Welcome back.            

The new look is a bit more organized and reflects the basement coming together into alphabetized areas. Not my ideal plan, but a good start and at conclusion, at least I’ll know where everything is.

The Blog area is more linear and will allow scrolling into past entries which I like. Will there be more changes?

You bet. In the meantime…..

I’ve been playing on Twitter the last year. Yes, Elon has re-named Twitter “X”, which I like but saying “I’m on X” just doesn’t convey the same information.

I’ve also changed my diet and joined a “Keto/Carnivore” Twitter Community of like-minded people who try to support each other’s journey to good health. But that’s another blog entry.

My Twitter handle is DonDiegoVega69 – an ID I used to play Online Poker during the Pandemic. Come visit

For today I thought I’d post what I think are my 20 best Twitts over the past year. Here they are:

I have always tried to live my life based of the results of MY thinking not other people’s thinking. I have rarely succeeded. But those times …when I did – they were the best of times.

Black Privilege: Chirlane McCray, the wife of former New York City Mayor Bill de Blasio, was awarded $900 million to launch a mental health project aimed at assisting the city’s homeless. The Daily Mail reported that she “lost” $850 million of the $900.

My Dad never met the “People on the internet”. But he was always prepared with one of his standard remarks: “Hey, Buddy, if shit were electricity, you’d be a walking powerhouse.” We are what we eat. Ignore the donuts you meet in life.

Let’s not forget the best George Costanza line: “It’s not a lie if you believe it”.

Grew up with Hellmann’s Mayo. Worked for the Hellmann’s Company for 32 years. LOVED Hellmann’s Mayo. Unilever now owns Hellmann’s and swapped out capers for sugar in the recipe. I now buy and enjoy Duke’s Mayo. Sad to lose an old friend.

I know this sounds biased but, Valerie, I’ve found Canadians are best avoided. They put gravy on French Fries!! These are confused and troubled people.

From a very young age, my son always referred to God as “she”. My lovely wife and I took the position that he might know something we didn’t and never corrected him. He’s 33 and a fine young man.

It doesn’t happen often anymore. But every now and then, I’ll walk into someone’s house and the smell of cigarettes will bowl me over. I’ll stop and smile and close my eyes and say: “I’m home”.

What you think, happens. Simple Easy to explain Hard to accept.

Proud to have been fired by Unilever in 2003 for excessive unprocessed sarcasm.

God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change;
courage to change the things I can;
and wisdom to know the difference.

So, I “retired” from a huge corporation, always lots of political in-fighting going on, 32 years of it. I decided to volunteer at a local senior center. There were THREE paid people in charge. It took me two days to realize two of the three hated each other. People mostly suck.

My son asked, “Why are you so sure the bank will give me the loan?” I replied, “because you don’t NEED the money.” Lesson learned.

Let’s remember before the United Nations was built, the land it sits on was mostly slaughterhouses and the original Eberhard Faber Pencil Factory. I can understand a bunch of pencil-necked bureaucrats sloshing thru offal on their way to save the planet for the poor and wretched.

The last time Greta Thunberg visited Ukraine their Secret Service is rumored to have swapped her birth control for Pez. I’ve been patiently waiting for the Immaculate Conception story ever since.

So, if Trump is elected, he’ll basically, do everything the Brain was going to do but without Pinky, right?

It is part of the ugly reality of living in a free society: Every day we must deal with people we would rather throttle to within an inch of their worthless lives, but instead we tip our hats and say: “have a nice day”.

Before he was Morpheus, Laurence Fishburne was Cowboy Curtis on PeeWee’s Playhouse.

When the future love of his life (for 8 hours at least) walked by Jack Dawson on the deck of the Titanic, what was he doing? Smoking, of course.

I used to have a “holier than thou” attitude but I lost it in a terrible (but beautiful) thunderstorm outside Flagstaff, AZ in the late 60’s. Shortly after, I picked up a poor attitude at a tourist shop in Bakersfield. I’ve been using that quite happily ever since. jus sayin

The Snow Job                     

I’d always call my Dad before a snowstorm and remind him to park his car at the top of the driveway. This way he only had to dig out the few feet of snow between street and driveway. One storm, he forgot.  Of course, THAT storm was a 10 incher and it was with some trepidation I loaded my trunk with 2 shovels and gloves and water, got my son next to me and drove off to “the job”. I took my obligations to “raise a good child” seriously and saw the learning opportunity the impending shoveling event would present.

