Tag Archives: opinion

Calling It What It Is.

Have you bowed to the new gods of the world today?

Oh, yes, they have made themselves known to us.  They are the ones who feed the breakdown of society.  They tell us to not believe our lying eyes.  They scoff at our intelligence.  They are the people who claim to change their biological sex, mutilate them themselves, then turn around and call those who won’t grovel at their feet and pay homage to them “monsters,” bigots,” and “evil.”

They are also the new gods who pontificate that we humans can change the climate, and woe be unto anyone who knows otherwise.

The new god is also the government – father, mother, provider, supreme head.  Who needs an invisible god, when there is the titular head in Washington?

These gods have all the answers, want all the power, and have a mental illness.  That’s right – our new gods are off their rockers don’t know what is normal anymore.

Therein is the problem – mental illness is not being called for what it is, and meanwhile, the politicians, the media, and their sycophants are joyfully helping the devil push this new religion, brought to you since 1848.

Will you kowtow to it?

As ever,

✿●▬●✿ ©2023 The Oasis at Four Queen Palms ✿●▬●✿

Excerpt from my upcoming book, “It’s All Supreme Theater,” ©2023

Gracious Living – Comb Your Hair and Don’t Swear.

Did you know that a gentleman doesn’t wear a nose ring?

Who knew?

I discovered a digital book version of “The Gentlemen’s Book of Etiquette and Manual of Politeness Being a Complete Guide for a Gentleman’s Conduct in all his Relations Towards Society” by Cecil B. Hartley.  (That’s certainly a long title!)

The book, first published in 1860, is 169 pages of invaluable tips for the gentleman – the Do’s and Don’ts for being the kind of man who thinks of others and presents himself well; the type of man everyone looks forward to being around.

There is the advice I expected on keeping one’s hair clean and combed.  (Now that I think of it, uncombed and sloppy parts seem to be the fashion of today – that is, people don’t seem to know what a comb is or what it’s used for.  Or even shampoo for that matter.)

I found the section on how men should treat ladies – they include mothers, sisters, grandmas, aunts, and wives – to be of great interest.  The book frankly lays it all out there:  women are to be treated with the utmost respect.  A gentleman must act like a gentleman towards every lady who acts like a lady.  Women are to be helped with everything – not as if they are weak wallflowers, but because helping one another makes for a more harmonious world.  Unfortunately, in today’s world, I see and hear a lot of disrespect, anger, and degradation towards one another.  Women do it to men, and vice versa.  And what for and why?  I have a theory on how this sniping between the sexes started, and although it’s a quite lengthy observation and analysis, I will briefly state here is that I believe the man-hating began around the Bra-Burning Era, and the disrespecting of women began about a generation after that.

But I’ll return to discussing this book.

The most surprising section in the entire book was the advice given regarding nose rings:  DON’T wear them!  The subject quite shocked me.  I wonder what segment of society in the mid-nineteenth century wore nose rings in America!

There is also stern advice to the gentleman to not attach a bunch of charms on one’s watch fob, either.  That’s tacky.  Ah – could that be the precursor to “less is more”?

I appreciated the section regarding offensive language.  Swearing, using vulgarity, and tossing about slang is a sign of what the author wrote as “low-breeding.”  This subject is a sticking point with me.  I didn’t grow up in a home with anyone using vulgar language.  I didn’t hear any such language until I started working after I graduated from high school, and I was taken aback when I heard a male personnel management specialist slam down his phone and curse about the phone call he was just on.  He saw that I was in the supply room near his desk, and he profusely apologized.  Nowadays, women and even minor children are just as loose with the crude language – and nobody ever apologizes.  In fact, lately I have been told to grow up and accept others using offensive language around me.  Who the heck do I think I am anyway?  The nerve of me trying to live a clean life!

Statements like that are disrespectful and egotistical on their part.  And people wonder about the chaos and uncontrolled negativity in the world!

Nevertheless, the book has sound advice and tips that would be well-followed in these twenty-first century days.  They could only help halt the widespread chaos and turmoil in our world.

The only things that actually date these books are references to horses and carriages, styles of clothing, and hygiene (only insofar as how little people washed then, as compared to hygiene habits).

It is a good and uplifting book.

