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Variety may be the spice of life, but some people prefer to be under seasoned. One of those people was Myrtice McCurdy, whom the Atlanta Journal-Constitution reports passed away on March 11 at the age of 100. Besides teaching fourth grade at Stone Mountain Elementary School in Stone Mountain, GA, for 43 years and Sunday school at Stone Mountain First Baptist Church for 50 years, McCurdy was known for something else: wearing only purple clothing. Head to toe, she was always clad in her favorite color, right down to her pajamas and her size six shoes.

In addition to consistency in her vocational and sartorial choices, McCurdy was a creature of habit when it came to most other aspects of her life, too. She drank only milk and Coca-Cola. She didn’t drive or cook. She never moved away from home where her family settled in 1918, and she never married, living with her sister Mary, who also taught for more than 40 years in the local school district. For decades, the two sisters held regular Saturday night sleepovers for their nieces, took the family on summer vacations to the beach, and hosted Sunday dinners for as many as 30 friends and family members at a time. And when children that they knew needed a way to pay for college, the sisters either provided the funds themselves or located them so that everyone could get an education.

According to the Journal-Constitution, McCurdy will be buried in a—purple—casket. Some things never change. But with a lady as remarkable as Myrtice McCurdy, who would want them to?

Dear Alexandra Penny, I just read your blog rant on “The Daily Beast” about how you lost your life savings in the Bernard Madoff Ponzi scheme. I’m sorry for your loss; but I have to say, I agree with the comments by those readers who say they just weren’t able to feel outraged on your behalf after reading your story. Obviously we don’t have any idea what it’s like to lose our life savings. Most of us have no savings to lose. We’ve always been where you claim you are now - penniless.

I think maybe why some people feel inclined to shrug indifferently after reading your story is that we get the impression that your idea of being a bag lady is having something like a quarter of a million dollars in bank. Even if we’re wrong, even if all you have in the bank is fifty grand, some of us don’t even have five dollars in the bank.

Don’t get me wrong. I completely understand about the “lifestyle cost” factor. If you normally pay out $50,000 per month in bills for example, a quarter of a million dollars won’t last you very long. In that way I appreciate that you really might be in a predicament.

The problem I had with the things you wrote was that your words made you appear as if you lost touch with reality somewhere along the route from working in a fish market and sleeping on the floor to being able to have someone come in and iron your 40 “classic clean white shirts”. I’ll bet you anything Yolanda hates every minute of ironing those shirts. Ironing sucks. There’s nothing I personally hate more. Yolanda probably whistles a happy tune while she works, and she’s no doubt happy for every bit of the money she earns; but I don’t think it rates up there as one of the greatest pleasures in her life to have to iron your 40 white shirts.

What I’m trying to say here is that most of us can identify with Yolanda. Everyday of our lives are spent doing things we don’t want to do trying to make enough money to avoid eviction. Meanwhile your days are spent in a studio painting. Nothing is wrong with that. Like you told CNN, you earned the freedom you’ve been enjoying. You worked your ass for your money and you had and have every right to expect to live exactly the way you want to live in the style you prefer for yourself; but understand why we cannot identify and why we might be offended by the implications made in your post that life down here is so intolerable you’d rather die that be forced back down to earth.

We don’t like life down here either. We all dream of being able to enjoy the kind of life you were able to enjoy for several decades; but most of us will never own a single pair of Jimmy Choos unless we steal it. Nevertheless we have to go on. We have to endure. We can’t kill ourselves. Sometimes we want to, but then we remind ourselves that there’s always something worse. Like someone pointed out, horrible things go on in our world everyday and millions of people suffer worse than even those of us who have to eat Mayonaise sandwiches because we have nothing else but Mayonaise to put in the sandwich.

