Saw ‘my’ doctor a few days ago, for the annual required-by-law kickback so he’d re-authorize my prescriptions for gout and blood pressure and old age.
The doc’s a decent guy, and every year he nudges me toward health insurance I don’t have. Sign up for Medicaid, he said, and I said again I’d look into it, so I’ve looked into it, again, and again I don’t qualify for Medicaid. I’m too rich.
Funny, I don’t feel rich. I’ll ask my chauffeur.
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There’s a mini-billboard on Metro buses for something called Relata. Sounds like a pill, right?
No, the ad says vaguely that Relata is about meeting people, finding “authentic, honest, open” community here in Seattle, and it shows a beer commercial’s worth of happy 30-something people of all colors, only without the beer.
The smiling people turned me off for a month, but eventually the ad cut through my crustiness. I would like to find community with a few other humans here in the city, so one afternoon alone on the bus, I jotted their URL in my notebook.
A week later I got around to keying Relata’s web address, https://epiphanyseattle.org/relata/, into my laptop. It’s some damned church group.
The ad on the bus promised “authentic, honest, open” conversations, but said nothing about religion. The webpage has a prominent Christian cross, a top-of-the-page link titled “Parish Life,” and talks about the “spiritual quest,” etc.
I don’t begrudge Christians their faith. What I begrudge is Christians who can’t even be “authentic, honest, open” about being Christians.
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I am not particularly good at chess, but I know how all the pieces move, and even understand fancy stuff like castling and capturing en passant. Whether you understand such stuff or don’t, you are invited to play a game of chess against me, by clicking this link.
I’ve posted these invitations now and again for years, and nobody’s ever taken the challenge. What, are you chicken?
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First came Black Friday, when Christmas traditionally begins its annual rescue of capitalism.
Then came Small Business Saturday, when we’re supposed to shop at local businesses.
After Sunday off, next came Cyber Monday, when we’re supposed to tell local businesses to fuck off, and send all our cash to Amazon.
Then comes Giving Tuesday, when every charity you’ve ever donated to sends an email pleading for another donation.
I’m a grinch, sure, but having every non-profit bang on my door on the same day does not loosen my wallet. None of those 16 begging emails got a donation from me on Giving Tuesday, four got unsubscribed instead, and about half will never see a donation again.
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Check your porno shelves, please — does anyone have a copy of a movie called The Last Bath (1975)?
When Deep Throat was a huge moneymaker in the ’70s, Seattle porn theater impresario Roger Forbes thought he could cash in, and made his first and only feature film. IMDB’s synopsis says, “A photographer accepts a ride from two girls on the way to a country weekend; together they do some explorations of both an emotional and sexual nature.” The few reviews online unanimously agree that it’s awful, even for porn, but the movie was filmed here in Seattle, my home town, and I’d love to see people fucking at Green Lake or in Pioneer Square!
There’s also a personal, pervy connection. About a year after this movie was made, I was hired in an office at a medical clinic, and one of my co-workers was a very pretty young woman a few years older than me … who was dating Roger Forbes. She didn’t mention him often, but mentioning him even once boggled my brain.
Until this afternoon, I hadn’t known Forbes made a movie, but the years and ages are aligned, and it’s possible that the woman I worked with was in this movie.
So, uh, check your porno shelves, please — does anyone have a copy of The Last Bath (1975)?
12/5/2024
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