Years ago, I was in Durham and on the phone with my dad. I let him know I landed and was at my hotel. Even at my age, I have to let my parents know where I am. Sadly, my dad’s been gone for over a decade. Maybe he knows.
Anyway, I said, “You know I used to sound like John Lennon. Now I sound like Paul McCartney.” He retorted, “You make all the young girls cry.” He didn’t mean I sing like Barry Manilow. He meant my voice would make anyone cry. He’s right.
Sure, I wish I had the voice of Bono, Ian Curtis, David Gahan, Peter Murphy, Robert Smith, or the Moz. Oh, and the two Beatles I mentioned. They were gifted. There are many others in my boat. Far too many. But sadly, some of them think they can sing. I attend many events where we sing by the campfire or as part of our religious services. There was a guy there who used to like to sing and dance. He often said he was shocked that people didn’t recruit him from Lincoln Center to sing at the opera house or in the other theaters.
What do I do? I sing along or use their time up there as the time for a bathroom break. Some of them sing fast. Some drag it out. What should take 3-5 minutes turns into 45 minutes. That’s a lot of time in the bathroom. But it also gives you time to run over to the kitchen and get tea.
But then there are the personalities. The opera star had none. Some of the others are wonderful people. Some retired. Some working. They mean well. They want to sing. I still want to pitch for the Yankees. I blame my mother for never signing with the Bronx Bombers. That’s really a joke. Steinbrenner would have never signed me. Rightfully so. But these days, I might play and be better than whom Hal and Cash have signed.
How do I pick which “concert” I attend? There are places I go where those leading can carry a tune. But they are not friendly. In some cases, they are downright nasty and mean. I used to alternate. I recently decided I’d rather let my ears suffer with poor singing, as opposed to suffering unfriendliness.
Anat invited Marc and Alana over for Sunday brunch. All of the kids were playing nicely in Alana’s home office. There was lots of great food – shawarma, salmon, eggplant and wine and beer.
Dan was there, too. They decided they needed to end, once and for all, the craziness involving Jay and Christy A. Marc was still pleased with her actions at Lincoln Center. But knew that was a solo homer, and she needed to be stopped.
They were tired of their days being ruined every time they went somewhere. Their kids, although powerful, didn’t need to learn to fight at such a young age. They were just happy they were playing together and getting along. Everyone knew Sarah and David Benjamin would likely be the most powerful. Both of their parents had superpowers. Their blood was loaded with strength. They could be as strong as Anakin. Maybe stronger.
Dan had no powers. But he had his law enforcement training and had the tactical skills. That’s why he was there. He added a lot to their discussion. They decided to split up and stake out two enemies. They know that, despite their distant relations, they hated each other. They knew that from their recent battle.
The heroes hoped they would fight each other to determine who would rule. They wanted to lure them into a fight. They figured the two of them would go on and on. Alana, Anat and Marc hoped that while the two were weakening each other, the three of them would attack with all of their forces. They didn’t think they’d be able to handle that. The three of them plotted how to get them to fight.
Who are Better Theater Goers – Seniors or Young Adults?
By Mitchell Slepian
A week ago on a Wednesday, I saw the Don Quixote ballet as part of the American Ballet, performed at the Metropolitan Opera House. Mom and I had orchestra seats. I have seen many operas and love this theater. This was the first time I had orchestra seats.
Metropolitan Opera House
The theater was loaded with senior citizens. Some came with their respective senior and religious organizations. Wednesdays are typical days for both seniors and young adults to attend matinees or visit museums. Countless times, I have walked through the Guggenheim, the Whitney, and other venues and noticed this occurrence.
Who acts more mature? Who is more respectful? Well, when the kids walk in, their eyes often light up. For many, it might be the first time they’ve been to the theater or the Guggenheim. Yes, they are on their phones taking tons of pictures of each other. Some get a little more dressed up than today’s teen apparel. Some don’t.
As for the seniors, they are on their phones, too. They snap a few shots. They complain about the security and how this theater does it differently from the other one. I am a regular at all of Lincoln Center’s theaters. The complaints I heard while waiting to go through security were off base. Although each of the Center’s theaters is independent of the others, the security is pretty much the same. The kids just dealt with it and took more images.
Eventually, everyone got to their seats. Everyone sat and waited for the curtain to rise. It did. Who was quieter and stuffed their phones into their pockets? The kids. Who didn’t stop talking? The seniors. Why? Who knows?
During the performance, many of us had to get up to use the restrooms, and the line was long. Who was more respectful while walking down the aisles? Guess. At the end of the show, I noticed empty candy wrappers and water bottles on the theater floor. Several rows looked like a garbage dump. The kids were not seated in those. Their rows were clean.
