I bought a new chair today that has excellent reviews from customers with panoramic fannies.

In this post: Cravings, new seating, our latest Holy Crap Gallery.

Know what happens when a deranged diabetic is wide awake in the middle of the night craving chocolate? This:

Harry Truman looked like a middle-aged man when he was nine years old.

Practically every day of my life I get emails from Organizing for Action, President Obama’s political action committee. These include polls and questionnaires, frequent updates on every issue before Congress, opinions and ideas from everybody on Obama’s staff, press conference videos, speech transcripts, lists of the administration’s priorities, goals, challenges, disappointments and accomplishments, and — more recently — persistent requests to “join the good fight” with a bare-bones, grassroots group of community activitists here in Dallas. Obama’s Organizing for Action may be a swell bunch of fun, hard-working progressives, but I’ve got news for them: I’m better suited to ORGANIZING FOR NAPS. This is because: 1) I practically never go anywhere; 2) I hate wearing a brassiere; 3) I’ve got chronic pain and mobility issues that affect my mood, my stamina and my tolerance; and 4) people generally tend to piss me off for no reason at all.

I’m no community activist. I just want to write the Howdygram, watch “People’s Court” and  eat biscuits, PERIOD.

And now, for your possible interest, I’m pleased to post another image collection of celebrities when they were young. I think my favorite has to be Harry Truman, who clearly looked like a middle-aged man at the age of nine. Other cutie-pies are Julie Andrews, Ellen DeGeneres, Hillary Clinton and Paul Newman. (Don’t get me started on John Wayne. Was he gorgeous, or what?)

I’ve also got another edition of our Holy Crap Gallery to share with you, this time featuring a quartet of Hollywood sex symbols gone to seed. It’s sort of reassuring to know they all have the same aging issues — and obvious addiction to cheeseburgers — as the rest of us. Is it just me, or did Nick Nolte turn into a vagrant?

Time for a nice hot shower and a whole bunch of food, with special emphasis on the lovely half-sour pickles that I got today from the KC Kosher Co-Op. I ate one as soon as I got home from picking up my order but I need to eat a lot more of them. Like NOW.

Thank you for reading this.

God bless Texas. Is this a crock, or what?

In case you’re wondering why I haven’t written much about our weather lately it’s because we haven’t had any. Today was really cold; tomorrow will be a smidgen less. That’s about all I have to say on the subject because there’s still no precipitation in the forecast and we’ve only had half an inch of rain since mid-October. This explains why our cattle are enjoying greener pastures in Oklahoma for the duration of the drought. Heartbreaking, isn’t it? I miss the big lugs. (I also miss rain.)

Before I get carried away with tonight’s breaking news I thought I’d post the latest edition of our Holy Crap Gallery, this time featuring a pair of celebrities with and without makeup. Next time you think you look lousy in the morning, picture Goldie and Kathy.

And now for tonight’s breaking news from Texas! Apparently Governor Rick Perry and his remedial right-wing legislative yahoos finally understand the birds and the bees. After de-funding Planned Parenthood during the last session —yet another attempt to outlaw abortion — and cutting $76.5 million from the state’s budget for essential family planning services to 285,000 poor women, they’ve all suddenly realized there will be 23,760 more babies born in Texas by 2015 than if these women had been given access to birth control. And the cost of all those extra babies in state funds will be an estimated $273 million, mostly from additional Medicaid costs. So now Governor Einstein is scrambling to figure out how to add back funding for family planning, which is no easy feat because the de-funding process is nearly complete and the state’s network of clinics and physicians has been dismantled. God bless Texas. Is this a crock, or what?

Take a guess which blockbuster 1980s mini-series is on Encore this week. Give up? The Thorn Birds starring Richard Chamberlain, Rachel Ward and Barbara Stanwyck! It’s been at least 25 years since I’ve seen it, and every raunchy minute is still burned into my brain. I CAN’T WAIT. I might even force Sam to sit through it. If I volunteer to make homemade tacos maybe he’ll manage to stay awake.

