"Oh Brave New World that has such people in it!" (The Tempest)

.....This post might evolve into a discussion of a pot pourri of events in the last couple of days.  For instance, I tried to access my email yesterday and today in my usual way when I suddenly get an error message "Invalid URL".  I went to the Comcast "Chat" program and chatted with some i...ot who sent me all over my computer until I lost him and found myself back on my desktop with nowhere to go.  So, this morning I called Comcast and spoke to an i...becil who told me to go to "Internet Options" and delete my temp. internet and cookie files which I had already done a couple of times and which did not aid me in reaching my email.  I changed browsers from Chrome to Explorer and got the same error message.  So, I've given up.  I was able to get my email from Rho's laptop, and I imagine I may have to do that for awhile unless I get a techie here or switch to gmail or yahoo or hotmail.  What a pain!  I'm getting older by the minute, and I can't handle these d..mn glitches anymore!  I think it may be political and I'm being somehow punished for being a Democrat.  If there is a promise to me that there will be no more of these mysterious problems popping up out of nowhere for the rest of my life, I may give serious thought to switching allegiances.

.....Next: Yesterday, was the first "Showcase" of the new "season" here.  It's a show put on by the Theatre Arts class each month in the clubhouse ballroom.  The show consists of short skits, improvs, and monologues--dramatic and humorous--by class participants who have been studying their roles for a month.  My role in the class was as the "crtiquer" (sp?); a role I did not ask for, but to which I was appointed.  I also was asked to perform in the Showcase, and I recited the Seven Ages of Man monologue spoken by Jacques in Shakespeare's "As You Like It."  More people attended this Showcase than I expected--at least 100.  But after the beverages and cake and cookies during the intermission, about half the audience disappeared.  I imagine they all went to the restrooms and couldn't find their way back.   During intermission some lady I had never seen here before came up to me and asked if I were Norman Ross to which question I had no choice but to answer that I was indeed, he.  She said her name was Harriet Spiritous which rang a bell--she was my daughter Robin's baby sitter when we lived in the Bronx.  Harriet was 13 then, so I did not recognize her at age 73.  I thought this indeed was amazing.  She lived in the apartment right across the hall from us and we did socialize with her parents.  I was not about to ask her what happened to them.


.....Last night we had tickets to a show at "The New York Comedy Club."  Our neighbors joined us and I asked Gary, who drove, if he had directions to this place, and he proceeded to drive down 441 to Glades Rd. in Boca Raton and then went west.  He said to look for a Dunkin' Donuts and a Burger King.  Well, we went westeder and westeder until we got to the end...only darkness and residentials.  I told Gary that I was familiar with a place called the Comedy Club on Glades Rd. near the Florida Turnpike which was east of 441, not west.  So, sure enough we got to the right place after a Florida nightly tour.  It was 8:25 and the show was to start at 8:30 which it did not until 9:15 when a series of "comedians" came on stage--each with about a ten minute gig, and each with language more coarse and vulgar than another.  I couldn't understand why there was so much laughter, until I looked at the crowded house and didn't notice anyone else with a cane, besides me.  I couldn't understand a word except if they contained four letters or  referred to reproductive organs, but the members of the audience without bulging midsections appeared enthralled by it all.  And all the performers spoke so fast, I didn't realize that they were speaking English.  The language is really being changed by this young generation.  Speed of expression is the new mode, so that it resembles Chinese, where all our clothing is made; or Spanish which requires the numerals 1 and 2 to appear everywhere.  If this trend continues, the time will eventually arrive when no one will understand me.