Thursday, December 01, 2016


So I went to the Apple store after being up most of the night to correct my e-mail.  But the Apple store is canceling one-to-one (the sessions where you can actually be helped) because they were not making enough money.  I guess it's good Steve Jobs died.
     There has been little in my life I was unable to solve other than mathematics and George Segal being a shit at Haverford with me at Bryn Mawr until this computer thing.  It is my hope that I still have creativity and its spawn inside me, but when I get frustrated I get mad and when you get mad you get stupid.  Non-functioning, that is.  So I have lost several days of my life recently as companies acquire each other and cancel services, all the while they tell you on TV that they are expanding, but it comes up on your screen that it's not going to come up on your screen. So I have been raging into the night which at my age you shouldn't dare do-- we just lost Florence Henderson, and look how pleasant she always was--and so in the late morning, when Elzie Fedora couldn't get together-- she wasn't so well either-- I went to the Apple store.  There they told me the reason I had been on hold for several hours was that I was dialing one of those bogus companies.  But then I checked it out and the company isn't bogus at all-- they're actually listed, they just don't answer for several hours and then when/if they do, they don't know what's going on.  I mean with anything.  I would say they were fucked but maybe children can read this, and it's bad enough you hear them saying that word on the street when there's not really reason enough to get that angry.
     So the Apple store rescheduled my appointment for tomorrow and I better go, in case Trump actually becomes president and we all get killed and nothing is left but his properties. (Does he really have any, or is it all just bluff?)  
    I am so scared and sad for the United States of America, a mouthful that never actually offended me, because I believed in it.  This is all about the power of money, which he really doesn't have but knows how to sham about.  My apartment in New York-- a maid's room it probably was when the very rich lived there,-- it's just a little one-stop now, but on a great street, or at least it was till the Donald lived up the block.  It upsets me to refer to him as that, since my very late husband was also named Donald, but there was the offhand about him, so he was much more 'Don.'  
     Oh, what a world what a world, as the wizard said when Oz was collapsing.  That a stupid little man as that, with his tiny hands that he insists do not portend a little member, could have any effect on a bright old little girl like me.  I really do hope someone kills him.  And Me, a Jewish Quaker, except I was so depressed I couldn't get up to go to Meeting.