The Thorn Birds tells the 50-year saga of a family in Australia’s outback. Meggie falls in love with her priest (oy) and the situation creates so much angst for the people in her orbit that your screen could melt. Even if you’re not into chick flicks, The Thorn Birds is worth every minute of your time if for no other reason than to watch scene-stealer Barbara Stanwyck at age 76 in her last role as matriarch Mary Carson. She won an Emmy for this part, primarily for an unforgettable segment where she tries to seduce Richard Chamberlain.

I assume Sam is working late tonight because he should have been home about half an hour ago — duh! — so maybe I’ll take a nice hot shower and watch a little TV while I wait for him to call and tell me what’s what. Thank you reading this, and I hope you’re still having a very happy Hanukkah.

Chicken fried steak. Think of it like bungee jumping with a knife and fork.

I’m starving to death as I write this post. Sam is at Wal-Mart buying pastrami and low-carb tortillas to meet the requirements of my ongoing sandwich craving since I don’t eat bread any more owing to the fact that I’m diabetic. I plan to roll up a few pastrami tacos for lunch today with Koop’s horseradish mustard. If you think this sounds unappetizing, you’re nuts.

I also plan to indulge with Marcy’s Pink and Fluffy Puffy Crap, a faux dessert of my own invention that involves a generous wad of plain yogurt, All Bran, freeze-dried raspberries and a frightening quantity of Equal, all mooshed together and refrigerated until it resembles Pepto Bismol mousse. It’s heaven in a bowl! I’ll post the recipe with a photo later today, so don’t forget to come back.

Before I begin expounding on weather news, here’s another installment of our Holy Crap Gallery! With the possible exception of Liza Minnelli, you’d have to be at least 50 to remember Barbara Eden (“I Dream of Jeannie”), pop singer Leslie Gore or Nancy Sinatra. To tell you the truth, Nancy is the only one that I’d recognize if I ran into her on the street even though she has a completely new mouth. As for the others, Barbara Eden’s eyes have disappeared under those chipmunk cheek implants, Leslie Gore looks like a myopic cashier and Liza is just plain scary.

Fall has finally arrived in north Texas! Following unexpected middle-of-the-night rainfall and a bunch of noisy wind, the high today will be 59° with our first hard freeze expected tomorrow morning. This, of course, is nothing compared to what’s heading for east coast of the United States. By Monday Hurricane Sandy will join with a nor’easter of epic proportions — including extreme tides, heavy rain, high wind and the snowstorm from hell — and slam into Baltimore, Washington, New York and New Jersey, causing The Weather Channel’s fear-mongers to predict $1 billion in damage before anybody’s even had a chance to tie down their lawn chairs. A squiggly forecast map from Weather.com appears below as a visual aid.

And finally, today is National Chicken Fried Steak Day, the official state entree of Texas. If you’ve never had the pleasure, chicken fried steak is a slab of pounded beef that’s battered, deep-fried and buried under lumpy wallpaper paste flecked with black pepper. Typical accompaniments include mashed potatoes, black-eyed peas, Texas toast and little fried okra nipples. The meal pictured below will slam your arteries shut in less than 15 minutes but it’s definitely worth the risk. Think of it like bungee jumping with a knife and fork.

I need a nap. Thank you for reading this.

Donald Trump is the Howdygram’s first-ever Putz of the Week.

I’ve seen a lot of surprising crap during six decades of life but today was really an all-time doozy. Sam and I attempted to vote this morning (early voting in Texas started yesterday) but at 9 a.m. our polling place looked like Wal-Mart on Black Friday with a line of people stretching all the way around the block. WE COULDN’T EVEN GET CLOSE. To cheer myself up I injected 15 units of insulin (in the car when nobody was looking) and we drove to Denny’s for Senior Scrambled Eggs. The map below indicates: A) Howdygram headquarters; B) our overcrowded polling place at the Lakeside Activity Center; and C) Denny’s at Belt Line and U.S. 80.

