animals, celebrities, complaints, condescending twatbags, social media

Wow! Who knew commenting on Facebook required sharing my resume?

The featured photo was taken in September 1988, right after my beloved Appaloosa pony, Rusty (Diamonds n’ Rust) and I won first place at the State 4H horse show in Richmond, Virginia. There were about seventy other ponies in that class. It was a great morning and a highly unexpected surprise to win first. Rusty bucked, but I guess the judge never saw it happen.

If you follow my blog, you probably know that I have a tendency to overshare sometimes. I often feel compelled to share the whole story, even if it’s not necessarily interesting or wise to do so. We all have lessons we could learn. I know I could use a few lessons in brevity. However, even someone who overshares, like I tend to do sometimes, can be surprised by other people’s expectations on social media platforms.

Before I get started, I will issue a half-hearted apology for the fact that my writing this week has been so much about stupid Facebook dramas. The good news is, I’m so annoyed by the responses I’ve gotten on recent comments I’ve made, that I now make a conscious effort to comment less. That could mean that I’ll move on to more hard-hitting or entertaining topics. One can only hope!

Anyway… on with today’s gripe.

A couple of days ago, Facebook suggested either a group or a page about Elizabeth Taylor. I honestly don’t know why it was suggested to me. I was never a big Liz Taylor fan. I mean, I certainly thought she was a beautiful woman, and as a horse crazy kid, I appreciated her performance in National Velvet. I do remember seeing her guest star on The Nanny, and I saw her in commercials for her perfumes and such, but I don’t know much about her acting career.

Liz Taylor was a little behind my era, and had done a lot of her most famous acting roles before I was born. I wasn’t into most old movies when I was growing up, aside from the major ones like Gone With The Wind, The Sound of Music, and The Wizard of Oz. When I was coming along, I heard more about her marriages, alcoholism, and celebrity activism, than anything else.

I think I was more familiar with her son, Michael Wilding Jr.’s, work as an actor. He was on Guiding Light and Dallas, back in the 80s, and I watched both of those shows.

Anyway, for some reason, Facebook suggested this Elizabeth Taylor page to me, along with a post about her love for horses. There was a picture of her, as an adolescent, with a horse– probably the one who starred with her in National Velvet. And there was a quote by her about how she’d learned to jump before making the movie, and had successfully jumped a six foot fence while riding bareback. She allegedly said it made her feel like she was flying.

As someone who literally spent a huge portion of my childhood in a barn, I find that story pretty hard to believe. Is it the truth? Maybe… but I still find it implausible. Not that many horses regularly jump six foot fences. Those that do tend to be very valuable jumpers. And, in all of my years around horses, I’ve never seen nor heard of anyone jumping at that height bareback… at least not on purpose! Could it have happened? I suppose. But I noticed a lot of people agreed with me that the story sounded a bit like bullshit. They were saying so in the comment section.

I added a casual comment to someone’s response, reminding everyone that National Velvet was made in 1944. So if she did try to jump six feet while bareback, it likely would have been extremely dangerous and foolish. She probably didn’t bother wearing a hat (helmet), and even if she did wear one, it was not as safe or effective as the ones that people wear today. If she tried such a stunt and was successful, she was damned lucky… and pretty stupid, in my opinion. But again… it’s just my opinion, and I realize I could be wrong.

“Velvet Brown, who do you think you ARE?”

When I left this comment, I was being totally casual. It was an offhand remark– the online equivalent of small talk. This is a very trivial issue to me, and not something I care to research or verify. Mainly, I was just gratified to see that I wasn’t the only one who was calling bullshit on the story’s veracity.

Naturally, people started tagging me in responses, reminding me that Liz Taylor allegedly started riding when she was three years old, so she wasn’t a “new” rider, as I wrongly assumed, based on what was written in the quote.

Again, Liz Taylor doesn’t really matter to me, so I didn’t look her up to see when her ass first landed on a horse’s back. If she really started riding at age 3, fair enough… although I doubt she was progressing that much in her skills at that age. I wouldn’t expect her to be good enough to be piloting talented jumpers over six foot fences, even if she did start riding at age 3. Certainly not bareback. That’s sheer lunacy to me. My opinion again. It was not something I really wanted to argue about. If it’s true, it’s true. I don’t really care one way or the other.

The evening wore on, and Bill and I went to bed. I spent all day blissfully unaware of that post and, in fact, had completely forgotten about it. Then, at about 5 PM, I got a tag from someone I didn’t know. Not knowing what she was referencing, I clicked to see what was up. And it was some twat who wrote something along the lines of, “Have you ever even been on a horse? Do you know *anything* about horses?” Then there was a long diatribe about how Liz Taylor certainly could have been jumping six foot fences bareback, and a link to some site that I didn’t bother checking. To tell you the truth, I didn’t read beyond her first two sentences, because I found them extremely insulting and irritating, and I was momentarily really pissed.