The roads were clear and we took the 22 minute ride to Park Ridge easily. I parked before the driveway and we both got out and surveyed the job. It was about 100 feet of gravel driveway and WaAAyY down there at the end was my Dad’s Ford covered in snow. I said, “that’s the big job, let’s do a little job, first”. And we both shoveled the 25 feet to the front door. My Dad was waiting, and we sat in the kitchen and talked snow for a while. He smoked, I might have (I forget if I was or wasn’t at the time).

Eventually, we left and presenting ourselves at the head of the driveway, I said to my son, “Times like this, or I should say JOBS like this are best approached by NOT looking at the destination, but looking at the snow in front of you and moving THAT snow out of the way, got it?” We cleared a spot at the top of the driveway about a car’s length. Then we shoveled foot wide “tire track” paths down to Dad’s car (only expending energy as necessary). We cleared off the car and I drove it up to the top area and we were done. The car reeked of cigarettes and stale smoke and had a huge burn hole in the driver’s seat. No, I didn’t say a thing.

That was the only time I ever asked my son for help shoveling. I always considered it my job. Maybe it was residual memories of being sent off to work at the Supermarket with a wagon that caused me to never force my son to do anything work related. I took some heat for it. Especially during summers when the notion of “summer job” would come up. My approach was always: “he has the rest of his life to work, let him play as long as he can”. I am pleased to say, my son works well and plays equally well and I am therefore vindicated (he says clicking his pen and looking oddly crazed).   

Doc           

He was born in the Roaring 20’s, 6 years before the Depression and right in the middle of Prohibition. He knew nothing of those events, he was a kid growing up on the streets of Union City and Hoboken, New Jersey. He was born in his mother’s family home at 1209 Park Avenue, Hoboken and spent most of his young life living there with his aunts and uncles. Not at 311 6^th Street, Union City which was his listed address.

His best friend Pete lived in Hoboken but their adventures spanned Fort Lee to Point Pleasant. “Uncle” Pete talked about he and Tommy spending a whole day in the Meadowlands section of Jersey City gathering a big paper bag filled with frogs, which they proceeded to leave turned over as they exited their Streetcar to the screams of the ladies in the back.

He attended Emerson High School in Union City and although the school did not have a basketball team, his yearbook is peppered with references to his basketball prowess. Reading that same 1941 Emerson High Yearbook, he is viewed as a “swell guy” by more than one gal and guy. His nickname was “Doc” implying a thoughtful character. The picture is of him on the left, his best friend Pete was always a larger-than-life presence, with Joe-Mac and Angelo. He had already perfected the Robert DeNiro look before Robert DeNiro perfected it.

He enrolled in Lehigh University and played several games on the Freshman Basketball Team before being drafted into the US Army. Before leaving for Europe, he married his sweetheart, Edith. Wounded during the Battle of the Bulge, he came home in January 1946 with a 20% disability for which the Government agreed to pay him $23 per month forever. Tom Jr. was born 10 months after his return to Edith, followed by Kevin and Dennis. He never played basketball again. He bought his kids all the stuff, but none of us really liked sports. It was the 50’s and Ed Sullivan and Soupy Sales were on TV. He worked for a meat packing company as a Traffic Manager until they moved to Texas.  Then he took a job selling cars.

I remember my Mom yelling “You’re going to sell cars!” as if it was the most impossible thing in the world. “You won’t talk to ME!” But he sold cars and became the manager of the dealership and he and Mom had quite a few paid trips complements of the Ford Motor Company. He still didn’t talk much. When I asked a personal question he’d say “What are you writing a book?” Maybe I should have said yes. He worked long hours. When Dennis went to school, Mom got a job at the Lipton Tea Company.

