I think it would have been fun to be a beatnik in the late 50’s. I was alive then, but too young. (Damn, if only my parents were beatniks…maybe I could have been a baby beatnik.)
Anyway, beatniks preceded hippies…which was another generation that I just missed. Of course, I was aware of hippies, STOP the War, and John Lennon. Heck, I’m old….but I was not the age to experience it first-hand. I never went to a sit-in, stand-up, march march march. But if I could be either a beatnik or hippie…I would choose beatnik…berets down.
First of all, I love bongos. We all know that’s the beatnik’s first love. Everything sounds good with a bongo…especially poetry. I can see myself now: hanging out at a club in the village or in some underground coffee shop in Times Square listening to poetry. I’d be wearing a solid black turtleneck sweater, a beret, and dark glasses. I could have easily gotten into the beatnik counter-cultural, anti-materialistic philosophy…at least, until I became acquainted with Tiffanys.
I also love the beatnik lingo. Yea, I can still see my beatnik self: I’d be in the club, listening to some jazz, snapping my fingers to the beat saying: “I dig this jazz, man. That cat is hip.”
I love to refer to someone as cat…not because of the obvious Kat reference…but it sounds so cool. Not many people say “cat” anymore. Whoopi Goldberg still says it…and also a guy we know who has a band. Wait, this just came to me….he plays keyboards…and wears a beret during his gigs. OMG…AND he’s older than me. He could have been a beatnik at one time. Dig it! I gotta talk to this cat.
I think I might take a field trip to New York to see if there are any beatniks around the city anymore. I have a feeling though…beatniks have been replaced by rappers. Beatnik poetry has been replaced with rapper’s rhymes. The beret is replaced by the do-rag. And the trademark turtleneck replaced with baggy jeans, and bling.
So if you follow my convoluted logic…(could I have a bongo roll please here?)…the rapper is really a modern day beatnik.
This Kat…is one smart cat.
Tuesday, March 31, 2009
Monday, March 30, 2009
The Wait
It’s decision time. The time when college decision letters are sent out to all the eagerly awaiting High School Seniors who have been waiting on pins and needles to hear whether it’s a yea, nay, or sit a spell.
A sit a spell is what I call the Wait List. That’s the list they put you on when the college decides “you’re okay, but not okay to be initially accepted.” So if the students the colleges really want say “no”…then they’ll take you. Personally, I say to hell with them. If they didn’t want me the first go around…then they can’t have me. (I like to play hard to get.)
So the next couple of weeks are filled with anticipation of the college decision letters. Listening for the mailman to come around the corner in his mail truck. (I’m curious, how does he not fall out of that thing going around corners with his door wide open?) Will Mr. Mailman have good news or bad news…or no news? “They” say no news is good news…but after waiting for so long, it doesn’t always feel that way…feels more like bad news.
The size of the letter tells you a lot. No matter what anyone tells you…size does matter. The big envelope is a sure sign they have admitted you into their college. No college would spend the extra money in postage to send out a big envelope with the words REJECTED on it. It doesn’t take much space to say: HIT THE ROAD.
Students are also hearing online through email and websites whether they have either been accepted or rejected…with the official letter to follow in snail mail. I’ve heard some colleges even have snazzy links to their e-letter. So if you get the good news that you’ve been accepted…you click on a link and a marching band plays…fireworks explode. I don’t think they’ve linked a rejection letter to a funeral march procession. Or maybe they just haven’t thought of it yet.
I have an idea for Brianna. I think she should send out rejection letters through email to the schools who have accepted her, but she has decided against attending:
“Dear Mr. Dean of Admissions:
After carefully comparing your school to the other schools I have been admitted to, I regret to inform you that I have decided to not attend your college in Fall, 2009. Unfortunately, there was fierce competition between many highly qualified schools and only one of me to go around. This does not mean, in any way, that you are a bad school. I wish you future success in obtaining other students to attend your college.
P.S. You will be receiving a copy of this e-letter in the mail to make it official. In other words Mr. Dean of Admissions…HIT THE ROAD.”
A sit a spell is what I call the Wait List. That’s the list they put you on when the college decides “you’re okay, but not okay to be initially accepted.” So if the students the colleges really want say “no”…then they’ll take you. Personally, I say to hell with them. If they didn’t want me the first go around…then they can’t have me. (I like to play hard to get.)
So the next couple of weeks are filled with anticipation of the college decision letters. Listening for the mailman to come around the corner in his mail truck. (I’m curious, how does he not fall out of that thing going around corners with his door wide open?) Will Mr. Mailman have good news or bad news…or no news? “They” say no news is good news…but after waiting for so long, it doesn’t always feel that way…feels more like bad news.