Weeee! Us again… probably in 1988.

You see, I spent years riding horses. I owned a very special Appaloosa pony for years. I took lessons, cleaned stalls, went to horse shows, showed hunt seat and Western, went on competitive trail rides, attended riding clinics given by fancy Frenchmen, fox hunted, completed 4 H horse projects, and I have a huge box full of over 200 ribbons, plaques, medals and such in storage in Texas. I even won a horse blanket one year. So yes, I do know my way around a horse, even though I gave up riding a long time ago.

Maybe I should have responded to the idiot with just a picture of my ribbons…

I realize this person doesn’t know me at all. I don’t know her at all. My guess, though, is that I was probably riding horses and shoveling manure when she was still a spark in her daddy’s testicles. I also suspect, like a lot of Facebook experts, she moseyed on over to my Facebook page to see if there was any evidence of my “expertise” with horses. When she saw no equine pics on the public version of my account, she wrongly assumed that I don’t have any experience with horses, hence her moronic challenging questions to me– a total stranger.

I was tempted to respond with indignance, but instead, I took a deep breath, and then sighed with a loud groan of utter annoyance. Then I posted something along the lines of this:

Yes, I have experience with horses. I grew up riding and showing my own horse. I still don’t believe this story. If you do, good for you. I really don’t care.

Then, just because I had a feeling it would inspire laughter from those who knew me when I was young, I posted this:

I was gratified when my former riding instructor wrote this…

A time or two?🤣🤣🤣. Try more years than I care to think about! 🙈🙈

I am honestly very indebted to my old riding instructor, because I certainly wasn’t the easiest person to teach… or even just to deal with, especially when I was going through puberty. And she was there to see me in all my moody, hormonal glory! Isn’t it awesome that I still know her as I’m now going through menopause! I’m not quite as moody these days… or, at least I cry less.

It’s because of her that I ever owned a horse of my very own. She taught me so much, and having unlimited access to her farm no doubt kept me out of trouble… and possibly even the psych ward. I had a tendency toward depression in those days (as well as today, but now I have booze).

The fact that I had a horse, and had to work to keep him, kept me productive and active, and helped stave off the darkest moods of depression. I spent hours riding my bike to and from her farm, cleaning the ten stalls in her barn, and doing the many horsey chores required when you have a horse. Even if you aren’t into showing, as I was in those days, there’s a lot of work to be done. I do miss it– and horses– very much. But I think the work might kill me these days. 😀

So yes, when some rando on Facebook asks me if I “know anything” about horses, simply because we disagree about a silly quote allegedly by Elizabeth Taylor– a dead actress I don’t even particularly care about– it does smart a bit. Was she really expecting me to post my horse experience resume on such a random comment between total strangers? Who’s got the time for it?

However, I was also gratified that my fellow horsey friend from those days, another of the many Jennifers born in the 70s, posted this in response to my peevish status update…

Ha! I was doubting that post from Liz too. I’ve never seen anyone do six feet bareback.

Jennifer and I were in 4 H together and enjoyed many a hot Saturday at horse shows when we were growing up in Gloucester, Virginia. She knows her way around horses, too. And anyone who knew me in those days, knows that horses were then my life. It’s almost hard to believe now. Seems like a dream.

I guess this incident can be filed away under yet another reason why Facebook sucks. But then, if it weren’t for Facebook, I couldn’t share a laugh with the people I knew when I was an avid horsewoman. It’s a testament to the specialness of that time that those people are still my friends so many years later.

Whether or not Liz Taylor ever jumped six foot fences while riding a horse bareback isn’t that important, at least not to me. She’s been dead for years, so it’s not like her feelings are going to be hurt if I don’t believe this alleged quote from her about her horseback riding skills. Maybe it is the truth, but I don’t feel like verifying it, one way or the other. Especially now.

Liz’s alleged quote kind of reminds me of that ghastly video of Alan Osmond, when he talked about how he was the best marksman in his Army basic training unit, yet he never saw a single day in Vietnam. Instead, he stayed behind at Fort Ord, where he served as a typist. Now, I absolutely respect Alan for serving in the Army, but I think his claims about his military badassery are probably hyperbolic bullshit. And this quote by Elizabeth Taylor is probably similarly hyperbolic. I base that on my experiences with horses, even as I acknowledge that I’m not an expert and I quit riding some time ago. I never claimed to be an expert. I just know what bullshit smells like.

