Squinting at Modern Times
The left has found a new boogeyman to blame for the violence sweeping through America — Ghost Guns. It’s not the shooters, it’s the weapons. Was the monster (monsters?) who attacked a Brooklyn subway train this morning using a ghost gun? It is a miracle no one was killed. Most of the surveillance cameras were out of commission! WTF?! Everything else in today’s blog will seem trivial in comparison.
Interesting headline from nypost.com: “First evidence ‘magic’ mushrooms might be better than antidepressants.” Was Grace Slick’s White Rabbit right?
Excerpt from NYP editorial: “China makes fentanyl. Banks and the Mexican drug cartels make fortunes pushing the synthetic opioid across our wide-open Southern border, using border crossers as their mules. And American young people die, without much reaction from the American political class or the media that protects that class.” True, but responsibility still rests with the individuals who indulge, just as the shooters and not the guns are to blame.
Sub-headline from foxnews.com that is no surprise: “Inflation hits 40-year high for 5th straight month, as gas and food prices surge.” Count on Quid Pro Joe blaming everyone but himself.
RIP Brooklyn’s Gilbert Gottfried, 67, actor/comedian, who succumbed to a long battle with heart and muscle problems. There are 184 titles under his name at IMDb in a career that spanned 1980 to the present. He dropped out of high school and was doing standup at 15, which led to TV and film roles. He was a master of voice-overs, and may be best remembered for his voicing in the Aladdin films, videos and TV series. He put in a disastrous season on SNL just after the original cast had departed and before he’d adopted his persona, took a lot of heat, but bounced back strong. He was a regular on Hollywood Squares and Howard Stern’s radio show, and made eight appearances on The Tonight Show with Jay Leno. In his live act he pushed boundaries and ignored political correctness. He often targeted himself. Here’s a quote attributed to him: “I love to go where it’s a dark area. You never know what people will choose to be offended by.” He married at 51 and is a dad of two. Thanks for the laughs, sir.
I picked up Between Two Worlds by Maisie Mosco doubting I’d like it. I was wrong. It’s the first part of a trilogy. It begins with a 16-year-old Jewish boy telling his parents he is joining a traveling British theater troupe of Gentiles. Set in the early 20th century, it quickly moves ahead. The man is now an actor, married to the daughter of the patriarch, and father of a fourteen-year-old who becomes the focus of story. Alison has no clue about her father’s side of the family. When she learns of it, she is excited to meet her relatives, to the chagrin of her mom. A beauty, she takes after her dad’s side of the family, which also disappoints her mother. She suffers the inner conflict reflected in the title, especially after she makes a stunning debut at 16 as Juliet and it becomes clear that her art will always come first. What sets the book apart from most romance novels, if indeed it can be categorized as one, is the psychological depth of the portrayals. My only complaint is that it is over-written. It needed tightening. The 306 pages of the Bantam paperback are not an easy read, especially given the small print. Still, it is a novel to be proud of. 28 users at Amazon have rated Between…, forging to a consensus of 4.2 on a scale of five. I’ll go with 3.5. Mosco was born near Manchester, England, the child of Latvian Jews. Unfortunately, there isn’t much info on her. She published at least ten novels. She passed away at 86 in 2011. She was a mom of four.
Not much action at the floating book shop on this gorgeous afternoon. My thanks to The Quiet Man, who bought Scream and Scream Again, a collection of R.L. Stine short stories, and To Kill a Mockingbird by Harper Lee; and to the gentleman who purchased a thriller in Russian; and to the woman who found three kids books to her liking as I was closing shop. The best part of the day came from a phone call from one of my doctor’s assistants. My cholesterol is back to normal. I’d celebrate but there isn’t a fast food joint in the immediate neighborhood other than Subway, which I hate. Then again, it’s small french fries compared to what the victims of the subway shooting are suffering.
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