By Steve Cash / Detroit I ran into an old girlfriend unexpectedly the other day. It brought back some memories. I've been happily married to a wonderful woman for 40 years, but I must admit I still have some curiosity concerning my old flames, and always wondered what happened to them. I've known people who were married for 30 years, had three kids and after they got divorced, lost almost all contact with their former spouse. I never understood how a person could be such an intricate part of one's life and then quickly be forgotten. I'm not like that. I once had feelings for these ladies and to a small degree some of those feelings are still with me. After bumping into my former flame, I started thinking about these relationships and realized there was one common factor present in all of them. Almost every relationship lasted approximately 10 months. These relationships seemed to follow the same pattern. I started thinking about why these love affairs, which seemed so real and intense, were over just as fast as they started. I decided to document these relationships in order to try and find an explanation for why these once promising romances fizzled so quickly Gale was two years younger than me. I met her In 1971 at Candy Cone, an ice cream parlor in Oak Park, Mich. Her voice was the first thing that caught my attention. A high-pitched squeaky voice that would have been perfect for a cartoon voice over. I said hello to her, and we started talking. To my delight, I found out she lived four doors down from me. Somehow I had never seen this adorable young lady. We talked for an hour. I was able to make her laugh. and we seemed to have a lot in common. She loved the Beatles and was also a big Detroit Tigers fan. We made arrangements to meet again and I went home with the Herman's Hermits lyric "Something tells me I'm into something good" ringing in my ears. The next five or six months were great. Young love was exciting. I was 18 and she was 16 and we were having fun. We would park in my closed garage and share some affection. It was our own secret place where we felt safe. The only problem was her dad would take a walk every night and pass by my house. He had a specific gait and I always knew when it was him. We both held our breath until he was out of range. I always was paranoid about him bursting into the garage and confronting me and defending his beloved daughter’s honor, but thank goodness, he was oblivious to our goings-on. As the weeks and months went by, I started noticing some ominous signs. I would take her to watch my softball games, but she seemed to be talking and flirting with the other players on my team. She wasn't laughing as much at my jokes and our garage visits were becoming less frequent. Finally, she broke the news to me, with the dreaded cliché, "I just want to be friends.'' Almost 10 months to the day that I had first met her. Kerry was gorgeous. Only 16 but way ahead of herself. Experienced in love and romance and unashamed to proclaim her interest in physical activity at a time when this kind of liberation was not fashionable. I met her at Burger King and I was smitten. She was in your face and aggressive and knew what she wanted. The fact that she was remotely interested in me was shocking. I was short, insecure, and not really ready for a dynamo like her. We clicked somehow and started seeing each other. I was 18 and driving now, and we went to movies and concerts. She introduced me to some romantic activities that were wonderful and new to me. But in the midst of these activities, she would never fail to mention that her old boyfriend was much better at these activities than me, and that I was no match for him anatomically either. (If you get my drift.) After a few months I started noticing some other disturbing facts. She was much smarter than me. Even at her tender age, she was an avid reader. As I was reading Sports Illustrated, she was reading Dickens and Tolstoy. I was at an intellectual disadvantage when she wanted to discuss these things. She would ask me to analyze Dickens' character Miss Havisham; I had to admit I had never read it, but I did know Hank Aaron's lifetime batting average. In the end my inexperience and our many differences doomed the relationship. We parted as friends. Timetable? Approximately 10 months. I met Mary at a train station in Los Angeles. I looked around and there she was. A Mexican beauty. Olive skin, beautiful hair and a gorgeous face. I boarded the train and as fate would have it, she was sitting right behind me. There was an empty seat next to her and I asked if I could sit there. We talked from LA until she got off in St. Louis, and made plans to meet when we got back to LA. When we both returned to LA, I gave her a call. I really impressed her on our first date. On New Years Eve, 1979, my friend Doug Feiger (The Knack, “My Sharona”) was appearing at the Starwood nightclub in Hollywood. I took her there and was invited backstage after the show. We partied with the band and had a blast. The next day we went to another showbiz friend's house, David Was, to watch Michigan play in the Rose Bowl. After some good food and great company, we had a halftime surprise. An earthquake registering 5.3 hit LA. To a Michigan native like me, this was devastating. Scared the heck out of me. My first inclination was to run like hell and get out of that apartment building. I composed myself and forever endeared myself to Mary by gently and kindly leading her outside. Thirty seconds later, it was over and we watched the end of the game. Like my friends, I was also trying to make it in show business, in my case as a stand-up comic. In the daytime, I delivered mail. As the months went by and my friends became famous, it became clear to Mary and me that I would not be as fortunate. I decided to go back to Michigan for three months, make some money in real estate and return to my darling Mary. The night before I left Mary spoke the words that I believe would warm the heart and build the confidence of any man. “Hurry back. Only you know how to make love to me." As Insider readers may remember, two weeks later I found out she was living with the guy who lived in the apartment next to mine in LA. Evidently he was a quick learner. Devastated and shocked, I never returned to LA. Relationship duration: 10 months. Several years went by. I was now established as a successful realtor but lonely and gun shy about dating. I went to a retirement party and met a cute and friendly young lady. Lori was 21 and I was 30. We talked about our favorite old shows. We shared an interest in Andy Griffith and The Rifleman. She had a great sense of humor and was warm and kind. Her friendly manner was soothing and helped minimize my lifelong struggle with insecurity. We were from different religious and social backgrounds but none of that mattered. I met her parents who were equally as engaging. I'm not exaggerating when I say that within two weeks, I knew she was right for me. Still somewhat insecure, I didn't introduce her to any of my playboy friends out of fear of them trying to win her affection. I had come to the conclusion that my 10-month dating history was no coincidence. Determined not to let this pattern continue, I devised a brilliant plan. I married Lori six months into our relationship. Forty years and three wonderful kids later, we are going strong. She is one in a million and I'm truly one of the luckiest guys in the world to have found her. I recently decided to tell her how much these 40 years have meant to me. I was going to send her a nice card thanking her for these four great decades. In an effort to be accurate, I tried to figure out exactly how long we had known each other. Imagine how much anxiety I felt when I realized we had known each other for 40 years and the dreaded 10 months. I decided not to send the card. No need to tempt fate at this late date. Steve Cash is originally from Oak Park, Mich. He is a longtime real estate agent who used to do stand-up comedy in L.A. His claim to fame was winning The Gong Show in 1977, and working at the Comedy Store with such greats as David Letterman, Jay Leno, and Michael Keaton. After watching those brilliant comics perform, Steve realized he’d better make a beeline back to Detroit and get back into real estate. Steve has had articles published in a number of publications and enjoys writing and trying to make people laugh.

Fred Plotkin, a pleasure activist and passionate Italy and culinary expert, speaks each Friday with leading people in the arts FRED PLOTKIN is one of America’s foremost experts on opera and has distinguished himself in many fields as a writer, speaker, consultant and as a compelling teacher. He is an expert on everything Italian, the person other so-called Italy experts turn to for definitive information.  Fred discovered the concept of "The Renaissance Man" as a small child and has devoted himself to pursuing that ideal as the central role of his life. In a “Public Lives” profile in The New York Times on August 30, 2002, Plotkin was described as "one of those New York word-of-mouth legends, known by the cognoscenti for his renaissance mastery of two seemingly separate disciplines: music and the food of Italy." In the same publication, on May 11, 2006, it was written that "Fred is a New Yorker, but has the soul of an Italian."

