No "retirement home" for us!

Every now and then some churl writes to suggest (often forcefully) that Walt and/or Len [and Ed. Ed.] belong in a "home" of some sort -- a place where we'll be safe from the world and the world will be safe from us. Memories of Where's Poppa? spring to our collective mind. But, dear reader, know this! It'll be a frosty Friday in hell before we go quietly into any such place of asylum. Certainly not while there's a better alternative, as described in this piece sent along by Agent 9.

No nursing home for us. We'll be checking into a Holiday Inn! With the average cost for a nursing home care costing $188.00 per day, there is a better way when we get old and too feeble.

I've already checked on reservations at the Holiday Inn. For a combined long term stay discount and senior discount, it's $59.23 per night. Breakfast is included, and some have happy hours in the afternoon. That leaves $128.77 a day for lunch and dinner in any restaurant we want, or room service, laundry, gratuities and special TV movies. Plus, they provide a spa, swimming pool, a workout room, a lounge and washer-dryer, etc. Most have free toothpaste and razors, and all have free shampoo and soap.

$5-worth of tips a day and you'll have the entire staff scrambling to help you. They treat you like a customer, not a patient. There's a city bus stop out front, and seniors ride free. The handicap bus will also pick you up (if you fake a decent limp). To meet other nice people, call a church bus on Sundays. For a change of scenery, take the airport shuttle bus and eat at one of the nice restaurants there.

It takes months to get into decent nursing homes. Holiday Inn will take your reservation today. And you're not stuck in one place forever -- you can move from Inn to Inn, or even from city to city. Want to see Hawaii? They have Holiday Inns there too. TV broken? Light bulbs need changing? Need a mattress replaced? No problem. They fix everything, and apologize for the inconvenience.

If you fall and break a hip, Medicare will pay for the hip, and Holiday Inn will upgrade you to a suite for the rest of your life. The Inn has a night security person and daily room service. The maid checks to see if you are OK. If not, they'll call an ambulance. Or the undertaker!

And no worries about visits from family. They will always be glad to find you, and probably check in for a few days mini-vacation. The grand-kids can use the pool. What more could I ask for?

So, when I reach that golden age, I'll face it with a grin.

A funny thing happened on the way to the convention

Walt apologizes sincerely for being MIA for the last three days. The idea was to take a leisurely drive in a southerly direction, arriving in Florida in time for the Republican convention. It is going to be in Florida, right? Anyhow, about 100 miles east of Fort Mudge, Walt's VW Yenta broke down, leaving me sitting on a pile of rocks, much as shown here [only with a hat. Ed.]

What was I thinking? I was wondering why on earth I would go to the Republican convention. I'm not a delegate. I'm not even a card-carrying Republican. Not even regiestered! So the only reason for going would be to report on the thrills and excitement of the contest for the GOP nomination.

Just one problem with that. There won't be any thrills and excitement at all. The loudest sounds to be heard will be the chirping of the crickets. Why? Because everything has already been decided. The inevitable Mitten Romney [Ed., please check Romney's full name. Walt] had the nomination locked up in the spring. He might have generated some buzz by keeping mum on his choice of running-mate until next week, but after his foreign tour de farce something positive was needed so they let the Ryan out of the bag early.

Result? The only frisson of uncertainty or controvery this week was generated by a hitherto-obscure congressman's brain fart on the subject of abortion. Will Todd Akin stand down? Can Romney and Ryan disown him without compromising their pro-life credentials... such as they are? Who knows? Who cares?

What we're going to see in Florida -- the dozen of us who may tune in -- is yet another example of the blanding of America. Or the Holiday Inn Syndrome, if you will. There are no surprises in American life any more. Nothing is left to chance. Everything is carefully controlled, stage-managed to a fare-thee-well, even in the previously unpredictable world of politics. Everything has been decided by Those Who Know Best, and what the people think no longer matters.

Contrast this year's affaire d'ennui with the GOP convention of 1880 that chose James A. Garfield over three other earnest contenders including U.S. Grant. Garfield was only at the convention to speak for the nomination of someone else, but his speech was so good -- and the race so hopelessly deadlocked -- that the delegates chose him as a compromise candidate.

You can read about the convetion, and about Garfield's subsequent assassination, in Destiny of the Republic: A Tale of Madness, Medicine & the Murder of a President, by Candice Millard. Walt reviewed the book in March and awarded it 17 stars. No one has yet figured out why 17, but obviously it's an excellent rating. Read the book and weep for the days when American politics was truly exciting.