I thought we would have been sitting at our own table, but I was wrong. When I got to the table, the couple was having what looked like a salad.

There was someone in the audience who looked remarkably like the star of the hour, but it later turned out to be someone else. Before the appointed hour, the three-piece band started warming up. And at 1, Ms. DeLaria bounded on stage. I was very surprised to learn that she’s 67 years young. I assumed she was years younger. Sporting a dark suit and a practically bald pate, with black eyeglasses, she immediately begin singing a standard number. Which I’ve forgotten already. Her 75-minute set had less comedy but featured more of her inimitable jazz singing which reminded me of the late Ella Fitzgerald who distinguished herself as a scat singer. The only wonderful bit she did was when she screamed into the mic for an extended length of time this one line, “Fuck Donald Trump!” Fuck Donald Trump!” She went on interminably saying this line to the raucous applause of the audience. I also liked her diatribe of tourists in New York during the holiday season who stupidly stop traffic in the middle of the street to take pictures.

Since Seth came in slightly late, I decided not to have the brunch. I thought it was gauche to be eating while DeLaria was singing up on stage. I convinced him to go out someplace else after the show, which ended close to 2:20 or so. Overall, we were not so fond of the kind of singing that DeLaria did. Most of the songs we couldn’t even identify since she embraced a very different arrangement of them that made them almost unrecognizable. For example, her rendition of Debbie Harry’s “Call Me” from 1980 certainly didn’t sound like the version we were familiar with. Anyway, I was quite happy that I was able to sample a new venue right here in Manhattan.

The place I decided we’d go to for actual brunch was Friedman’s At The Edison, located on West 47th Street. We then walked to the restaurant after leaving 54 Below. I called first to see if I could make a reservation and I was told to just come. The gal at the other end said there should be tables at that time.

When we arrived at Friedman’s, we had no trouble being escorted to a table. The first thing I asked for was coffee since I had no time to go out this morning to get my first cup of java. I then ordered the blueberry pancakes for my entree and Seth ordered the Asian chicken salad. We were quite satisfied with our dishes.

At brunch, I discussed with Seth the opportunity we had to go to the Whitney Museum of Art afterward because it was free that day as a result of some West Side Fest. When I checked this further, I discovered that the museum is free on the second Sunday of the month, and this was that date. So we walked toward 8th Avenue to take the C downtown to 14th Street.

Overall, we spent about only an hour in the museum which was closing at 6 today. We started on the 8th floor and made our way to the 5th. The first installation we saw was one by the “sound” artist Christine Sun Kim who uses musical notation, infographics, and language – both in her Native American Sign Language (ASL) and written English – to produce drawings, videos, sculptures, and installations to explore the dynamics of sound. We thought this way too esoteric for our sensibilities, but we thoroughly enjoyed the exhibition on the fifth floor which featured the works of American artist Amy Sherald in an exhibit called “American Sublime.” This artist is best known for her luminous portrait of First Lady Michelle Obama which was on display in the exhibit. (I have several of her paintings as pics below.) She is the first African American painter to ever receive presidential portrait commissions from the National Portrait Gallery. One of her pieces, The Bathers, was sold at auction for $4.265 million.

Instead of staying until closing time, I convinced Seth to walk to the Chelsea Market to browse through the bookstore there. We left the museum at around 5:30 and walked to the Chelsea Market where I gave myself about 10 minutes to walk around the store. I tried to see if the store had my gay men’s reading club selection, I Make Envy on Your Disco, by Eric Schnall, but no such luck. However, it did have one of the previous books assigned to the guys: In Memoriam by Alice Winn. I missed the meeting where this book was discussed, so I never read it. But there was no reason to buy it.

Talking about books, I’m proud of the fact that I finished reading Griffin Dunne’s memoir, The Friday Afternoon Club. I read it in less than a week, and it was over 300 pages long. The book is a haunting and wildly funny story of a family torn apart by the heinous murder of a daughter and Griffin’s sister, Dominique Dunne, in 1982 and the subsequent fallout from the trial and unsatisfactory verdict from that trial. It was this flagrant miscarriage of justice that launched the second career of Dunne’s father, Dominick, to that of a crime reporter and subsequent novelist. What really intrigued me about the book was Dunne’s realization that his father was covertly gay after siring three children.

Anyway, this is where Seth and I parted. He took his train back to Astoria, while I took the E back to Forest Hills. I didn’t have to wait too long for a Queens-bound train, thank God.

I thought Elliot and I were going out when I came home, but he disabused me of that idea by saying we were going out tomorrow with our cross-country friend, “Patrica,” so he didn’t want to dine out twice. So I ordered in instead.

In the meantime, the president who was just cursed out by Lea DeLaria today during her show was actually booed in MetLife Stadium today as he attended the FIFA Club World Cup final. This spontaneous Bronx cheer arose when his ugly image was shown on the Jumbotron. Maybe he might finally get the message he’s not universally liked, as he so falsely thinks. Who knows? In his delusional mind, he might say Democrats put these people up to boo him.

Another week to get by. Have a good one.

As I said, I might not be here tomorrow if our dinner engagement with Patricia takes too long. But we’ll see.

And so it went!

Here’s a side view of Lea DeLaria at 54 Below.

Here’s Amy Sherald’s haunting portrait of Breonna Taylor. As you should know, she was the 26-year-old African American medical worker who was killed on March 13, 2000, after officers from Louisville Metro Police Department (LMPD) forced entry into her home.

Here’s another one of Sherald’s realistic paintings.

