"Women's Lib"

She told me, "The one who dies with the most toys wins."  

Girls and their toys. 

Girls will be girls, I guess.  That's what they say. 

We've come a long way from the old neck massagers of my mother's era. 

These were actually advertised in the old Montgomery Wards catalogs.  $4.99.  The Relaxer gave "a deep, penetrating massage."  Bennies in the morning to get you going, "mother's little helper" to cut the anxiety, cocktails before dinner, and barbiturates at night to calm you down.  Does anyone think the '50s and early '60s were boring?  

And yet, with all that, ennui was rampant.  

Then came "Women's Lib" and the gates of Hades were opened.  Now look at the mess we've gotten into.  

Sorry.  I was just trying to connect with the photo.  I wonder if the Google God will ding me for this one.  

I went out with the gymroids last night.  It was a bigger crowd this time.  We were going to the good beer garden to sit outside, but the rain closed it down so we went to the Irish Pub across the street.  It was the first time we'd been there in almost a year since my Miami friend had her graduation party there, the last time any of us were there.  

The place sucks.  I had a Guiness and said I had to eat but wasn't eating the shitty fare there, so four others decided to join me at the good Italian restaurant a few blocks away.  Dinner turned into a circus as people passing by joined us then wandered away.  The famous judge brought his wife and son and sat with us, too, and I told him about my camera/court/State Attorney's fiasco and asked him what to do.  He shrugged, told me the "justice" system was fucked, and said I could do a couple things but it wasn't going to do any good.  

"You're just screwed," he said.  

"I would have liked some lube," I quipped.  

But there it is.  There is too much crime to handle, apparently.  The courts have been overrun.  

There were plates of food we all shared and many bottles of wine, and once again, I threw in my card with the others and for the fourth time in just over a week paid $120 for a meal.  It was never the meal, of course.  Two nights in a row, first the Brazilian barmaid and then the Clown Show.  

I'm staying in this weekend.  I'll make a pho tonight and early in the morning, sixteen tons of mulch will be delivered to my drive.  O.K.  Not sixteen tons.  But I will have to spend a day moving it by myself once again.  

I'm getting too old for this shit.  

Oh. . . I know you have been worrying about my laptop situation, so let me put your minds to rest.  I restarted it and now it is working fine again.  I think it wanted to install the new OS.  So I did the same to my big desktop computer where all the photo processing magic happens, and everything has gone haywire.  It just doesn't work now.  I can't update my massive collection of Adobe products and my passwords don't open up things like Chat or Grok now.  It is a Safari problem, I think.  Apple.  It used to be the friendly company with the motto, "Do no evil."  

That was then.  This is now.  Apple is now the monster that ate New York. 

And that is what I've got for you today.  I have to get ready to take my mother to the cardiologist early this morning.  It is going to be a lousy, rainy weekend, so they say, and I want to get myself settled in for some serious alone time.  How much longer I will have that is not quite known.  

I must warn you, that is not the end of The Girl Show.  Nor of Bike Week in general.  I don't think I'll be making any new photos this weekend, so this is what you get, a stain on my otherwise pristine career.  

And so. . . .