As ever,

✿●▬●✿ ©2023 The Oasis at Four Queen Palms ✿●▬●✿

Excerpt from my upcoming book, “Gracious Living,” ©2023

Word Fads.

“Words have meanings, my friend.”

Such were the words dear ol’ Paddy Fitzwilliam uttered as we walked the grounds on his estate recently near the stinkin’ pond.

“Words have meanings, Friend, and if ye do not understand, let me explain.  When I was a youngster, no higher than a faerie standing on a toadstool, my other friend of longstanding always promised to visit on his way to Skibbereen. On this road he would travel was the very same path I lived upon. He never stopped, but kept on a-travellin’ that long road.  These were the days I would make special trips to visit him in his wee village over the many years now.  The years passed, and one day I said feck him, my so-called friend is no friend. He be the kind that just talks to hear himself talk and mostly likely believes I am stupid and addle-brained enough to believe his vapid words.  Thus, be it known that I have little faith in people, and the only one I can count on is meself.  Take heart and hold these words close, for ye will find many a-people such as my former friend.”

And thus, I held ol’ Paddy Fitzwilliams’ words close to my heart, and to this day I do not believe people’s words until I see them put into action.

This brings me to another point.

These days, even in the days of old, words become fads – overused words that quickly become meaningless and nothing more than noise in the world.

There was a time, when I was young, that the word “conceited” was one such fad.

“Becky in biology class is so conceited.  She thinks she’s better than anyone.”  “Jim is a conceited jock.  He thinks he rules the football game.”

Nowadays, people banter about the word, “narcissist.”  Oh, everyone is a narcissist these days.  Did you know that?  The ex-spouses, the ex-boyfriend/ex-girlfriend, the boss, the weird neighbor on the corner.  Everyone is a psychologist or a psychiatrist and handing out free analyses.

Then there is the word “sustainability” and derivatives thereof.  “I take the wind train into work, because I’m all into sustainability.”  “It’s impossible to be sustainable when working in our current global climate.”  “My lifestyle is exponentially sustainable during global warming.”  And then there is this doozy I found in a news article:  “The injury was not sustainable with life,” [the fire chief] reported.

It has come to the undeniable fact that people do not use words in the proper way, that is, they throw those words around in their conversations without any understanding of their meanings or correct usage.

It’s maddening, yet hilarious in a way, too, to hear people use big words with such irresponsible abandon.

As ever,

✿●▬●✿ ©2023 The Oasis at Four Queen Palms ✿●▬●✿

Excerpt from my upcoming book, “A Hopeful World” and “Aren’t They Just –!” ©2023

Color Me Shocked.

Lately, I have been helping Best Friend listening to and assessing the quality of a stack of vintage record albums he came in possession of to resell in his music shop.

In this latest stack, there were four comedy albums.  We had heard of three (Woody Woodbury, Redd Foxx, and Rusty Warren), and one comedienne we had to research – Belle Barth – because, well, who was she?

We knew for sure that two or three had reputations for being vulgar and foul-mouthed, and our research told us Belle Barth was offensive, too.  We braced ourselves.  We listened.  And—

We didn’t find anything really uncouth in the sense of language or topics.  That is, with our knowledge of today’s lax syntax using f-word and s-word peppered within general conversations, these vintage comedy routines were mild.  Of course, the albums contain adult topics and are not for children, for sure.

I can see, however, that in the early 1960s and 1970s, the topics on those albums would have been considered of the adult nature and probably rated X.  As far as Redd Foxx’s went, well – his commentaries, as true as they were about race, would send today’s PC Woke Crowd to the loony bin after burning down comedy clubs.

I really did expect these comedy albums to be riddled with vulgar language and horribly crude jokes, but in all seriousness, we can hear the same routines on television and social media today.

Color me shocked.

As ever,

✿●▬●✿ ©2023 The Oasis at Four Queen Palms ✿●▬●✿

Excerpt from my upcoming book, “A Hopeful World,” ©2023

Their Kiss of Death.

Sometimes I do wonder about this world of ours; the ever-increasing chaos, the acceptance and celebration of insanity, the overall abnormalities.