As long as I’m on the subject of voting ... in another last-ditch effort to keep his name in the news, irrelevant GOP blowhard Donald Trump, the Howdygram’s first-ever Putz of the Week, is taunting America today with a “big big announcement” on Twitter tomorrow about President Obama ... something he promises will “change the election.” Does this pea-brain seriously think he’s fooling anybody with all this manufactured hype? Wake me when it’s over. (Thank you.)

But let’s move on to really important issues. There’s breaking news from Boston today, where condom-maker Trojan is seeking a permit to give away 10,000 vibrators at City Hall Plaza. In response to Trojan’s request, Mayor Tom Menino’s office issued a statement that distributing sex toys is an “inappropriate and irresponsible” use for the plaza. While I have no opinion about appropriate or inappropriate permits for city property, what really confuses me is why people with vibrators would need Trojan condoms. I’m just saying.

Glorioski ... here’s another installment of our popular Holy Crap Gallery! If you’re over 50 or just a fan of classic television, you’ll recognize Laura Petrie (“The Dick Van Dyke Show”), Thelma Lou (“The Andy Griffith Show”) and little Timmy Martin from the “Lassie” series after they replaced Tommy Rettig. I decided to throw in Leslie Caron at no extra charge because I just finished watching Gigi on TCM.

Before I sign off to reheat a few leftovers and put away laundry — not necessarily in that order because I’m starving — I wonder if any of you have seen that meaningless new Chanel TV commercial starring Brad Pitt. If not, take a look:



Aside from the fact that Brad Pitt sounds like he’s out of his mind, I’d like to know what’s wrong with modern women and why any of you would consider this skanky dude SEXY. Is it his dirty hair? That creepy beard? The crushed shirt? Holy crap, I’ve seen better-looking specimens sleeping on the curb in downtown Dallas! DON’T YOU PEOPLE REMEMBER WHAT A REAL MOVIE STAR LOOKS LIKE? I offer the following three photos, in case you have no idea what I’m talking about.

Thank you for reading this. It was nice of you to stop by. Next time, bring coffee cake.

Little Buddy, the Skipper, Thurston Howell and Lovey are currently deceased.

While I sit here wondering if I’ll ever see Sam again (he’s working very, very late tonight) I thought I’d distract myself and screw around with the Howdygram for a while. To begin, here’s another installment of our Holy Crap Gallery!

In case you’re wondering who the hell are these people, they’re the only living cast members — Mary Ann, Ginger and the Professor — from “Gilligan’s Island,” a painfully stupid TV series that aired on CBS from 1964 through 1967. The entire original cast is assembled below for your possible interest. Little Buddy, the Skipper, Thurston Howell and Lovey are currently deceased. Ahoy, y’all.

As long as I’m posting all this absurd baloney, here’s today’s best reason why you shouldn’t vote for Mitt Romney.

Pursuant to the lead story in my last post concerning the Texas State Fair’s mascot holocaust at the fairgrounds this morning, local weirdo artist Clay Stinnett spent all day today adding flames to his collection of Big Tex oil paintings so he can unload them tomorrow at the Double Wide Flea Market in Dallas. On a personal level, I think Stinnett’s work is disturbing and grisly, particularly the painting on the right with the corn dogs. Rest in peace, Tex!

Thank you for reading this. Please excuse me while I shoot insulin and watch TV.

He’s big! He’s weird! He’s so damn bald!

Just fifteen days ahead of my 61st birthday I’m annoyed to report that I received the following insulting baloney in today’s mail: 1) a solicitation to enter a drawing for free cremation; 2) a flyer for a free hearing aid screening at the Baptist church on Belt Line Road; and 3) a letter from AARP asking why the hell haven’t I bought long-term care insurance. I’m so bummed out I might have to resort to a lot of chocolate chocolate chip pound cake and a two-hour nap.

But first ... here’s the latest installment of our Holy Crap Gallery for your possible interest. I think John Travolta definitely qualifies for an honorable mention on this one. He’s BIG! He’s WEIRD! He’s so damn BALD!

Thank you for reading this. I’m hungry.

It might be time for these women to stay off the red carpet. I think they should learn to knit sweaters.

Good morning, people. I’ve got a pile of fascinating crapola for this post so there’s no point wasting any time. I’ll get right to the point.