Someone bought the apartment house we lived in and wanted the first floor apartment (ours). In 1964, at 41 years of age, he bought a house in Park Ridge, NJ for $25,000. He used the GI Bill and put $25 down. After he bought the house, he took Edith to see it. We were the picture perfect successful American family. Two years later, Tom Jr. was killed in the Vietnam police action. It was the only time I ever saw my father cry. Sobbing is more accurate. He hugged me and sobbed “The bastards killed Thomas.”

On his 60^th birthday, I found my Dad smoking in the living room after dinner and sat and asked, “What’s up” and he replied, “I haven’t figured out what I want to do with my life.” And I said without hesitation, “I’d appreciate you’re saying something like I’m happy and content with my life thus far”. He was silent. So was I.

He got to see my son play baseball and soccer (no, not basketball). Four years after my Mom died, he threw himself an 80^th Birthday Party and invited everyone still alive and it was a great party.  Four years later, he’d had enough and died. There are still a few questions I’d like to ask you. But they can wait.

          Happy Birthday, Dad 

Die^t       Part Three        

In the spring of 1996, I got a call from my Dad. Perhaps the first call I’d EVER gotten from my Dad. “Your Mother is having a stroke and we’re on our way to Pascack Valley Hospital” he said without greeting. I replied, “I’m meet you there.” And hung up. We are a family of few words.

When I arrived, my Mom was still in the Emergency Room. She was in a bed, eyes closed. My Dad was next to her. I stood next to my Dad and watched my Mom have a stroke right before my eyes. Bells and sirens went off and 2 nurses ran in asking us to step aside. They fussed and my Mom convulsed and shook. I was thinking what better place to have a stroke then a Hospital when a nurse turned and said, ”This is not good;” she looked at my father and said, ”your wife needs a Neurologist immediately and her current Primary Care Doctor is a local Dietician”. I asked what we needed to do and was handed a “Physician Release Form” to be completed by Mom’s current doctor.

I said to Dad, “I’ll do this”, mostly because its what Mom would have asked me to do. I got her Doctor’s name and address from the nurses’ station. It wasn’t far. On the way there I practiced opening remarks etc. He must have known I was coming because his receptionist got up and brought the form into another room; came out with a signature and I was gone. No yelling, no hitting. Back at the Hospital the Floor Nurse breathed a sigh of relief and made a call. Within 15 minutes I met Mom’s new Neurologist who advised my Dad, me and my brother (he had arrived during my absence) they would put Mom through a battery of tests yada yada yada.

Mom survived (kinda). The stroke was caused by a Brain Tumor. Surgery was tried but not completely successful. Mom was ok; she could walk and talk but she sometimes slowed down verbally and had trouble finding the right words. She stopped driving which was sad because she enjoyed her adventures with my Son one day a week when she would give my Lovely wife a few hours off. When I asked why she was going to a Diet Doctor sha said she had been taking the weight loss drug Fen-Phen. Again, why, I asked. And the answer was: “To be thin for your father.” Mom lived pleasantly with the Brain Tumor for 4 years and died in 2000.

Phen-fen is not a GLP-1 drug. It was a combination of two drugs, fenfluramine and phentermine, that were used as an appetite suppressant for weight loss under the Brand names: Pondimin or Redux. It was developed by American Home Products (AHP) and was taken off the Market in late 1997 due to its association with serious heart and lung problems. Some 4000 individual lawsuits, along with a number of class action lawsuits, are still pending.

Everyone has a reason to lose weight. Within the last 12 months, it has gotten VERY EASY to lose weight. Stab yourself once a week with a drug that tells your Brain your stomach is full. The fight is on for who will have access to this “Miracle Drug”. Oprah got it. The November issue of Men’s Health” has a swelt Tyler Perry down 30 pounds. At $1000 per month, most of Hollywood will be lining up. If you don’t have a Doctor, not to worry. Companies like RO have announced they have online doctors and can ship you not only the Branded weight-loss drugs, but they have a “Special Compound” that’s cheaper. Yes, Ro is about to become the Walmart of Weight-Loss drugs.