Another one of Sherald’s ordinary but truly extraordinary subjects.

This is the famous portrait of First Lady Michelle Obama that was hanging in the National Portrait Gallery.

Can you identify the original photograph Sherald is upending here by depicting two Black men kissing? If you guessed the picture of the American sailor kissing a nurse in white on V-J Day, by the world-famous Alfred Eisenstaedt, you get a free sticker from me.

One last picture before I go from Sherald’s wonderful exhibition. I don’t recall the caption that went with this picture, but if this guy isn’t gay, then I’ll eat my cap.

Oh, if you can, go see her exhibit which runs until August 10. It’s a must-see.

And So It Goes

Today is Wednesday, July 2, 2025. Yesterday I was indeed out attending my gay men’s reading discussion group at the Jefferson Market Library at 6:30 p.m. The subject of our discussion was a new book by an Irish writer called Evenings & Weekends by Oisin McKenna. The book details the comings and goings of a motley group of thirty-somethings over one hot June weekend in London pre-COVID, in the summer of 2019. I read the book surprisingly in just over four days in the middle of May, so I had to reacquaint myself with the plot by printing two reviews of it. I deemed the book quite readable, but really couldn’t declare it a masterpiece of delectable writing and plotting. But I was very interested in hearing what the other members had to say about it, so I was determined to attend the meeting, even though some thundershowers were forecasted in the evening. My New Jersey friend “Harvey” did cancel going at the last moment because he claimed it was raining by him.

When I left Forest Hills, it wasn’t raining quite yet. However, I did take an umbrella with me just in case. I left around 3:40, a little early, so I could get to the library before the meeting to check out the books on the second floor. Here are displayed many books on three shelves for a nominal fee. Like I needed another book! Guffaw! However, as I was browsing the titles of the books on the first shelf, what do I spy but the latest memoir by the late author Edmund White called The Loves of My Life: A Sex Memoir, released this year, right before his death at 85 just a few weeks ago. It was in hardcover – it was still so new! When I brought it up to pay for it at the front desk, I started talking to the male librarian about the group and how hard it was getting the books on the reading list. I then mentioned the book I had in my hand and he waved me off, saying, “Just take it!” And I wanted to leave him $5 for it.

Getting the Edmund White book right before the meeting, to me, was a sign that I should ask our group leader, “Jerry,” about inserting a book by White in place of one of the other books on the list. If Harvey were there, he might have proposed it, so it was up to me to mention it, and I did. I didn’t like Jerry’s response. He was not in favor of getting a book by White on the list because he feared members would complain. You see, he gave out the reading list two months ago just like professors do in a college course and it was now up to us to get the books anyway we could. I still request the books from the library, but many of the guys probably order the books from Amazon. It’s a whole lot easier!

Anyway, the discussion was quite illuminating as always. I even threw in more comments than usual. The highlight of the entire meeting occurred at the end when a new member – whom I’ll call “Sanjeev” – read an original poem he wrote that summarized the book we just discussed. Unfortunately, I couldn’t hear most of it, but I told him at Julius’s – after the meeting – that he should post the poem to the website, and he said he might do it. He actually complimented me on some of the points I made during the discussion and I was dumbfounded. I usually am rendered speechless during these meetings since I’m struck by so many intelligent comments made by the members that I feel I have nothing worthwhile to contribute. But I was a little more vocal last night which again is most unusual in my situation. Oh, even in the rain, we had more than 40 guys in the room. Not bad for early July!

As for what’s going on in the country right now, all of the attention is being directed to Chump’s “death” bill, as I now call it, not the “big, beautiful bill” which is a misnomer if there was one. And now my contempt is reserved for one “moderate” Republican from Alaska, Senator Lisa Murkowski, who originally indicated she had reservations about the bill and the cruel cuts on health care it was delivering to millions of Americans, but in the latest tally, this traitor voted “yes” on the bill in the Senate. In an opinion piece by Brian Tyler Cohen entitled “Lisa Murkowski cements her legacy,” the podcaster details how Murkowski has sold her soul to the devil.

As Cohen writes, the bill “strips healthcare away from 17 million Americans, takes food assistance away from 3 million Americans, eliminates school meal access for more than 18 million kids, adds nearly $4 trillion to national debt, sends electricity costs surging. and substantially raises health care premiums for older adults with ACA (Affordable Care Act) coverage, all to fund tax cuts for the wealthiest Americans.” As far as Murkowski was concerned, she recognized that the fucking bill was not good for the nation (an understatement if there ever was one) and noted, “This bill needs more work across chambers and is not ready for the President’s desk. We need to work together to get this right.”

Cohen excoriated Murkowski for actually voting for the bill even though she had reservations. He writes if she didn’t like the bill, she shouldn’t have voted in favor of it. The reason she changed her mind is that she presumably received some perks for her own state from meetings with other senators. She was able to secure some tribal exemptions on cuts to food assistance, a tax break for the fishing industry, and $50 billion to offset hospital closures, but Cohen notes that those cuts will have no effect in a bill that contains over a trillion dollars in healthcare costs within it. Murkowski’s “no” vote would have been the deciding vote to torpedo the bill, but she chose to take the easy path rather than show courage like the late Senator John McCain who had the deciding vote on repealing the Affordable Care Act, but chose not to by giving the thumbs down in the Senate chamber, thereby saving it.

Therefore, Senator Murkowski is my new person to hate in the repugnican party. Of course, there’s no one in the party who I like, as you can tell.