So no, I don’t feel like qualifying myself with a rundown of my equine experience and expertise, just to be allowed to leave a comment on a random Facebook post about horses. I shouldn’t be expected to do that. I’ve got more important things to do, like manscaping Bill’s chest hair.

On another note… I notice that a lot of horse people really can be insufferable jerks. I don’t miss that.

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communication, complaints, language

I don’t care if “it’s what’s for dinner”… especially since “I ain’t been nowhere”.

I think Bill and I are on the verge of insanity. The last few months have been rather difficult for both of us. Bill has been working very hard, traveling for long stints to the same place in Bavaria, and working extremely long shifts– sometimes overnight, which is not a good fit for his early bird personality. I’m not physically and mentally exhausted like Bill is, but I’m feeling the strain of being socially distanced and not having any fun. We both really need a vacation. It’s not that we’ll die without one… it’s more that we both seriously need a change of scenery. Lately, I’ve found myself daydreaming about day trips to the Rhein, which we used to enjoy before the pandemic struck.

Don’t get me wrong… I know the pandemic is still going on and people are still getting sick and dying. But it’s good to see the infection numbers going down and rules starting to relax a little bit. I’m finding myself less interested in reading about COVID-19 or reading the shrill opinions of neurotic people who think we should be wearing masks forever. I hope to score a walk in appointment this week so I can get my second shot and be “street legal” by my birthday on the 20th. If that doesn’t happen, I’ll get pricked on the 9th. I think Bill is already trying to come up with something for us to do… When we finally do get to break out of here, I suspect it will be a nice trip. Or… I hope it will be. You just never know what’s going to happen in the wonderful world of contracting for the U.S. military.

A few friends managed to get away for the holiday. They’ve been posting photos from Belgium, Luxembourg, and Iceland. I’m happy for them that they got to travel. I hope to join them very soon. I think it will do wonders for my disposition. Lately, I’ve been a bit crankier than usual. I’m sure I’m not the only one, either. Even Rhonda Vincent agrees, having just released a brand new album with this fabulous COVID-19 inspired parody of “I’ve Been Everywhere”… because she, like Bill and I, “ain’t been nowhere” because we’re doing the “responsible” thing and staying home… avoiding masks and annoying busybodies who think we should live this way forever– and if we disagree, we need to be “corrected” and “reeducated”. (I need to quit reading The Atlantic, for sure!)

I love Rhonda Vincent… and I love her song, “I Ain’t Been Nowhere.” I ain’t, you know, and it’s making me even bitchier than I might otherwise be.

Yesterday, I posted a crabby status update about how much I hate the old beef ads from the early 90s… you know, the ones that used Aaron Copland’s “Appalachian Spring” and gave us the ever annoying slogan, “Beef! It’s what’s for dinner!” I don’t remember hating that ad when it was new. It was aired during a time when a lot of Americans had turned away from eating red meat because of the heart risks. Instead of eating beef, people were eating poultry and fish or pork, “the other white meat”. Beef farmers were concerned about their lagging profits, so they came up with this ad, which has led to a highly irritating catchphrase that many people still use today.

On one hand, this was a wildly successful commercial. On the other hand, it’s still irritating the fuck out of me almost 30 years later.

I wish I had a quarter for every time someone says or writes “it’s what’s for dinner”… I would be a much wealthier woman than I am today. Today’s featured photo is a picture I used for my last blog moan about this trend… which I wrote almost five years ago. Yes, this also annoyed me in 2016… and probably before then, too. And in five years, nothing has changed, because people haven’t come up with anything catchier or more clever to say about their evening victuals as they share them with everyone on Facebook.

I bitched about this yesterday, and a friend who is a teacher and also likes to say “kiddo” (another word I can’t stand because it reminds me of a rapey stepfather on the Guiding Light), stopped by to tell me why the beef ad from 1993 is good. I have a feeling she might have felt offended that I was complaining about it, since she’s said she thinks it’s a great ad and apparently uses it as a teaching tool. Look– I am all for people using whatever they can when they teach children. Teaching is a tough job. However, the fact that it’s a good ad for use in the classroom has absolutely nothing to do with the fact that it sets my teeth on edge.

I love beef, too. I would happily eat steak or a burger or barbecue with anyone, unless I’m in Armenia, where the beef wasn’t very good. I wouldn’t say German beef is that awesome, either. I’ve got nothing against beef as a food, even if procuring it does involve killing animals. I should probably like it less than I do.

