So sorry to be slow about discussion on jealousy".
It's
a complex subject. For now, I would define " jealousy "
as a very
common feeling. Each one of us feels it,
one time or another.
One
feels jealous when you see someone has something you value
a great deal
but you don't have it. Feeling jealous can be handled
in a positive or
negative way.
It can stimulate you to work hard to get what you want or
one
could hold on to jealousy and feel emotionally unhappy.
My
definition may be disappointing because it's so simple.
Jealousy can be
hidden so one's behavior does not show jealousy.
One could go on and on
about this subject.
A book can be written about it but I won't.
Love,
Monica Sone
Don't miss the very interesting article below
entitled 'Never underestimate how much
America hates women', please.
Betty MacDonald fan club founder Wolfgang Hampel
and Betty MacDonald fan club research team are going to share very
interesting info on ' Betty MacDonald and the movie The Egg and I '.
Another rare episode (from March 21 1952) of the short-lived comedy soap opera, "The Egg and I," based on best selling book by Betty MacDonald
which also became a popular film.
The series premiered on September 3,
1951, the same day as "Search for Tomorrow," and ended on August 1,
1952.
Although it did well in the ratings, it had difficulty
attracting a steady sponsor. This episode features Betty Lynn (later
known for her work on "The Andy Griffith Show") as Betty MacDonald, John
Craven as Bob MacDonald, Doris Rich as Ma Kettle, and Frank Twedell as
Pa Kettle.
Betty MacDonald fan club exhibition will be fascinating with the international book editions and letters by Betty MacDonald.
I can't wait to see the new Betty MacDonald documentary.
Betty
MacDonald fan club founder Wolfgang Hampel is going to present Betty
MacDonald fan club honor member, artist and author Letizia Mancino in
Vita Magica November.
Letizia Mancino is reading from her delightful book ' The cat in Goethe's bed '.
I hope beloved Betty MacDonald fan club honor member Mr. Tigerli will be there too.
We'd like to meet our beloved darling.
Wishing you a great Thursday,
Greta
Wolfgang Hampel - LinkFang ( German )
Wolfgang Hampel - Academic ( German )
Wolfgang Hampel -
Wolfgang Hampel - DBpedia ( English / German )
Wolfgang Hampel - people check ( English )
Wolfgang Hampel - Memim ( English )
Vashon Island - Wikipedia ( German )
Wolfgang Hampel - Monica Sone - Wikipedia ( English )
Wolfgang Hampel - Ma and Pa Kettle - Wikipedia ( English )
Wolfgang Hampel - Ma and Pa Kettle - Wikipedia ( French )
Wolfgang Hampel - Mrs. Piggle-Wiggle - Wikipedia ( English)
Wolfgang Hampel in Florida State University
Betty MacDonald fan club founder Wolfgang Hampel
Betty MacDonald fan club interviews on CD/DVD
Betty MacDonald fan club items
Betty MacDonald fan club items - comments
Betty MacDonald fan club - The Stove and I
Betty MacDonald fan club groups
Betty MacDonald fan club organizer Linde Lund
Heide Rose and Betty MacDonald
Betty MacDonald fan club fan Greta Larson
Rita Knobel Ulrich - Islam in Germany - a very interesting ZDF ( 2nd German Television ) documentary with English subtitles
Hi Libi, nice to meet you. Can you feel it?
I'll be the most powerful leader in the world.
Betty MacDonald: Nothing more to say
Copyright 2016 by Wolfgang Hampel
All rights reserved
Betty MacDonald was sitting on her egg-shaped cloud and listened to a rather strange guy.
He said to his friends: So sorry to keep you waiting. Very complicated business! Very complicated!
Betty said: Obviously much too complicated for you old toupee!
Besides him ( by the way the First Lady's place ) his 10 year old son was bored to death and listened to this 'exciting' victory speech.
The old man could be his great-grandfather.
The
boy was very tired and thought: I don't know what this old guy is
talking about. Come on and finish it, please. I'd like to go to bed.
Dear 'great-grandfather' continued and praised the Democratic candidate.
He congratulated her and her family for a very strong campaign although he wanted to put her in jail.
He always called her the most corrupt person ever and repeated it over and over again in the fashion of a Tibetan prayer wheel.
She is so corrupt. She is so corrupt. Do you know how corrupt she is?
Betty MacDonald couldn't believe it when he said: She
has worked very long and very hard over a long period of time, and we
owe her a major debt of gratitude for her service to our country.
Afterwards old toupee praised his parents, wife, children, siblings and friends.
He asked the same question like a parrot all the time:
Where are you? Where are you? Where are you?
I know you are here!
Betty MacDonald answered: No Pussy they are not! They left the country.
