Monthly Archives: June 2011
This week’s missive is from Nikki. Remember Nikki from last week? The gal with the little red and pink hearts dotting both I’s in her name?
This time Nikki writes:
“Dear Gilda Sue,
Thank you for printing my letter. You seemed too angry to answer my question about Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie. But I’ll go ahead and answer all of yours.
- The reason I care about those two shlubs is that I live in a Cambodian orphanage, and I want those two shlubs to adopt me so I can live in Hollywood, where the prostitution is more like a metaphor than it is a literal nightmare/day-to-day necessity/”lesser of two evils” sort of thing.
- And yes, I do sign all of my letters with little red and pink hearts dotting both I’s in my name.
- It only takes about three seconds longer to do it. I’m sorry you don’t like it, but it cheers me up, and my Christian Children’s Fund sponsors in America say it makes them feel like they’re really getting something for their $34 per month.
- No, I’m not thirteen. I’m eight.
Have a lovely day.
Oy, y’all. I feel like such a schmoe. I’m real-real sorry for my attitude on the last Gilda Sue’s Mail Bag. Instead of pushing my own personal frustrations deep, deep down, and burying them in a Drambuie Rickey as I’ve always advised, I let them creep into and taint my work as your on-line confidante and real-real concerned counselor. That is super unconscionable. It won’t happen again. Probably.
Nikki, please accept my apologies. To answer your question, I have no idea if Brad and Angelina will ever get married. But it looks like if they can get themselves to New York tout de suite, it’s now LEGAL!
(Note: My responses to the other two missives from last week, though, still stand. I offer no apologies there.)
Cheers, y’all. And have a rockin’ week!
When you start with fresh veggies you’re sure to have a great meal. Here’s a quick dish from the garden I threw together last night. Heat 1-2 tbs of butter or olive oil in a medium saucepan. Saute green onion and fresh garlic in the oil. Then add 3 cups of chopped cabbage and 2 small-medium sized sliced summer squashes. Add a spoonful of water and season with salt and pepper. Cook on medium heat until tender (about 20 minutes).
i first had this at a restaurant in asheville, and am now making it frequently at home. so fast and delicious you can’t help but impress yourself!
(if you have a mandolin that works best. i don’t, so i use a knife)
thinly slice 1 zucchini, so it looks like noodles
cook in pesto on med/high heat for about 3 minutes, then add halved cherry tomatoes. cook for another few minutes.
pour in bowl, and dash some parmesan on top.
i’ve also added things like green onions and smoked tofu to the mix. enjoy!
Here are all of this week’s queries. The whole kit and kaboodle. All three:
“Dear Gilda Sue,
Will Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie EVER get married? They are AMERICA’S! SWEETHEARTS!”
That’s from Nikki.
Nikki, hon, when I first started reading your hand-written letter, I found myself wondering, “Who on Earth actually gives a hoot about those two shlubs?” But by the time I got to your signature, with the little red and pink hearts dotting both of the I’s in your name, it all made sense. Jeez-Louise, Nikki! Is this how you sign all your missives? How long does that take you? And how old are you anyway, thirteen? (Christian Bale, by the way, is totally married.)
“Dear Gilda Sue,
What time is it?”
I’d say it’s time to stop being such a smarty-panties, Mr. Smarty-Panties McGhee. Oy!
“Dear Gilda Sue,
I just don’t understand PEOPLE!”
That’s from Jiminy in Hollywood, California.
Jiminy, honey, judging from the tone of frustration in your words, my guess is that you do understand people. You see people for the bunch of ignoble and facile schmucks they really are: ingrates, opportunists, phoney-baloneys, and lemmings. You just need to face the fact that you don’t like people all that much. And who can blame you?
So that’s it. That’s all the mail I got this week. Jeez. Can we step it up a tad, y’all?
there once was a man named Duckett
he woke up one morn and said “fuck it”
he winked at the door
stepped down on the floor
and low and behold they all loved it!
