Citizen of the Month

the writing and photography of Neil Kramer

Month: September 2008 (page 1 of 2)

I’m a Bloglux Enthusiast!

(Important Update: This post was written last night.  Please disregard the information in this post, as BlogLux went out of business this afternoon)

In the past, I have avoided using my personal blog as a marketing tool, using my readers as a targeted demographic.  But my opinion has completely changed after I was pitched the concept of the BlogLux Network by the founder and CEO of this amazing service, Albert M. Miffler.

The BlogLux Network has a simple philosophy:  We are living in wonderful economic times, and bloggers are one of the most influential consumer groups.  With so many wonderful luxury items out there on the market, blog readers are constantly looking to “tastemakers,” sophisticated A-listers like myself, to help them make purchases from the growing American market for high-end goods.

In today’s great economy, it was impossible to say “no” to such an amazing opportunity, especially when I can share it with YOU, my dear blogging friends!

Starting today, I will be dividing my time between my usual posts AND articles written for my new role as a BlogLux Enthusiast.  Consider me your “Shopping  Maven,”, the ultimate influencer and luxurty item trend-setter who LOVES to connect with YOU.

Why do I want to do this for YOU?  Because YOU RAWK!!!  You are all high-achievers, comfortable with your disposable income — and consumers who want the best, expect the best, and demand the best!  Remember, we’re the ones with the purchasing power.  We run the show!

Did you just get a big bonus at work?  Making a killing on tech stocks?  Selling your home for a big profit during this booming market?   Are you looking for high-end furniture for your second home?  A diamond pendant for the wife?  A gold-encrusted Bugaboo stroller for the littlest “stock broker?”

When you think LUXURY, think BlogLux and Citizen of the Month.

Each week, I was showcasing the latest and greatest exclusive luxury item, hand-picked especially by me — for YOU.

I am incredibly excited by this unique opportunity. I LOVE to shop and network with my friends about the hottest consumer products, especially during these good times!

This week’s “Citizen of the Month” Luxury Pick:

The Cartier Ballon Bleu in 18k gold, with sapphire crystals and diamonds on the bezel and dial.

Only $46,000.   Contact me NOW!   They’re going fast…

Mom’s Retirement from Farrar, Straus, and Giroux

After my mother graduated high school, she started working at Farrar, Straus, and Giroux, a publishing house in New York City.  She worked for the same company until yesterday, when she retired from her job.  It was an exciting, but emotional moment for her and for all those who worked with her over the years.

Farrar, Straus and Giroux was founded by Roger W. Straus. The firm is renowned for its international list of literary fiction, nonfiction, poetry and children’s books. Farrar, Straus and Giroux authors have won extraordinary acclaim over the years, including numerous National Book Awards, Pulitzer Prizes, and twenty-one Nobel Prizes in literature. Nobel Prize-winners include Knut Hamsun, Hermann Hesse, T. S. Eliot, Pär Lagerkvist, François Mauriac, Juan Ramón Jiménez, Salvatore Quasimodo, Nelly Sachs, Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn, Pablo Neruda, Eugenio Montale, Isaac Bashevis Singer, Czeslaw Milosz, Elias Canetti, William Golding, Wole Soyinka, Joseph Brodsky, Camilo José Cela, Nadine Gordimer, Derek Walcott, and Seamus Heaney.


My mother  started her job wearing cool glasses. 

My mother is in back, smiling.

My mother in her newer glasses.  Check out the “typewriter.”

The late Roger Straus, the founder of the FSG, and Jonathan Gallasi, current editor-in-chief and president of FSG.

My mother’s retirement brunch at the office.   Her hip glasses are on her head.

Now, she’s on to new adventures.

Obama Girl, McCain Girl


The University of Mississippi, site of first 2008 Presidential Debate

I had a date; she’s for Obama,
She kissed me hard, that sexy Mama,

I had a date; she’s for McCain,
She postponed it because of rain.

Are Mojitos Gay?

I am writing a screenplay with another writer back in Los Angeles.  We get along well, but waste a lot of time getting into ridiculous arguments on the phone about the direction of the scenes.  The problem is that we have different word views about men, women, and relationships.  I am married.  He is not.  I have interests that could be considered “metrosexual” — like enjoying Broadway musicals.  He is more of a guy’s guy who watches sports every night.  I find many of his ideas sexist and filled with stereotypes.  What bothers me the most, is that I have a nagging feeling that his views better match that of the average American movie-goer, who is usually an idiot.

