When BARBIE© hit the market in 1959, she cost $3. But don’t be fooled by the low sticker price. Adjusted for inflation, that’s $29 in 2020.

Which reminds me.

The SDNY has been making some threatening noises about a certain other Barbie’s inflated invoices to her Daddy’s GREAT AMERICA SUPER-PAC for so-called ‘consulting fees.’ Mister Cyrus Vance seems to think that’s improper. Actually, it’s worse than improper. It’s a felony, although given the insane fuckery of the Trump years, I’m not so sure it’s even a misdemeanor anymore, or anything more serious than a parking ticket.

Now your conventional Barbie©…

I’ll admit to creep-stalking my Ex on Facebook.

When she came back into my head, I decided to use the memories as model for the protagonist in one of my novels-in-progress and, as characters often do, she literally wrote herself into the story. I always Google the names of potential characters beforehand, kind of like a title search before buying a home. You want to know who might hold a lien on the property before committing to the purchase, though it’s not like Natasha herself ever belonged to me, or to anyone.

The most worrisome thing is that there are…

Not satire

Warning: This essay isn’t for children. It’s for parents. It contains some hard advice about screwing up our kids and explains why your side hustle may constitute a second-degree felony. If you find this idea offensive, or just don’t care, then please move on. If you leave a comment, then please be respectful.

Chief misogynist here, boys and girls. …

A previous essay of mine described how police are illegally eavesdropping on our cellular telephone conversations while thumbing their noses at the law.

The article describes the legal contracts that police departments sign with companies that produce the spying equipment. These contracts impose civil penalties on purchasers should they disclose their purchase and use of the equipment. Police departments are therefore placing themselves outside the law and getting away with it.

Readers can access that article by clicking on the hyperlink at the close of this essay.

The only evasive action that conscientious judges can take is to throw out…

I’m a survivor. I survived 40 brutal years under a corporate dictatorship by sucking up to one workplace commissar after another. I also used a fair amount of subterfuge and pulled dozens of rabbits out of my crumpled felt hat.

I understand that Millennials and Gens X-Y-Z don’t want unsolicited advice on how to get rich from Boomers like me. Still, I need to stick my oar in. That’s because there are so many articles on this platform celebrating Millennials’ righting of their parent generation’s wrongs that I’m ready to vomit.

Since you’re all making it big online and living…

Satire (barely)

William Hawes and Francesco Rizzuto (that’s me) have a lot in common. We’re both shit disturbers and kickers of sacred cows although I’m still fond of milk.

I follow William Hawes, not as a loyal, fawning disciple but rather like a curious child mesmerized by the sheer elegance of a scorpion captured under a bell jar. He’s a great writer, better than I, ahead by miles. Nonetheless, our trajectories sometimes intersect.

The point is that both parties are two sides of the same coin in support of capitalism and empire, and that Democrats harbor many of the same fascist ideas…

The purchasing power of a nation is measured by its foreign trade credits as well as securities, foreign currency, and physical gold and silver held in its vaults.

I recently spent a pleasant day on the beach at Rota, a lovely summer retreat on Spain’s Costa de la Luz. As well as sand and sea and sun, Rota is known for its U.S. military base where America keeps some of its nuclear-tipped missiles aimed to Vladimir Putin’s Russia. Nobody at Rota mentions that.

Like everywhere one finds Americans, they are brash, impolite, and act as if they owned the place…

Twart is a cautionary tale about bullying but with a happy ending.

Twart has everything: an abused child, a mathematical genius, an ill-fated love affair, a series of unsolved murders, a war memoir, a dwarf gypsy fortune teller, and, of course, lots of SEX. That’s what you were really looking for, isn’t it?

Well, it doesn’t have that much sex but Esmeralda wants something and Twart is determined to give it to her. And what’s his reward (besides her personal services) gonna be? 100 tonnes of gold!

And, of course, they live happily ever after.

Sign on as a beta-reader…