I just don’t want to hear about “it’s what’s for dinner”… because I just don’t give a fuck. I’d like to be having dinner somewhere where I can order something off a menu and take photos of it for my blog. And the fact that today’s kids like that ad is irrelevant. They weren’t around in the early 90s, when it was shown incessantly on TV– back in the days before the Internet, getting into ridiculous conversations about annoying cliches, and wondering why I shouldn’t be able to say I don’t like something without having my opinions corrected.

As for the word “kiddo”… Yesterday, as I was telling Bill about how much I hate the old beef ads, I introduced him to the sordid tale of Bradley Raines, played by the late James Rebhorn on Guiding Light, a soap opera that lasted for over 70 years and has the distinction of being the only daytime serial that ever held my attention. Back in 1983, when I was about eleven years old, the iconic power couple of Phillip Spaulding (Grant Aleksander) and Beth Raines (Judi Evans) was born. Phillip’s original girlfriend, Mindy Lewis (Krista Tesreau) was in the hospital because she got bucked off of a horse named Boss. Beth was in the hospital because she was abused by her yucky stepfather, Bradley. She called him Bradley, even though he had adopted her and she used his last name.

Bradley Raines was a creepy character. James Rebhorn was a great actor, and he portrayed the part of a narcissistic abusive pervert to the hilt. However, thanks to Rebhorn’s turn as Bradley Raines, I’m left despising the word “kiddo”. Every time I hear it, I think of him, and the way he treated his adopted daughter/stepdaughter, Beth, who was portrayed as fragile and sweet… at least in the early years of her character’s existence.

Phillip and Beth meet, after Beth is hospitalized after Bradley threw her down the stairs.
Rapey stepfather!
Kiddo again, at 9:36. Yuck! At 11:00, he’s abusive to Beth’s mom, Lillian, and at 12:30, he hits Beth.
He says that damnable word, “kiddo”, at 9:59. Looks like a mean motherfucker, too. Incidentally, he was a motherfucker, since he fucked Beth’s mother. Most men are motherfuckers, aren’t they?

Ever since the 80s, the word “kiddo” has made me cringe. I feel the same way about the cutesy term, “doggo”. Ick. One time I mentioned hating that word, “kiddo”, and someone decided to correct my opinions about that, too. Why can’t people just let someone express a thought or an opinion without trying to correct it somehow? It’s just an opinion. If everyone agreed, the world would be a very boring place. I won’t be writing any letters demanding that the word “kiddo” is struck from the everyday American lexicon. I just hate hearing it because it makes me think of Bradley Raines.

But really, I mostly think I just dislike cliches. I am more impressed with people who come up with fresh ways to say things. I think the people who made the beef ads were very good at their job… but they were too good, if you know what I mean. Because people are still parroting that annoying cliche many years later, reminding me of dead cow flesh and Aaron Copland. I used to like Aaron Copland’s masterpiece, but now I feel the same way about it as I do the “it’s what’s for dinner” slogan. If I never hear it again, I’ll be pretty happy. 😉

A classic George Carlin routine on cliches… and how fucking annoying they are.

Ah well… I think I will be a lot less cranky when I can no longer say “I ain’t been nowhere.” I think Bill and I both need to get away and unplug for awhile. I don’t know where we’ll go. Europe is opening up… but, like I said, one never knows what will happen in the wonderful world of military contracting. Bill has been working very hard and needs a rest, though. So hopefully we’ll get a temporary one very soon… and even if it’s not outside of Germany, that will be fine. I would be happy just to have a new hill to photograph and a rainfall shower in a stall that I won’t have to clean. Plus, Noyzi needs to meet the dog sitter.

I ain’t been nowhere in way too long… today, my big plans involve going to the backyard and enjoying the sun while drinking myself into a stupor. Bill plans to barbecue chicken… not beef. Because at our house, beef is what’s NOT for dinner… although wine probably will be. Not that anyone cares. If you don’t care, I don’t want to hear about it… or be corrected… and I don’t want to know “what’s for dinner”.

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book reviews

A review of Not That Man Anymore: A Message From Michael

Throughout most of the 1980s, I was a big fan of the now defunct soap opera, Guiding Light. My mom and my sisters watched the show, which always aired at 3:00pm in our time zone, just in time for me to get home from school. Although my time after school was always taken up with horseback riding when I was a teenager, I still watched Guiding Light, often taping the episodes on our VCR. During my high school years, the villain “Roger Thorpe” was especially popular. Roger Thorpe was played by the late actor, Michael Zaslow.