Fascinating Crapola #1. You’ll be happy to know that my feet didn’t vibrate last night. Thank you.

Fascinating Crapola #2. I bought myself a countertop spice rack a couple of days ago so I can free up some space in one of my kitchen cabinets. This is no big deal, actually, but I thought I’d post a photo anyway because it’s cute.

I ordered this contraption from MySpiceSage.com along with a few new spices, including GROUND CHIPOTLE PEPPER which tastes a lot better than cayenne and I can’t wait to start throwing it into everything, from soup to mayonnaise to pudding! (Okay, maybe not pudding.)

Fascinating Crapola #3. In case you’re already planning for Halloween I thought I’d share the following brilliant ideas for PET COSTUMES. The Howdygram’s personal favorite is the last one, the four collies. (Especially the one on the left in the Krispy Kreme outfit.) If you’ve got a couple of minutes with nothing to do you can post a comment and let me know which one you like best.

Fascinating Crapola #4. We’ve got SEVERE THUNDERSTORMS heading our way! This is definitely a big hoo-hah for north Texas because we haven’t had much rain for the last few months. According to Weather.com — consistently the most disappointing weather agency ever created — the show’s supposed to start around 11 a.m. and last three or four hours. Please see the map below for further information.

Fascinating Crapola #5. Here’s yet another installment of our popular Holy Crap Gallery, featuring a selection of then-and-now celebrity photos for your Saturday amusement. I’m especially frightened by the photos of Carol Channing and Angela Lansbury and think it might be time for these women to  stay off the red carpet. They should learn to knit sweaters.

Fascinating Crapola #6. I canceled my optometrist appointment this morning because I just didn’t feel like going. I love canceling appointments. For a small fee I’d even be willing to cancel a few of YOURS.

I have to start planning an early lunch now because I’m starving. If I play my cards right maybe Sam will drive over to Long John Silver’s and pick up a bag of fish for me, although I’ve never really been very good at cards and might have to switch to plan B. (Plan B would be a can of soup.) Thank you for reading this.

No longer news: Kate Middleton’s royal titties.

In case you haven’t noticed, nobody’s talking about Kate Middleton’s royal titties any more since they really weren’t that exciting from the get-go and nobody cares about them except her, anyway. And possibly the Queen. Thank you.

And now, dear readers, it’s time for another installment of our popular Holy Crap Gallery, featuring scary pictures of celebrities past and present.

While I have to admit that former French sex kitten Brigitte Bardot has NOT aged gracefully and Mark Hamill looks a lot like our mechanic at Pep Boys, I’d personally rather see a familiar face with wrinkles than a severely-remodeled version I wouldn’t recognize in a million years, such as Barry Manilow, with no lips, foam rubber cheek implants and a face like a Cabbage Patch doll, and Marie Osmond, an over-rouged Vegas drag queen who should consider suing whoever does her hair and makeup. The poor thing looks like a 60-year-old man who’s trying to look like Marie Osmond.

I’d better withdraw my claws now so I can continue typing.

I ordered another load of crapola this morning from Netrition.com, my favorite source for fabulous and surprisingly cheap low-carb products. Today’s treasures included Dixie Diner Low-Carb Instant Mashers, Low-Carb Pound Cake Mix and Low-Carb Muffin Mixes (Corn, Blueberry and Chocolate Chocolate Chip), two bottles of Guy’s Award-Winning Sugar-Free BBQ Sauce (original and spicy) and one bottle of DaVinci’s Sugar-Free Unflavored Sweetener Syrup to make everything I eat and bake taste like it’s exploding with sugar. Welcome to Diabetesland!

Tonight’s my night to fuss around in the kitchen so Sam can eat things when he gets home from work. I’ll be baking a loaf of caraway rye in my bread machine and a pan of Pillsbury Sugar-Free Fudge Brownies. (They’re so good you’d never guess there’s no sugar.)