They immigrated to Canada
because they are very much afraid of the future in the U.S.A. with you
as their leader like the majority of all so-called more or less normal
citizens.
By the way keep your finger far away from the pussies and the Red Button, please.
I'm going to fly with my egg-shaped cloud to Canada within a minute too.
Away - away - there is nothing more to say!
Real vs. Ersatz
Computer Scientists And Election Lawyers Urge Hillary Clinton To Challenge Election Results
A
group of prominent computer scientists and election lawyers have found
irregularities in results in at least three swing states, and they are
urging Hillary Clinton and her campaign to challenge the results of the
2016 presidential election.
Gabriel Sherman of New York Magazine reported:
The group, which includes voting-rights attorney John Bonifaz and
J. Alex Halderman, the director of the University of Michigan Center
for Computer Security and Society, believes they’ve found persuasive
evidence that results in Wisconsin, Michigan, and Pennsylvania may have
been manipulated or hacked. The group is so far not speaking on the
record about their findings and is focused on lobbying the Clinton team
in private.
The academics presented findings showing that in Wisconsin,
Clinton received 7 percent fewer votes in counties that relied on
electronic-voting machines compared with counties that used optical
scanners and paper ballots. Based on this statistical analysis, Clinton
may have been denied as many as 30,000 votes; she lost Wisconsin by
27,000. While it’s important to note the group has not found proof of
hacking or manipulation, they are arguing to the campaign that the
suspicious pattern merits an independent review — especially in light of
the fact that the Obama White House has accused the Russian government
of hacking the Democratic National Committee.
If Democrats learned anything from the 2000 election, it should be
that there are grave consequences that come with not fully challenging
questionable election results. The results of the election are worthy of
a challenge because several points don’t add up. Every single public
opinion poll was wrong about the election. Hillary Clinton lost swing
states by tiny margins that were all within the same range.
Democrats won the popular vote and made gains in the House and
Senate, but yet, lost in critical swing states by a point or less. If
there were such a thing as a textbook case worthy of a results
challenge, the 2016 election would be it.
Hillary Clinton argued during the campaign that Donald Trump would be
a danger to the nation if he were elected. If Clinton believes that
Trump is dangerous, she must do everything in her power to ensure that
the election results are accurate and legitimate.
Clinton has nothing to lose, and everything to gain by fighting for the credibility of our elections.
Never underestimate how much America hates women
When it became nightmarishly clear
on Tuesday night that Donald Trump was going to become our next
president, a startling amount of women in my social media feeds posted a version of this phrase: “Never underestimate how much America hates women.”
The tone wasn’t angry, exactly. It
was posted with the same seething resignation we had when we clocked the
outrageous entitlement of a man who groped women whether they wanted it
or not. Or every time someone called Hillary Clinton a bitch.
The sheer number of Americans who would vote for Donald Trump caught
progressives by surprise, but the onslaught of misogyny this election
season appears to have reached an utterly logical conclusion.
It all boils down to: Misogynists are fine by Americans. Women in power are not.
We can’t say we didn’t see this coming. We saw it in 1992, when Clinton got dragged for defending her choice to work, when voters thought of her as the “overbearing yuppie wife from hell.” We saw it in 2008, the last time Clinton ran for president, when Hillary nutcrackers appeared in airport gift shops even as she was criticized for tearing up
at a campaign stop (once! She cried once!). We saw it in the way
people—both men and women, both conservatives and progressives—have
always scrutinized her voice, her laugh,
her clothes. We saw it in the jarring invective of Trump voters talking
about Hillary in those videos roiling with the raw anger of a Trump
rally; they wanted to jail her, beat her, assassinate her.
It all boils down to: Misogynists are fine by Americans. Women in power are not.
I watched all of this carefully, and even I was taken aback by the
ability of my country to so heartily affirm a cartoonishly sexist man at
the expense of an ambitious, formidable woman. I actually felt relief
during Pussygate, when even some of the most far-right Republicans
denounced Trump’s comments as deeply offensive. But there were moments
during the same week that gnawed at me, when my most liberal, caring guy
friends sheepishly said, Hate to break it to you, Nona, but Trump’s “locker room talk” isn’t all that far off from the stuff in our group texts. If beta Brooklyn men were admitting this, what were men across America doing?
On Tuesday, a staggering amount of them were voting for Trump. All
kinds of men—educated men, young men, even men in states that went for
Obama in 2008. Men who were supposed to know better.
Many of these men (and women, too)
would never admit that their hatred of Clinton was linked to her gender.
She’s untrustworthy, they said—more so than a candidate who openly,
compulsively lies more than any other candidate in recent memory. She’s
corrupt, she has baggage, she’s shrill, she’s cold. Clinton was far from
a perfect candidate, and there were lots of level-headed reasons to
disagree with her. But it’s hard to look at the surplus of pure contempt
lobbed at her over the years and not attribute it at least partly to
the fact that she’s a woman.