By Jeffrey Markowitz / Detroit The city of Berkley, Mich. held its first (and probably last) Rib Off Contest on June 27th. It was a Tuesday evening, and the contestants were two Jewish guys (go figure!) who hailed from Oak Park — me and my childhood friend Barry Lefkowitz. The judges were mostly oldies but goodies. It was a gathering of former graduates of Oak Park High School from the late 1960s, with a few young bloods joining in as well. We have all been friends since elementary school and have shared many good times together — especially when eating. We are chazers (Yiddish for pigs, as in pigging out). A few months ago, my friend Harold Oleinick suggested that a rib contest between me and Barry would be a great way for all the friends to get together. Barry was still in Florida at the time, and when he heard about the rib contest, he was all in. We set a date and the anticipation and excitement began — and so did the talk. From that point, until the Rib Off, all conversations with friends were basically about the rules of competition. The first and most important rule was that each contestant would grill his ribs at home, on his own grill. He would then bring his favorite recipe to the Rib Off and be ready for a taste test. The next rule was that the contestants had to provide each judge with three ribs. As it turned out, everyone wanted to be a judge — there were about 20 who voted. The gathering was to be held at Harold and Shirley Oleinick’s house. More than 50 years had gone into training our taste buds. Most of my friends had their first crack of tasting ribs at Checker BBQ in Detroit in 1967. It was located on Livernois, known locally as The Avenue of Fashion. It was well-known for its unique clothing stores, restaurants, and bars. Next door to Checker Barbeque was Baker’s Keyboard Lounge, known as the top jazz nightclub in Detroit. After an evening at the racetrack, my friends and I would head over to Checker for a late-night meal. We were interested in harness racing and went to three different tracks — Hazel Park Raceway, Detroit Race Course,, and Northville Downs. Each track was allotted a certain number of racing dates during the year, and we attended all of them. In the wintertime, my friends and I had ice time reserved at the Oak Park Skating Rink every Saturday at the ungodly hours from 2:00 am to 4:00 am. to play hockey. Checker BBQ was our place for a pre-game meal. Typically, if someone had a good night at the track, they might cover the bill. Imagine paying $25 for four rib dinners, including a tip. Our favorite server was Shirley (not related to Shirley Oleinick) and she always greeted us with a smile and the same question, “Do you want short ends or long ends?” The difference in price was nominal — short ends were fifty cents more than long ends. Short ends were the most popular at $2.75 for a meal. They came with potatoes and coleslaw. But the highlight of the meal was when Shirley brought out hot towels to clean up our messy barbeque sauce fingers — oh man, it was the bomb. My interest in cooking started to develop after I made repeated trips to Checker BBQ. I tried to imitate their dishes and then expanded my horizons. When watching the various cooking programs, my imagination peaked and I developed my own style. I even perfected an original barbeque sauce used on many dishes. My family were Guinea pigs and they enjoyed all of it. After I retired from construction management in 2002, I began a small catering business. At the beginning, most of my dishes were sold to friends and family. The word spread and I soon had people interested in my cooking. The number one requested order was a combo meal of barbecue chicken and ribs. My friend Barry began his barbecue journey when he had a part-time job working at a popular rib and pizza take-out place in Oak Park— Adam’s Rib. In time, Barry became the manager and learned their secret rib recipe. He went on to college and became a C.P.A. To this day he still enjoys cooking for his family and the secrets of Adam’s Rib live on. The championship day arrived, and the two heavyweights were ready to have at it. The buzz could be heard about who would win the Rib Off and get the prize trophy that was handmade by Shirley Oleinick. When the crowd gathered, Harold handed out losing tote tickets from Hazel Park Racetrack that had the numbers one and two written on them. He did not cash these tickets — they were losers. The judges had the option of voting for number one or two, or both. At the end of the evening, the vote was counted. Unbelievably, it turned out to be a dead heat. Since it was a friendly competition, this was the best possible finish to a great evening. Everyone had volunteered to bring side dishes, which were not part of the competition, but added to the meal. There were shrimp cocktails, coleslaw, potato salad, chicken, and for dessert, Shirley made chocolate truffles and brownies. It was an incredible spread, and the group stuffed their faces. The Rib Off was not only about whose bones were the best, it was an opportunity for the oldies from Oak Park High to get together for another round of reliving the past. We talked about the crazy times from our youth that we have told repeatedly. It was a night to laugh, share memories, and to celebrate where we are in the present. We didn’t know how good we had it in our youth —and we’re still trying to grow up. After a 30-year career in construction management, building commercial and residential jobs, Jeffrey has turned to his passion–cooking. He is the master of the grill and has been nicknamed Chef Jeff by his family. Jeffrey also started a small catering business. Nothing makes him happier than satisfying his customers. Jeffrey enjoys sports and has spent 60+ years playing golf. Competing with friends, playing the course and, most of all, keeping his head in the game for all 18 holes has been gratifying — even if he’s far away from par. He is also the husband of Judi Markowitz, who writes the Dateline Detroit column for The Insider. They have four adult children and seven grandchildren who keep them on their toes. Oh yeah, let’s not forget George, their Bernese Mountain granddog. Jeffrey’s life is full, and he is happy.

By Andy Borowitz | The New Yorker July 17, 2023 WASHINGTON (The Borowitz Report)—Samuel Alito and Clarence Thomas have stirred controversy by co-authoring a Supreme Court opinion declaring that yachts are people. The sweeping opinion, which yachts’-rights organizations immediately hailed as “long overdue,” grants the luxury vessels the unlimited ability to entertain government officials on their decks in order to gain political influence. “For decades, yachts have been tireless in their struggle to be treated like human beings,” Harland Dorrinson, the president of the National Council on Equality for Boats, said. “For them, this victory represents the end of a long, hard regatta.” “The public should note that yacht owners have traditionally referred to their boats as ‘she,’ ” he added. “Given that, this is the most pro-female opinion this Court is likely to issue.” But some legal scholars, such as Professor Davis Logsdon, of the University of Minnesota Law School, believe that reclassifying yachts as people could have unintended consequences. “Thanks to the conservative super-majority on the Court, yachts are gaining rights at the same time that actual people are losing theirs,” Logsdon said. “In order to be treated like humans, people may soon have to claim to be yachts.” Andy Borowitz is a Times best-selling author and a comedian who has written for The New Yorker since 1998. He writes The Borowitz Report, a satirical column on the news.

By Lauren Sachs / Toledo, Ohio When I was suddenly widowed at age 46 in the early months of the pandemic, the last thing on my mind was modern dating. Prior to my loss, I had been in a happy and harmonious relationship with my husband Brad. While online dating was around when I met him some 20 years earlier, it was still regarded by some people as a somewhat fringe practice, almost an experiment of sorts for the tech savvy or those who had no luck finding love in the real world. My experience of meeting my husband could not have been more different . Brad and I met the “old-fashioned way”; not only was our first date an analog affair at a coffee shop, we had actually been set up through his mother. Now that’s what I call old school! Given this history, you can imagine my trepidation about using technology to meet a potential partner. Obviously, my first order of business was coping with my grief and finding ways to help my children and I heal; therefore, I did not even consider dating until a whole year had passed. Still, the pandemic and my devastating loss led to intense feelings of loneliness, so the seed was planted in my mind fairly early on. Even with my thoughts turning increasingly toward dating, I was highly resistant to trying online dating. While I knew many happy couples who had met via the Internet, on JDate (a Jewish dating site) in particular, I simply could not warm to the idea. Aside from friends who might approach the global subject of dating in a gentle manner, my therapist had been encouraging me to explore online dating specifically for many months. Still, I held firm. Before exploring the digital dating world, I had a few close friends try and make introductions to other single acquaintances, reached out to some people from my past, and even tried a matchmaking service. None of these experiences led to anything meaningful. After my first real, but very brief, relationship as a widow came to an abrupt end, I finally relented to the idea of going online. Just like the pandemic accelerated the already increasing trend toward working from home, I realized that everyone seemed to be using online dating tools and avoiding this trend only hampered me further. We were all living so much of our lives virtually during the pandemic, it seemed like the only real way to proceed. For me, the choice of which dating site to use was obvious since I was ideally seeking a Jewish partner for a long-term relationship. Once I decided to give JDate a try, I enlisted friends who could help me learn the ropes and get myself ready for my online debut. I had a photographer friend take some suitable, flattering photos and enlisted another close friend (a JDate veteran) to read over my “bio,” help me sign up, and learn about how to navigate the site. Within my first few days on JDate. certain things jumped out at me right away. For example, I realized early on that some of the dating profiles were fake. I tried to figure out a method to differentiate which of my potential suitors were there seeking dates versus something more nefarious. I also learned the dating site lingo fairly quickly. One could send a “flirt” (a little emoji winking face); “like” another profile (by essentially pinning an emoji heart to the other person's profile); or even send a written message (similar to an email but only available to those with paid plans). While I began to understand the rules of how to communicate, I could not help but think the use of the emojis seemed a little silly, particularly since I normally