Maybe we’d feel the same way as you if we made it big and then fell back down to earth; but the thing is, you haven’t really fallen back down to earth. At least not as far down as where some of us are. Listen to the people who commented on your post. Use this experience to help you get back in touch with reality. What happened to you is unfortunate. You have every right to feel devastated; but you share some of the blame. That you knew nothing about investing and trusted the people who recommended Madoff is no excuse. You put your life savings at risk. You lost your money. That’s the nature of the game. Now you figure out how to rebound, and I’m sure with your background you won’t have to pound the pavement. Someone’s probably already made you an offer for a book deal or something. People are calling offering help in the form of $50,000 checks. Sigh. What I wouldn’t give just to get my hands on $500 right now. I need to get my electric and phone bills paid.

The Bag Lady Papers

Life savings gone, ‘Madoffed’ best-selling writer back at work

If that is not the most hilarious headline I’ve read in a while…. It pertains to a Reuters story about a Polish man who showed up at a brothel and came across his wife among the establishment’s employees. They are now getting divorced apparently, which to me sounds like a load of crap because, after all, the wife could just as easily ask, well, “What are ‘you’ doing here?” At least she can justify her presence there by saying she’s just trying to contribute to the household, trying to help him pay the bills. What’s his excuse? Source

(This happened a while back ) According to reports, Marciana Silva Barcelos was riding in the front passenger seat of the hearse carrying the casket of her deceased husband when a road accident occurred that resulted in the coffin hitting the woman in the back of her neck, killing her instantly.

Her husband, Josi Silveira Coimbra, reportedly died Sunday after he suffered a heart attack while dancing at a party. Guess Josi Silveira Coimbra didn’t want to be parted from his wife even by death.

Fourteen Ohio City workers won last Friday’s $207 million dollar Mega Millions jackpot. The group has been pooling money twice per week for the past five years to buy Mega Millions Lottery tickets and their perseverance has paid off in a big way.

Here’s a tip, next time there’s a big lotto jackpot, pool your resources with a group of people. Better yet, don’t wait until there’s a big jackpot. Start a pool with your friends, co-workers or family now. You never know. You’ve probably been playing the lottery for decades and losing so even if your pool takes five years before you win a big jackpot it’s better than going 20 years playing and never winning a dime.

With the number of big jackpot wins by lotto pools over the years it’s tempting to dismiss suggestions that pooling your money to buy more tickets doesn’t increase your chances. You know how they like to say only one set of numbers can win? Well that’s true, but if you have 100 sets of numbers thats 100 chances at matching the winning set which, obviously is a lot better than 1 chance of matching the winning set.

If you can get 10 people to put $10 to buy $100 in tickets give it a shot. Of course 100 tickets isn’t much and you can end up not winning anything; but at least that’s only $10 each of you is throwing down the drain as opposed to you taking a chance on your own spending $100 in lotto tickets.

Must feel pretty damn good to be one of those Ohio city workers right about now.

If anyone wants to start a lotto pool get a hold of me.

I just saw an ad displayed on a website that said Barack Obama’s IQ is 125. Yesterday I saw a similar ad displayed on another website that said Britney Spears’ IQ is 125. Does this make Barack Obama stupid or does it make Britney Spears smart? Of course I know the ads are not accurate. It’s just an attempt by the company that put them out to make people click out of curiosity. I didn’t bother to click because I don’t need to know my IQ. What difference does IQ make? When you meet people is that one of the things you wonder about them? What’s their IQ?

Can you imagine you’ve just met someone and one of the questions they ask as they try to get to know you is “What’s your IQ?” I can’t see that happening unless someone came off as being so unbelievably smart you ask them that question just as a way of saying, “Damn you’re smart,” to which they’d probably just laugh dismissively unless they are so full of it and conceited about their smartness that they condescendingly reply with a number so big all you can do is paste on a cool-aid smile while quietly thinking “what a bleeping idiot”.

A few years ago I took an IQ test and apparently had an IQ of 120, which placed me in the “superior” group. Of course superior is still inferior to those with an IQ of 130 and above. They are classified as “Very Superior”. And I wouldn’t be surprised if I took an IQ test today and came away with a score that classified me as Average. My brain was sharper back when I took the test. I haven’t been using it much over the years and certainly not for the kind of mental activity that helps a person do well on IQ tests.