Incidentally, tonight is also the big finale of “Top Chef Masters” on Bravo, where you get to watch very talented people preparing food for a panel of annoying judges. At the top of this list is Annoying Judge James Oseland (see right), editor of “Saveur” magazine, who constantly makes his sexual orientation a little too obvious for a show that’s supposed to be about cooking.

Thank you for reading this. All of a sudden I have a craving for tuna salad.

Holy crap. It’s already September.

Life is moving too fast for me. Two months from today I will be 61 years old, which happens to be same age as Aunt Bee during the first season of “The Andy Griffith Show.” This is even scarier than it sounds, but — thank God —  there are a number of important differences. I don’t have gray hair, I don’t own an apron, I don’t have a secret recipe for fried chicken and my best friend isn’t an old pickle-puss named Clara.

I just realized that it’s been an awfully long time since my last installment of the Holy Crap Gallery, so here’s a little treat for the first day of September. At 62 I think Twiggy looks a lot more like Aunt Bee than I do. I’m just saying.

I hate diabetes. It’s nearly 4 a.m. and I’ve been up for the last two hours with hot hands and feet, the same damn neuropathy issues I had last night, although tonight’s episode isn’t quite as severe. This is such is good news that I might need a cheese sandwich to celebrate. (I’ve been hungry since midnight.) Thanks for stopping by. Turn out the lights when you’re done, okay?

Surprise storms and an afternoon drive-by.

Before I shlep myself into the family room for a quick dinner and my nightly dose of Olympics crapola I thought I’d mention that we’ve suddenly got SURPRISE STORMS heading for Mesquite! I don’t care too much about the thunder and lightning, however ... I just want the RAIN. At the moment we’ve got substantial wind — around 50 m.p.h. according to Weather.com — and the sky is looking mighty creepy. Stay tuned for additional bulletins as they become available (and if I feel like it).

Big news. My appointment with Dr. M tomorrow morning is at Baylor Family Medical Center’s brand new facility here in Mesquite, which is located about two blocks away from their old building here in Mesquite! I realize this is no big hoo-hah for you, but it is for me because they just moved a few days ago and I’ve never been there before. The map below indicates: A) Howdygram headquarters; B) Baylor’s OLD facility; and C) Baylor’s NEW facility. I did a drive-by this afternoon and really like their new parking lot. Seriously.

And now, here’s the latest edition of our Holy Crap Gallery for your possible interest and amusement. This time I’m featuring Kathryn Crosby (Bing’s widow) and fashion designer Donatella Versace. I considered saving this gallery for Halloween, but what the hell ... here you go!

Thank y’all for reading this.

Thank you in advance for giving a crap about this.

I’m having an exceptionally lazy day after a crappy night’s sleep (four hours). Due to the resulting lack of energy, motivation and brain function I’ve decided to make my singular goal du jour researching NBC’s TV coverage of the London Olympics. Following 9½ minutes of concerted effort, the Howdygram is pleased to provide this handy link to help all of you decipher your local listings. FYI, the opening ceremonies will air Friday night on NBC during prime time; cool events like swimming start Saturday morning. I’m definitely into  swimming. Also gymnastics. I have no interest whatsoever in volleyball, rowing, throwing javelins, fencing, sailing or badminton. Badminton? Seriously?

For your possible interest I’m pleased to post the latest installment of our popular Holy Crap Gallery, this time featuring a variety of pin-up dudes from the 1950s and 60s. Personally, I think all of them aged beautifully, although money and great hair could have something to do with it. The only exception is the late Troy Donahue, who looked like he’d been living in the back of a station wagon. For my money, gorgeous Chad Everett managed to look even better at 75 than he did four decades ago. (Don’t you wish everybody could say that?) Unfortunately, Chad died yesterday from lung cancer.

Wow. I’m STARVING. I’ve been sitting here for the last 45 minutes trying to figure out what I want for dinner. (Yes, it’s true, I have a really nice life.) My first instinct is to order something wonderful from China City, such as Curry Shrimp and Mongolian Chicken, which would supply enough leftovers for at least two days, although I also have a massive quantity of gefilte fish in the refrigerator. It’s quite a conundrum, isn’t it? If you have any thoughts or suggestions I’d appreciate a quick email within the next 15 minutes because I need to eat something. Thank you in advance for giving a crap about this. It’s nice to have friends who care.