only used a winking emoji to be playful or suggest that something was funny. I also started to realize how much time one needed to devote to the site to keep up communication, since you could be talking and “flirting” with multiple people at the same time. It was like having a part-time job as a serial dater! Aside from learning the basics, I started to notice trends on the site as well. Most activity occurred on Thursdays through Sundays, which makes sense given the average person’s work schedule. Given that it was a Jewish site, I was at first surprised to see that activity picked up around Jewish holidays, too. I wondered if this trend was due to the family-oriented nature of Jewish holiday celebrations, thinking that those festivities could be a reminder of how tough it was to be alone on such occasions. Moreover, I discovered that many men completely disregarded my profile's clearly stipulated preferred age range of 40 to 58 years old. While I certainly received “flirts” and messages from men whom I considered age-appropriate, I received a shocking number of communications from men who were old enough to be my father. One particularly absurd message that arrived after an initial “flirt,” came from an older man with a biblical screen name and stated: “I would love to visit to have us meet in person, what is your closest hotel and airport to fly into?” To add to the absurdity, this man's photo suggested that he had been alive since biblical times as well. Some men were much more direct and open about the obvious age difference between us but still persisted, even after I remained silent and did not respond to their queries, not wanting to mislead anyone about my intentions. In one specific instance, I had an older suitor follow up to my silence a month later. He stated how surprised he was that I was still on JDate considering how “gorgeous” I was and questioning whether my continued presence was because I could not choose amongst my many dating options or whether I was having too much fun dating multiple men. He went on to analogize my choice of men to picking an ice cream flavor and asking if I should be called “The 31 Flavors Woman.” I also noticed that the older the potential suitor, the longer the message they sent. It seemed as though some of these older gentlemen thought that they could convince me to date a person outside my stated age range through a well-formed argument about our potential common interests and their worldliness. One man wrote a sort of mini-dissertation, ending his lengthy, autobiographical history and persuasive thesis with a quote from the Beatles song "In My Life." I believe he thought he could sway me by analogizing the lyrics to our future relationship. While I will admit that some of this attention helped to rebuild my self-confidence after such a long time away from the dating world, I found some of the communication to be completely outlandish and laughable. I started to refer to myself as "catnip for older men" and had my own father in stitches as I related the antics of some of his contemporaries. Another way in which my self-esteem received a boost was that I would occasionally also receive flirts and messages from men who were young enough to be my sons! One younger guy stated that I was "adorable" and suggested that I "skip the geriatrics" and go out with him instead. Another much younger man with whom I seemed to have a great deal in common reached out to me on multiple occasions, insisting that he could care less that I was 18 years older than him and wished I could see past our age difference. Once I did some calculations and realized that he was closer in age to my teenage daughter than to me, I was especially convinced that this was a nonstarter. After chatting online long enough with a guy to determine that we could have some potential chemistry and mutual interests, the next conundrum was how to transition this virtual connection to the real world. Many men offered up their phone numbers while we were still chatting virtually. Still, the only way I felt comfortable arranging an in-person date was to first ask the man to share his last name. That way I was able to do some digging online via other social media sites and also check out professional postings and credentials. I recall trying to make this research process a bit playful with a man who had already shared his phone number, telling him that I hoped he did not intend to continue on as “a man of mystery.” I was direct about my intention to google him, sharing that I was “a safety girl first and foremost” and had to make sure he was “not an axe murderer.” Even after my initial research showed no worrisome signs about a man, I always insisted on meeting in public. Oftentimes that meant a restaurant or coffee shop. No matter how lovely or romantic a walk in the park might ordinarily sound, I was not taking chances with my well-being. In each instance where I agreed to meet for an in-person date, I was quite nervous when the day arrived. While I believe I possess a good degree of confidence, dating was a nerve-wracking proposition in and of itself, not to mention dating after 20 years away from the world of courtship. With online dating, it seemed like the initial virtual chatting helped ease some of the awkwardness one might experience with a blind date; however, some men seemed far more nervous than me. One guy I met for an afternoon cup of coffee fidgeted so vigorously with the coffee cup sleeve that he essentially tore it to shreds during our conversation. Another incredibly accomplished gentleman I met for lunch surprised me with his obvious nerves. As we ate our lunch, I noticed that he had something akin to Invisalign on his upper teeth and he continuously moved it around in his mouth. This same gentleman was one of the few people I met whose online photos seemed to be rather outdated. While he still resembled the older posted photos, it was clear that he had changed quite a bit since they were taken. My dating experiences were all varied but I definitely found some common themes. Fortunately, every man I met was respectful and courteous. I did not encounter anyone who had obviously lied on their profiles and was only met with one great surprise. On one date, a man shared that he had made a real error in judgment professionally which cost him both his job and his career in that profession. I was a bit shocked that he was so forthcoming on a first date about this huge mistake in his life, but I was also grateful for his honesty. I soon learned that I had really solid intuition about the people I was meeting and it seemed obvious to me right away whether I should invest more time in getting to know them further. In one instance, I primarily dated a man through Zoom given the geographical distance between us. Though we got to know one another really well over the many months we were connecting online, I also realized for a variety of reasons that he made a far better friend than partner. In the end, through my experience with JDate, I met a lot of great people and went on my fair share of dates with guys whom I found to be kind, intelligent, attractive, well-educated, and fun. Whenever I talk to other people who find themselves single, I share about my experience because it was really quite positive, and–frankly-–pretty entertaining. The best advice I can give to those who are considering online dating is to trust their intuition and take things slowly. In my case, I eventually met someone on JDate who feels really special. While this man is obviously not like my late husband, the thing that stood out to me on our first date was how much I was reminded of my first date with Brad since they both somehow felt known to me right from the start. Losing my husband so suddenly and at such a relatively young age helped me understand that we get no guarantees in life. Still, I now know that love can be found at any age and in the most surprising places, even when we are highly resistant and even when the relationship starts with a winking emoji. 😉 Lauren Sachs has a BA in English and Psychology and a master’s degree in Social Work from the University of Michigan. After completing advanced clinical training at Yale, Lauren worked as a therapist and mental health consultant in a variety of settings. Once her daughters were born, Lauren’s career took an eclectic turn, including time as a fitness instructor and project manager. Lauren’s active role in the Toledo Jewish community led her to be the recipient of both the Harry Levison Young Leadership Award and the Shining Light Award. Currently, Lauren serves as a board member of the Jewish Federation of Greater Toledo and pens a monthly column about grief and personal growth for the Toledo Jewish News entitled “Happy Tears.” Lauren is also the author of a forthcoming book about Brad Sachs, her late husband, his joyful approach to life and work as an oncologist, and how examining his life helped her better cope with her grief.

By Judi Markowitz There was a time when I thought rabbits were the cutest animals — warm and fuzzy with a beautiful coat. As a kid, I was glued to Looney Tunes and Bugs Bunny was one of my favorite animated characters. I wasn’t the only fan: while chomping on carrots, scampering around, and getting into mischief, Bugs became a cultural icon. In 1985, he was given a star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame. And in 1997, Bugs Bunny was featured on a U.S. 32-cent postage stamp. But the rabbits overtaking my yard in Huntington Woods aren’t of celebrity status and can’t hold a candle to Bugs Bunny—they are a complete and utter nuisance. I can identify with Elmer Fudd, when I’m trying to hunt down those annoying rabbits and any other “vermin” in my yard. I take great pride in my garden and watch over it constantly. Every year, I wait for the temperature to rise above freezing at night and toward the end of May, I begin to plant flowers and herbs. Through the years, I have honed in on the best greenhouses and markets to purchase inpatiens, petunias, calibrachoas, and whatever is best suited for the west and east exposures of my house. I contemplate color combinations and choose the nicest pottery in which to plant these luscious blooms. I have spent over 30 years cultivating the hostas in my front yard. They make a lovely border in front of the evergreens. They are watered and fertilized regularly. I garner a great deal of satisfaction from my efforts. However, three years ago, I noticed that some of the hostas and annuals appeared to be less full than usual and that leaves were missing. Upon closer inspection, it became evident that the plants were being chewed down to the stems. The culprit was a family of rabbits that had taken up residence in my yard. They had a veritable feast— a three-course meal of my hostas and annuals. I was livid. I had no idea what they would be having for dessert, but I knew I had to step into action before another course was served. My next move was to drive to English Gardens, a landscaping store, to speak with their plant pharmacist, who could hopefully remedy the situation. I asked about the various products that would deter my garden intruders