A case in point is the post I saw by a cosmetics company from whom I had been buying my make-up for a decade.  They posted several photographs of a fat man wearing what looked like a bad imitation of a woman’s 1940s outfit:  shorts, blouse with a Peter Pan collar, and a bandana on his head, and slathered in the company’s lipstick.  Yes, there he was posing in the typical 1940s pin-up girl postures, looking like he was gleefully mocking true femininity.  The company put a blurb with this gross sight, something to the effect that they see him, stand with him, and “celebrate” him.  This, by a woman-owned company, no less!

I don’t care who buys the company’s products, but when any non-political company starts becoming political and panders to the darlings du jour as dictated by the Federal government, I am done with them.  I unfollowed their sites, and I don’t buy any more of their products.

I refuse to contribute in any way to the erasure of women, the normalization of mental illness, the grooming of children, and the mocking of God.

As ever,

✿●▬●✿ ©2023 The Oasis at Four Queen Palms ✿●▬●✿

Excerpt from my upcoming book, “It’s Such Supreme Theater,” ©2023

Hit and Run.

The eastern sky was colored a bright pinkish-orange as I looked across the meadow behind The Oasis at Four Queen Palms.  Happy for a new day, I headed down to the kitchen to pour myself a cup of cold coffee with milk – my version of café au lait.  With cup in hand, I walked to the window overlooking the terrace, and by this time, the sun was just over the horizon, looking like a fiery orange ball.  The pond sparkled as though a million diamonds danced upon the surface.  A lone hawk circled high above.  And there, the day began.

I received a strange survey of sorts (I think that’s what it was) through my Goodreads account; a neighbor asked if I still live here at The Oasis.  After answering her, she wrote back with a statement that I wrote a book or two recently.  (As if I didn’t know that fact!)  So how did I answer that?  Well, I replied to her with a, “Imagine that!”  I heard back with a strange response – “Happy trails!” she wrote.  I suspect I won’t hear back from her for another two years, because that was the last time something like this happened with her, when she messaged me about her “handsomest father who ever lived” and comments about her neighbors, none of whom I know.  I don’t get it.  I suspect I won’t hear from her for another two years, because that was the last time she contacted me.  I never even met her in person.

Something like that used to bug me, but now I just laugh it off.  People are people, and I’m not going to guess or psychoanalyze their motives.  That sort of “hit and run” action seems to be the norm these days.  It’s much like the “hit and run” Best Friend and I encountered last autumn by a relative, and *Poof!* she disappeared as quickly as she popped up.

The news is much like that, too, in the current news cycle.  One day, we learn about spy balloons, the next day it’s the hubbub of a mass murder, and the next is the screaming of a post-Constitutional America.  News today seems to be more like attention-getting than unbiased reporting as it’s supposed to be.

Ah, well, that is ancient history.

This is the new world – the bombardment of spewing about events, screaming deceit, ginning up violence.

Everybody has an opinion, but who is really listening?

As ever,

✿●▬●✿ ©2023 The Oasis at Four Queen Palms ✿●▬●✿

Excerpts from my upcoming books, “On the Terrace at Dawn,” “It’s Such Supreme Theater,” and “Diary from The Ridge,”  ©2023


About Admiration and Respect.

Over the weekend, Best Friend and I were watching a few episodes from The Colgate Comedy Hour, a variety show on television that aired between 1950-55.  It was before my time, but it still was a nice trip down Memory Lane.

In the several episodes we watched, Dean Martin sang with a small ensemble of dancers.  The dancers were dressed in the typical 1950s ladies’ fashions – petticoats, chiffon, and femininity.  Their hair was combed, and their makeup enhanced their good looks.  The songs?  They were all about love and respect and admiration, all the way through.

About halfway through a number, I commented to Best Friend as he sat watching the troupe swirling around Dean, “Look how nice this number is.  If this was today, those dancers would be half naked and the singer would be spewing ‘Imma kill you b— ‘cuz I hate yo’ face’ while lewdly grabbing his every private body part.  What a difference from then to now, wouldn’t you agree?”

Best Friend nodded in assent.

Lately, more so than ever, I have been directing my thoughts to years gone by . . . long ago years that I remember, and those long-ago years before my time that are legendary in my family lore.  Since the beginning of time, there has always existed the good and the bad, yet the chaos of now and what it promises to bring to our doorsteps is all too real.