We are working on a comic scene where our two lead characters go to a bar, try to talk to two hot babes, and then get rejected for some funny reason.  He calls me with an idea:

“The two guys are talking to the hot girls, both with great tits, and everything is going well, and then the bartender brings the guys over their drinks — and it is two mojitos — and the girls look at them funny, as if they are gay, and then split.”

“What?  I don’t understand.” I ask.  “The girls with the tits LEAVE because the guys ordered mojitos?”

“Yeah, they think the drink is gay.”

“That is ridiculous.  I like mojitos.  I thought they were supposed to be trendy.  And no girl is going to leave because a guy ordered a mojito.”

“You haven’t been to the bar where I go.”

“That’s because you go to some stupid redneck bar.  Which is a little weird, considering that you are Japanese.  But our characters live in Hollywood.  They’re cool guys, like the guys in Swingers.  They would have no problem ordering mojitos in a hip bar.  And no girl would have a problem with a mojito, or think they are gay.  I’m not putting that into any script with my name on it.”

“Ok, so let’s make it like they order two of those fruity drinks with the umbrellas?”

“Like Mai Tais?”

“Exactly.”

“I like Mai Tais, too.”

“They’re pretty gay.”

“What is the matter with you?    Are you saying that if I go into a bar and order a Mai Tai, everyone around me will think I am as gay as Clay Aiken.”

“Yes.”

“That’s bullshit.”

“What do you know?  You never go to bars.”

“Well, make believe it was a Tiki bar, like Trader Vics.”

“Our scene is not in a Tiki Bar.”

“Still bullshit.  And I don’t appreciate these lame gay stereotypes.”

“Why, are you gay?”

“No, I’m not gay.”

“So, what do you care?”

“Because it is stupid.  You know, the next time I am in a bar, I’m going to order a Mai Tai just to f*ck with your mind.”

“Not with me there.”

“Are you homophobic or something?”

“No, but if I am in a bar wanting to get laid, I’m not going to give off the message “I am gay” to the girls by ordering a mai-tai.”

“So, what are you saying — that if you order a scotch, you’re sending the message, “I have a big dick.”

“Even gay guys will say a mai-tai is gay.   Ask one.”

“You want me to ask some gay guy if he thinks a mai tai is gay?  That’s insulting.   There is no such thing as a “gay” drink.  There are gays who like lemonade and gays who like Diet Coke.”

“Ask around.  Ask all the women on your blog.  I guarantee that they’re all going to say that if they went out on a date with a guy and he ordered a fruity drink with an umbrella — that something is different about this guy.”

“What if I was Hawaiian, a manly Hawaiian, but this drink reminded me of home.”

“Even Hawaiian guys don’t drink those fruity drinks with umbrellas.”

“What if I just came back from Hawaii, where I f*cked seven different girls, and I am drinking this Mai-Tai because it reminds me of how manly I was while I was there, and how I f*cked a different girl every night, and I tell this story to one of the girls, and she gets totally turned on by me drinking a fruity drink with an umbrella, because she knows it means I am a total stud.”

“Sorry.  She will still think it is gay.”

“What if after I finish the drink, I take the umbrella and stick it in my arm without showing any pain, to reveal how manly I am.”

“OK, you got me there.  Then she would f*ck you.”

“Great.  Let’s write that scene.”

Three Years Ago on Citizen of the Month:   The Funeral

Silly Poem for My Father

My father passed away three years ago, on September 22, 2005.

I had just started blogging in March of that year, but it was that moment in time when I first learned what an online community could be all about. Three years have passed, and some friendships have faded, but it is nice that I still interact with many of you who I first met during that chaotic period of my life.

It isn’t easy being friends with your father. It can be uncomfortable expressing love to another man. Like many fathers and sons, we expressed more through actions, rather than words.

Last month, I found this note I wrote to my father, stuck under the TV in my parents’ bedroom. It is probably one of the last notes I wrote to him, maybe even the last one. It is a far cry from great literature, but I think he would be greatly amused that I am publishing it, taking the words from my note — verbatim — and turning them into a poem. I’m not very good at writing emotional stuff about him, so you’re going to look between the empty spaces of the words.