and was shown several. I purchased the one that was recommended — Liquid Fence, a repellent for rabbits and deer. Once at home, I sprang into action. Following the directions to spray directly on the plants and around the perimeter, I now felt I had the upper hand with these pesky critters. Of course, repeat applications would have to be made every few weeks and the product claimed it would not damage the flowers or plants. One sniff or taste of this noxious compound would send the rabbits hopping to a new location—or so I thought. The following spring, when perennials begin to emerge from their long winter sleep, I noticed the hostas spreading their leaves and looking sturdy as ever. But when in full bloom, they looked like a punier version or another variety of hosta. All my hard work was down the tubes. I now had mini hostas as a border for the evergreens, and I wasn’t happy. I decided to purchase more annuals to accent the garden and hoped that next year the hostas would return to their former glory. I longed for a respite from the rabbits, but I was finished with the liquid repellent. I wanted to get ahead of the game, so I began to peruse the Internet for an alternative deterrent. Rabbit Scram seemed to be a popular product and was touted for its quick delivery to eliminate ravaging rabbits. Amazon delivered it in a day, and I began to pour granules around the hostas and annuals in all of my flower beds. I was pleased with this product until I walked out on my deck one morning only to find a rabbit, standing on its haunches by a flowerpot, having breakfast on a purple petunia. It was time to go back to the drawing board. Next, I decided to use some of the other ideas I had come across on the Internet. Sprinkling dry sulfur, placing ginger, onions, coffee grounds and mint were a few of the “natural” choices. Alas, after a few years of playing with these remedies, I have concluded that nothing really staves off the rabbits permanently — they keep sniffing and chomping away at the fruits of my labor. But I’m determined and keep a close eye out for the enemy. As Elmer Fudd would declare, “Say your pwayers, wabbit.” Unfortunately, rabbits are just a part of my troubles in the yard. Another Looney Tunes character that comes for an occasional visit is Pepé Le Pew, better known as Pepé the Stink. Skunks made an appearance in my yard last summer for the first time. When my granddog George was over for the day, I let him out in the backyard and didn’t notice anything unusual. It was early morning and George liked to roam through the bushes. George is a 110-lb. Bernese Mountain Dog and can hold his own — or so I thought. Apparently, he was no match for Pepé, who was lurking in the shrubs. That nocturnal pest was staying out later than usual. I didn’t know why George wanted to come back in so soon. But when I opened the screen door, the stench was unmistakable —George had been skunked. I panicked and immediately took him outside once again, not wanting the terrible odor to linger in the house. I stood on the deck, looking for the scoundrel who had polluted our sweet, lovable granddog. Pepé Le Pew was nowhere in sight. He probably went for a snooze since he was out after hours. My husband Jeffrey and I immediately scoured the Internet for remedies to eliminate the odor emanating from George. We soon found out that a popular recipe for a tomato juice bath was simply a myth — it didn’t take away the smell. Then we read about a tried-and-true method that seemed promising: a mixture of hydrogen peroxide, baking soda and liquid dish soap. Well, we tried the combo, and it didn’t work. George’s coat was too thick, and the bath proved to be unsuccessful. He then went to a groomer and $130 later came out smelling sweet. After this debacle we had to protect ourselves from future skunk sprayings. Jeffrey and I were armed with a variety of methods to stop this infestation. Our plan of attack was to first use the flood lights in our yard every night — skunks don’t enjoy the bright lights. Then we placed orange and lemon peels around the yard. Our grand finale was to put shavings of Irish Spring bar soap near the areas where the skunks were seen entering our yard. It rained the day after we scattered the shavings and our driveway looked like a bubble bath. Pepé Le Pew and friends decided to exit our yard after these irritants proved to be successful — good riddance! Unfortunately, the list of marauders who make an occasional appearance in our yard is always being updated. Rats, with their long, thin tails and pointy heads, are a scary sight. One or two have been seen burrowing holes from our yard to the neighbors. These creepy creatures are not exactly like the movie version of Remy the chef, that lovable rodent from the animated film Ratatouille. Remy won over audiences on the big screen but witnessing a rat scurrying across the lawn is truly a frightening proposition. Quick thinking determined that cement should be used to shore up the holes made by the rats. They tunneled under the fence and cement was a swift fix. The rats decided to move to a new location and their carousing days in my neighbor’s garbage receptacles also ended. This maneuver worked well and there were no more visits. Life in the suburbs isn’t as calm and serene as one might imagine. A bald eagle was recently spotted hanging out in a tree across the street from my house. Ducks are constantly on parade as they walk with their families in the middle of the road. Opossums scamper around the city at night looking for a comfortable resting spot. Deer have been seen sneaking around as well. They even took up residence in our local golf course a few years ago. But an honorable mention must be given to the squirrels congregating in the neighborhood. They have enjoyed chewing on garbage can covers in an effort to find a delectable meal underneath. And in the fall, digging up my lawn to store nuts is their favorite pastime as well. It’s all part of the landscape that we call home. As for those irksome rabbits, I’m still on the hunt to track them down. Judi Markowitz is a retired high school English teacher of 34 years. She primarily taught 12th grade and had the pleasure of her three sons gracing her classes. In addition, she taught debate, forensics, and Detroit film. Judi has four adult children and seven wonderful grandchildren. She is married to Jeffrey Markowitz, whom she met in high school. Judi grew up in Oak Park, Mich. which had a stellar school district, with excellent teachers. The city provided activities for all–and there were even sidewalks. Judi moved to Huntington Woods as an adult, which is a half mile from her childhood home. She wanted the same experience for her children as she had growing up, and Huntington Woods provided that. The View from Four Foot Two is Judi’s first book.

Jeffrey D. Sachs | July 8, 2023 | Transcript of speech to SHAPE (Saving Humanity and Planet Earth) View full video of speech at the bottom of the story My country, the U.S., is unrecognizable. I’m not sure who runs the country. I do not believe it is the president.”, says Jeffrey Sachs in a speech at a Saving Humanity and Planet Earth (SHAPE) seminar, Melbourne, Australia. “U.S. actions are putting us on a path to war with China in the same way that U.S. actions did in Ukraine.” Good afternoon to everybody. I want to thank you for inviting me and to thank SHAPE for its leadership. I just had the privilege to listen to Alison Broinowski and Chung-in Moon. We have been treated to brilliant and insightful statements. I absolutely agree with all that has been said. The world has gone mad but especially the Anglo-Saxon world, I’m afraid. I don’t know whether there is any sense in our little English-speaking corner of the world. I’m of course speaking of the United States, UK, Canada, Australia and New Zealand. There’s something profoundly disheartening about the politics of our countries right now. The deep madness, I’m afraid, is British Imperial thinking that has been taken over by the United States. My country, the U.S., is unrecognisable now compared even to 20 or 30 years ago. I’m not sure, to tell you the truth, who runs the country. I do not believe it is the president of the United States right now. We are run by generals, by our security establishment. The public is privy to nothing. The lies that are told about foreign policy are daily and pervasive by a mainstream media that I can barely listen to or read anymore. The New York Times, Washington Post, Wall Street Journal and the main television outlets are 100 per cent repeating government propaganda by the day, and it’s almost impossible to break through. What is this about? Well, as you’ve heard, it’s about a madness of the United States to keep U.S. hegemony, a militarised foreign policy dominated by the thinking of generals who are mediocre intellects, personally greedy, and without any sense because their only modus operandi is to make war. And they are cheer-led by Britain, which is unfortunately, in my adult life, increasingly pathetic in being a cheerleader for the United States for U.S. hegemony and for war. Whatever the U.S. says, Britain will say it ten times more enthusiastically. The U.K. leadership could not love the war in Ukraine more. It is the great Second Crimean War for the British media and for the British political leadership. Now, how Australia and New Zealand fall for this idiocy is really a deep question for me and for you. People should know better. But I’m afraid that it is the Five Eyes and the security establishment that told the politicians, to the extent that the politicians are involved in this, ‘well this is how we have to do it’. This is our Security State and I don’t think our politicians necessarily have much role in this. By the way, the public has no role in U.S. foreign policy at all. We have no debate, no discussion, no deliberation, no debates over voting the hundred, now $113 billion, but in fact much more money spent on the Ukraine War. So far there’s not been an hour of organised debate even in the Congress on this, much less in the public, but my guess is that the your security establishment is really the driver of this in Australia, and they explain to the Prime Minister and others: ‘you know this is the utmost National Security, and this is what America has told us. Let us, your security apparatus, explain what we’re seeing. Of course, you cannot divulge this to the broader public, but this is, at the essence, a struggle for survival in the world’. Everything I see myself, and I’m now 43 years in this activity as an economic advisor all over the world, suggests that this message is nonsense. One thing that would be interesting for people to look at, in order to understand these developments, is a very telling article by a former colleague of mine at Harvard, Ambassador Robert Blackwell and Ashley Tellis, written for the Council on Foreign Relations in March 2015. I want to read a couple excerpts from it because it laid out the plan of what’s happening right now pretty directly. This is how things work in the U.S., in which future plans are laid to out the establishment in such reports. We’re basically told in 2015 what’s