Michael Zaslow died aged 56 on December 6, 1998. He had suffered from amyotrophic lateral sclerosis (ALS) for some time before his passing. ALS, otherwise known as Lou Gehrig’s Disease, is a motor neuron disease that causes a progressive decline in a person’s ability to move, speak, or even breathe. Zaslow, who also performed on Broadway and in the movies, was fired from Guiding Light as his illness progressed. However, he was allowed to keep acting on Search for Tomorrow, since the writers of that show created a storyline that included Zaslow’s real life condition.

Didi Conn starred in the film, You Light Up My Life. Michael Zaslow was also in this film.

Although Zaslow has been dead for over twenty years, I was reminded of him recently when I watched a clip from the 1977 film, You Light Up My Life. I was reminded of that film in January of 2019, when Shirley Boone, mother of Debby Boone, died. Debby Boone, of course, made the song “You Light Up My Life” a huge hit, but her version was not used in the movie of the same name, in which Zaslow starred. The film version of that song was sung by the late Kasey Cisyk, who also died tragically young. As I was writing about Shirley Boone on my old blog, I was reminded of that old movie. I saw the younger version of Zaslow on it and decided I would finally read his story.

Not That Man Anymore: A Message From Michael is a book Zaslow and his second wife, the late Susan Hufford, wrote together. It was published in 2005, just a year before Hufford herself died of cancer. Hufford was an actress, novelist, and a psychotherapist; she and Zaslow were married on June 7, 1975, and they raised two adopted Korean daughters, Helena and Marika. Sadly, Helena died on December 28, 2004 at age 19, just days after finishing her first semester at Wellesley College.

When I decided to purchase and read Not That Man Anymore, I did not realize that anyone in Zaslow’s family had died besides him. I did remember when he died and the circumstances of his death, since it was reported in People magazine and, in those days, I read People all the time. I was sad, since I knew that ALS is not an easy way to go, and I had remembered Zaslow on Guiding Light. Still, it took Shirley Boone’s passing to get me to buy and read the book, which to my knowledge, is only available in print, rather than a digital download. It’s also not cheap to acquire at $19.95. Fortunately, I thought the money was well-spent, as this was a beautifully written book.

In 1994, Michael Zaslow won a Daytime Emmy for his character, Roger Thorpe. This was also the year he was fired because of his ALS, although he was not officially diagnosed with the disease until 1997.

I just finished reading this morning. I’m glad I read the book, since I had no idea how accomplished and talented Mr. Zaslow was. Not only was he an award winning actor, he was also a musician who sang and played piano. He was on Star Trek, a show I never followed, but that captured the hearts of many of my friends of Generation X. The book is well-written and poignant, as Hufford and Zaslow explain the heartbreak of what ALS does to its victims. Zaslow was full of life and spunk, and he tried very hard to keep fighting as the illness inexorably took over his faculties. Zaslow and Hufford were devoted to their daughters, trying hard to shield them from the realities of the disease and keep life as normal as possible for them.

Not That Man Anymore is movingly written, but it also conveys the frustration people who are facing life threatening illnesses must contend with as they navigate the United States healthcare system. In one heartbreaking chapter, Zaslow is confronted by a physician who adamantly tells him he must accept that he has ALS, and stop trying to find a healthcare provider who will tell him otherwise. As Zaslow had been traveling around the country seeking other opinions, he was delaying his access to the right care, although tragically, ALS is pretty much a death sentence. But then, we all must die of something. It’s just that most of us live beyond the age of 56.

Zaslow played Roger Thorpe from 1971 until 1994, with a few hiatuses throughout the series. Guiding Light, which started on radio in 1937, was permanently cancelled in 2009. I remember that we arrived back in the United States just in time for me to be able to see the tail end of the final episode. It was the end of an era, but it was pretty much time for the show to end. It had become unwatchable as budgets were slashed and the best actors left the show. Zaslow worked with actress Sherry Stringfield, who went on to achieve fame on ER. She came to Guiding Light just out of college and was one of several actresses who played Roger’s daughter, Blake. In his book, Not That Man Anymore, Zaslow and Hufford write about what a good friend Stringfield was to them. Indeed, after Zaslow, Hufford, and their daughter, Helena, had died, Stringfield was there for their surviving daughter, Marika, who got married without them. Marika, like me, also studied social work, although she attended New York University.

I’m not sure who else remembers Zaslow and wants to read his story, but for the few who are reading this blog, I will recommend this book about his and his wife’s experiences with ALS. It really offers an interesting glimpse into the life of an actor struck by a disease that probably doesn’t get enough attention. It’s definitely a must read for Guiding Light fans. My only quibble about this book is that it contains a photo section with extremely small print. My aging eyes can no longer read small print as well as they once did. I guess it’s time for bifocals.

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