Meanwhile, Insurance companies are scrambling to figure out who should be covered, why and how much. Until then – the marketplace will dictate prices and you know what that means. Someone is going to make a lot of money. And rich people are going to start to get thinner than ever. And then (history tells us) the shit will hit the fan.      

Die^t       Part Two        

Lets talk the science of this drug and get terms right:

Google “What is a GLP-1 drug” and this is what you’ll see:  A GLP-1 drug is a glucagon-like peptide-1 receptor agonist, which is a type of medication used to treat type 2 diabetes. A GLP-1 drug works by stimulating the pancreas to produce more insulin and reducing the amount of glucose released by the liver. A GLP-1 drug can also help with weight loss and improve heart and kidney health.

That’s the science. There is a class of drug called GLP-1 that was found to help type 2 diabetics. In doing that, this same drug was found to help with weight loss because it also decreased the desire for food. Well, once that fact got got you can image what happened next. Yes, products were quickly developed, named, and brought to market. The European drug maker Noro Nordisk (NVO) was the first out of the gate with 2 unique branded products: Ozempic to treat Diabetes and Wegovy to treat weight loss. Not to be beat out of any profits, the US company Eli Lilly developed and branded Mounjaro for Diabetes and Zepbound for weight loss.

Zepbound was the drug Oprah injected to lose her weight. The drug was not yet approved for that use but who’s going to say Oprah did wrong. On November 23, 2023, Zepbound was approved and Weight Watchers International kinda pivoted their strategy from counting points to sticking a needle in your stomach. I guess there is no longer a reason for the ladies to get together weekly and cheer each other on, ya think? But Eli Lilly as any red blooded American company would do, made their drugs BETTER than the others. Yes, they have studies (very recent studies) that show you’ll lose MORE weight on Zepbound versus Wegovy or Ozempic. But Ozempic has got that catchy commercial with the slogan and all. Anyway, that’s the Science and the Market thus far.

The downside is perhaps made evident by a Tweet I copied yesterday: “Several people I know on Ozempic all complained that Chick Fil A does not taste good anymore. Some other fun foods as well, but the fried chicken from there specifically was mentioned. And they all tried it over and over again with same results. Like, why would you keep trying?” Think about that for a minute…….

Cost is $1000 a month. Will insurance cover? How much? If you stop injecting the drug, the weigh will slowly return.  Think about THAT too.

Die^t       Part One        

The research for this Blog Post began last August when I noticed the stock of a sleepy 100-year old Danish drugmaker rose 30% in one day. Seems this Company, Noro Nordisk (NVO), had not one but two new and highly successful drugs on the Market. Both drugs are once-weekly injectables of a ingredient called semaglutide: Ozempic is prescribed for Type 2 Diabetics and  Wegovy is approved for weight loss. Both were selling like crazy in Europe and creating a supply problem for Diabetics who needed Ozempic for “real” medical reasons and other consumers who only wanted Ozempic because Wegovy was out of supply and they wanted to lose weight.  Hmmmmm I said at the time, sorry I didn’t know before the stock jumped. BUT THAT’S NOT ALL!

In April 2023 Weight Watchers International announced the purchase of Sequence a one-stop weight management telehealth platform that employs clinicians able to prescribe drugs online. Sequence costs 99 dollars per month for access to its online platform. In October 2023, Oprah announced she lost over 60 pounds using a weight loss medication called Zepbound. Created by Eli Lilly (LLY), Zepbound just recently received FDA approval for weigh loss treatment. It is in the same Class of Drug (GLP-1) as Ozempic and Wegovy, delivered the same way by injecting into the stomach. The next day Weight Watchers announced the launch of the new Weight Watchers partnership with Sequence to deliver Zepbound to WW clients. A subscription to Sequence would be required. No more counting points for WW clients.

Flash forward to the TV commercials I started to see touting new weight loss drugs set to a catchy jingle. Then an October 20, 2023, a Wall Street Journal article pointed out the lack of a “modern” definition of Obesity is causing Insurance companies to hesitate to cover these drugs. Under the current definition of Obesity, half of the US population qualifies for Wegovy.