I read on a social media platform to do a deep AI search of yourself. You should see what people find about you when they search for you. It’s a good idea.
These days, organizations do that as a pre-employment check, potential dating partners check you out and organizations do it to see if you’re okay to volunteer with them. This is only the top of the list.
Maybe you read my May 15 post, “Is AI Really That Smart?” I discuss its accuracy and your need to verify. AI is a great tool, and it is forging ahead. We are in the midst of a revolution. We are also at a learning stage.
The other day, I took the advice from my reading and did an AI search on myself. I used Google. I have found that it and X’s Grok offer the easiest and quickest searches. Was what I found about me accurate? Yes and no. Was it concerning? Not really. Was it funny? A little. Was it slightly misleading? Yes.
Let’s jump into it. It quickly found my employment records. All it did was search LinkedIn. It was fairly accurate. It didn’t pull up the timing I had for certain roles. But it was not terribly off. My LinkedIn profile is accurate as the platform allows. That’s the simple stuff.
I asked it about my interests. It quickly pulled up my loves: the Yankees, summer camp, and theater, particularly at Lincoln Center. I am in love with the fountain. I’d love to jump into it. That’d be way cooler than jumping into the one at Washington Square Park. I have been in that one when there was no water in it. I’d have no problem jumping it when the water was in it. People do it every day. Lincoln Center’s fountain is too classy. Maybe they can do a fundraiser and let people pay to jump in. I’d donate and jump.
Fountain at Lincoln Center
I asked it some questions. It said I was an avid Knicks fan, and I do not follow the NFL. I only follow MLB. I am not a Knicks fan. Sure, I am rooting for them in the championship. I have never watched a basketball game in my life. I was once offered tickets in the area Spike Lee sits. I turned them down because I was attending a more exciting (at least in my mind) event at the Plaza Hotel. Google told me to I check the scores of their games. During the final game of the playoff round, I checked once while I was watching the Bronx Bombers. As a New Yorker, I felt the need to know. I was glad they won. Does this constitute me being a hardcore fan? No way.
Yankee Stadium
I asked it about my family. It noted that my father passed away. It mentioned my mom was an RN. It said, “I am very close to my sister, and we travel regularly to Long Island for photo shoots.” I do a lot of photo shoots. My photography is mostly shot at Coney Island, Scout camps, my European vacations, and the East and Hudson Rivers. My first one on Long Island will be next week at Baiting Hollow Scout Camp. My sister will not be there. She has never been to any of my photo shoots. Oh, the ones I allegedly do on the Island are shots of the stars. I tried that once in Forest Hills. One day, I will try again. It also said someone who is not my sister is.
Coney Island
I asked it what music I like. It said the top of my lists are Sir Elton, Billy Joel, and it claimed I don’t like the Beatles. I love the Fab Four. It expanded to list my new-wave and punk loves – The Clash, The Cure, Depeche Mode, Echo and the Bunnymen, and others. It left out my favorite band, U2. Was it right or wrong about music? I am not sure. Google pulled stuff from my blogs. In some of them, I mentioned what I listen to while I am writing or editing photography. All of these bands are in there. For the record, I am listening to goth right now. So, I guess AI was making educated guesses.
Rock Lake in Kunatah, Ten Mile River Scout Camps
It noted “Rent” is my favorite show. Hands down, it is. It pulled up my volunteer work and my role as chairman of the Ten Mile River Scout Museum. It mentioned my other volunteer work and attendance at religious services. It might have made me too religious. It is what it is.
It chronicled my Scouting America history. It noted that I was the chief of the former Aquehongian Lodge #112 and that I am an Eagle Scout. It got a few other things right and some things wrong. Funny thing is, I searched on the same terms two days in a row. One day it said this. The next day, it said that. It also pulled my fiction blogs and looped what my characters are doing as me. Most of the characters are based on me. That has never been mentioned. So maybe AI figured that out.
Brooklyn Bridge
Bottom line, AI is getting there. Is it 100 percent accurate? Will it ever be? Probably not. But will it be really close? No doubt about it. Should you use it as your final check to judge a future hire or date? No. Should you still verify and check other sources? Absolutely.
Marc and Alana loved “La bohème.” They knew they would. This was their thirteenth time seeing it. They knew the fourteenth and fifteenth viewings were on the way. The two turned their iPhones on as they exited the opera house.