The size of the letter tells you a lot. No matter what anyone tells you…size does matter. The big envelope is a sure sign they have admitted you into their college. No college would spend the extra money in postage to send out a big envelope with the words REJECTED on it. It doesn’t take much space to say: HIT THE ROAD.
Students are also hearing online through email and websites whether they have either been accepted or rejected…with the official letter to follow in snail mail. I’ve heard some colleges even have snazzy links to their e-letter. So if you get the good news that you’ve been accepted…you click on a link and a marching band plays…fireworks explode. I don’t think they’ve linked a rejection letter to a funeral march procession. Or maybe they just haven’t thought of it yet.
I have an idea for Brianna. I think she should send out rejection letters through email to the schools who have accepted her, but she has decided against attending:
“Dear Mr. Dean of Admissions:
After carefully comparing your school to the other schools I have been admitted to, I regret to inform you that I have decided to not attend your college in Fall, 2009. Unfortunately, there was fierce competition between many highly qualified schools and only one of me to go around. This does not mean, in any way, that you are a bad school. I wish you future success in obtaining other students to attend your college.
P.S. You will be receiving a copy of this e-letter in the mail to make it official. In other words Mr. Dean of Admissions…HIT THE ROAD.”
Friday, March 27, 2009
Daisy is 94
My grandmother, Daisy, turned 94 this week. Isn’t that the prettiest name for a woman? It just radiates with summer happiness. I had a friend who used to call me by a flower’s name….Petunia. I was never sure if I should be offended…But at least she didn’t call me peat moss.
So Daisy is 94 years old…which means she was born in 1915. She has seen a lot happen over her 94 years. She’s seen a lot come and go. Seen a lot thrive and dive. Seen a lot ebb and flow. And I hear…she once saw Flo with Ebb.
Over the past 94 years there have been a lot of advancements in technology, ideology, psychology, and hamburgology. Here’s just a few: the invention of the television, Computers, Pampers, microwave, credit card, super glue, pacemaker, White-out, silicone breast implants, CDs, ATM, Internet (thank you Al gore,) Post-it, liposuction, Cell phone, High Def TV, artificial heart, Cialis, The Doplar, Cabbage Patch Kids, McDonalds, Google…to name just a smidge.
Daisy even uses some of these products today…mainly the microwave (10% usage), portable phone (2 % usage), and Digital COMCAST cable TV with remote (88 % usage). Boo yah Grandma! The television is by far her favorite advancement….Bring on Jeopardy, Dancing With the Stars, and an NBA Basketball game.
As far as Daisy is concerned…you can keep the ATM and the credit card…cash is best. And keep the computer…she communicates the ole fashioned way… pen to paper and she has perfect penmanship…promise. Hopefully Grandma will never need an artificial heart (I think her ticker is still good with ticks) and I won’t even go there with Cialis!!! I can’t see her in one of those bathtubs…I know for a fact she takes showers.
And you can be sure she will never be at a computer to read this…but I have only the highest compliment for my Grandmother:
“Grandma…you da bomb dot COM.”
So Daisy is 94 years old…which means she was born in 1915. She has seen a lot happen over her 94 years. She’s seen a lot come and go. Seen a lot thrive and dive. Seen a lot ebb and flow. And I hear…she once saw Flo with Ebb.
Over the past 94 years there have been a lot of advancements in technology, ideology, psychology, and hamburgology. Here’s just a few: the invention of the television, Computers, Pampers, microwave, credit card, super glue, pacemaker, White-out, silicone breast implants, CDs, ATM, Internet (thank you Al gore,) Post-it, liposuction, Cell phone, High Def TV, artificial heart, Cialis, The Doplar, Cabbage Patch Kids, McDonalds, Google…to name just a smidge.
Daisy even uses some of these products today…mainly the microwave (10% usage), portable phone (2 % usage), and Digital COMCAST cable TV with remote (88 % usage). Boo yah Grandma! The television is by far her favorite advancement….Bring on Jeopardy, Dancing With the Stars, and an NBA Basketball game.
As far as Daisy is concerned…you can keep the ATM and the credit card…cash is best. And keep the computer…she communicates the ole fashioned way… pen to paper and she has perfect penmanship…promise. Hopefully Grandma will never need an artificial heart (I think her ticker is still good with ticks) and I won’t even go there with Cialis!!! I can’t see her in one of those bathtubs…I know for a fact she takes showers.
And you can be sure she will never be at a computer to read this…but I have only the highest compliment for my Grandmother:
“Grandma…you da bomb dot COM.”