On Friday, January 5, 2024 as reported by the WSJ, Eli Lilly launched a Direct Sales Online service specifically to sell its “new anti-obesity drug Zepbound”. According to the article, the new service called LlllyDirect will take Lilly into new terrain and turns it into a rival to firms like Weight Watchers and even the Pharmacies the firm sells its drugs to. Buy the way, do you want to know exactly HOW these  drugs achieve weight loss? They send a chemical signal to your brain that you are no longer hungry. Yup. And you lose weight. As long as you keep injecting the drug into your stomach every week. Simple. The average retail price without insurance is $1000 per month. I’ll have more to say on this. For all you worriers or conspiracy theorists  –  it might be time to circle the wagons. There is a smell of PROFITS in the air and I’m just interested in maybe getting more than my fair share if possible.   

Sometimes you find things sifting through old papers and journals. Things that you kept because they moved you. I don’t know exactly when I acquired this story, but I know why I kept it:

A sweet lesson on patience. A NYC Taxi driver wrote: I arrived at the address and honked the horn. After waiting a few minutes, I honked again. I thought about just driving away, but instead I put the car in park and walked up to the door and knocked.

‘Just a minute’, answered a frail, elderly voice. I could hear something being dragged across the floor. After a long pause, the door opened. A small woman in her 90’s stood before me. She was wearing a print dress and a pillbox hat with a veil pinned on it, like somebody out of a 1940’s movie. By her side was a small nylon suitcase. The apartment looked as if no one had lived in it for years. All the furniture was covered with sheets. There were no clocks on the walls, no knickknacks or utensils on the counters. In the corner was a cardboard box filled with photos and glassware.

 ‘Would you carry my bag out to the car?’ she said. I took the suitcase to the cab, then returned to assist the woman. She took my arm and we walked slowly toward the curb. She kept thanking me for my kindness. ‘It’s nothing’, I told her. ‘I just try to treat my passengers the way I would want my mother to be treated.’ ‘Oh, you’re such a good boy,’ she said.

When we got in the cab, she gave me an address and then asked, ‘Could you drive through downtown?’ ‘It’s not the shortest way,’ I answered quickly. ‘Oh, I don’t mind,’ she said. ‘I’m in no hurry. I’m on my way to a hospice. I looked in the rear-view mirror. Her eyes were glistening. ‘I don’t have any family left,’ she continued in a soft voice. ‘The doctor says I don’t have very long.’ I quietly reached over and shut off the meter. ‘What route would you like me to take?’ I asked.

For the next two hours, we drove through the city. She showed me the building where she had once worked as an elevator operator. We drove through the neighborhood where she and her husband had lived when they were newlyweds .She had me pull up in front of a furniture warehouse that had once been a ballroom where she had gone dancing as a girl. Sometimes she’d ask me to slow in front of a particular building or corner and would sit staring into the darkness, saying nothing. As the first hint of sun was creasing the horizon, she suddenly said, ‘I’m tired. Let’s go now’.

We drove in silence to the address she had given me. It was a low building, like a small convalescent home, with a driveway that passed under a portico. Two orderlies came out to the cab as soon as we pulled up. They were solicitous and intent, watching her every move. They must have been expecting her. I opened the trunk and took the small suitcase to the door. The woman was already seated in a wheelchair. ‘How much do I owe you?’ She asked, reaching into her purse. ‘Nothing,’ I said ‘You have to make a living,’ she answered. ‘There are other passengers,’ I responded. Almost without thinking, I bent and gave her a hug. She held onto me tightly. ‘You gave an old woman a little moment of joy,’ she said. ‘Thank you.’ I squeezed her hand, and then walked into the dim morning light. Behind me, a door shut. It was the sound of the closing of a life. I didn’t pick up any more passengers that shift. I drove aimlessly, lost in thought. For the rest of that day, I could hardly talk. What if that woman had gotten an angry driver, or one who was impatient to end his shift? What if I had refused to take the run, or had honked once, then driven away? On a quick review, I don’t think that I have done anything more important in my life. We’re conditioned to think that our lives revolve around great moments. But great moments often catch us unaware-beautifully wrapped in what others may consider a small one. Be nice to a stranger today.