I probably won’t be here tomorrow since Elliot and I are seeing a play tomorrow, Angry Alan, starring John Krasinski. It’s a one-act play that Elliot heard was quite good, but I have no idea what it’s about, and I really don’t want to know. I can wait until tomorrow to see what it’s all about.

If I’m not here tomorrow, have a great Thursday.

And so it went!

And So It Goes

Today is Saturday, June 28, 2025. Elliot and I are back visiting our very good friends in Highland, New York. We came back around 5:30 after stopping in New Paltz and Ellenville for lunch, as we left our friends after breakfast in their complex’s restaurant, From the Ground Up Cafe. Our visit just about consumed 12 hours, as we arrived at “Peter” and “Ted’s” house about 12:30 and left close to 11:30 on Saturday. We had breakfast on the road on Friday at Jackson Hole, then wound our way on the New England Throughway, going through New Jersey first. This time the traffic was minimal, which was fine with me.

We spent the rest of the day Friday catching up with our friends’ experiences since we last saw them months ago. We would have seen the pair sooner if it weren’t for Peter’s ongoing health issues. So we were overjoyed that they didn’t cancel with us for another time. We were even contemplating bringing Atticus up to their apartment, but Elliot nixed the idea at the last moment. As a poor substitute for the real thing, I showed the guys recent videos I took of Atticus over the last several days.

From the beginning, we were treated to a lunch consisting of bagels and cream cheese. We were then informed that at four, two new friends from the development were coming down to have dinner with us, “Lucy” and “Jerrold.” We said wonderful!

We did have dinner with their new friends at 5 or so. We were treated to Peter’s great lasagna, salad, and home-baked apple crisp from Lucy. The meal was topped off with my seven-layer cake from Martha’s Country Bakery.

We all had a lively conversation with this couple, who just befriended Peter and Ted over the last year. We were amazed over Jerrold’s relationship with his many siblings and his early moving around because of his father being in the military. To me, Jerrold reminded me of an anemic Ernest Hemingway. His face was wasn’t as florid as his, but something in the beard and twinkle in his eyes reminded me of the late American author. Lucy had some health issues of her own, as she was in a wheelchair. Of course, Elliot and I wouldn’t ask her why she was in one. I thought she was suffering from Parkinson’s disease since her hands continually fluttered. However, her mood was buoyant and ebullient.

After the couple left, we all settled down to watching some D-minus horror films, movies such as 2019’s Clown and 1980’s Prom Night starring that ever-reliable “scream queen,” Jamie Lee Curtis and Leslie Nielsen (in a serious role) as her father. The first film was laughingly unbelievable, as a group of young teens (instantly interchangeable) wander into a ghost town that hides a funhouse where a murderous clown lives and systematically kidnaps and tortures the unsuspecting young people. Not very credible or suspenseful.

The second film starring Curtis right after her breaking role in Halloween, Prom Night revolves around an early incident in which several youths chase a young girl in an abandoned school, causing her untimely death as she falls out of a window. Years later when all of these youths are in high school, a savage murderer appears at prom night to quickly dispatch all of those he holds responsible for the young girl’s death six years before. In a very old review at the time, the critic reinforced what all of us were thinking as we watched Curtis and other female stars go through the halls of Manchester High School: They all look “as if their school days are a long way behind them.”

The one thing that distinguishes this subpar horror film is that it was one of the first entries into the slasher subgenre. The film, regrettably, has a low-budget feel, poor lighting, and cinematography that detract from its total enjoyment. Anyway, we just enjoyed the camaraderie that came from watching these two potboilers.

After watching these two films, we decided to call it a night, even though I stayed up to read a book I took from the development’s extensive library, which Peter took me to before Lucy and Jerrold arrived: The Killer’s Shadow: The FBI’s Hunt for a White Supremacist Serial Killer, by John Douglas and Mark Olshaker. The book looked interesting when I spied it in the vast room containing many hardcover books and paperbacks. Peter said that I could take it and would not need to return it.

I started to get sleepy by 1, so I called it a night and walked into the single bedroom where all of us slept. Elliot and I slept on the floor on an air mattress.

Today after getting up initially at 7:30 to use the bathroom, I got up finally close to 9:30. Eventually we all made our way to the complex’s restaurant: From the Ground Up Cafe.

The food served here was very tasty; I had the French toast and it was excellent, even the coffee was quite good. We were not able to spend more time with the boys since they were invited to a resident’s 90th-birthday party down the hall.

So we left after 11 and drove to New Paltz to browse the two bookstores in town: Inquiring Minds and Barner Books. These great stores are on opposite sides of the street, Church Street. Oh yes, I did purchase another book, this time at Barner Books, with the title of The Friday Afternoon Club, by Griffin Dunne. It’s a juicy memoir written by the actor, producer, and director of numerous films. Dunne’s aunt was Joan Didion, one of the great nonfiction writers ever to wield a typewriter. As you might know, Dunne suffered a personal tragedy many years ago when his sister, Dominque Dunne, was strangled by a boyfriend, John Sweeney, in a fit of rage after she tried to break up with him. Griffin’s father was Dominick Dunne who wrote about the trial of his daughter’s murderer in a stunning series of articles for Vanity Fair which launched his career as a crime reporter. He also penned several works of fiction, notably The Two Mrs. Grenvilles which became a 1987 television miniseries. Dunne’s book was a fictionalization of the real-life 1955 murder of William Woodward Jr. by his wife, Ann Woodward. This story was also taken up in the more recent series Feud: Capote vs. The Swans that aired on FX a year ago. In that series, Demi Moore played Ann Woodward.