Watching these old television programs for me is about peace, calm, and a sort of escapism, of course, from the madness of the current chaotic world.  Yes, it is good to periodically break away from the world’s insanity.

As ever,

✿●▬●✿ ©2023 The Oasis at Four Queen Palms ✿●▬●✿

Excerpt from my upcoming book, “A Hopeful World,” ©2023

Serenity – Before It Shatters.

The morning began with a heavy fog hanging in the field behind The Oasis at Four Queen Palms.  The air was quiet; not even the mockingbirds’ trills broke the tranquility.  No grinding, mechanical vehicle sounds came from the faraway road that buttresses the neighborhood.  It was a perfectly peaceful morning.

By noon, the fog dissipated.  Life stirred.  The birds chirped.  A brown squirrel ran across the porch screen.  Vehicle sounds could be now heard in the distance.

But it was in those early morning hours when this domain was covered in the thick fog that the world felt serene and at peace.

Life has always been uncertain.  No one can predict with sureness how his life will turn out, what the future will bring, how the cycle of life will progress.  We can only look ahead with hope and optimism.  We can plan all we want, but there are those factors that seem to insist on inserting themselves into our plans.

Our future is now filled with even more uncertainty as war drums are banging with a consistent cadence now.

The trouble is, real war is not as glamorous as the jingoes, belligerents, aggressors, politicians – call them what you will – enjoy portraying.  It will be miraculous if we dodge a hot state of war.

I’d rather the fog I see across the field at The Oasis not be from gunfire . . . .

As ever,

✿●▬▬▬●✿ ©2023 The Oasis at Four Queen Palms ✿●▬▬▬●✿ 

Some Things I Miss – In the Restaurant Realm

The other day, as Best Friend and I were eating at a local restaurant, I looked at my place setting:

Plastic plate, thin paper napkin, and lousy metal utensils.

These days, dining out is nothing to write home about insofar as the presentation of meals.  Even the waitstaff don’t wear nice uniforms anymore.  They look like slobs that just rolled in off the street after getting out of bed in a hurry.

Then I remembered dining in the Olden Days:

Chinaware, linen napkins, glassware, and real silverware.

Not so long ago, restaurant tables were set with cloth tablecloths and cloth napkins (or at least top quality, thick paper napkins).  The restaurants’ silverware was real – heavy, substantial, with sharp fork tines, and knife blades that could actually cut meat.  Some of the better restaurants even had their name engraved or embossed on all the utensils.  The china was anything but cheesy.  The glassware was real glass, not plastic made to look like glass.  The waiters and waitresses dressed nicely in uniforms.  Busboys – well, they were a standard, too.  And the waitstaff would stop by every so often to ask how everything was.  If you had leftovers, your meal was wrapped in tinfoil and placed in a cheerfully printed doggie bag – a picture of a happy dog looking forward to the meal inside.  Some restaurants even fashioned your leftovers in a tinfoil swan shape.

Nowadays, we get forks that can’t stab butter, knives that have no sharp cutting edge nor serrated edge, spoons with near-flat bowls that couldn’t hold an eighth of ounce of anything.  All the utensils of today are made with cheap, cheesy, thin stainless steel from China.  Drinkware is mostly plastic made to look like glass – Surprise!  Surprise!  The waitstaff are sloppy in their garb, with jeans and a T-shirt with the restaurant’s name printed on them.  They come by your table asking, “How’s it tastin’?” (I hear that more and more now), and it’s rare to see a busboy.  And your leftovers are no longer wrapped in tinfoil.  You get to take them home in a Styrofoam box that drips.

These are my general observations.  There are a few places where the tables are set with linen tablecloths today, and the place settings are top shelf.  But they are few and far between.  And to be more clear, I’m not talking about fast food places, like the national hamburger joints.  It’s expected to find paper napkins and plasticware there.  What I’m referring to are the sit-down restaurants that have more than not degenerated into shoddiness.  *Sigh.*

At home, I try my best to always have a pretty table set with our Fiestaware, our good silverware, and good quality napkins.

Well, at least somewhere, Best Friend and I have a place to eat where the experience is always classy.

If you want it done right, do it yourself.