Opera House, Lincoln Center
Marc had his usual sports and market notifications from Apple News. But what caught his eye was that the woman who was attacked near Lincoln Center passed. Marc flashed his phone in front of Alana’s eyes. The two of them looked at each other and slowly cracked smiles. They would never want to hurt anyone. They only use their powers for good. Before Anat turned to their side, they never sought to kill her. All they did was slow her down. But this woman was so evil and did vile things that they always believed the world would be better off without her. They decided they would toast Christy when they got their beers.
The two got into the restaurant and ordered PJ Clarke’s proper fish chips with mugs of Stella Artois. They raised their glasses and saluted Christy. But they also knew they needed to keep close watch on her. She was deadly. She could go after decent people. They texted Anat to check in on their kids and inform her of what happened.
Anat knew of the not-so-dearly departed beast. She knew she’d raise a glass as soon as her babysitting duties ended. She would never drink while minding the children.
When Anat fought, she would never have killed anyone. This holds even when she was evil. She just wanted control and to put her enemies in their place. She and Jen even made up for what happened in camp when they were kids. Christy is a different character.
But they were pleased that the woman she took out is dead. They would have never killed that slob. Odds are, they would have never even attacked her. That is, unless she did something to them. The beast hated Marc the most. But she had issues with the others. She had issues with everyone. The world was now a better place. But they would have to stop Christy.
Christy was near Lincoln Center. She was not on the campus, certainly, nowhere near the fountain that Marc loves so much. The usual crowd heading to the theaters was round and about. She was watching them.
Lincoln Center
She noticed a disgusting woman, who was about 5’2 and slightly overweight, and was wearing glasses. The woman was texting on her phone using Siri. The sound of her voice nauseated Christy. She made herself sound important. At least she tried to. Christy heard such arrogance in this heinous specimen’s voice. She stood there waiting and listening. She knew she had to attack. It was a matter of timing.
The woman put her phone into her purse. As she was zipping it, stale, moldy bread landed between the zipper’s threads. All of a sudden, pieces were flying all over. They were smacking her in the head. They got caught in her eyes. One piece belted in the back. Christy just wouldn’t let up.
Turns out Marc and Alana were on their way to the opera. They were only a few blocks away and in their own world. Their twins were at Anat’s, smiling as they were eating baby food. Anat has turned into quite the mommy.
Marc and Alana were excited to see “La Boheme” for the 12th time. They couldn’t get enough of it. They knew they’d keep seeing it every opera season. Sometimes they’d see it more than once. They were heading to the brunch at the Smith before the matinee. Once it concluded, they’d wind up at PJ Clarke’s.
Christy was still attacking this woman, who was now wheezing around on the concrete and barely able to breathe. People were gathering around her. Christy was now perched atop the roof of David Geffen Hall. She was no longer slinging bread.
Sirens were blaring as Marc and Alan approached Lincoln Center. They saw pieces of bread all over. They knew what happened. They sensed Christy was nearby. They saw the EMTs pull up and lift the woman onto a gurney. Marc froze.
He knew the woman Christy attacked. He did not like her at all. The two used to fight at an old job like cats and dogs. Marc never wanted to see people get hurt. But in his mind, he was not upset that this woman was being rushed to the hospital. He overheard the EMTs say she was not breathing and had a lot of blood loss. They weren’t sure if she was going to make it. Tough as it was for him, he cracked a smile. This woman was the beast from hell.
I regularly attend concerts, movies, the theater and Yankee Games. Venues include Madison Square Garden (MSG), City Winery, the Beacon and the Stadium. In most cases, the seats are assigned because the other audience members and I purchased specific seats.
Sure, there are occasions where the shows are general admission seating or standing room only. I am not a fan of this, but I have learned to live with it. There are some venues where I can stand it. Those include the Brooklyn Paramount (maybe because it is across the street from the original Junior’s) and Pier 17 at the South Street Seaport. Irving Plaza is ok. Terminal 5 and Webster Hall suck.
About two weeks ago, I saw Florence and the Machine at MSG. I’ve seen Florence many times. She rocks. I had a decent seat. The two seats in front of me were empty for the opener. I was happy. I always want those seats empty. It makes it easier for me to see the stage. Two women sat in those seats. Were these their seats? No.
Florence and the Machine
They looked and said, “Oh, open seats.” Yeah, it’s like a movie theater. The people who had the seats arrived just as Florence took the stage. The people left. They did say, “oh we are down this aisle. But we saw open seats and thought we’d take them.”
They got up, and the rightful occupants sat down, and Florence and the Machine were amazing. This is far from the first time this has happened.