We then drove to Elliot’s old stomping grounds, in Ellenville, where we had lunch at Cohen’s Bakery, a popular eatery and pastry shop. There we had sandwiches and coffee.

Now it was time to drive back to New York. We made only one stop at an antique shop on the road. We certainly didn’t need any new shiny objects to stuff into our one-bedroom apartment. I almost broke down to buy a $22 music box – why I needed something like that is beyond me. So I didn’t buy it!

The ride home was long but smooth. I think we got home close to 5:30.

Tomorrow is the 55th Pride March in New York. Because of the perilous times we’re living in right now, I’ve decided to attend it, possibly with Elliot or not. According to a piece online, “about a million people are expected to gather in Manhattan for the annual Pride March.” Generally, I wouldn’t even go to such a crowd-busting event, but as I said, this cruel regime and its policies are spurring me to go.

I might also hand out water with my friend “Seth,” who does it as a member of his church on 28th Street. I don’t know if we’re going to have dinner afterward either.

Maybe then I’ll see you tomorrow or – if not – on Monday.

And so it went!

And So It Goes

Today is Wednesday, June 18, 2025. Yesterday, as I expressed here the day earlier, I was probably going to be absent from this venue since Elliot and I were out having drinks with our newest friend “Barry” at the oldest gay bar, Julius’s. We were expected to meet Barry around 5:45, so we left Queens around 4 in order to spend a little time in the West Village before going to our appointed destination. We first had coffee at a place on 6th Avenue near the IFC Center and then we walked to Three Lives & Company, a West 10th Street bookstore. No, I did not purchase another book this time. But I did take a photo of a new hardcover nonfiction book called Eminent Jews by David Denby that I found quite interesting. The book examines the lives and works of such eminent Jews like Leonard Bernstein, Mel Brooks, Betty Friedan, and Norman Mailer. There’s no telling, even, if I would ever buy this book since I’m knee-deep in this month’s gay men’s reading club selection, Evenings & Weekends, by Oisin McKenna. I’m already halfway through the book and I just began it on Father’s Day, June 15. I’m almost at 200 pages in.

We got to the bar close to 5:30 and we sat outside a short while before I decided to enter the establishment. When I did, I saw Barry sitting at a small round table by the window nursing a drink. I then called Elliot to come into the bar and he did. We all hugged and greeted each other with kisses and wide smiles and then sat down, immediately ordering a side of French fries for the table and nonalcoholic drinks for Elliot and myself. Then we filled each other in on what was happening in all of our lives. We hadn’t seen Barry for a very long time, I think since last year, but most of it had to do with Barry going back home to Pittsburgh (where he was born and raised) to help with the care of his father who suffered a fall in his house, breaking a hip. He had also done some traveling, as well as we did. I asked Barry how old his father is, and I gulped when he said, “68,” where I blurted that this is about my age. Barry just smiled at me when I confessed this.

We must have chatted for close to 90 minutes since we ordered another round of drinks and French fries. Unfortunately, Barry had to leave early since he still had to work tomorrow, though he said he was off on Thursday, which is Juneteenth. So we couldn’t have dinner at the bar (their food is not generally great, anyway), so Elliot and I decided to have supper at the Bus Stop Cafe, on Hudson Street. We knew of this place from many years ago, even before the pandemic, so we bid adieu to Barry and walked further West.

The walk took about 10 minutes or so. I had to put on my phone GPS, which still didn’t prevent us from asking a passerby for directions anyway. The Bus Stop Cafe is a glorified diner and the prices are, for the most part, reasonable. So I ordered the eggplant parmigiana and a cup of chicken soup. I couldn’t finish my entree’, so I brought half of it home. I did order coffee which wasn’t that good, unfortunately.

The time wasn’t too late, sometime close to 8:30, so I decided to do something different: go to a gay bar – the Monster – which I haven’t done in quite a long time. Elliot was content to go home, and I said goodbye to him by the bar. I peered into the window to see if the bar was crowded or not, and I did see people enjoying each other’s company, so I decided to enter the Monster without missing a step. The security person at the door had to look at my ID, and I had to laugh over this.

Since I really don’t drink, I went to the rear of the bar to listen to the pianist. I thus stood around looking awkward and just listened to the volunteers who took the mic to sing their hearts out. I talked to no one and no one talked to me. I gave myself a half CBS News

I’m not sure what time I got home. I lucked out with getting an E train to Forest Hills at the West 4th Street station. But I was too pooped to write my blog last night. Excuse me!

Boy, in just one day, the mental deficient president is now almost approving attack plans on Iran, which must horrify everyone here in this country. He told reporters today that he had not made a final decision on whether to strike the country. This is what the dementia-addled president said about declaring war on another country that has nuclear weapons. “I like to make the final decision one second before it’s due, because things change, especially with war. I may do it. I may not do it. I mean, nobody knows what I’m going to do.” Is he contemplating whether to have spaghetti or not in this telling moment? You wouldn’t think he was actually weighing a crucial decision to put American troops at risk in a very dangerous endeavor. It sounds like he has no idea what he intends to do. Iran has said that it would “respond to any threat with a counter-threat.” This is madness that can hurdle us into World War III. Where are the rational lawmakers out there who can stop this crazed man? These quotes are selected from an online article in CBS News by James LaPorta entitled “Trump approved attack plans for Iran – but hasn’t made final decision to strike.”