The search for cactus pears: a work-in-progress.

My ongoing search for cactus pears has been a work-in-progress for nine years. I used to buy them in season at a neighborhood produce market when I lived in California until it went out of business (the market, not the state) but never found them anywhere after I moved to Texas. However I just read an article on the Dallas Observer’s website that somebody found buckets of them at the Dallas Farmers Market, which is so damn exciting I’m practically ready to jump in the car RIGHT NOW. They also might be available at Fiesta Market, a local Mexican-owned grocery store chain, although I think I tried to find cactus pears there a couple of years ago with no success. Sam is on his way to investigate as I write this post because I looked really pathetic when I started talking to him about this a couple of hours ago.

For the record, it’s difficult to convey the joys of this screwy fruit until a person understands how to peel them without getting stabbed by cactus spines. I was taught proper cactus pear-peeling technique by a genuine Mexican (a co-worker during my years in California) involving two forks and a really sharp knife. It’s easy to do once you get the hang of it and well worth the effort because cactus pears are melony inside with teeny edible seeds — so cold! so crunchy! — and taste fantastic doused with large quantities of Equal.

Breaking news and glorioski ... SAM FOUND CACTUS PEARS AT FIESTA MARKET. He’s on the way home right now with TWO DOZEN, and I’m so damn excited I might pee all over myself! (Okay, probably not.)

And now for the latest installment of our popular Holy Crap Gallery, this time featuring a pair of my favorite Brit actors who were megawatt heart-throbs in the 1960s. Michael Caine still works regularly in films; Peter O’Toole just announced his official retirement.

Thanks for stopping by. Try to write when you get a chance, okay?

Way to go, San Diego ... home of the west-coast Einsteins.

Before I leap into more important topics I’d like to comment briefly that, despite overwhelming evidence to the contrary (see previous post), AT&T apparently does NOT employ the majority of Einsteins in America. Several also work for the City of San Diego, where on July 4 a team of Einsteins accidentally detonated the evening’s entire 50-minute fireworks extravaganza all at the same time, resulting in a terrifying 15-second explosion that scared the shitsky out of thousands of citizens watching from the beach. Way to go, San Diego!

Ding dong, y’all! FedEx just dropped off a huge carton from Asian Food Grocer, my all-time favorite website not counting Amazon. This is the place to go for all kinds of wonderful Asian seasonings, sauces, soup mixes, shirataki — no carbs! no calories! — noodles, dried mushrooms, tofu, tea, soft drinks and bizarre Hello Kitty candy. A montage of today’s delivery appears below.

Unfortunately the carton is pretty heavy so Sam will have to bring it inside after he gets home from work. In the meantime I guess I’ll drown my sorrow with a few homemade tacos.

And now, a new version of our popular “Holy Crap” Gallery ... this time featuring a bunch of celebrities and former presidents when they were young. I think my personal favorites are three who looked exactly the same when they grew up (Anthony Hopkins, Antonio Banderas and Lyndon Johnson, the poor kid) and three who were just adorable beyond belief (Audrey Hepburn, Humphrey Bogart, John Lennon). Feel free to share your thoughts because I don’t really have very much to do tonight.

In case you’re interested, most of these pictures came from a couple of fun websites, one on Pinterest and another called Celebrity Childhood Photos.

I think I’ll make a nice pitcher of sugar-free lemonade and watch last night’s episode of “Dallas,” my current TV addiction now that season five of “Mad Men” is over. Thank you for reading this!

Madonna’s nipple, take it or leave it.

In an effort to take our minds off the sordid trial of pedophile Jerry Sandusky, it seems that every national news website is bombarding us today with the hottest story in cyberspace: MADONNA’S NIPPLE. Apparently she flashed one of her 53-year-old boobies to an audience of 55,000 in Istanbul and followed it up two days later by mooning the crowd in Rome.