going to happen in US-China relations. The deterioration of relations was planned — it’s not ad hoc. So, here’s what Blackwell and Tellis wrote in 2015. First, “Since its founding, the United States has consistently pursued a grand strategy focused on acquiring and maintaining preeminent power over various rivals. First on the North American continent, then in the Western Hemisphere, and finally, globally.” And then argues that “preserving U.S. primacy in the global system ought to remain the central objective of U.S. grand strategy in the 21st century.” So, what’s the U.S. goal? The goal is very straightforward, it is primacy of the United States globally. Blackwell and Tellis lay out the game plan for China. They tell us what to do. Here’s the list, though I’m only excerpting: “Creating new preferential trading arrangements among U.S. friends and allies to increase their mutual gains through instruments that consciously exclude China.” This is the game that Obama already started with TPP, though he couldn’t get it through domestic political opposition. Second, “create, in partnership with U.S. allies, a technology control regime vis-à-vis Beijing,” to block China’s strategic capabilities. Third, build up “power-political capacities of U.S. friends and allies on China’s periphery,” and “improving the capability of U.S. military forces to effectively project power along the Asian rimlands despite any Chinese opposition.” What I find especially remarkable about this list is that it was made in 2015. It’s the step-by-step plan of action actually being carried out. This foreshadowing of US policies by way of the Council on Foreign Relations (CFR) is well-known in recent history. In 1997 in the CFR’s journal Foreign Affairs, Zbigniew Brzezinski laid out with precision the intended timeline for NATO enlargement and specifically the intention to include Ukraine in that NATO enlargement. Of course, that NATO enlargement plan has led us directly to the Ukraine War, which is indeed a proxy Russia-US war over NATO enlargement. Now the friends and geniuses that brought you the Ukraine War are on their way to bringing you a new war in your neighbourhood. As Professor Moon noted, the North Atlantic Treaty Organisation is starting to open its offices in East Asia, which is not exactly the North Atlantic. So, this is where we are. It’s not absolutely simple to see through for one main reason, at least in the U.S. I’m not sure what it’s like in Australia but I expect that it’s the pretty much the same as in the U.S., where we have no honesty or public deliberation about any of this. The policies are owned entirely by the security establishment, the military-industrial complex, the network of “think tanks” which are in fact non-think tanks in Washington, with almost all funded by the military-industrial complex. They military industrial complex and its corporate lobby have taken over the East Coast universities where I teach. I taught at Harvard for more than 20 years, and now I teach at Columbia University. The influence of the intelligence agencies on the campuses is unprecedented, in my experience. All of this has happened without much public notice, almost a silent coup. There is no debate, no public politics, no honesty, no documents revealed. Everything is secret, confidential and a bit mysterious. Since I happen to be an economist who engages with the heads of state and ministers around the world, I hear a lot of things and see and see a lot of things that help me to pierce through the official “narratives” and pervasive lies. You will not find any of this in our public discourse. And just a word, if I may, about the Ukraine War. The war was completely predictable, and resulted from a U.S. plan for hegemony based on NATO enlargement that dates back to the early 1990’s. The U.S. strategy was to bring Ukraine into the U.S. military orbit. Brzezinski, again in 1997 in his book The Global Chess Board, laid out the strategy. Russia without Ukraine is nothing, he argued. Ukraine, he wrote, is the geographical pivot for Eurasia. Interestingly, Brzezinski warned American policy-makers to ensure that they don’t push Russia and China into an alliance. In fact, that would be so antithetical to U.S. interests that Brzezinski clearly believed that it would never happen. But it has, because U.S. foreign policy is incompetent as well as profoundly dangerous and misconceived. During 1990-91, I happen to have been an advisor to Gorbachev, and during 1991-94, to Boris Yeltsin and Leonid Kuchma, spanning the late days of perestroika and the early days of Russian and Ukrainian independence after the dissolution of the Soviet Union. I watched very closely what was happening. I saw that the United States was absolutely uninterested in any way in helping Russia to stabilise. The idea of the U.S. security establishment from the early 1990s was U.S.-led unipolarity, or U.S. hegemony. In the early 1990s, the U.S. rejected measures to help stabilise the Soviet economy and then the Russian economy, while it also began planning NATO enlargement, in direct contradiction to what the U.S. and Germany had promised Gorbachev and Yeltsin. So, the issue of NATO enlargement, including to Ukraine, is part of a U.S. game plan that started in the early 1990s, and eventually led to the Ukraine war. By the way the U.S. was deeply involved in the overthrow of Ukraine’s pro-Russian president in 2014. Yes, this was a coup, and to an important extent, a regime change operation of the United States. I happen to have seen a part of it, and I know that U.S. money poured into supporting the Maidan. Such U.S. meddling was disgusting and destabilising, and all part of the game plan to enlarge NATO to Ukraine and Georgia. When one looks at the map it’s indeed Brzezinski’s 1997 idea: surround Russia in the Black Sea region. Ukraine, Romania, Bulgaria, Turkey and Georgia would all be members of NATO. That would be the end of Russian power projection in the Eastern Mediterranean and the Middle East. So it went for these “security” geniuses. Putin put forward diplomatic responses that were repeatedly rejected by the U.S. and its NATO allies, including the Minsk II Agreement endorsed by the U.N Security Council, but then ignored by Ukraine. On December 17, 2021, Putin put on the table a perfectly reasonable document as the basis for negotiation, A Draft U.S.-Russia Security Agreement. At the core was Russia’s call for an end to NATO expansion. Tragically, the U.S. blew it off. I called the White House at the end of December 2021, spoke with one of our top security officials, and pleaded, “Negotiate. Stop the NATO enlargement. You have a chance to avoid war.” Of course, to no avail. The United States’ formal response to Putin was that NATO enlargement was non-negotiable with Russia, a matter in which Russia has absolutely no say. This is a mind-boggling way to pursue foreign affairs because it is a direct road to war. I hope everybody understands this war in Ukraine was close to ending as early as March 2022 with a negotiated agreement just one month after Russia invaded on February 24th. The negotiated agreement was stopped by the U.S. because it was based on Ukraine’s neutrality. The U.S. told Ukraine to fight on, end negotiations, and reject neutrality. And so we are in a war that continues to escalate towards possible nuclear war, which is what would happen if Russia were to suffer deep defeats on the battlefield. Russia is not losing on the battlefield just now, but if it did, it would likely escalate to nuclear war. Russia is not going to be pushed out of the Donbas and Crimea and go meekly go home with apologies. Russia is going to escalate if it needs to escalate. So, we are right now in a spiral that is extremely dangerous. Japan plays utterly into this spiral. And Australia does as well. It’s so sad to watch Australia accepting to be used in this reckless way. To pay a fortune for new military bases in a reckless, provocative, and costly way, that will feed the U.S. military-industrial complex while weighing heavily on Australia. Such U.S. actions are putting us on a path to war with China in the same way that U.S. actions did in Ukraine. Only an Asia-Pacific war would be even more disastrous. The whole idea of the U.S. and its allies fighting China is mind-boggling in its implications, its stupidity and its recklessness. All of this is utterly divorced from Australia’s real security interests. China is not a threat to Australia. It is not a threat to the world. I don’t know of a single overseas Chinese invasion in its history, by the way, except when the Mongols briefly ruled China and tried to invade Japan. Other than the Mongol invasion, defeated by a typhoon, China has not launched overseas wars. It’s just not part of China’s statecraft, nor would such wars be in China’s national interest. What worries me about the world is a deeply neurotic United States (in)security leadership that aims to be number one, but that can’t be number one in the way that it believes. This is pathetic, yet is applauded each day in London, a place that still dreams of the glory of global empire from a long bygone era. Permit me, in conclusion, to take one minute to say what should be done. First, the war in Ukraine could end the day Biden steps up and says NATO will not enlarge to Ukraine. The basis for a negotiated security arrangement has been there for 30 years, but has been rejected so far by the U.S. Second, the idea of opening NATO offices in Asia is mind-boggling in its foolishness. Please tell the Japanese to stop this reckless action. Third, the U.S. approach to arming Taiwan is profoundly dangerous, provocative and deliberately so. Fourth, what is needed most in the Asia-Pacific is regional dialogue amongst Asia-Pacific nations. Fifth, the Asia-Pacific should build on RCEP [Regional Comprehensive Economic Partnership Agreement]. RCEP is the correct concept for the region to bring together China, Korea, Japan, the ten ASEAN countries, Australia and New Zealand in a coherent framework, especially around the climate challenge, energy policy, trade policy, and infrastructure and investment policy. A well-functioning RCEP would do a world of good, not only for the 15 countries in RCEP but for the entire world. Sorry to have run on so long but it’s so important what SHAPE is doing. You’re completely on the right track and all best wishes to your efforts. Watch the full seminar featuring Professor Jeffrey Sachs, Dr Alison Broinowski, Professor Chung-in Moon, Professor Victor Gao, Professor Richard Falk, Professor Chandra Muzaffar and Professor Joseph Camilleri here: https://johnmenadue.com/an-asia-pacific-nato-fanning-the-flames-of-war/ Jeffrey D. Sachs, Professor of Sustainable Development and Professor of Health Policy and Management at Columbia University, is Director of Columbia’s Center for Sustainable Development and the UN Sustainable Development Solutions Network. He has served as Special Adviser to three UN Secretaries-General. His books include The End of Poverty, Common Wealth, The Age of Sustainable Development, Building the New American Economy, and most recently, A New Foreign Policy: Beyond American Exceptionalism.