So, hey, folks, all I can say is try to enjoy yourselves before we declare ourselves fighting in a Middle Eastern conflict that we shouldn’t ever be contemplating in the first place. You can thank this wishy-washy president who is accurately nicknamed “TACO”(Trump Always Chickens Out) Dump. Now he can’t even decide about thrusting the U.S. into a Middle Eastern war which is undoubtably not the right thing to do. The right thing to do in this situation is impeach the dumb bastard, in my humble opinion, before World War III does break out.

And just this from Lawrence O’Donnell, who on tonight’s show, The Last Word, just said about the so-called president: today he thought that the Declaration of Independence was written during the Civil War! Can you believe the stupidity here? Any third grader knows when both events occurred, or I should hope. But this president originally thought that the Continental Army had airports? Huh? Is he mentally all there? There is a YouTube clip of him actually saying this at one of his Nuremberg rallies. Go check it out.

And so it went!

Here is the book I was interested in at Three Lives & Company, on West 10th Street. Oops, you can see a glimpse of my red sneakers here too.

And So It Goes

Today is Thursday, May 23, 2025. Well, we returned to these dis-United States yesterday, May 22, around 7 p.m. after spending about 14 days out of the country, first on the Celebrity Apex cruise ship for seven days and with two days in Wales, in book village Hay-on-Wye, and, finally, spending two days in London, England. I was very trepidatious about taking a traditional cruise since the last cruise I was on was a gay cruise with my friend “Gene” way back in February 2020. But my fears were largely unfounded as Elliot and I took our first cruise in a very long time. For the most part, we enjoyed most of the aspects of this cruise: the food, the entertainment, the ports of call, the staff, and everything else associated with the Celebrity Apex.

This time, almost everything meshed well. We confronted very few snags along the way, which would have been quite difficult to manage, especially on a cruise in which everything is practically done for you. We took hardly any luxurious shore excursions; we just got off the ship at a convenient time and walked about the little villages we docked in. We did take one excursion in Belgium, where we took a canal ride through the medieval town of Ghent. And the last day in which I took a bus ride up a spectacular mountain range in the town of Geiranger, Norway, where Elliot preferred to stay in town browsing. I’ll append some photos of that ride later here.

After the cruise which terminated in Southampton, England, we made our way back to London and headed toward Wales, particularly, Hay-on-Wye, via commuter railroad which took us to Hereford, England, the town made famous in that song from My Fair Lady in which Eliza Doolittle sings about “the rain in Spain that stays mainly in the plain.” In the rebuttal, “Hartford, Hereford, and Hampshire, hurricanes hardly happen” is Professor Higgins’ reply to Eliza. Thus we rode to Hereford where we took a local bus, the T14, to the small town of Hay-on-Wye. Here we stayed at a community inn called Kilverts Inn for just about two days. Our room boasted a low ceiling in which I banged my head on at least once during our stay. Then we headed out on Sunday to the bookstores, at least five or six of them. We arrived too late on Saturday to go to any store since we arrived after 5. So we had one full day which was Sunday. We made the most of that day: getting up early to have breakfast at the inn and then walking to the various bookstores. Most of the stores were open, so we lucked out. Even one that indicated it was closed on Sunday from the Google site, the Murder and Mayhem bookstore, was surprisingly open. So I bought a book – what else? – from this bookstore. I purchased Agatha Christie’s Miss Marple’s Final Cases. All in all, I think I bought eight books, primarily in Hay-on-Wye, and one or two in London.

After our sojourn in Wales, we headed back to London where we stayed two days at the Grange Beauchamp Hotel, in Bloomsbury, on Bedford Place. The first day Elliot and I separated after breakfast, where I made my way to the world-famous British Museum, to spend an exhausting three hours to see the museum’s must-sees, which supposedly could be viewed in one hour; for me, it took three hours because of the labyrinth nature of the museum. So I did see the Rosetta Stone, the Portland Vase, the Lewis Chessmen, and the Holy Thorn Reliquary, among others. During our stay in London, we also took in a play on the West End: Moulin Rouge, which we haven’t seen yet in New York. Prices for London plays are still not as expensive as they are on Broadway, so for two seats in stalls – which is equivalent to our orchestra seats – where we sat were only 90 pounds together, which is about $121. The play certainly was glitzy and loud.

On our last day, which was Wednesday, May 21, we had the pleasure of meeting my Queen Mary 2 friend from 2016, “Jared,” for drinks before heading toward Covent Garden for an early dinner reservation at Rules, London’s oldest restaurant, which was founded in 1798. We got the restaurant recommendation from a passenger on the Apex whom we met one night as we ate in one of the four restaurants on board.

So as you see, I’ve avoided writing about the Orange Cheeto here. Hell, I was on vacation and I wanted to eschew hearing about him these last two weeks. I had even contemplated saying that I hailed from Canada if anyone asked me onboard. I didn’t do that, but what I do remember about the cruise is that every Brit to whom I spoke could not understand why we reelected Dump this past November. They were very skeptical of our trust in this conman extraordinaire. I recall hearing about this particular news story concerning Qatar donating a jet to the autocrat from a passenger in Nordfjordeid, Norway, sitting on a bench in the town. So I wasn’t even trying to glean news about him at all while away. The news, it seems, came to me, if I wanted to hear it or not.