Directions on How to Use the DVD Player
a poem for Arthur Kramer on the third anniversary of his passing
by Neil Kramer

Turn Cable Remote
ON.

ON TV REMOTE,
Turn TV/VIDEO button,
until TV screen says
VIDEO 3.

Go TO DVD PLAYER
Turn Power On
(BIG LEFT BUTTON)

Push OPEN button
PUT IT IN

PUSH AGAIN
CLOSED

Dad – You were always hopeless figuring out this DVD player. You hardly used it at all. I hope the DVD players in heaven are easier to use. I’m sure, in the better world, they rent “Lawrence of Arabia,” unedited.

Breakfast with Lily

As I have mentioned many times before, Sophia is a strong, assertive woman. I find that sexy (unless, of course, when it has anything to do with me, when it can be a pain in the ass). One of the traits I really admire about her is that she isn’t a wallflower in restaurants. If she doesn’t like a dish or it isn’t up to her standards, she isn’t afraid of telling the waiter and speaking her mind.

Before I met her, I was too meek to complain.

“Eh, the salmon is OK.” I would say. “It’s not that bad.”

“Don’t eat it. Return it!” she would answer. “You’re PAYING for it.”

During the last several years under her tutelage, I became stronger. Hair sprouted on my chest (even if the hair has grown a little gray lately). Now I eat in restaurants with renewed confidence.

On Sunday, my mother and I had breakfast with Lily, a workmate of my mother’s from Farrar Straus, and Giroux. She is an elegant-looking Peruvian woman of about fifty. Her strong opinions reminds me of Sophia’s.

We received our food, and Lily took one bite of her omelete.

“It is completely cold,” she said.

“I’ll call the waiter over.” I insisted, taking charge of the matter, the testosterone running through my body.

“No, it’s fine like this.” she whispered quietly, and continued to eat her mushroom omelete.

I found this very confusing. Normally, Lily is very assertive. Had I become such a stronger personality –that I had already surpassed her? Have I finally rid myself of my passive nature? Am I ready to take the world by storm, standing tall, my c**k always at attention — like a true man?

As we left the restaurant and stepped into the September air, I built up the courage to ask Lily the question on my mind:

“Why didn’t your return your breakfast when it was cold? It seemed so unlike you.”

“I know,” she answered. “But my husband has worked as a cook in a restaurant for twenty-five years. I know FOR A FACT that when a customer returns his food, everyone in the back spits on it.”

How to Make Friends Online

Considering that I don’t like most of you, it is amazing that anyone reads this blog.


How To Build Strong Online Friendships in the Blogging Community.

White Privilege

Recently, two bloggers I respect, Danny at Jew Eat Yet and Saucybritches, wrote compelling posts about a popular article written by leading anti-racism writer, Tim Wise, titled “White Privilege and the 2008 Election.”  In the article, the author talks about how McCain has been treated differently than Obama during the campaign.  His conclusion at the end:

“White privilege is, in short, the problem.”

After reading the article, I had a heated debate on Twitter because I found the tone of the piece disturbing.  Tim Wise creates a world based on race, where a person is “privileged” because of the color of his skin. 

“What about someone white who is poor and someone black who is rich?” I asked.  “Isn’t this “privilege” theory insulting to both?  And what exactly does this have to do with the election?  I thought Obama’s nomination was a sign of change.  I hear more talk about race from the liberal side than the Republicans.  Isn’t this racial analysis a little… 1970-ish?” 

Apparently, The Angry Black Woman has met bloggers like me before:

“White Privilege exists whether you know it, acknowledge it, or understand it. Any attempts to convince me that you, a white person, don’t have White Privilege will result in laughter, mockery, and possibly a beat down.

It is a given that, whenever I engage in debate with a white person and mention privilege, the white person in question gets all upset. “I do NOT have privilege!” they say, and then begin to tell the story of their poor, rural upbringing or something. I think this reaction stems from two sources. Firstly, White Liberal Guilt, which I have written about before. Secondly, a misunderstanding of the word ‘Privilege’.

When most people hear Privilege or are referred to as Privileged their mind immediately thinks of economic privilege: people who are rich, or are born rich, who have a leg up in society or get by because their parents have a famous name or something. Paris Hilton is an example of that kind of privileged person. Most white people are not like Paris Hilton, nor would I suggest that they are. That would be cruel.