Just between us, I think Madonna might be a little too old for the horseshit she used to pull off 25 years ago, mostly because she looks a little worn out and flabby and — even worse — her children are on tour with her now. But as much as Madonna might be pushing her luck, the following Holy Crap Gallery offers some outrageous then-and-now photos of the world’s biggest rock stars from the 1960s.

Singer/songwriter Bob Dylan, who never was much to look at, anyway, is monumentally worse at 71 with the cascading chins and weird hats, and beautiful Grace Slick has morphed into a plump bingo grandma in polyester. Nobody standing next to her at the supermarket checkout would ever in a million years guess she was once the queen of acid rock who sang with Jefferson Airplane. And in case you were (literally) born yesterday, Keith Richard, Mick Jagger and Charlie Watts were three of the original Rolling Stones. Richard and Jagger could haunt a house; Watts looks like he joined a yacht club.

And now it’s time to fold a mountain of socks and join Sam in the family room for a couple of good movies. Thank you for reading this.

Nothing I do has ever been worth $120 an hour to anybody.

First, please accept my apology for not writing posts for the last couple of days. I didn’t intend to ignore you; it just happened. I guess I was preoccupied with other crap, although at this point I honestly can’t remember what that other crap might have been. It’s hell getting old.

My Mac technician finally showed up today to install the latest operating system and sync our computers with our new iPad. This turned out to take a lot longer and cost a lot more money than I’d planned, leading me to conclude that I’ve been in the wrong business all these years because nothing I do has ever been worth $120 an hour to anybody. After shelling out $360 for three hours of labor, during which Betty talked about her mother and juggled an endless flurry of incoming calls on her cell phone, I am proud to announce that emails now show up on our iPad. I promise to let you know if it was worth the money as soon as I get over the shock.

For your possible interest I’m pleased to offer yet another installment of our popular Holy Crap Gallery, this time featuring three former cutie-pies who haven’t had much luck with their aging genes. I think Kathleen Turner and Linda Ronstadt are the scariest of the bunch.

Incidentally, Sam and I had a swell and profitable junket yesterday to the Choctaw Casino in Oklahoma! Following an okay lunch with sugar-free pie, I hauled in GREAT BIG WINS (more than $60) on a couple of new penny slots and then Sam hit a jackpot on the best slot machine God ever invented, the Cash Wizard (see below), after which we bailed out immediately and drove back to Texas so we wouldn’t be tempted the blow the money.

This week we’re busy tending to a lot of essential baloney as we get ready for our big ROAD TRIP, such as prescription refills, getting a new pair of jeans shortened, figuring out which shoes to pack and selecting obscure towns to stop for lunch on the way to wherever we’re going. A map of our travel route appears below.

Indicated here are: 1) Howdygram headquarters, our starting point; 2) Vicksburg, Mississippi, where we’ll visit a huge Civil War battlefield, a great museum and several riverboat casinos; 3) another Civil War battlefield in Shiloh, Tennessee; 4) Nashville and the Grand Ole Opry; and 5) the Clinton Presidential Library in Little Rock, Arkansas. Also on our schedule is a visit to Monroe, Louisiana, located on the map between points 1 and 2, where my father was stationed in 1943 for basic training in the Army Air Corps. Apparently the only remaining building on base has been turned into a World War II museum and I’m feeling compelled to check it out. I even have a fantasy that I’ll find a photo of dad on the wall. No kidding.

I’d better get myself ready for bed. Tomorrow Sam and I want to road-test our new Garmin GPS (delivered from Amazon earlier today) and visit the Dallas Farmer’s Market.

As you can see, this is NOT the kind of farmer’s market that sets up in a parking lot once or twice a month. It’s a permanent complex of buildings with indoor vendor stalls and restaurants that’s open every day of the year except Christmas and Thanksgiving. Sam and I haven’t been there before, so stay tuned for an in-depth review. I apologize in advance if you’re convinced this will be boring.

Shalom, y’all.

Danny DeVito is obviously enjoying a steady diet of lasagna and Ding Dongs.

The last 48 hours have been plagued by two crushing disappointments here at Howdygram headquarters, mostly because Sam and I are a pair of trusting souls who tend to believe almost everything we hear.