Anyway, we did have a good time on the Apex. The supply of food was practically inexhaustible. Even though there is no more midnight buffet or food offered past 10. If you hungered for coffee or some pastry, you had to pay for it at Cafe al Bacio on Deck 4. Looking at a the daily agenda of the Celebrity Apex, I now see that late-night snacks were offered at the Oceanview Cafe, 14, on Deck 14. Boy, am I glad I didn’t partake of that perk all during the cruise. I basically finished dining right after dinner. So I think I didn’t gain any additional weight on this cruise. That’s pretty amazing, given what was available for everyone to consume.

I’m going to end this now since I’m still on British time, which is 5 hours ahead of New York. It feels like it’s close to 2:30 a.m. here. It may take a few days to adjust to the real time here.

And so it went!

Here is the Portland Vase, in the British Museum. As you can read the inscription, the vase was made in Rome about 15 BC-AD 25.

This is the iconic Rosetta Stone which is important because it contains the same text inscribed in three different scripts: hieroglyphic, demotic, and Greek. This allowed scholars to use the known Greek text to decipher the hieroglyphic and demotic scripts, unlocking the ability to read and understand ancient Egyptian hieroglyphics. As you can see in the pic, my image is reflected back from the Stone where I’m wearing my pink cap and red shirt, I believe.

This is the oldest chess set: the Lewis Chessmen.

This is the Holy Thorn Reliquary, finished around 1400.

This is the ice cream parlor in Hay-on-Wye, Shepherd’s Parlour, where we both had ice cream.

This is Hay Castle, which I discovered only on our last day, so I didn’t have time to go throughout the structure, as we were leaving that Monday afternoon.

This is a local sign boasting of the “world’s first book town.”

This is one of those stirring views on my ride up the mountain in Geiranger, Norway.

Another view of that snow-capped site.

More snow.

This is one of the waterfalls we saw from the Apex as we pulled out of port.

I think this is another pic of those falls.

Another view of that mountain in Geiranger, Norway.

Don’t you just love those cloud formations?

Here is our floating hotel for seven days.

And So It Goes

Today is Friday, April 11, 2025. Today is Day 82 or whatever of this horror show called the Dump shit show, but I found some reasons to have hope even though the situation seems so dire in this country right now. An online article for AlterNet provides that glimmer of hope in “The Trump horror show continues – but here are 12 reasons to have hope,” and it’s written by Robert Reich, former Labor Secretary under President Bill Clinton.

Reich first exults in the number of rallies that were held across all 50 states last weekend – drawing an estimated 3 million participants. Even red states like Alaska, Wyoming, South Dakota, and Kentucky drew angry protesters to town and city squares demonstrating against the current administration.

Here then are some reasons for having hope this week, according to Reich.

  • Trump’s wild retreat on tariffs.

As you know, this deluded leader thinks tariffs are the key to prosperity and said trade wars are easy to win. But on Wednesday, Dump decided to retreat from this losing strategy when investors shouted that it was not the right thing to do, as the market lost trillions in investments. “It was a large and embarrassing retreat.”

  • Trump can’t win a trade war with China because he’s cut off other suppliers. Duh.

After China retaliated against last week’s tariffs, imposing an 84 percent duty on all U.S. goods, Chump raised his duties on Chinese imports to a total of 145 percent!

But facing off against the world’s second-largest economy in a trade war requires alternative and reliable suppliers, which Chump has foolishly cut off.

  • Democrats see a surge of interest in running for office.

Spurred on by the horror of last week’s Signalgate affair and Elon Muskrat’s increasing stature as the nation’s most-hated billionaire, Democrats are gearing up to push deeper into red territory on the campaign trail next year.

Among the areas of interest showing a Democratic surge is an Iowa district now held by GOP Rep. Zach Nunn (which is certain to feel the ill effects of stupid Dump’s tariffs); two prospective bids in Pennsylvania and Michigan by candidates who lost or left jobs thanks to the Dump administration, giving them a powerful story on the campaign trail; a pair of former representatives considering comeback bids for battleground districts in the Rust Belt; and at least two districts in Virginia, held by GOP Reps. Rob Wittman and Jen Kiggans, that Dems believe are increasingly in play thanks to backlash against Muskrat’s government cost-cutting frenzy..

Meanwhile, former Rep. Wiley Nickel (D-NC) announced he’ll run for the Senate with plans to unseat vulnerable Senator Thom Tillis (R-NC) for not standing up to Herr Dump. Notably, Nickel’s launch video leads with an attack on Tillis’s capitulation to the Golden Leader for not voting against tariffs.

Mike Sacks became the fourth Democrat to jump into the race against Rep. Mike Lawler (R-NY). This lawyer and former TV reporter’s campaign pledge? To “unfuck the country!” A more blunt campaign pledge if I ever heard one.

  • Democrats are plotting a fresh round of town halls in GOP-held districts, to hammer Republicans.

As another fucking recess period begins for these worthless lawmakers, Democrats see another opportunity to strike against embattled Republicans for scaling back town halls and other open forums because of backlash from constituents who screamed bloody murder at these repugnicans for their unpopular positions.

  • Trump’s firing of Timothy Haugh at Laura Loomer’s urging causes widespread bipartisan concern.

This idiot known as Laura Boomer, who has captured the grazed ear of the illiterate president, the person who thinks 9/11 was an inside job, who has openly advocated at a white nationalist conference that she is a white advocate, has persuaded the dimwitted liar in chief to fire General Timothy Haugh, a four-star general who served as head of both the National Security Agency and U.S. Cyber Command.

Haugh’s termination shocked lawmakers on both sides of the aisle in which national security veterans described the unexpected action as a “chilling” one that would damage America’s cyber defenses and “roll out the red carpet” for attacks on critical networks by foreign adversaries. Don’t you think that Loomer herself is a dangerous presence in the president’s purview? What an asinine decision by an asinine man!