By Bonnie Fishman / San Francisco Bay Area I’m in the “love” column on this one. I remember the first moment I tasted cilantro, also called Mexican parsley, or fresh coriander. It was 1978. I was standing in the kitchen of The Buttercup Bakery. The Buttercup was a fixture on College Avenue and Alcatraz in Berkeley, Calif. I rubbed elbows with some of the great minds of the decade. The early bigwigs of Apple such as Steve Jobs and Steve Wozniak hung out there. Suze Orman, the renowned financial advisor and TV personality, was a waitress there when I was the pastry chef. What did I know? I was a naive 25-year-old, thankful I had a great job in the restaurant business. We had a charming young chef from Central America, which country, I can’t remember. But what I DO remember is that taste of his freshly made chicken soup. There were green leaves floating around in there. I was thinking parsley, but no, it was my first time eating cilantro. Where had you been my whole life?! This was such a magical sensory moment for me that I still can recall it vividly 45 years later. I know that I’ve lost some of my readers now. They are in the “leave it” category. “It tastes like soap!” is a common reaction from cilantro-hating folks. Unfortunately, from 4 to 14 percent of the population has a gene that causes the herb to taste like soap. I always thought they were making this up but it is a real fact. Cilantro can be traced back to 6000 B.C. in southern Europe. The Romans spread it to western Asia. Eventually cilantro was brought to the New World by the Spaniards in the 1500s. Today, oddly enough, at the site of the herb’s origin, in and around the Mediterranean, it is not used very often. Cilantro enhances food like few other herbs. It is widely used in Mexican and Latin American cooking. You will also see it in Thai, Vietnamese, and Middle Eastern dishes, often paired with mint and/or basil. The plant is a member of the Apiaceae family, as are parsley, carrots, and celery. Cilantro is added to many dishes at the last minute, as the flavor diminishes quickly when it is heated. Because of its bright citrus taste, it is often found in chutneys, salsas, guacamole, and Asian rice-wrapped spring rolls. There is confusion over the terms “cilantro” and “coriander.” A little-known fact is that coriander is cilantro seeds dried and ground into a powder. They do not taste anything alike. They cannot be used interchangeably either. If a recipe calls for fresh cilantro, please don’t substitute it with dried coriander. Disaster may ensue. Ground coriander is used in Northern African cuisine as well as in Central and South America. My husband, Bob, used to grow cilantro back in Michigan for me. It did pretty well. After it grew flowers and then seeds, Bob would pick the coriander seeds. We would air dry them and finely grind them. Or I would toast them and use them whole in various dishes. Here in California, cilantro sometimes has a hard time with extreme heat. It will “go to seed” quickly. That means the cycle of the plant’s growth is coming to an end. Unfortunately, cilantro is not hardy once you pick it. The leaves are quite soft and wilt easily. They do not freeze well. I have found the best way to store a bunch of cilantro is to put it in a jar of water in the fridge. Cover the top with a plastic bag but don’t tie it down–give it some air. The herb is not expensive, but I hate having to throw it out because it has become slimy. When I buy it, I end up creating a meal around it, usually Tex-Mex or Thai. Today’s recipe is a basic one that uses lots of cilantro, perfect if you happen to be inundated with it, whether you grow it or buy it. Each batch of Cilantro Pesto uses 2 cups of packed leaves. You can change the whole taste of the pesto by replacing cilantro with basil or any other leafy herb. Stored in a clean container in the fridge, it lasts for weeks. Cilantro Pesto has many applications. I’m putting it on a grilled flank steak. It can be used for steaks, chops, chicken breasts or fish. You can mix some into yogurt, sour cream or mayonnaise with a squeeze of lemon juice and a shot of hot sauce, in order to make a dip for raw vegetables or chips. It can be spread on sandwiches, added to salsas or guacamole, or anything else you can think of. Get going! Make Cilantro Pesto and let us know here at The Insider if you’re in the love it or leave it contingent. What interesting uses did you think up for this versatile spread? Grilled Tex-Mex Steak with Cilantro Pesto Yield: 5-6 appetizers 1 1l2 lb. trimmed flank steak Marinade: 1/4 c. olive oil juice of 2 lg. or 3 med. limes 3 garlic cloves, minced 1 jalapeño, seeded and minced 1 tsp. chili powder 1 tsp. ground coriander 1 tsp. cumin 1/4 tsp. crushed red pepper flakes 1/4 tsp. coarse ground black pepper Combine the marinade ingredients in a shallow non-corrosive casserole. Add the flank steak. Coat on one side; turn over. Cover and refrigerate for 4-6 hours, turning once halfway between start and finish. Heat the grill to moderately high. Remove meat from the marinade and allow excess to drip back into the casserole. Place the steak crosswise on the grill (horizontally). Season with coarse salt. Grill for about 7-8 minutes. Turn over. Sprinkle with salt. Continue to cook until desired doneness, 130° internal temperature for medium-rare, about 5-6 minutes. Remove from grill and allow to rest, tented with foil on a cutting board for 10 minutes. Using a sharp knife, cut across the grain at a 30-45° angle. Arrange on a platter. Top with some Cilantro Pesto or pass the pesto separately. Cilantro Pesto Yield: 1 cup 2 garlic cloves 3 Tbsp. slivered almonds, toasted 2 c. fresh cilantro leaves, packed 1/2 c. grated Parmesan cheese 1 tsp. salt 1/2 tsp. coarse black pepper 1/2 c. olive oil Put the garlic and almonds into the bowl of a food processor fitted with the steel blade. You can also use a blender. Grind up the ingredients until fine. Add the cilantro leaves. Continue running the motor until the leaves are chopped fine. Add the Parmesan cheese, salt, and pepper. Puree. With the motor running, pour the oil slowly through the feed tube. Store in a clean jar. Bonnie Fishman attended the Cordon Bleu Cookery School in London. Later, she owned and operated Bonnie’s Patisserie in Southfield, Mich. and Bonnie’s Kitchen and Catering in Bloomfield Hills, Mich. She has taught cooking for over 35 years and created hundreds of recipes. She is now living in Northern California.