Disposable diapers are like remote controls and video games. They are slowing us down and making us fat. Giving us heart attacks and diabetes and forcing us into gastric by-pass surgeries. Things like cloth diapers and clothes lines are actually the norm or at least the normal-norm instead of the lazy-norm that we have all grown to accept, in this disposable lifestyle that we live in. Where everything gets thrown away, wherever away is…. I believe that plastics are killing us, make ups are murdering us and hormone replacements are robbing us of our loved ones. read more
How would we be different if we spent our days running for our lives? I’ve been watching the wildlife, and it’s an interesting frame of mind to consider, especially knowing that every other species but us, and maybe our pets, does that very same thing. Life can and does change drastically for them in an instant. I saw a squirrel attacked by a very small and very far away cat the other day. It was freaky. This cat stealthed by me like nobody’s business, and next thing I know I heard the squirrel screaming(?) and saw a glimmer of it in kitty’s mouth. Almost instantly the squirrel was wounded, head bleeding, in my yard. I watched as she desperately tried to get away from a second curious cat but didn’t have enough to stay on the tree she climbed. Kitty number two lacked the interest, and I watch miss squirrel licking herself and stumbling around while flies gathered on her head. As I left for my walk, she was quite entangled in some bramble, and I wondered whether she’d make it or die suffering, no hospital destination to feel protected by. Just her, in the middle of the day, in some leaves, doing all she knew to do. When I left my driveway, stealth cat was headed her way. She wasn’t there when I got back.
This isn’t the first time I’ve wondered how different I would be, how life would be, if that was my reality. Would it be better? Would I live in the moment and not worry, savoring every nut? Or just react quickly to dire realities? Is the life I live better than that, or worse? People still die unexpectedly, people still die violently, and we still die from illness. It’s the in between, the LIVING, that’s so different. On which end of the spectrum have put ourselves? I do wonder.
This week’s Mail Bag pick is from a Charlie Perkins in Georgia. Charlie writes:
“Is it wrong for me to wear tube socks and high heels? My niece and nephew say that it is. Some people point and laugh at me, especially at the beach. I think that it is both fashionable and comfortable. I told my niece, ‘There is no rule book that says that men cannot wear women’s shoes.’ Tube socks add a masculine touch to my day wear. Some people just don’t get fashion. Don’t you agree?”
Oy, Charlie. I had to turn to some other folks for some help with this problem of yours.
Super-brainy literary icon and extra-terrestrial humorist Mark Twain once wrote this:
“We are all alike on the inside.”
By this, I believe he means that we all need love, we are all seeking something of substance that makes life worth living, we all have skeletons in our closets, we all crave more Drambuie than Rabbi Spiderman thinks is good for us, and, though our many prejudices may keep us from acting like it most of the time, we all agree that we probably are all alike on the inside. He means that it’s really the OUTSIDE that matters.
So, fashion is important, hon. Real-real.
Now the rightness or wrongness of those tube socks is debatable. Here are quotes from two other famous brainy folks:
“Are right and wrong convertible terms, dependent upon popular opinion?” ~William Lloyd Garrison (abolitionist and feminist)
It doesn’t seem as though Garrison knows the answer to this, but I do. It’s “of course they are.”
“The only correct actions are those that demand no explanation and no apology.” ~Red Auerbach (National Jewish Sports Hall of Famer and basketball coach)
I think Coach Auerbach would read your long-winded query and advise you to keep that beach attire in your closet. Right behind those skeletons.
But, Charlie, I once wrote this:
“If it feels real-real good, just damn do it!”
So. Do with all of that what you will. Just remember, sunscreen is essential when frolicking on the beach, but bossy nieces and nephews are for suckers.
Thanks for your letter, Charlie. Y’all keep ’em coming. Leave a comment here or at The Gilda Sue Rosenstern Computer Internet Show.
I began calling myself the Outlaw Farmer because I wanted to make the statement that at this point in time, growing and eating real food is an act of civil disobedience in America. But over the brief course of my blogging career, I’ve realized there’re more layers to this story. See More…