  • Trump’s poll numbers continue to drop.

Since Inauguration Day, a day that will live in infamy here, Dump has lost 29 points among voters aged 18 to 29, 14 points among 30 to 44, and 8 points among those 65 plus.

A Navigator poll (done between April 3 and April 7) shows Dump’s economic approval at its worst ever, with 58 percent of Americans holding an unfavorable view of tariffs, compared to only 30 percent favorable. Overall, Chump has a 44 percent approval rating versus 53 percent disapproval. I’m surprised it’s not at 80 or 90 percent!

Other factors for having a little hope in such dire times include the courts continuing to strike back at Dump and his unlawful decisions, the repugnican budget will cause mayhem, which contains huge unworthy tax cuts for big corporations and the uberwealthy, but also would need to cut social safety net programs like Social Security, Medicare, and Medicaid, which is political suicide for that party proposing it, Muskrat the bastard is disappearing after his fatal mistake in Wisconsin, and DOGE itself is sinking, where the Social Security Administration is walking back its DOGE-led widely unpopular phone service cuts and the unofficial governmental agency is being audited itself by the Government Accountability Office over its access to and use of sensitive government data.

Now that the repugnican party has been exposed as nothing more than a sounding board for the deranged king, Democrats must launch an intensive campaign to hit them on the failing economy and other unpopular actions taken within the last three months of Dump’s second term.

Tomorrow Elliot and I will drive to Cherry Hill to be included with my longterm chum “Harold” and his family to observe the beginning of Passover. I’ll be away until Monday, so let me wish everyone here a Happy Passover to all of those who celebrate it. In addition to intoning “Next year in Jerusalem” at the end of the Passover service, let’s also intone “Next year in 2026!” and hope some sanity is restored in this country.

Have a great weekend.

And so it went!

And So It Goes

Today is Sunday, March 30, 2025. I failed to post a blog yesterday because I did see a Broadway play, or more aptly, an Off-Broadway play since the playhouse was on West 42nd Street, close to 11th Avenue, and the theater was called Theater 555. The name of the play was Conversations with Mother and it was a two-character play, set over five decades. More of the play later.

Another reason why I didn’t write my blog is the outcome of my resistance group which was supposed to have met at 3 yesterday afternoon. At the time I left for the alleged meeting, I had two members attending, one less than the last one which attracted only two persons into the city. The site was the same place where I had our last “meeting,” which was Albert’s Bar, located on 41st Street. This time I arrived pretty punctually – sometime before 2:45. I asked for a table and was ushered to a table near the wall. I put on my trusty name tag and waited. And waited! I asked for a cup of coffee while waiting and when it was past 3, I texted a friend who called me, whereupon I mentioned how no one was coming. He provided reasons for why no one was coming and one of the reasons had to do with the unseasonably warm weather outside. I believe the temperatures were in the high 70s or even the low 80s at some point. I waited until 4:15 and then made my hasty retreat. I did go up to the front of the bar to wait for people, but alas, I didn’t see any of those who said they were attending. I was just very disappointed and disillusioned after this setback and just walked to Times Square to get Broadway tickets at TKTS.

In just two days, a crucial race is going to be determined and the outcome of that race can very well be viewed more as a referendum on the bastard in charge of DOGE, Elon Muskrat and his democracy-crushing intervention into political races, as he’s poured millions into defeating the liberal candidate for Supreme Court Justice, Susan Crawford, than on anything else. Today an online article for The Hill covers this consequential race in a piece by Sarah Fortinsky entitled “Musk: Wisconsin Supreme Court race ‘might decide the future of America and Western Civilization.'”

It was this odious, far-right tech billionaire who made such a hyperbolic statement about the Wisconsin Supreme Court race, and let’s pray that Wisconsinites are not fooled by this gaslighting asshole.

This unelected government official suggested that if Democrats win this hotly contested race, they would “redraw up districts and add seats for Democrats.” That’s the idea, fucker! He posted to his platform that “What’s at issue here is control of the US House of Representatives.”

These comments made by a Nazi-loving billionaire come just before he’s expected to speak at a town hall in Wisconsin, where, I hope, he’s soundly booed by those who attend. I haven’t heard what’s happened yet since I don’t have the news on.

Muskrat”s political and financial influence will be put to the test this week. He spent $12 million through his America PAC to support the far-right candidate, Brad Schimel, whom I call “Schlimazel” instead. Building America’s Future, a group that has previously received funding from Muskrat, added $4.7 million to the race.

The election has been viewed as the first critical bellwether of Dump’s second term, as Democratic energy appears to be growing on the grassroots level. Democratic donors have also opened their pocketbooks in the race, including most notably George Soros and Illinois Governor JB Pritzker, underscoring the degree to which both sides see the election as crucial.

Let’s pray that the first good piece of news out of this disastrous second term is delivered this Tuesday. May the only best candidate win!

Now to the play: Conversations with Mother. As I wrote above, it’s a two-hander character story of the 50-year relationship between a strong-willed Italian mother, Maria Collavechio, played by Caroline Aaron, and her gay, playwright-aspirational son, Bobby. From childhood to adulthood, Bobby, here played by Matt Doyle, tries to stash away his mischief and secrets while fielding his mother’s tough love that weeds out his confessions.

