Monthly Archives: November 2016



November 30 is a Universal Humorous Holiday for me.  It’s my own private holiday open to the public.  Mark Twain and Jonathan Swift were born on November 30.  I like these giants of humor, but I tend to like Mark Twain more because people tell me, “You’re not too Swift.”

Reading humor is important.  Humor keeps the mind sharp.  As I age, I want to keep my mind sharp in case I need to cut some tomatoes.





Why can’t my family be honest?  I do not understand why they have secrets they keep from each other.  The secrets are mostly gossip and no big deal.  Once known, these secrets will not disturb the order of the Universe.

Recently a family member told me a secret.  This family member started the secret with, “Don’t tell anyone I told you, but—”

“Wait a minute,” I said.  “If I can’t tell anyone, then I don’t need to know.  Don’t tell me.”

But the family member was eager to tell the secret and told me anyway.  I did not understand what the big deal was, and why the information needed to be kept secret.  Whatever their reasons, one group of family members did not want the other group of family members to know.

My brain is small enough and I don’t like to burden it with extra stuff such as having to remember what I can and cannot say to whom. That is why I do not want to know information that cannot be shared.   Also, I do not need the drama with family members yelling at me for not telling them something I was told not to tell them.  “Well, you should have told us!” they say.

Many times I have heard someone say, “Don’t tell anyone I told you, but . . . ”   I used to use the same words when I told someone something I did not want to be shared.  But soon everyone knew what I did not want everyone to know.   I learned the hard way that the best way to keep something private is not to tell anyone.

Don’t tell anyone I told you, my family and friends, but please do not tell me things that you were told not to tell.  Thank you.



I have some friends and a relative who are always cheerful no matter what is going on in their lives.  Several of them have cancer, but you would never know it when you talk to them.  They smile and do not complain.  You have to ask them to find out whether anything is wrong.  Even then they don’t dwell on any negativity.

One friend is a senior, but she still has little-girl energy.  She is always playful and making jokes.  She makes me laugh when I visit her.  You would never know how sick she is by her cheerful behavior.

It’s the same with my Aunt Marie.  I visited her last night.  She is seriously sick, but she smiled and never complained even though she was in some physical discomfort.

Thinking about it, I have never seen my Aunt Marie not smiling.  She has always been cheerful and pleasant, and she’s very pretty, too.  My Uncle Frank said that when he first saw her at a dance many years ago, he stared at her for about two hours before he built up the courage to ask her to dance.  “I had never seen such a beautiful woman!” he said.

Obviously Aunt Marie’s beauty is not only on the outside.  She and some friends have a joyful inner beauty that shines through no matter what.



The book holder I use kept falling when I placed a large book in it, or turned the pages of a book it was holding.  Obviously the supporting leg was not strong enough.  “How do I make the leg stronger?” I thought.


I did not notice, but I went into an altered state of consciousness when I became absorbed in solving the problem.  It was a creative trance.  I was not thinking.  Something was thinking for me, and I was channeling its thoughts.


The thought came, “Alter a 1.5 liter water bottle.”  But it wasn’t my thoughts or actions altering the bottle.  Something had taken over.  I cut the bottle down several inches, and cut a slit for the book-holder leg to go through.   I taped the edges with packing tape to dull their sharpness.  Again I wasn’t thinking.   I wasn’t aware I was doing this while I was doing it.  It was only after when I looked at the finished product that I thought, “Wow!  What just happened!”



The book holder no longer falls when I put a large book in it, or turn the pages.  I would like to take credit for this invention, but the credit goes to forces far greater than I.








I love learning new things!  Some of the new things are new, and some are things I am learning now that I should have learned while at school.  I was too young to realize what fantastic learning opportunities I had.

I hated math, but not anymore.  Now I want to learn everything about math, and then some.

Today I learned the Order of Operations. That is the order in which you perform mathematical functions.  It makes sense to perform functions from left to right the way you read, but not according to the Order of Operations.

The answer to above is 32 and not 92.  What is in the parentheses takes priority, and then multiplication, division, addition and subtraction.

I thought that the Order of Operations was decided by some mathematical committee, but the order evolved over a time.  Oops!  Instead of committee I should have used task force.  (Have you noticed how task force has replaced the word committee?)

I imagined that the Mathematical Task Force on the Order of Operations met somewhere, at taxpayers’ expense, to decide which functions should be done first.  To go first and second, Multiplication and Division bribed the task force members.  Poor Addition and Subtraction were honest and paid no bribes.  Their reward for being honest?  They get to go second last and last.  Unknown to Multiplication and Division, Parentheses paid an even bigger bribe so that whatever is inside them is given priority.