Thursday, March 26, 2009
He Says. She Says.
I don’t know about you, but I find reading about some wealthy couple squabbling over money during a nasty divorce disgusting. I know I shouldn’t read the article…but it is hard to resist…right there on the front page. All their dirty laundry exposed for everyone to examine. A couple of dirty Polo socks, and striped Givenchy underwear.
I have to admit, there is an element of intrigue. He’s George David, a retired UTC CEO, age 66, and she is a Swedish countess, age 36. The news article refers to a lot of finger pointing on both sides…a lot of he says…she says. I say…I’m happy PaulA isn’t a UTC exec and I’m not a countess…although I say, 30 years younger than PaulA would be nice…and He says, he agrees.
It seems the unhappy couple signed a post nuptial agreement 2 years after they were married. That was a good sign things were headed to court right there. She says, he coerced her to sign the post-nuptial. He says, “no I didn’t. “ (He speaks in short sentences.) No children are involved. I say, both of you cut the crap…and split the difference and give some to AIG…they are looking for hand-outs.
The problem is you don’t know who to feel sorry for more. The poor rich guy who wants to lose the biotch…or the poor rich girl who stands to be living on Easy Ain’t Life Grand Street.
I am NOT saying she is a gold digger (besides diamonds are a girl’s best friend), but she did sign a contract. She is now claiming the amount in the contract is not enough to meet her $53,000 a WEEK (yes, a week) expenses which include:
-$27,300: Mortgages and maintenance fees for Park Avenue penthouse, Hamptons retreat and properties in Sweden
-$8,000: travel
-$4,500: clothing
-$2,209: personal assistant
-$1,570: horse care
-$1,480: domestic help
-$1,500: entertainment and restaurants
-$1,000: health and skin care
-$600: flowers
-$650: dry cleaning
-$250: personal trainer
I think I could become domesticated for $1,480 a week. Throw a saddle on me.
George David's Weekly Expenses – total $206,592 include:
Undetailed mortgages and fees on residences
-$7000: entertainment and travel
-$2,500: clothing
-$1,695: car service
-$863: books, magazines and newspapers
-$636: club dues
-$575: bank charges
-$337: yard care
-$71: wine
In review of Mr. David …or is it Mr. George’s expenses (confusing with 2 first names)…. I think he needs to spend more money per week on wine. 71 dollars …is nothing. Heck, one bottle of fine wine could easily cost 71 dollars. By my calculations…one bottle 7 nights per week….is only 10 dollars a bottle. That’s what a bottle of Fat Bastard Chardonnay goes for.
I have a little something to say to George David…”The Countess Dracula is right…you are cheap. Cough it up, Dude.”
I have to admit, there is an element of intrigue. He’s George David, a retired UTC CEO, age 66, and she is a Swedish countess, age 36. The news article refers to a lot of finger pointing on both sides…a lot of he says…she says. I say…I’m happy PaulA isn’t a UTC exec and I’m not a countess…although I say, 30 years younger than PaulA would be nice…and He says, he agrees.
It seems the unhappy couple signed a post nuptial agreement 2 years after they were married. That was a good sign things were headed to court right there. She says, he coerced her to sign the post-nuptial. He says, “no I didn’t. “ (He speaks in short sentences.) No children are involved. I say, both of you cut the crap…and split the difference and give some to AIG…they are looking for hand-outs.
The problem is you don’t know who to feel sorry for more. The poor rich guy who wants to lose the biotch…or the poor rich girl who stands to be living on Easy Ain’t Life Grand Street.
I am NOT saying she is a gold digger (besides diamonds are a girl’s best friend), but she did sign a contract. She is now claiming the amount in the contract is not enough to meet her $53,000 a WEEK (yes, a week) expenses which include:
-$27,300: Mortgages and maintenance fees for Park Avenue penthouse, Hamptons retreat and properties in Sweden
-$8,000: travel
-$4,500: clothing
-$2,209: personal assistant
-$1,570: horse care
-$1,480: domestic help
-$1,500: entertainment and restaurants
-$1,000: health and skin care
-$600: flowers
-$650: dry cleaning
-$250: personal trainer
I think I could become domesticated for $1,480 a week. Throw a saddle on me.
George David's Weekly Expenses – total $206,592 include:
Undetailed mortgages and fees on residences
-$7000: entertainment and travel
-$2,500: clothing
-$1,695: car service
-$863: books, magazines and newspapers
-$636: club dues
-$575: bank charges
-$337: yard care
-$71: wine
In review of Mr. David …or is it Mr. George’s expenses (confusing with 2 first names)…. I think he needs to spend more money per week on wine. 71 dollars …is nothing. Heck, one bottle of fine wine could easily cost 71 dollars. By my calculations…one bottle 7 nights per week….is only 10 dollars a bottle. That’s what a bottle of Fat Bastard Chardonnay goes for.