It’s great fun following the pair throughout the decades as they rotate around bereavement and rocky relationships and life’s downfalls. This is a relationship that is fraught with disappointments and early death, as in the death of Bobby’s father at a very young age. There is a very touching monologue that is delivered by Aaron as she recalls her late husband’s snoring. And now she doesn’t even have evidence of that anymore, which is quite poignant.

What distinguishes this 85-minute one act play about a son and mother is the mother’s total acceptance of her son’s gay identity all throughout his life, which is quite remarkable, given that Maria is a pious Italian Christian. There is an early scene where the pair thrash it out over the son’s supposed attendance at church in which he passes it over to play hooky with a close friend. But Mother has a way of coaxing the truth out of her lying son and she does – very beautifully.

Most of the interactions between mother and son occur on the telephone, often existing in their own spaces but inching physically closer as the play proceeds. Wilson Chin’s scenic design suggests a drawing room, backdropped with Caite Henver’s projections to signify location and time period.

The semiautobiographical play is the brainchild of Matthew Lombardo and the direction is provided by Noah Himmelstein. A nice paean to motherhood in the theater lobby are the portraits of all of the principals in the play, from Matt Doyle to Noah Himmelstein, hanging on hallway walls as you walk toward the theater entrance. It gives the play a very poignant touch.

I believe the play is ending May 11, so if you want to be touched by this endearing chronicle of a son and his mother over five decades, go see it – maybe with your mother if she’s still around!

And so it went!

And So It Goes

Today is Tuesday, March 4, 2025. Tonight the liar in chief is delivering his address to a joint session of Congress, of which I have deliberately tuned out, as I had mentioned yesterday. Instead, Elliot and I watched a silly comedy from 2022 on Netflix called The Estate starring Toni Collette, David Duchovny, Ana Farris, and Kathleen Turner as a wealthy dying aunt. The movie devolves into a mad dash to inherit old Hilda’s estate, as a bevy of cousins descend on her and her mansion in New Orleans to try to get their names on Hilda’s will before she dies. Collette and Farris play Macey and Savanna, two down-on-their-luck sisters who run a rundown cafe in town and scheme, along with their married cousins, Beatrice and James, and their single cousin Richard – or “Dick,” as he would like to be called – played by natty Duchovny, who continually hits on Collette, to become the heirs of Hilda’s substantial estate. The film lacked any nuance as cousins are pitted against each other in their desperate attempts to curry favor with the dying Hilda, played with the usual brio by Turner. The film has quite a number of jokes about flashing and other body parts. We watched this feeble comedy as a way to get our minds off the address by the liar in chief, which was still going on when the film ended before 10.

Since I won’t write about what was contained in the blowhard’s address, I think I’ll wade into city politics, in that our own mayor, Eric Adams, is facing calls to resign amid controversy over the Dump Department of Justice’s move to dismiss his federal corruption indictment. An article (I know I’ve said I don’t read papers anymore, but this time, I picked one up) in today’s Daily News covers the fallout from the move to dismiss those charges against the mayor. It’s titled “Adams doubles down vs. critics, says foes after him with ‘lynch mob mentality,'” and it’s written by Chris Sommerfeldt.

Holding a press conference at City Hall, Adams was asked by reporters why he thought it was appropriate last week to label Black politicians who have urged him to resign “Negroes” in need of saving from God. Adams replied, “well, those Negroes knew they were wrong.” Sheesh! Not only is this an offensive thing to say coming from a Black politician like Adams, it’s offensive to the concept of the Deity to being Him in connection with calls for him to resign because he’s now viewed as a very compromised candidate for reelection since he’s seen as being beholden to the liar in chief. But Adams claimed there was nothing derogatory about the remark he made at a Black History Month celebration at Gracie Mansion last Tuesday.

Conversely, Adams said the outrage should actually be about the mounting calls for him to resign or be removed from office.

Those who have called for him to step down are City Council Speaker Adrienne Adams, state Senator Majority Leader Andrea Stewart-Cousins, and other prominent Black elected officials.

Adams’ controversial comments are herewith quoted in total here when he spoke at Gracie Mansion last week and said, “When Jesus was on the cross, he said, ‘God forgive them for they know not what they do.’ All these Negroes who are asking me to step down, God forgive them.”

Black leaders, reacting to the mayor’s comments, including Harlem pastor and civil rights advocate Johnnie Green, said last week’s the mayor’s use of the racial phrase in that context was deeply insensitive.

Public Advocate Jumaane Williams, a vocal Adams critic who is Black, said his reference to a “lynch mob” was likewise offensive. I would agree with Williams’ assessment here. He remarked, “The second Black mayor in our history is actively undoing the decades of progress it took to elect even the first. It’s deeply disrespectful to both the leaders who worked to get us here and people who hope to carry us forward.”

A related story here is the announcement just made this past Saturday by former governor Andrew Cuomo that he’s now running for Eric Adams’ job. I believe that Adams is fearful of his candidacy, even though Cuomo is fraught with quite a lot of baggage himself: Cuomo was accused by 11 women of sexual harassment and he also came under fire for a policy directing nursing homes to readmit patients recovering from COVID. Cuomo eventually resigned as governor on August 24, 2021, as a result of the investigation into those charges that were substantiated by the state attorney general.

Personally, I’m not a fan of the current mayor and think anyone else would be better than him in the job. I’ve written how he betrayed municipal workers with Medicare and now he’s more of a Republican than a true Democrat in my opinion. His cozying up to Dump soils him forever in my book. I look forward to hearing the other candidates for mayor provide a case for voters to vote for them as the race heats up.

And so it went!