I will explore the Order of Operations further to see why the order evolved the way it did.  And even if I don’t find out why, it does not matter.  What fun learning is along the way!




You have heard of Men In Black who intimidate UFO witnesses to keep them from talking.  The cosmetic industry has Men In Pink (MIP) who paid me a visit.

I was walking down the street when a big pink car pulled up beside me.  Two MIP got out and forced me into the car.

“You’ve been writing blogs about makeup,” said one MIP.

“Yes,” I said.

“It’s got to stop.  Do you know how money women spend on cosmetics?”

“Millions of dollars?”

“Try BILLIONS of dollars.  The last thing the cosmetic industry needs is women believing that they are naturally beautiful and don’t need makeup.  It wants women to feel insecure and that using makeup gives them confidence.  Do you understand what I’m saying?”


“So no more blogs about makeup.  Okay?”


“And don’t tell anyone about our talk today.”

“I won’t.”

“You wouldn’t want to end up in a large tube of lipstick at the bottom of the lake, would you?”


“Good.  I’m glad we agree.”

They let me out of the car and it drove away.

If anything happens to me, or I disappear, then you can blame the Men In Pink.



“Where do you get your ideas?”

People ask me this every so often.   “From everywhere,” I answer.  The people always look puzzled.  This wasn’t the answer they were expecting.

“Look around you,” I say.  “Everything around you, everything in the Universe were once ideas!”

Most people do not share my enthusiasm.  Some people get what I am saying, but most frown and pretend to understand.

“Can I say something?”

“What would you like to say, Pencil?”

“I enjoy helping you to write the ideas you get from the Universe.”

“I appreciate your help, Pencil.”

“What about me?  I help, too.”

“That you do, Paper, that you do.  You and Pencil help me to write a draft of what I will later revise when I post online.  Thanks to both of you.  I am grateful that there is never a shortage of ideas, or the tools to help me express them.”



The Toronto Transit Commission (TTC) announced last year that children under 12 years old could ride free.  No more fares for children under 12.

Now the TTC says that ridership is down and they need more money.  Duh?

Fares will rise on January 1, 2017, but children will still ride for free.



I have never understood signs on doors stating to keep the door closed at all times.  Duh?  Why have a door if you can’t open it?



How do carbon taxes stop pollution?  Companies will continue to pollute, and pass the costs of carbon taxes on to consumers.  Duh?  So how does this save the planet?



Toronto has its annual Santa Claus parade today.  My parents would take me and my brother and sisters every year.

From as long as I can remember, I was afraid to shake hands with the clowns who walked along the sides of the road shaking hands.  Whey they got to me I would pull my hand away.  I don’t remember why I was so afraid to shake their hands.  I was not afraid of clowns.  Every year I would promise myself that I would be brave and shake hands with the clowns.  And every year I would chicken out.  I don’t remember if I ever did shake hands with the clowns.

The Santa Claus Parade was the beginning of the Christmas shopping season.  You never used to see any Christmas merchandise in the stores until after the parade.  Nowadays, Christmas stuff is in the stores as early as August and September.

After the Santa Claus Parade, Ma would get out her Christmas knickknacks.  She had the house cluttered with regular knickknacks the rest of the year.  After the parade she would replace the regular knickknacks with Christmas knickknacks.  This thrilled Dad to no end.  He loved the constant knickknack clutter.


We kids fought over setting up the Nativity scene.  Ma always set it up on top of the television, and we always wanted our own positions for the pieces.  Ma solved the fighting by giving us each a day in which we could arrange the figures how we wanted.  Since there were four of us, we each had a turn once every four days.  This taking turns never lasted too long before we lost interest not caring how the Nativity scene was set up.

I never could figure out the connection between Jesus and Santa.  They must have known each other.  How come Santa never brought Jesus gifts at Christmas?  How come Jesus was never in the Santa Claus Parade?

To this day these questions remain unanswered.



I want to be friends with my subconscious.  I want to find out what it tries telling me through puzzling dreams and visions.

I close my eyes.  I relax.  Darkness.  Where did the river go that I saw the other day?  All I see is darkness.  Is this the black community I keep hearing about in the news?

The darkness is silent.  I open my eyes.

Perhaps my subconscious is somewhere writing, “Why does he think that I’m responsible for his weird dreams and visions?  I have nothing to do with them.  Although he seems a little touched, I would like to get to know him better and find out what he’s all about.”