I have a little something to say to George David…”The Countess Dracula is right…you are cheap. Cough it up, Dude.”
Wednesday, March 25, 2009
Say It Ain't So
“Hello, I’m Barack Obama.” When some people speak…they get your attention immediately. They have you at “hello.” I think President Obama is a great speaker and totally captivating. With one teeny tiny flaw…..he occasionally makes grammatical errors. Say it ain’t so, Mr. President!
Look, here’s the thing (Obama always says that)…The President has been using “I” when he should be using “me.” Barack will say…. “Michelle and I” …when it is grammatically correct to say “Michelle and Me.” Not cool. What is cool is: “Me and Julio down by the school yard.”
You know…it could be worse. Obama could say, you know, every other word like Caroline Kennedy, you know. You know, her ridiculous use of, you know, during the NY Senate race might have had something to do, you know, with why she dropped out…you know.
Obama, however, has not ambushed the English language like Former President Bush. Bush should have been given a linguistic lashing…for his lack of command of the English language. You could predictify that Bush was going to botch some word up in every speech.
Gosh Dern Golly Geeez….at least Obama hasn’t pulled a Palin with his speech.
Look…here’s another thing…sometimes Obama can get a little too casual in his speech, and say something my kids would say. For example, when he said “I screwed up.” That just doesn’t sound very Presidential. Bush never would have said that….HAHA…I set myself up for that.
Look, here’s the other thing…at least as a blogger…ummmm….no one expects I as a hack blogger to have, you know, great command over the English langrage. I would not be expected to have prefect gramatiker skills. Golly, geez, who cares if I screw up anyway? You betcha, wink…wink.
Look, here’s the thing (Obama always says that)…The President has been using “I” when he should be using “me.” Barack will say…. “Michelle and I” …when it is grammatically correct to say “Michelle and Me.” Not cool. What is cool is: “Me and Julio down by the school yard.”
You know…it could be worse. Obama could say, you know, every other word like Caroline Kennedy, you know. You know, her ridiculous use of, you know, during the NY Senate race might have had something to do, you know, with why she dropped out…you know.
Obama, however, has not ambushed the English language like Former President Bush. Bush should have been given a linguistic lashing…for his lack of command of the English language. You could predictify that Bush was going to botch some word up in every speech.
Gosh Dern Golly Geeez….at least Obama hasn’t pulled a Palin with his speech.
Look…here’s another thing…sometimes Obama can get a little too casual in his speech, and say something my kids would say. For example, when he said “I screwed up.” That just doesn’t sound very Presidential. Bush never would have said that….HAHA…I set myself up for that.
Look, here’s the other thing…at least as a blogger…ummmm….no one expects I as a hack blogger to have, you know, great command over the English langrage. I would not be expected to have prefect gramatiker skills. Golly, geez, who cares if I screw up anyway? You betcha, wink…wink.
Tuesday, March 24, 2009
Who Gives a Twitter?
Do you twitter? Do you tweet? Do you even know what the hell I’m talking about? I thought about dabbling in twitter…so I set up a twitter account with a twitter name of…katHERE. Heck Kat was already taken…and so was Kat1-100!
Then I thought: What the hell? What do I need to be doing this for? I’m more of a twit than a tweet anyway. Basically, why do I need to know 24/7 what other people are doing? I barely know what the hell I’m doing. And why do I care? And why would anyone care what I’m doing 24/7?
Twitter allows you to either be an exhibitionist or a voyeur…or both. You can post public updates on your life in 140 characters. It’s like a big “Away Message.” “Taking a shower and using my new shampoo.” Or you can follow someone else’s life. That way you can compare twitters and see who is having the better life…minute to minute. I wouldn’t want to compare my twitter with Oprah’s.
The only twitter I would be interested in following would be that of my kids. But I can guess…I’m the last person they would want following them. Heck, isn’t it enough I can reach them by cell, im, text, email, blackberry, and blueberry?
Maybe twitter is made for the young…or someone doing important stuff like a project for work and sending out updates to everyone. The only project I (should) have going is to clean out my basement…but who wants those updates? katHERE: throwing out Kat's clothes from college.
But then again...maybe I should twitter (As you can see…I’m experiencing twitter dilemma) because it would just sound soooo cool. “Yea…I twitter. I’m cool.” But once people got a peek at my tweets….they might want me to keep my tweets to myself.
katHERE: writing a boring blog about twitter…What do you expect from a twit?