As ever,

✿●▬▬▬●✿ ©2023 The Oasis at Four Queen Palms ✿●▬▬▬●✿

A DINING ROOM 2

A Cup of Reality.

The other morning, Best Friend returned to the house to pour a cup of coffee.  While doing so, he quipped, “You can’t pour a cup of black coffee into a black cup wearing dark sunglasses.”

You see, he was doing just that, and it was nearly a disaster on the countertop.  The black coffee streaming into the black cup whilst he was still wearing his dark sunglasses made it impossible for him to gauge the progress of his task.  Thus, it almost developed into a disaster, yet he averted it only when he abruptly realized he could not see how much coffee he was pouring into the cup.  He snappily removed his sunglasses, and he finished his task at hand, unencumbered.  Disaster averted.

Life itself is much like that.  When we allow the shadows of denial, lip service, gaslighting, obliviousness, or what have you, to throw a penumbra over the clear reality of our lives, we remain in the dark and suffer for it, whether we consciously realize it or not.  Many of us will go through our lives not realizing what is stopping us from doing something we need/should/must do.  Some of us will walk along life’s path, going only so far as to see some perceived victimization and stop right there on that corner, to wail and moan about it.  Then there are those of us who see what our roadblocks are and do something about them and then move on with our lives.

Admittedly, I sometimes don’t see the shadows that are negatively affecting my life.  In fact, I might just go merrily along, believing and accepting that the excuses given to me ad infinitum are legitimate.  Now, I am a realist here.  Some of the excuses – or shall I say, some of the reasons – are legitimate, and everything falls into place eventually.  But when I hear excuses or gaslighting thrown in my direction with never a real effort made to make good on the promised matter, I chalk it up to that person not having the backbone to be forthright about not delivering on said promised matter.  It might be a cry for attention on their part, or lack of backbone.  I’m not here to psychoanalyze them.  No one can do that, in fact.  (That’s an essay for another time.)

To make my point clearer, let’s take a jaunt down Memory Lane.  When I was in my early 20s, I had a date with a guy.  He and I went to a co-worker’s home for a Christmas dinner and an evening of playing bridge, as did everyone else in our small divisional office within our governmental organization.  (For reference and a fun fact, he worked in the Logistics Division, and I worked in the Management Systems Division.)  There were eight couples at the co-worker’s home.  We had a nice time mingling, and we both had pleasant conversations in his car both to and from the party.  He promised to call me for another date.  And promised.  Yet, he never did.  While I had hoped he would call, by his fourth promise, I didn’t care anymore.  I eventually figured that he didn’t have the backbone to say nothing about the matter, let alone call me.  It would have been better to come out and say he wouldn’t call, than to string me along.  As nice of a guy he was, in the long run he would not be a good partner, let alone a platonic friend, because of his lack of straightforward communication.  Good heavens!

There are the people who promise to call, but never do, even after you call them every so often.  It reminds me of the television commercial I saw a long while back:  “Nobody’s calling you!”

Well, isn’t that the truth!

It is much like a neighbor we had who consistently promised to get together, but his promises were never fulfilled.  I chalked that up to him liking to hear himself talk – the “It’s the Thought that Counts” blueprint of virtual-signaling.

Over the years, events such as those eventually taught me to look at life behind the shadows of deceit.  Call me cynical, call me skeptical, call me jaded.  Life events taught me to believe when I see action – at least with repeat offenders.

Sometimes it is difficult for me to understand why people gaslight or completely throw a shadow on a situation.  Unfortunately, I have seen more and more of it recently – at least more so over these past three years.  It almost appears that too many people have become lazy, or dare I say it?  Uncaring, indifferent, and cold.  Throw darkness on it; I meant well; no one will notice seems to be the mantra.

Perhaps I live in a different world – a world where manners, graciousness, and straightforwardness exist and actually matter.  That is my world.  So now, I don’t bother with people whom I don’t hear from anymore.  I see things for what they are.  I see people for who they are.

It would be a better world and people would get along beat when the cloak of darkness is lifted.   Why not be forthright and honest and transparent?

Don’t pour black coffee into a black cup whilst wearing dark sunglasses.

I’m not drinking from it.

As ever,

✿●▬▬●©2023 The Oasis at Four Queen Palms ●▬▬●✿