By Laurence Lerman / New York City The zombie comedy Final Cut, French filmmaker Michel Hazanavicius’s latest film, opens in limited theatrical release around the country on Friday (Jun 14), with a streaming platform premiere slated for September 23. A zom-com? From the guy who made 2011’s The Artist, the wonderful romantic comedy-drama that was nominated for five Academy Awards and brought home the statuettes for Best Picture and Best Director for Hazanavicius? He made a zombie comedy? Yes, he did! The veteran director applied his talents to a genre that’s usually associated with younger, more indie-spirited filmmakers early on in their careers, and cranked out a zombie flick. I’m psyched to report that it’s good! And as Hazanavicius is indeed a tasteful French writer/director of a certain reputation, you can be assured that his effort comes from a solid pedigree. Described by Variety in May 2022 as “arguably the goriest film to ever open the Cannes Film Festival,” Hazanavicius’s Final Cut is a French language remake of Japanese filmmaker Shinichiro Ueda’s 2017 cult smash One Cut to the Dead (which is itself based on Ryoichi Wada’s 2011 play Ghost in the Box!). The Ueda film pulled in a staggering $60 million worldwide on a $25,000 budget and while the Oscar-winning Hazanavicius’ fresh take on the tale probably won’t come even close to that haul, it’s sure to make some ripples on the specialty circuit and streaming platforms. In a story that’s virtually identical to its predecessor’s—save for its language and cast being French and not Japanese (even the wardrobes are the same!)—Final Cut begins with a 30-minute, one-shot sequence wherein a zombie B-movie production shoot turns ferociously real, with cast and crew members transforming into the cannibalistic undead. After that opening 30-minute movie-within-a-movie ends and its credits roll, Final Cut jumps back to a month earlier to reveal just exactly how the deal to make the zombie film came to be. We see how so-so French filmmaker Rémi Bouillon (Romain Duris) is approached by a Japanese producer (Yoshiko Takehara) to helm a one-take horror flick that is scheduled to be broadcast live on the launch day of a new all-zombie streaming platform (which doesn’t really seem that unrealistic these days). Hungry for work, Rémi accepts the gig. A slew of pre-production accidents (led by a car accident that incapacitates the film’s two stars) leave Remi and his actress wife (Bérénice Bejo, Hazanavicius’s real-life wife) playing the leading roles in Remi’s movie, and their aspiring filmmaker daughter (Simone Hazanavicius, the filmmaker’s real-life teenage daughter) taking over the increasingly guerilla production. The final third of Final Cut then shows us how the film we saw in the first act was actually shot, revealing to us how the zombie sausage was made, as it were, and explaining some of the bizarre behavior and schlockiness we witnessed earlier on in the 30-minute film. So Final Cut is essentially a meta-zombie movie, where the gruesome effects and blood-splattering action aren’t as important or rewarding as the movie’s examination of the filmmaking that went on behind them. It also cleverly divulges how and why the effects that we watched came to be included in the frequently off-the-cuff film we saw at the outset. Over the years, Hazanavicius has crafted a number of movies on moviemaking, beginning with a pair of James Bond-ish undercover agent spoofs, OSS 117: Cairo, Nest of Spies (2006) and OSS 117: Lost in Rio (2009), through The Artist and, most recently, his affectionate French New Wave homage Godard Mon Amour (2017). He’s clearly back for more fun with this bloody-enough and very capable zombie comedy that lances the contemporary film and TV industry nearly as much as it does the seemingly unending horde of zombie projects invading our theaters and homes (as AMC’s half-dozen Walking Dead spin-offs and accompanying universe of webisodes and videogames can attest to). In a 2022 interview with UK film site The Upcoming (https://www.theupcoming.co.uk/), Hazanavicius admitted that he is not really a fan of the zombie genre, though he did check out a few at one stage because he thought they were “funny.” “Aside from that, I did watch quite a lot of zombie films and series for Final Cut and rewatched all of [Night of the Living Dead director] George Romero’s movies,” said Hazanavicius. “Perhaps Final Cut’s main set recalls the shopping mall in [Romero’s] Dawn of the Dead (1978). My film isn’t really a zombie movie at all—it’s no Train to Busan.” Hazanavicius is also quick to declare that that, splatter quotient notwithstanding, his movie is out to garner laughs. “Final Cut, first and foremost, is a comedy. Perhaps of a special sort, but it really is a big, fat comedy,” he said. “My aim is that the film is smart enough on one hand to allow itself to be totally idiotic on the other.” So, the first 30 minutes are purely a zombie movie and the remaining hour is a deconstruction of the creation of said low-budget movie by a team of frantic and creative filmmakers. If nothing else, Final Cut, like One Cut to the Dead before it, succeeds as a tribute to the idea of DIY films, those no-budget movies that are made with more energy than money and are fueled by a filmmaker’s depth of feeling for what he or she has crafted. The results often make more of an impression on an audience than budget or box-office numbers. Still, with its cast of well-known French actors, a reported $4.4 million budget and a respected director/director at its helm, Final Cut is far from a DIY film itself, unlike its micro-budgeted predecessor. It is indeed a moneyed remake, something that the film industry has done well by when it comes to taking lower-budget horror cult films from an earlier era and injecting them with some cash and prestige for a remake. That’s been the case with such classics as Night of the Living Dead, Dawn of the Dead and The Evil Dead and it’s a strategy that, like the zombies at their center, doesn’t die all that easily. Laurence Lerman is a film journalist, former editor of Video Business--Variety's DVD trade publication--and husband to The Insider's own Gwen Cooper. Over the course of his career he has conducted one-on-one interviews with just about every major director working today, including Martin Scorsese, Quentin Tarantino, Clint Eastwood, Kathryn Bigelow, Ridley Scott, Walter Hill, Spike Lee, and Werner Herzog, among numerous others. Once James Cameron specifically requested an interview with Laurence by name, which his wife still likes to brag about. Most recently, he is the co-founder and editor-in-chief of the online review site DiscDish.com.

By Dr. Nancy Fishman / Morgan Hill, Calif. Even astute therapists can get bamboozled! One morning over breakfast, a couple of years after finishing my doctorate, my friend and colleague Jeffrey invited me to join him in purchasing an out-patient psychiatric clinic and its satellite office. With little hesitation, and the guidance of an attorney, we bought two-thirds of the business from a psychologist, Dr. X. He continued to operate the main office while Jeffrey and I took over the satellite. The insurance reimbursements for services rendered in the satellite were routed to the main office, and then were to be channeled to us. Immediately, there was a snag in cash flow. Dr. X explained apologetically that his office manager was in cancer treatment, hence the lag time in payments. We waited and waited. Many weeks elapsed. Finally, Jeffrey jumped in his car and drove to the main office where he found the office manager sitting behind her desk. Upon offering his empathy for her illness, she quite emphatically denied having had cancer at all. That began the unraveling of a nest of lies. Ultimately, we discovered Dr. X had sold us something that did not exist! We had drunk the Kool-Aid and been royally duped. Probably all of us have stories of being deceived in the business world. Perhaps you bought a used car with a low-mileage odometer reading, only to discover the previous owner had turned it backwards to get a better price for the car. A restaurant claims to be serving Dover sole until it is discovered that it has been duping its diners by substituting a less-expensive fish. A merchant claims to be selling an item as a one-of-a-kind treasure, which you subsequently find everywhere. These kind of occurrences are infuriating, but don’t usually cause long-term psychological damage. But what happens to us when we are duped by people we have trusted with our hearts and guts? Kathleen could hardly stop crying when she came for her first appointment with me. Between sobs, I learned she had been happily married to her best friend for six years. They had two young children and lived in a stable middle-class neighborhood. He had a good job that enabled her to be a stay-at-home mom, as they had planned before the marriage. “We’re getting a divorce!” she announced. The ensuing conversation revealed that her husband had announced he was in love with another man. Kathleen was quick to tell me the divorce was not the reason for her uncontrollable crying; she knew she could get over that. She very specifically described how duped she felt because her husband had known he was gay before the marriage and, by hiding that fact, took away her choice to decide whether to marry him under these circumstances. She felt hurt beyond belief and wondered if she would ever trust anyone again. The betrayal Kathleen suffered can cause the sort of psychological damage that takes years to repair. In fact, because we are the sum of all our experiences, Kathleen could never be the same, innocent person again. There was no turning back the hands of time. She could only go forward as a more sensitive, more skeptical, gun-shy individual, hoping to protect herself better in the future. The most common way in these contemporary times to be hoodwinked is in Internet dating. How does anyone really know if the photo submitted is the real person, or if any of the information listed on an application is true? Stuart enjoyed a successful professional career with well-known associations. Anyone could look him up and see pictures of him in local newspapers attending events. His online dating profile clearly matched the public information about him. In contrast, some women, who sought to date him, were much more obscure. One in particular was rather intriguing. She was beautiful, bright, and had an exciting job. He dated her for several months until he discovered inadvertently that the name she had given for herself was not her real name, she didn’t work at the company she professed to, and she was actually a professional golddigger on the hunt for her next conquest. Duped, but not destroyed, Stuart, from then on, employed the services of a background check expert. Though Stuart did not suffer a trauma after being taken in by a golddigger, he lost a lot of confidence in his ability to read people. The incident put him on guard and disrupted his natural way of relating. In short, he was not himself with prospective dating partners any longer. He was skeptical and unable to trust his instincts. My dear friend, Henrietta, was married to a man for 17 years. One day, he announced he was leaving her. Immediately, she discovered that he had taken all their savings out of the country, where there was no chance for her to retrieve them. Over the next few weeks, she discovered he had been in the federal penitentiary, and had lied about a previous marriage that had not ended in a legal divorce. Nothing she thought was true turned out to be the case. She was shaken to the core. This kind of betrayal, perpetrated by a narcissist only interested in covering the tracks of his sordid life, always leaves a wake of destruction. The woman he conned sustained PTSD that followed her for decades. If you have been duped and retell the story for years on end, consider you may have been traumatized and would benefit from professional help to mitigate the damage levied on your psyche. Harm caused to you by others is not a burden that you should carry. Though you cannot erase the event, or events that created the pain, you can learn to go on with your life in new ways. This column is devoted to psychological topics that speak to the human condition, such as relationships, family, love, loss, and happiness. The ideas, thoughts, philosophies, and observations expressed here are personal and not meant as professional advice. Names and identifying information in anecdotes have been changed to protect the privacy of real people. Please contact me at editor@theinsider1.com if you have a particular issue you would like addressed. Let’s talk! Nancy Fishman, Ph.D. is a licensed psychologist, consultant, and author. Visit her website for an extended biography and more information: www.NancyFishmanPhD.com

Fred Plotkin, a pleasure activist and passionate Italy and culinary expert, speaks each Friday with leading people in the arts FRED PLOTKIN is one of America’s foremost experts on opera and has distinguished himself in many fields as a writer, speaker, consultant and as a compelling teacher. He is an expert on everything Italian, the person other so-called Italy experts turn to for definitive information.  Fred discovered the concept of "The Renaissance Man" as a small child and has devoted himself to pursuing that ideal as the central role of his life. In a “Public Lives” profile in The New York Times on August 30, 2002, Plotkin was described as "one of those New York word-of-mouth legends, known by the cognoscenti for his renaissance mastery of two seemingly separate disciplines: music and the food of Italy." In the same publication, on May 11, 2006, it was written that "Fred is a New Yorker, but has the soul of an Italian."