Crushing Disappointment Number One. We canceled our trip to the Choctaw Casino yesterday because rain and thunderstorms were in the forecast all day and we’d have to be awfully desperate to drive 160 miles round-trip in a deluge for sugar-free pie and penny slots. Unfortunately we never got a single drop of rain on Thursday whatsoever, so we wound up sitting around the house all day DOING NOTHING and whining about why the hell did we ever listen to those pathological liars at Weather.com again.

Crushing Disappointment Number Two. I finally managed to turn my mood around by reminding myself that Betty was coming over on Friday afternoon to upgrade our Macs with the latest operating system, install a pile of fabulous new Adobe software and synch everything with our iPad. Right on schedule, Betty sent an email at 2:30 to tell me she was “on the way” with a thirty-minute ETA ... AND THEN SHE NEVER SHOWED UP. Apparently she had car trouble and wound up getting towed to a dealership, which I didn’t find out until two hours later because she left voice mails on my cell phone and I NEVER TURN ON MY CELL PHONE. (Seriously. My cell phone leads a full and rewarding life as an expensive paperweight.)

Although we’ve rescheduled the Choctaw Casino for Monday and Betty for Tuesday, to help me get through the weekend without a nervous breakdown I’ve convinced Sam that we need dim sum for lunch tomorrow at Hong Kong Royal. God bless dim sum. Dim sum can solve damn near anything.

For your possible interest I’m pleased to include the latest installment of our popular Holy Crap Gallery.

Of the four celebrities pictured above, the one I’d pick for Most Deteriorated would be Rip Torn, who looks mighty shredded to me. Connie Stevens seems kind of colorless and pruny, Danny DeVito is obviously enjoying a steady diet of lasagna and Ding Dongs, and I’m thoroughly intrigued by Dean Stockwell, who’s practically the only movie star left from Hollywood’s golden age, having appeared in films with — ready for this? — William Powell, Myrna Loy, Joel McCrea, Greer Garson, Gregory Peck, Lionel Barrymore, Reginald Owen, Gene Kelly, Donald Crisp, Charles Coburn and Wallace Beery. Holy crap!

It’s 11 p.m. and time for my insulin injection and a pile of pills. For a bedtime snack I’m considering sugar-free vanilla ice cream with Smucker’s sugar-free fudge topping. I could even use my pills as demented sprinkles just for fun. Thank you for reading this.

Free Slurpees, an exciting new gadget and gefilte fish investments.

Let’s start with the biggest news story first, okay? Until 7 p.m. today you can get FREE SLURPEES AT 7-ELEVEN! And this even includes their new SUGAR-FREE Slurpees! Giveaways are genuinely wonderful and you shouldn’t miss this opportunity to save money while ingesting a large pile of dyed, artificially-flavored and chemically-altered slush.

I also want to include another edition of the Howdygram’s popular Holy Crap Gallery, this time featuring a trio of iconic female celebrities: Dolly Parton, Lauren Hutton and Marlo Thomas. Just between us, Lauren Hutton scares the hell out of me.

Here’s something cool. Sam and I visited the Apple Store online yesterday and ordered ourselves an iPad that will be here TOMORROW. This is our first real wireless device — we don’t even own smartphones — not counting my cordless mouse and it’s partially an investment for the road trip we’re planning next month so we won’t go insane without the Internet and email. Holy crap, is this exciting or what? I can’t wait to start shopping for apps. This might be more fun than hunting for gefilte fish discounts on Amazon.

Please note. The aforementioned Amazon gefilte fish discounts apparently have dried up since Passover ended and there are no current deals available anywhere unless you decide to shop at the KC Kosher Co-op, where you can get 24 oz. jars of Manischewitz for $6.86 each when you buy a case of 12, shipping included. However I don’t know if I’m ready to invest $82.30 in gefilte fish at the present time, particularly since our pantry is already stuffed with 36 cans of assorted Loma Linda fake meat and the world’s largest bag of tortilla chips from Costco.

Thank you for reading this.