When the stock market first dropped a couple of weeks back I thought about an old buddy who used to manage money at a Wall Street firm.  He’d say after a down day, his company “made millionaires….out of billionaires.”  Ya might have to read that twice to get the joke.

Anyway, speaking of billionaires, I‘ve met two: Michael Bloomberg and Stephen Spielberg.  As far as I could tell, they had nothing in common other than having more money than they could ever spend.  Oh, apologies to my friends and acquaintances at the Belle Harbor Yacht Club if I didn’t realize your net worth starts with a “B.”  So please, no letter to the editor telling me you’re like, really rich. 

Anyway, a billion is a lot.  A measly two percent interest on a billion is

I flew to Austin, Texas and then drove down to San Antonio last weekend for a midwinter break. People watching is a favorite sport of mine — except when I’m on a plane.  Then I just hate people. This trip was no different.

I was so annoyed, I knew I’d need some emotional support for the trip home, so I went to some ranch and bought a 2000-pound longhorn. I was immediately pleased with the thought of my new pet making its way down the aisle. I’ve been hit with enough luggage and sizeable rear

I don’t think I know any longshoremen. So, I’ve never heard a longshoreman curse. You still hear the expression that somebody curses like a longshoreman. Others curse like sailors or truck drivers. 

Occasionally I slip some salty language into this column. I think my girlfriends in the Golden Age Club kinda like my swearing. They still like bad boys and they get to curse vicariously.

But hard as it might friggin’ be, I’m gonna try to go this whole column about cursing without cursing.

Ok, if there are dog days of summer, what the hell was last week?  Don’t tell me, “it’s only January” — just agree that it sucks, we don’t deserve this, and you’ll never complain about summer heat ever again. If you’re reading this in Florida, don’t complain that it was in the thirties.

If you’re not about to die outside, you’re inside watching the TV, reading and rereading newspapers or living on Facebook. 

You read things you might not normally come across. I was dismayed to find out our

A friend has insisted I write about the pansification of society. We’re all a bunch of sissies, weenies, crybabies and yes, pansies. Pansies equals pansification, I guess.

It’s been a weekly thing for a while. He storms into the RT office and barks:  When are you gonna write about pansification?!  What, you don’t have the nerve?

Maybe barks is the wrong word. I mean, these demands come from a man with not one, but two, poodles. Nothing against poodles, but if you’re gonna get all Clint

With shithole so much in the news and this week’s Ask The Doc column about diarrhea, I figured this would be a good week to discuss Europe. Specifically, that thing you find in many European bathrooms, the bidet. It stands alone and looks like a cousin or stepchild of the toilet.

They stand two or three feet next to the customary toilet and there are no instructions nearby. If you’ve found yourself alone in the loo with one, there’s a good chance you’ve asked yourself what is that, or how do

Glad that’s over. The whole holiday gift-giving and what you’re supposed to tip so-and-so are traditions I can do without.

Let’s start with tipping. The mailman, or letter carrier (which used to be the mailman), is easy. If they’re reliable and take care of your mail (and they don’t leave somebody else’s mail in your box on a regular basis), you’d be doing the right thing by giving them a card with a few bucks. That might be the easiest tip all year. You don’t have to tip the mailman who comes

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