STOP THE PRESSES!! I'm not normal

Vice President Pence and his Coronavirus Task Force (CTF or CVTF, take your pick) have been appearing daily on the telly to remind us to cover our mouths when we cough (or to cough into our elbows); to use a tissue when we sneeze (and then throw it away); and to wash, wash, wash our hands (with SOAP and WATER for AT LEAST 20 SECONDS). They also give us updates on the number of new cases of COVID-19 and the number of deaths due to it. I'm certainly glad to get the reminders, because without them I would cough into my ankle, keep and probably frame all the used tissues, and wash my hands with prune juice for hours on end.

I'm kidding. I usually wash my hands with orange juice.

Don't get me wrong. I do appreciate the efforts of the powers that be to give us accurate information and prevent panic among the public unless it is warranted, which they keep assuring us it isn't. But the members of the media seem hell-bent on making all 350 million of us run out to buy toilet paper, bread, milk, face masks -- you know, the basic necessities of life. But when one of the chief cooks and bottle washers doctors, an otherwise very nice 60-ish man sporting a beard and wearing glasses and possessing a couple of advanced degrees, was asked by a reporter yesterday to identify the groups really at risk, he said something that really got my goat, got my dander up, ticked me off big-time, and made me rather angry, actually.

I wish I could quote him exactly but I'm going to have to paraphrase. There are two groups who will be most affected by COVID-19, he said, young children whose immune defense systems have not yet been fully developed and the elderly, especially if they are infirm or have serious health issues already involving the heart or lungs. He defined elderly as 80 or older. I'm okay with that. Then he said, "Normal people like you and me don't have to worry" or “don’t need to be concerned” or something not only inane but downright insulting.

We are a two-person household. One of us is 84 and the other will be 79 in a couple of weeks. The one who will be 79 is the one with existing health issues, specifically coronary artery disease and the current possessor of five stents. The one who is 84 has had two artificial knees made of titanium for 13 years now, which fact allows us to have a tag to hang from the car's rear-view mirror that permits us to park in handicapped parking spaces, but that is different in my book from being infirm.

I'm okay with being called elderly. I'm okay with having health issues. They eventually happen to many of us, even 60-ish doctors who sport beards and have advanced degrees.

What I'm not okay with -- actually I resent -- is being told I am not normal.

I'm normal. I wash my hands with soap and water every day without being told to and I have not framed a used tissue for quite some time.

I put my pants on one leg at a time just like George Clooney. He just gets to do it more often than I do.

I used to use Burt Reynolds in that joke, but since he died he doesn't put on pants any more.

If you prefer to say Leonardo DiCaprio or Kanye West or even Mayor Pete Buttigieg, feel free.

We normal people have to stick together.

Bernie Sanders and Joe Biden need not apply.

Another time, another Clooney

Pat, an Arkansas Stamper, who by her own admission lives in a cave on the back side of beyond, revealed in a comment on yesterday’s post that (a) she had never before seen George Clooney, (b) she would not try to set any speed records to do so again, and (c) her idea of a sexy-looking man was Yul Brynner.


There must be something in the water out in Arkansas. The expression on his face and in his eyes make him look like a man who has just been told he must move the privy before he will get any supper.

To be fair, though, here he is all cleaned up and looking spiffy. Unless I am mistaken, this photo is from the movie Anastasia in which he co-starred with actresses Ingrid Bergman and Helen Hayes.


I didn’t set out to blog about Yul Brynner, but Pat’s comment helped me to realize that certain niche groups exist in my audience. So today I have decided to accommodate them by presenting to you a star of another era, George Clooney’s aunt, Rosemary.

If you never heard of her, never heard her sing, and have no idea what she looked like, you can start by clicking here for a photo gallery.

Then listen to “If You Loved Me Half As Much As I Love You” and “Botch-a-Me” with an introduction by Dean Martin.

Next, check out Rosemary’s rendition of “I Guess I’ll Have To Change My Plan.”

Listening to this duet with Judy Canova three times in a row is guaranteed to put a bounce in your step and make your day happier.

If you just cannot get enough of Rosemary Clooney, listen to “Alone At Last.”

Lastly, here is an audio version of what was probably her biggest hit, “Hey There.” I did find a youtube version of it from the eighties, but it is far too uptempo and jazzy and I refuse to link to it.

In my research, I discovered that George Clooney is not only the nephew of Rosemary Clooney, he is also the son of Nick Clooney (Rosemary’s brother, who hosts movies on the AMC channel), the nephew of Jose Ferrer (Rosemary’s husband, twice), the cousin of actors Miguel, Gabriel, and Rafael Ferrer (Rosemary’s and Jose’s sons who were named after angels), and Debbie Boone, who sang “You Light Up My Life” (wife of Gabriel and daughter of Pat Boone and Shirley Foley Boone, who just happens to be the daughter of country singer Red Foley, who had a big hit way back when with “Peace in the Valley”).



That is not Rosemary Clooney. That is Rosemary’s sister, Betty. Together, they recorded a duet called “Sisters” in nineteen something-or-other. Just another fascinating fact from my bottomless bag of trivia.

Okay, I'll throw in one more fact for good measure. The wife of actor Ricardo Montalban was also the sister of Academy-Award-winning actress Loretta Young.

I never said it would be about Rosemary Clooney.

Honestly, the lengths I go to just to make the niche groups in my audience happy.

Calling Dr. Opera, Dr. Soap Opera...

It was with a bit of trepidation and no little fear and trembling that I turned my blog over to Billy Ray Barnwell for the previous post. But my uncertain faith was not misplaced and he came through in my time of need.

He did indeed convey the very message I had hoped he would, except for the part about my being one of a set of quadruplets. That is sheer nonsense, and I trust you recognized it as such.

If I could afford the services of a skywriter airplane pilot, THANK YOU, BILLY RAY BARNWELL would be splashed across the sky for all to see.

We returned to our humble abode on Sunday evening, glad that everything was under control and returning to normal with our daughter.

Her hospitalization was not without its bright spots, however, not the least of which was the doctor who saw our daughter daily during her three-day stay. In our particular room he was referred to as “Dr. Hottensexy” and “Dr. Eye Candy” and “Dr. Gorgeous” by various members of our immediate family. As Belle Watling once said to Melanie Wilkes in Gone With the Wind, “it wouldn’t be fitten” to tell you his name or show you his photo, as it might cause a sudden influx of population into a certain city in Alabama. But since I suspect that many of you are drooling as you read this, I will be merciful and let you feast your eyes on the following not-quite-as-handsome substitute:


Every cloud has a silver lining.