By John Woodford / Ann Arbor, Mich. “When I use a word,” Humpty Dumpty said in rather a scornful tone “it means just what I choose it to mean–neither more nor less.” –Lewis Carroll, Through the Looking Glass I was tuned in to the recent NBA championship and heard a commentator say that a pro player had “played collegiately at the University of Michigan.” As usual, I seethed and bellowed in outrage: “Did he play university-ly? Why not school-ly? An adverb is supposed to tell us how an action is done, not where. Why not just say he played ‘in college’? That takes only three syllables versus four for the announcer-speak bastardization collegiately.” My wife, as usual, expressed her irritation at my failure to keep such umbrage to myself. We all have pet peeves. I just hope mine aren’t petty peeves. So here goes, you be the judge: Speaking of college, at a recent reunion, my classmate Barbara Whitehead pleaded with those of us contributing to our reunion book, which she’d generously consented to edit, that if they planned to mention anything they’d published, “Please don’t use the verb authored.” The word had the power to make her sick, she said. She had my full sympathy. It’s a form of preening to feel that you’ve done something better for a book by “authoring” it rather than just plain writing it. To endure a cacophony of “I authored’s” could make you feel as if you were being pecked to death by ducks. And that’s a feeling also induced by the proliferation of impact and impactful by people who can’t figure out the difference between effect and affect, or how use words like “affective” (when describing an emotional state) and “effective” (when describing a desired result). So, we encounter sentences like, “He was unsure of how the judge’s ruling would impact him,” rather than affect him. Or, “the President gave a really impactful speech,” when a “stirring” speech or “far-ranging” speech, would do, depending upon the specific character and thrust of the speech. Impact, impact, impact — the monotony of it has deprived the word of all force. So much for poor uses of language, but what about misuses? Especially those that become so entrenched in speech or writing that they’re like antimicrobial-resistant germs. Just as some of our nasty internal bugs defy doses of our most ingeniously produced antibiotics, some of our linguistic habits elude extermination by our greatest language mavens, ranging from H.W. Fowler, who published his exhaustive Dictionary of Modern English Usage in 1926, to the late, great William Safire, who wrote his “On Language” column for the New York Times from 1979 to his death in 2009. To avoid tearing out my remaining strands of hair, I’ll cite the leading and most vexing offender: LIE/LAY. There, I’ve said it. Now let’s get into it. Lie is intransitive. It means to rest or lie down. It takes no direct object. But woe betide us, its past tense is lay. Another verb lay, however, is transitive, and in its present tense it requires you to say what is being laid, to identify what is being acted upon. And it also refers to sexual acts. So if you say, “I was laying in bed this morning,” your interlocutor may reasonably ask, “laying whom?” Or take the past tense: “I lay down on the couch yesterday,” with lay being the past tense of lie. Fine. But “I laid down on the couch yesterday” or “I’m going to lay down in my bed”? Both are no-no’s. And then there are usages at which you just have to throw up your hands: “I was running late, so by the time I got to the funeral, the vice president was laying the president in his grave.” (For more fun with lie and lay, click here) For a different sort of boo-boo, consider one that occurs only by sound. You’ve no doubt heard a serious lecturer—and more than a few professors—say something like this: “The enactment of the U.N.’s new Law of the Sea reflected the culmination of several complex PROCESS-EEZE.” Words from Greek like hypothesis, analysis, diagnosis, do take an ‘es’ plural that sounds like EEZE — hypotheses, analyses, diagnoses. But process is not a Greek word, it’s from Latin. So stop saying process-eeze, you pretentious ignoramuses! Would you say, “Caesar had many SUCCESS-EEZE during his campaign against the Goths?” Of course not. And while I’m at it, the same goes for bias. Bias derives from French, and its plural, biases, has the same unaccented ‘es’ sound as most similarly formed English plurals. Forget BIAS-EEZE! Those paying really close attention will see that I just wrote “most similarly formed English plurals” with NO HYPHEN between similarly and formed. Like all punctuation (especially unneeded commas after “and” in a series!), hyphens unnecessarily sprinkled on a page are like flyspecks. Little ugly blotches. The “-ly” on the adverb tells us that it is modifying the next word, and that word will also be a modifier. We need no more info. If you write, “That was a nicely drawn portrait,” you will make nothing clearer by punctuating it “a nicely-drawn portrait.” My next bugaboo is one that has begun to invade print from speech, slowly oozing out like a chemical leaching into a river from a faulty pipe: That’s the use of “of” as if it is the helping verb “have”: People are writing phrases like, “We should of saved that old car” instead of “have saved.” Grammar blogs are noting and warning against this creeping of a preposition into helping-verb territory. You are forewarned! Now come the pronouns—and not the gender ones currently making the rounds. I mean plain old I/me, he/him, she/her. Would you say, “The teacher gave I an apple?” Probably not. So why are so many of us either saying or ignoring it when we hear linguistic monstrosities like “The teacher gave the apple to he and I,” or “to him and I”?, or “Tom and me gave the teacher an apple.” Now let’s look at predicate adjectives. Again, as usual, the problem is pretentiousness gone wild. People think they sound smarter if, when you ask them how they feel today, they reply, “I feel badly,” because they assume it’s wrong to say, “I feel bad.” The same as you might answer if asked, “How do you feel about the way you scolded your child?” “I feel bad about it.” A predicate adjective is an adjective that follows a linking verb and describes the subject. Linking verbs may describe looks, feelings, sounds, smells and so on. So, in the examples above, if you say, “I feel badly,” you’re describing how well your tactile ability is functioning; hence the adverb “badly.” But since you are the subject, not your tactile ability, just use the adjective “bad.” Now to get finicky, and this is a battle that I can lose without weeping, because it’s clearly in fuddy-duddy land: there’s “comprised of,” as in “The U.S.A. is comprised of 50 states.” “Comprise” originally meant “to be made up of” so it’s the whole of something that comprises its parts. “The U.S.A. comprises 50 states” is the etymologically elegant way to put it. BUT! It is, of course, fine to say, “The U.S.A. is composed of 50 states.” The sound and sense of comprise/compose has sort of bumped against and rolled around each other over the centuries, and we now hear of a whole being “comprised of” its parts instead of the reverse. About this, those of us who care may be able to do little more than wring our hands. I was going to close with a subject that touches on my experience of language, and maybe yours, too, that is far beyond–whether above or below I can’t say–the topics I’ve sifted through. And that is the pandemic affecting much of the speech we hear, the pandemic known as vocal fry. I won’t pursue it further today, and I won’t in future. Those smarty-pants Greeks had a word for the manner of my avoidance, apophasis (you’ll know the plural form if you’ve been with me up to this point). Apophasis is a rhetorical way to talk about something, to some degree or another, in some way or other, while saying you are not going to bring it up. When I hear vocal fry, that creaky, croaky scratchy affected mode of speech that involves contortions of a speaker’s vocal cords, I have to escape: turn to a different TV or radio station, tune out the speaker, leave the room, whatever it takes. Sociologists, anthropologists, speech pathologists, therapists of all stripes—all have weighed in on this irritating phenomenon. And the thing is, although I find it unpleasant whether a male or female is rasping it out, what if I find it more annoying from a female voice? Ah, me. I’ll say no more. Ever. Dear Readers: If you have a pet peeve involving the use of printed or spoken English, please let me know in The Insider's comment box accompanying this story. I will address them–ideally with your help–in future columns. Grammar and Words By Maurice Rigoler The English language is a potpourri of foreign words whose sources vary from Sanskrit, Latin, Greek and Swahili and others original to our vocabulary. For snobs these imports have become a way to sound pretentious (make that dumb), and who prefer a foreign substitute to one English, a cheap way to sound cute. In particular, classical music aficianados like tacking the Latin and Italian “i” and dropping the plural “s” from concertos and sonatas, preferring sonati and concerti And so with English plurals like hippopotamuses to hippopotami tomatoes to tomati, cactuses to cacti but stopping (wisely) with potatoes to potati I will concede, however, to keeping fungi (mushrooms) — as is and not funguses and for reasons purely culinary, I guess because eating funguses sounds grotesque. © Maurice Rigoler. PoetSoup.com (2023) John Woodford lives in Ann Arbor, Michigan, where he retired after two decades as the executive editor of Michigan Today, a University of Michigan alumni/ae publication. His career in journalism includes editing and/or reporting duties for Ebony magazine, Muhammad Speaks newspaper, the Chicago Sun-Times, the New Haven Register, the New York Times and Ford Motor company publications.