If you’ve ever wondered how they classify IQ, I found this chart on iq-test.learninginfo.org

If you were going to try to smuggle a monkey into the country, would you tuck it under your blouse and try to pretend you were pregnant? Too bad Gypsy Lawson didn’t watch that episode of Law & Order SVU. She might have tried hiding the monkey in a basketball instead of trying to get away with smuggling the animal under her shirt.

Gypsy Lawson,28, and her mother Fran Ogren, 56, are in a lot of trouble. They are accused of violating a number of federal laws, including the Endangered Species Act.  They face charges of smuggling and conspiring to smuggle a rhesus monkey into the country. Apparently this crime comes with the possibility of a 20 year jail sentence, probably because of what could have happened. It’s sort of like how that Pottstown Pennsylvania high schooler, Richard Yanis,  is being charged with attempted murder for plotting a school shooting even though he didn’t actually carry out the plot.  He’s being charged in anticipation of what might have happened, and so, it would seem, are Gypsy Lawson and her mother Fran.

Rhesus monkeys are apparently known to carry viruses and parasites and had this monkey that Gypsy was smuggling under her blouse been infected, it could have infected her and her mother who could then have infected other people they came in contact with who could then have gone and infected other people they came in contact with and before you know it you have an epidemic.

Luckily the monkey Gypsy Lawson tried to smuggle into the country was virus and parasite free. You can get more details from CNN

Note to gypsy: next time hide the monkey in a basketball but make sure you don’t put the basketball down on the ground because then it will start to roll on it’s own and if there’s an investigation going on that you don’t know about and cops are watching you and they see the basketball rolling by itself they are going to figure out that the monkey is in the basketball and they are going to come for you. ( Wonder how they found out Gypsy was hiding a monkey under her blouse)

Don’t bother trying to figure out how some people get to be so lucky to win a $126 million dollar lotto jackpot. Just know that in all likelihood you’re never going to be that lucky yourself. Not only are you unlikely to ever win a big lotto jackpot, you’re also unlikely to ever be friends with anyone who will ever be that lucky. That’s just the way life works for the rest of us.

Clelia Lopes and her husband Mario Lopes won a $126 million lotto jackpot back in July; but they only came forward to claim their prize money on Monday. They spent the four months since winning the jackpot consulting with financial advisors, lawyers and other experts to make sure they won’t become another lottery winning family who end up blowing all the money they won.

Clelia and Mario, originally from Portugal, say they have no plans to buy expensive cars and big houses or change their lives dramatically. Their winning lotto numbers: 2, 16, 23, 29, 32 with a Gold Mega Ball number 46.

It’s Saturday night and I’ve got nothing better to do so I’m watching people walk up and down 46th street and Broadway in New York City, courtesy of the Times Square Cam via earthcam.com.

Nothing particularly interesting is going on. A moment ago a man was standing waving at the camera. He was joined by a bunch of women. He chatted with the women for a few minutes then the women left while he continued to wave for a moment longer before leaving.

A couple just walked by wearing matching red coats. A woman just walked by wearing a black coat and carrying a hot pick tote. Three people just rode by on some interesting bicycles; and of course there are all the taxis.

Note: It looks as if the interesting bicycles I saw earlier are actually some form of transportation, because I just saw a couple step off the sidewalk and get into the back part of one. It’s like a horse drawn carriage type of thing only the horse part is a man on a bicycle.

This is a poem even if it isn’t structured like one. Hold your thoughts on it’s merits until it’s at least done. I guess I should have said ‘finished’ instead of done but hey; It’s not as if this is grade school and you’re Mr. O’Day. And by the way I never said I can rhyme like Poe; So get off my case with your snickering. What do you know? The end

Sometimes I just need to write something pointless and stupid to wake up my brain cells. I’m trying to work on a my first book of poetry, a stupid ambition if you ask my father. He likes to remind me that nobody reads poems, and people don’t spend money on books of poetry unless they come recommended by Oprah. He thinks my poems don’t make any sense and I’m wasting my time writing them because I’ll never make a living as a poet. When I was fifteen and asked him for his opinion on some of my poems do you know what he told me? “You’re certainly no Emily Dickinson.” Nice father isn’t he?

Image: Grainger Museum Collection