What they don’t realize is that economic privilege is only one kind of privilege. When I speak of White Privilege, I am not speaking of economics (though they may come into play based on the individual), I am speaking of unearned advantages one has because one is born White. That’s not the only kind of Privilege there is, of course. Another I’m very familiar with is Heterosexual Privilege.”

As I read more about the subject, I began to better understand the academic concept of “white privilege.”  Racism is not overt, as in the past.  But that doesn’t mean that white skin doesn’t give a white person certain freedoms.

Peggy McIntosh, in “White Privilege:  Unpacking the Invisible Knapsack” writes (via Maria Niles at Blogher):

“As a white person, I realized I had been taught about racism as something that puts others at a disadvantage, but had been taught not to see one of its corollary aspects, white privilege, which puts me at an advantage.

I think whites are carefully taught not to recognize white privilege, as males are taught not to recognize male privilege. So I have begun in an untutored way to ask what it is like to have white privilege. I have come to see white privilege as an invisible package of unearned assets that I can count on cashing in each day, but about which I was “meant” to remain oblivious. White privilege is like an invisible weightless knapsack of special provisions, maps, passports, codebooks, visas, clothes, tools , and blank checks.”

Besides White Privilege and Heterosexual Privilege, there is also Male Privilege.  Clearly, as a straight, white, male, I am at the top of the leaderboard.

I may be sabotaging my liberal status in this post, but I find most of this race/feminist/gender academic theory as dull as a butter knife. 

OK, so I am a straight, white, male.  Despite living at my mother’s house, I am privileged.  What the f**k do you want me to do about it?  I try my best to respect others and to support policies that will create a more level playing field.  My entire blogging career has been about making a more level playing field.  I am for affirmative action and insuring that women get paid the same as men.  I also want popular mommybloggers to share some of their free goodies with some of the less popular mommybloggers.

I do my little part to make society better.  But why should whites, men and heterosexuals be burdened with all the responsibilities?  Can’t we just focus on the “less privileged” — in general — rather than dividing society solely by race or gender, which is as simplistic as a children’s book. 

I spent the last half hour developing a “privilege chart,” with the first group listed being the most privileged group and the last being the least.  I think we should all acknowledge that we have some privileges and do our best to try to move those below us a notch or two up the list.  You will notice that on my “privilege chart,” — race, gender, and sexual orientation are not the sole identifiers of privilege.  A black woman born to a wealthy family and blessed with good looks and a slender body has many privileged elements in her life.  Whites need to fight for the rights of blacks, men need to care about women’s issues, straights should promote gay rights, skinny women should not buy from designers who don’t produce clothes for large sizes, pretty girls in high school should invite not-so-pretty girls to be their friends.  That would make this entire “privilege” issue humanistic, rather than academic bullshit.  

The “Privilege” Chart

Good-Looking, Thin, White Heterosexual Male Born to Wealthy, Well-Connected Parents

Good-Looking, Fat, White Heterosexual Male Born to Wealthy, Well-Connected Parents

Good-Looking, Thin, White Heterosexual Female Born to Wealthy, Well-Connected Parents

Good-Looking, Thin, White Homosexual Male Born to Wealthy, Well-Connected Parents

Good-Looking, Thin, White Homosexual Female Born to Wealthy, Well-Connected Parents

Good-Looking, Fat, White Homosexual Male Born to Wealthy, Well-Connected Parents

Good-Looking, Thin, Black Heterosexual Male Born to Wealthy, Well-Connected Parents

Good-Looking, Thin, Black Heterosexual Female Born to Wealthy, Well-Connected Parents

Good-Looking, Thin, Black Homosexual Female Born to Wealthy, Well-Connected Parents

Good-Looking, Thin, Black Homosexual Male Born to Wealthy, Well-Connected Parents

Good-Looking, Thin, White Heterosexual Female NOT Born to Wealthy, Well-Connected Parents

Good-Looking, Fat, White Heterosexual Female Born to Wealthy, Well-Connected Parents

Good-Looking, Fat, White Homosexual Female Born to Wealthy, Well-Connected Parents

Ugly, Thin, White Heterosexual Male Born to Wealthy, Well-Connected Parents

Ugly, Fat, White Heterosexual Male Born to Wealthy, Well-Connected Parents

Good-Looking, Fat, Black Heterosexual Male Born to Wealthy, Well-Connected Parents