Last week, I was at the Stadium. We beat the Orioles 11-3. I was in my usual spot (Section 232A). For several innings, the seats next to me were empty. Eventually, a friendly family sat next to me. They were up and down a lot. People were seated in front of me. They, too, were up and down a lot. I do not understand how you cannot be there for the first pitch and can miss an inning. During the sixth inning, when I get online for ice cream, I watch the game on the TVs by the concession stand. So, the seats ahead of me were empty. People came over and asked the folks next to me if anyone was seated there. They said yes. But they have not been there for an inning or two. The people who asked for those seats planted themselves in them.
Yankee Stadium
The Stadium has the handicapped seating area near my section. People plant themselves there. Thankfully, the ushers do make them leave. But not right away. They used to have ushers in all sections and kept out those who were not supposed to be seated in a particular section. The Garden and Radio City try. But they don’t always succeed. Broadway and Lincoln Center generally get it right. It’s time to bring the ushers back to the other venues. It is time for people to understand it’s not a free-for-all.
Until you glanced at the subheader, I bet you thought I was writing about that rascally rabbit, Bugs Bunny. Well, finding a doctor could be like walking into the world of Looney Tunes. It can be a trick or treat.
When Doctors are Picked for You
Sometimes, doctors are picked for us. Sometimes not. Sometimes, we pick the right physician and get well. Sometimes, we get sicker than before we went for our examination. When doctors are picked for us, I mean when you’re a kid, and mom brings you to the doctor. My mom (full disclosure: she’s a retired RN) always scheduled appointments for me. Nothing was wrong. She was known as a holiday or weekend ruiner. If we had a holiday weekend, I wound up at the pediatrician, the dentist, or the ophthalmologist.
Doctors are picked for you when you walk into or are flown to the ER. You don’t have a choice. You are stuck with the ER docs. I have done it a few times. My first kidney stone (I’ve had four) was in May 2013. I went to the ER. The doctor was fine. My mom liked her. That was a plus. I remember her calling her friend, another retired RN and saying this doctor and treatment seems fine.
Picking a Doctor Recommend on the Hospital’s Discharge Sheet
After kidney stone number one, I walked out of the hospital feeling somewhat better from the morphine and Toradol. I thought they said tortellini not Toradol. I guess I wanted good food. In hand was a list of urologists. The next day, I called the first one on the list. At the time, he was about a ten-minute walk from my residence. He was very nice and knew what he was doing. A few weeks later, he performed the procedure to remove the stone. My mom liked him.
When a Doctor Picked for You Might Be Clueless
About a decade later, I got stone number two. It was over Rosh Hashanah. I walked home from a nice lunch and felt sick. My mind flashed back to my first stone. I called Mom. She knew something was wrong since I was calling on a holy day. I told her what was happening and said I would shower and try to sleep. If I am still feeling sick after an hour, I will head off to the ER. It lasted about 30 minutes until I headed to the hospital. I noticed an orthodox woman being triaged a few stations next to mine. It’s a great way to start the head of the year. The doctor prescribed a painkiller for me to pick up at CVS, not Tamsulosin (Flomax), the drug used to treat kidney stones. Of course, I did a CT scan. I have had many. The radiologist reported two nodes in my lungs. The ER doctor told me about this and said it was a sign I probably had lung cancer, and I needed to get it checked.
When Mom Picks the Doctor
I freaked out about the possibility I had lung cancer. I called Mom. She said I did not and to call the urologist. I called his office, they were shocked the doctor didn’t prescribe Tamsulosin. I went to see him and got the prescription. Sadly, he is now two subway trains or an Uber away from me.
My mom said she knew a pulmonologist and had no worries that I had lung cancer. I went to see him. I was decked out in my Yankee apparel. He’s a fan of the Bronx Bombers. He looked at the hospital CT scan. He said, here’s your kidney stone. That’s for your urologist. Here’s part of your lungs. Here are the nodes. He noted since it was an abdominal scan, it didn’t show my full lungs, and the ER doctor should have never said anything about cancer, particularly because only a portion of my lungs were on the scan. He prescribed another CT scan. It showed nothing. We briefly chatted about Mickey Mantle and that was it.
Doctor My Eyes
Maybe Jackson Browne is singing about me? I hope the doctors who are doctoring my eyes aren’t running on empty. I have been wearing glasses since I was about five. So, my eyes needed to be doctored. My first ophthalmologist was the one my dad went to. He was fine. I had a few different eye doctors over the years. Most were fine. Eventually, I found one my mom knew; he was the best. I went to him for many years until he was forced to retire early due to a medical condition. Years ago, I had a vision issue, and he spent quite a bit of time on the phone with my mom, walking her through what needed to be done. I wouldn’t have understood a word they said. All worked out well.