Then I thought: What the hell? What do I need to be doing this for? I’m more of a twit than a tweet anyway. Basically, why do I need to know 24/7 what other people are doing? I barely know what the hell I’m doing. And why do I care? And why would anyone care what I’m doing 24/7?
Twitter allows you to either be an exhibitionist or a voyeur…or both. You can post public updates on your life in 140 characters. It’s like a big “Away Message.” “Taking a shower and using my new shampoo.” Or you can follow someone else’s life. That way you can compare twitters and see who is having the better life…minute to minute. I wouldn’t want to compare my twitter with Oprah’s.
The only twitter I would be interested in following would be that of my kids. But I can guess…I’m the last person they would want following them. Heck, isn’t it enough I can reach them by cell, im, text, email, blackberry, and blueberry?
Maybe twitter is made for the young…or someone doing important stuff like a project for work and sending out updates to everyone. The only project I (should) have going is to clean out my basement…but who wants those updates? katHERE: throwing out Kat's clothes from college.
But then again...maybe I should twitter (As you can see…I’m experiencing twitter dilemma) because it would just sound soooo cool. “Yea…I twitter. I’m cool.” But once people got a peek at my tweets….they might want me to keep my tweets to myself.
katHERE: writing a boring blog about twitter…What do you expect from a twit?
Monday, March 23, 2009
Downhill From Here
I have heard some news that is making me crazy…mentally mad. Researchers from the University of Virginia have determined that we reach the summit of our mental abilities at age 22. And some of our mental abilities, including reasoning and speed of thought, begin to decline significantly at age 27. It's all downhill from here. So by my calculations…at my age now, I’m basically a dolt. There is no hope for me. And what if I live to be 80 or 90? A Bumbling Stumbling Idiot.
That’s gets me thinking…what incentive do I have to exercise and remain healthy into my golden age? (I’m still wondering why they call them golden?) Now I have the best reason ever to not work-out.
I always knew a college kid, at age 22, was at the peak of his mental abilities. Especially the kid who after a night of binge drinking, throws up on his shoes and passes out behind the couch. Regular Einstein.
Good thing John McCain was not elected President. According to this study…McCain would be dumb as rocks. YIKES. An utter and complete moron. According to the UVA research, if elected, he probably would be sitting at his desk in the Oval Office playing marbles with the ones he lost.
Who would have thought the twilight years began at age 27. (Why do they call them that?) Now it seems we should be getting those AARP cards sooner. If we are gonna have senior moments in our late 20s…then bring on the discounts.
The study suggested that we may need to begin therapies to prevent cognitive decline associated with old age at a sooner age. So how do we keep all our mental abilities…and not end up as stooges? “They” say doing activities that challenge your mind will help: crossword puzzles, mind-teasers, sudoku, balancing my check book that hasn’t been balanced in 7 years.
The main reason I even write this blog is to keep my mind working. Yeah, that’s the reason. It has nothing to do with getting sheer pleasure from writing pure unadulterated nonsense. I figure if I blog for the next ten years…I might not actually be as stupid as I would otherwise be ten years from now. I will only sound stupid. Write ON Kat!!!
That’s gets me thinking…what incentive do I have to exercise and remain healthy into my golden age? (I’m still wondering why they call them golden?) Now I have the best reason ever to not work-out.
I always knew a college kid, at age 22, was at the peak of his mental abilities. Especially the kid who after a night of binge drinking, throws up on his shoes and passes out behind the couch. Regular Einstein.
Good thing John McCain was not elected President. According to this study…McCain would be dumb as rocks. YIKES. An utter and complete moron. According to the UVA research, if elected, he probably would be sitting at his desk in the Oval Office playing marbles with the ones he lost.
Who would have thought the twilight years began at age 27. (Why do they call them that?) Now it seems we should be getting those AARP cards sooner. If we are gonna have senior moments in our late 20s…then bring on the discounts.
The study suggested that we may need to begin therapies to prevent cognitive decline associated with old age at a sooner age. So how do we keep all our mental abilities…and not end up as stooges? “They” say doing activities that challenge your mind will help: crossword puzzles, mind-teasers, sudoku, balancing my check book that hasn’t been balanced in 7 years.
The main reason I even write this blog is to keep my mind working. Yeah, that’s the reason. It has nothing to do with getting sheer pleasure from writing pure unadulterated nonsense. I figure if I blog for the next ten years…I might not actually be as stupid as I would otherwise be ten years from now. I will only sound stupid. Write ON Kat!!!
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