Trump vs. Oprah: No Shoes, Please

The scroll at the bottom of the screen read, “Oprah hints at 2020 presidential bid.” I later saw a snippet of a Bloomberg interview in which Winfrey was asked about her aspirations to political office in light of President Trump’s election. She stated, “I never considered the question even a possibility.”

But she went on to say, “I thought, ‘Oh, gee, I don’t have the experience, I don’t know enough.’ And now I’m thinking, ‘Oh.’” She elongated the ‘o’ sound in “oh,” as if she were in the midst of one of her famous “a-ha moments.”

Missing out: Haugh About That?

Sitting across from my girlfriend at Starbucks, I had an overwhelming feeling that something was not quite right, a stirring deep within as if a mean girl were taunting, “I know something you don’t!”

As my friend discussed the latest about her family, I realized that I’d become vacant.

Best of Broadway: No Shoes, Please

For my birthday this year, my husband and I are planning to visit our daughter in New York City and see a Broadway show. The other day, in reaction to a discussion my husband and daughter were having over the phone regarding ticket purchases, I shouted, “How about ‘The Humans’? I think it might be a little depressing, but I’d like to see it.”

Ashes to ashes to ashes: The Villaj Idiut

I always thought I’d want to be cremated when I die.

It was sort of a romantic notion, really, the idea of a part of me lying in the sand at Carmel listening to beach music permanently, or floating around the Chesapeake Bay and reliving my childhood when I worked on crab boats on the crests of waves around Thomas Point Lighthouse.

Take the wheel: Haugh About That?

“To get a better understanding of your portfolio,” my financial adviser began, “I want you to write down everything you spend monthly on your current home and your cabin in Tahoe. Then, we’ll dig deeper into your personal affairs.”

“OK, so just what I spend on my houses?” I asked. “You don’t care about hair, manicures, facials and massages for now, right?”

A Piece of My Mind: Could local lucre grease our wheels?

I am a big fan of public transit, taking the train regularly to Sacramento and San Francisco to visit family, taking BART to the symphony or to museums in San Francisco and riding light rail and Muni in San Jose and San Francisco. But I am somewhat reluctant to recommend these services to some of my more fastidious friends, because Caltrain and BART in particular are more than a little grungy.

In the past 20 years, I have traveled on public transit systems similar to BART, and I have seen cars and stations in Taipei, Atlanta and Washington, D.C., receive upgrade after upgrade. In the same period of time, nothing has happened to BART, except that the 40-year-old cars have gotten dirtier, smellier and more worn. The windows have become so scratched that it is nearly impossible to read the signage at each station (especially because very few of the station signs are illuminated), and there has never been any interior electronic signage to tell where you are. The rails have become noisier and noisier, to the point where going around a bend in a tunnel is now acutely painful to the ears. The noise is so intense that any onboard announcements are completely indecipherable. When I take BART to San Francisco, I wear earplugs.

The Villaj Idiut: Terrifying pragmatism

I was planning on writing a humor column this month, but it seems like anathema to the mood of the country right now to be cracking jokes.


I’ll disclose this straightaway: I voted for Hillary Clinton. Not necessarily because I liked her, but more because, after evaluating both candidates, I thought she was more qualified to run a country than Donald Trump.

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