After his retirement, the doctor who took over his practice was a colorful and fun character. No problems. I liked him. The only problem was I moved, and heading to his office from my new location took too long. I found someone near my former midtown office. He was decent. I needed an eye drop prescription filled. He said he’d do it right away. Over a month later, I was still waiting. I called his office regularly and was told they were working on it. Eventually, I was able to stroll into Walgreens and get the eye drops.
A former friend of my mom’s, a general practitioner, suggested I write a review on Zocdoc. I did. Nearly two years later, I walked into his office for an exam. His assistant dilated my eyes. Then he came and complained to me about the review and said he could do this exam if I wanted. But he would never see me again. I told him, you already dilated my eyes it would have made more sense to call me before the appointment and cancel. He just looked at me. I did the exam. All was well.
A few years later, I went to another ophthalmologist. He did a visual field and said my pressure was very high. He wanted to do surgery. I checked with other eye physicians. They said it was not high. The number was about two points below what’s considered high. I now go to one of my friends for eye exams. We do the exam and talk about a special swimming hole that no longer exists in our beloved summer camp. If you want to see it in your eyes, you need to look carefully. That may not be what Peter Gabriel meant in his tune. But be careful.
A Doctor Who Bilks the Elderly and Others
I had back pain. It has happened. Thankfully, not in many years. I hope I am not jinxing myself. I went to a general practitioner that I knew. She did a physical and decided I had high blood pressure. I didn’t. Like the visual field, the numbers were a few points below high BP and could have gone either way. She wanted me on all sorts of meds and sent me for tests. I didn’t take the meds. I did one of the tests. It showed nothing. I went from my office to Cornell Medical Center on a very wet day. I was so drenched I had to go to the Gap and buy a new outfit to return to work.
Here’s another one of her foul ups. She was supposed to send my records to the hospital before my kidney stone procedure. The hospital and urologist requested them. She never did. She said she forgot. I once told this story to another doctor. She said, I shouldn’t ask this, but it is…? I said yes. She said the doctor is known for these problems and for messing around with overbilling the elderly. Her Zocdoc reviews were loaded with stories. I didn’t write one. After my experience with the eye doctor, I decided I would never write a review again. I could write many great reviews and a few bad ones. BTW, Zocdoc has been very helpful when picking a physician and making an appointment. Some of the docs have been awful. A few have been fine.
Getting Your Diet Right
Last August, kidney stone number four made me cancel my vacation to Milan. I got my money back and plan to go. But I have been freaking out since August 2024. I have been reading nonstop the flyers from the urologist on proper dieting to prevent stones. I visit legit sites like the American Urological Association, Mayo Clinic, and the Johns Hopkins Bloomberg School of Health. I do not trust Dr. Google or social media for medical advice. I decided to see a dietician. I did it years ago and did OK. I found one on Zocdoc, and the hell started. I misread her profile and mistook MS for MD. I guess I need to doctor my eyes a little more.
I did three sessions and ran. The first session was basic. She told me to download an app to take images of what I was eating. One night before attending the NY Philharmonic, I went to PJ Clarke’s and had their burger and fries with a Stella. She’s the best woman out there. One day I need to go to Belgium to see her birthplace. I told her about other things I eat. Mind you, I am controlled and eat a very low sugar diet and stay away from salt as much as possible. All the good things are all the bad things. She flipped out that I went to Clarke’s. The next session she was still attacking the place. She said her parents live near Lincoln Center, and she is very familiar with the restaurant. She must have had bad service, didn’t like her meal, or had a bad date at this venue. She wanted me to buy vitamins from some vitamin sales company she gets a commission from. I did not.
She said I should do blood work to help her figure out my diet. I said OK. She got the results, which were fine. Some items were borderline. But not high. Basically, from what the RNs and MDs I know that I sent it to say, you have nothing to worry about. The dietician also said she forgot to ask them to test for a few things. But the labs just do that anyway. So, it doesn’t matter that I forgot. Those items were not included from the lab. The medical professionals I spoke to say the lab will only test what’s on the prescription. She told me I was diabetic. She also said I had nonalcoholic liver disease and needed a liver test. Then she said she is an elite runner and a trainer and tried to sell me her services. This nut thought I was going to have lung failure. That’s when I said goodbye.
The scary thing is she billed my health care provider $2600 per session. They paid her $520. Therefore, she made about $1600 for around two hours’ worth of work. Is she stupid? As a dietician, she is the dumbest of the dumb. Her eating recommendations conflicted with what the urologist said. Her scamming was off the charts. Thankfully I did not fall for it. She said, I needed to see her for at least a year to correct my lung, liver and other issues.
The bottom line is to stay healthy. Jumping back to Peter Gabriel, picking a doctor can be like playing games without frontiers.
Mitchell's thoughts, photos, etc. 