Ugly, Thin, White Homosexual Female Born to Wealthy, Well-Connected Parents

Good-Looking, Fat, Black Heterosexual Female Born to Wealthy, Well-Connected Parents

Ugly, Fat, White Homosexual Female Born to Wealthy, Well-Connected Parents

Good-Looking, Thin, White Heterosexual Male NOT Born to Wealthy, Well-Connected Parents

Good-Looking, Thin, White Homosexual Male NOT Born to Wealthy, Well-Connected Parents

Ugly, Thin, White Heterosexual Female Born to Wealthy, Well-Connected Parents

Ugly, Fat, White Heterosexual Female Born to Wealthy, Well-Connected Parents

Good-Looking, Thin, Black Heterosexual Female NOT Born to Wealthy, Well-Connected Parents

Good-Looking, Fat, White Heterosexual Male NOT Born to Wealthy, Well-Connected Parents

Good-Looking, Thin, White Homosexual Female NOT Born to Wealthy, Well-Connected Parents

Ugly, Fat, Black Heterosexual Male Born to Wealthy, Well-Connected Parents

Ugly, Thin, White Homosexual Male Born to Wealthy, Well-Connected Parents

Ugly, Fat, White Homosexual Male Born to Wealthy, Well-Connected Parents

Ugly, Thin, Black Heterosexual Male Born to Wealthy, Well-Connected Parents

Good-Looking, Thin, Black Homosexual Female NOT Born to Wealthy, Well-Connected Parents

Good-Looking, Fat, White Homosexual Female NOT Born to Wealthy, Well-Connected Parents

Good-Looking, Fat, White Homosexual Male NOT Born to Wealthy, Well-Connected Parents

Good-Looking, Fat, White Heterosexual Female NOT Born to Wealthy, Well-Connected Parents

Good-Looking, Thin, Black Heterosexual Male NOT Born to Wealthy, Well-Connected Parents

Good-Looking, Thin, Black Homosexual Male NOT Born to Wealthy, Well-Connected Parents

Ugly, Thin, Black Homosexual Male Born to Wealthy, Well-Connected Parents

Ugly, Thin, Black Homosexual Female Born to Wealthy, Well-Connected Parents

Ugly, Fat, Black Homosexual Female Born to Wealthy, Well-Connected Parents

Ugly, Thin, Black Heterosexual Female Born to Wealthy, Well-Connected Parents

Ugly, Fat, Black Heterosexual Female Born to Wealthy, Well-Connected Parents

Ugly, Fat, Black Homosexual Male Born to Wealthy, Well-Connected Parents

Ugly, Thin, White Homosexual Female NOT Born to Wealthy, Well-Connected Parents

Ugly, Fat, White Homosexual Female NOT Born to Wealthy, Well-Connected Parents

Ugly, Thin, White Heterosexual Male NOT Born to Wealthy, Well-Connected Parents

Ugly, Fat, White Heterosexual Male NOT Born to Wealthy, Well-Connected Parents

Ugly, Thin, White Heterosexual Female NOT Born to Wealthy, Well-Connected Parents

Ugly, Fat, White Heterosexual Female NOT Born to Wealthy, Well-Connected Parents

Ugly, Thin, White Homosexual Male NOT Born to Wealthy, Well-Connected Parents

Ugly, Fat, White Homosexual Male NOT Born to Wealthy, Well-Connected Parents

Good-Looking, Fat, Black Heterosexual Female NOT Born to Wealthy, Well-Connected Parents

Good-Looking, Fat, Black Heterosexual Male NOT Born to Wealthy, Well-Connected Parents

Ugly, Thin, Black Heterosexual Male NOT Born to Wealthy, Well-Connected Parents

Ugly, Fat, Black Heterosexual Male NOT Born to Wealthy, Well-Connected Parents

Ugly, Thin, Black Heterosexual Female NOT Born to Wealthy, Well-Connected Parents

Ugly, Fat, Black Heterosexual Female NOT Born to Wealthy, Well-Connected Parents

Ugly, Thin, Black Homosexual Female NOT Born to Wealthy, Well-Connected Parents

Ugly, Fat, Black Homosexual Female NOT Born to Wealthy, Well-Connected Parents

Ugly, Thin, Black Homosexual Male NOT Born to Wealthy, Well-Connected Parents

Ugly, Fat, Black Homosexual Male NOT Born to Wealthy, Well-Connected Parents

Going Green

During my senior year at Columbia, I decided to become a Reform rabbi.  Why?  Well, I had taken a seminar on Jewish Thought and there was this cute brunette in the class.   She was somewhat religious, but more importantly, she had these very long legs… sigh.  Does it really matter what the motivation is when there is a calling to God? 

I went on an interview with a rabbi from the Reform seminary. 

“Why do you want to become a reform rabbi?” he asked.

“Uh…”

It was probably an answer that I should have rehearsed earlier. 

Later on, when I had some time to myself, I finally came up with an honest answer. 

“I am interested in Judaism.  I like the traditions, moral outlook, and the rituals.  But I have a lot of doubts and I probably won’t remain religious for very long.  It’s a big commitment to go to temple on Saturday, stay kosher, and not to look down my Aunt Birdie’s blouse when I get drunk on the Manischewitz during Passover.  So, I figure it would be good to become a rabbi because then I would be GETTING PAID to be a super Jew, and it would be a lot easier to do.”

I tell this bizarre story because I just started writing for a group blog, The Brita FilterforGood’s “green” blog.  For the next several months, I will slowly be “going green,” telling you about my experiences on a weekly basis on the FilterforGood blog.

But I’m not going to pontificate.   Take note of this:  I am getting paid to do this. 

Yes, I am writing for a corporate blog, even if it is a socially-minded one.  I will be taking green steps in my life, but I cannot honestly say that I would be taking these steps on my own.  I will be like the rabbi who became a rabbi to get paid to be kosher.  That does not mean that I won’t become a dedicated “green” person or that I wouldn’t have become a wonderful rabbi after college.  It just means that, as of now, I have no right to lecture to you on this subject.  I know it is a pain in the ass to carry your own recyclable bag when you go shopping, especially if it is decorated with daisies, like my mother’s bag.   So feel free to question anything I say about the environment.  I want you to be as skeptical about anything I say, just like I am when I read your “do good” blogs sponsored by General Motors.  Think of me as your paid guinea pig.

Even if you don’t want to read my posts, you should read the other five contributors.  The are extremely caring and knowledgeable about green issues, and can actually explain global warming to you — Blake Makes, Melting Mama, teensygreen, green LA girl and long-time blogging friend and nemesis, Whoorl

All I ask from you is to comment every once in a while, so I don’t get fired.   My posts will go up on Monday.

And please — recycle.

Mom Dearest

Have you noticed that I have gone from writing about Sophia every day on my blog to writing my mother? Does this mean that my existence completely revolves around the woman I happen to be sharing my space with at the time?

Don’t answer.

In a week from today, my mother is going to retire from her job at Farrar, Straus, and Giroux Publishers.  She has worked with the company since before she was married, and has seen drastic changes in the publishing industry over the decades.  What does this mean to you, my dear blogger friends?  This means you have one more week to suck up to me, thinking that somehow I can help you get your sleep-inducing “memoir” read by the company’s editor-in-chief.  After that, you can stop reading this blog because I will be useless to you.

My mother does not like the Florida senior early-bird dinner lifestyle, but her friends have pressured her to sublet an apartment in “Century Village” in Boca Raton for three months this winter so she can try it out.  Yes, she has officially become like Seinfeld’s mother.

This creates a dilemma. Do I stay here during the winter while she is in Florida?

Am I ever going back to Los Angeles?

Is there a direct connection between me returning to New York and the immediate collapse of Wall Street?

Imaginary Phone Conversation Between Sophia and My Mother
a one act play by Neilochka

Mom:  How DID you live with him for so long?

Sophia:  Now do you see what I was talking about?

Mom:  And every night it is the same thing!  He watches All My Children, yelling at the TV, saying “Don’t do it, Erica!” and then he locks himself in his room for an hour, making all these weird grunting sounds, like a caveman.  What does he do in there?”

Sophia:  You don’t want to know.  If I were you, I’d get away from him this winter before he makes you crazy.  Go anywhere.  Go to Florida.

Mom:  I hate Florida.

Sophia:  Well, it’s your choice.  Florida in the sun or three long months with…

Mom:  Hola, Boca!  Will you come visit?

Sophia:  Sure.  And I won’t tell him!

The two women laugh.

THE END

Yeah, I know I am funny.   But, the only reason I have a sense of humor is because my mother is funnier.

After reading my last post, she bought me this as a gift:

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