Many of us were fired up by this swirling hatred. Feminists gleefully warned bigoted relatives on Facebook: “Donald Trump will feel
the rage of women on November 8.” Clinton used Trump’s words against
him in debates and on the stump, again and again and again. But for
every outraged woman, there were others—especially white women, a
majority of whom who voted for Trump on Election Day—who bent over
backwards to make excuses for their candidate. New York magazine quoted
a woman as saying, “I like getting groped! I’m heterosexual. I’m a
woman, and when a guy gropes me, I get groping on them!” Another woman
featured in the same article was turned off by Bill Clinton’s affairs;
the voter didn’t “understand how [Hillary] can say she respects women
when she doesn’t respect herself.”
Many of us weren’t surprised that a
certain type of white man losing his footing in a new America would
rather not vote a woman into power, the type of white man whose racism
is so strong that they’d support a candidate beloved by white
supremacists over one who embraced the melting pot. But this election
reminded us that women are deeply entrenched in sexism and racism, too.
A Donald Trump presidency will have
real-world consequences for women if he keeps his campaign promises,
starting with the appointment of a right-wing Supreme Court justice who
would overturn Roe v. Wade.
But there’s a far less tangible insult here, too. It’s not just that
Americans are willing to overlook unfathomable depths of misogyny. It’s
that they actively rejected a woman who represents the opposite. Until
the very last minute, we all underestimated just how far we haven’t
come.
New York Times, November 9, 2016:
To
the surprise of many on the left, white voters who had helped elect the
nation’s first black president, appeared more reluctant to line up
behind a white woman.
From
Pennsylvania to Wisconsin, industrial towns once full of union voters
who for decades offered their votes to Democratic presidential
candidates, even in the party’s lean years, shifted to Mr. Trump’s Republican Party.
One county in the Mahoning Valley of Ohio, Trumbull, went to Mr. Trump
by a six-point margin. Four years ago, Mr. Obama won there by 22 points.
Mrs.
Clinton’s loss was especially crushing to millions who had cheered her
march toward history as, they hoped, the nation’s first female
president. For supporters, the election often felt like a referendum on
gender progress: an opportunity to elevate a woman to the nation’s top
job and to repudiate a man whose remarkably boorish behavior toward
women had assumed center stage during much of the campaign.
Mr.
Trump boasted, in a 2005 video released last month, about using his
public profile to commit sexual assault. He suggested that female
political rivals lacked a presidential “look.” He ranked women on a
scale of one to 10, even holding forth on the desirability of his own
daughter — the kind of throwback male behavior that many in the country
assumed would disqualify a candidate for high office.
I love Mrs. Piggle-Wiggle by Betty MacDonald
The Mrs. Piggle-Wiggle won't take a bath cure is my favourite one. www.bettymacdonaldfanclub.blogspot.com/
Following in Betty’s footsteps in Seattle:
or some small talk with Betty
Copyright 2011/2016 by Letizia Mancino
All rights reserved
translated by Mary Holmes
We
were going to Canada in the summer. “When we are in Edmonton”, I said
to Christoph Cremer, “let’s make a quick trip to Seattle”. And that’s
how it happened. At Edmonton Airport we climbed into a plane and two
hours later we landed in the city where Betty had lived. I was so happy
to be in Seattle at last and to be able to trace Betty’s tracks!
Wolfgang Hampel had told Betty’s friends about our arrival.
They
were happy to plan a small marathon through the town and it’s
surroundings with us. We only had a few days free. One should not
underestimate Wolfgang’s talent in speedily mobilizing Betty’s friends,
even though it was holiday time. E-mails flew backwards and forwards
between Heidelberg and Seattle, and soon a well prepared itinerary was
ready for us. Shortly before my departure Wolfgang handed me several
parcels, presents for Betty MacDonald's friends. I rushed to pack the
heavy gifts in my luggage but because of the extra weight had to throw
out a pair of pajamas!
After we had landed we took a taxi to the
Hotel in downtown Seattle. I was so curious to see everything. I
turned my head in all directions like one of the hungry hens from
Betty’s farm searching for food! Fortunately it was quite a short
journey otherwise I would have lost my head like a loose screw!
Our
hotel room was on the 22nd floor and looked directly out onto the
16-lane highway. There might have been even more than 16 but it made me
too giddy to count! It was like a glimpse of hell! “And is this
Seattle?” I asked myself. I was horrified! The cars racing by were
enough to drive one mad. The traffic roared by day and night.
We
immediately contacted Betty MacDonald's friends and let them know we had
arrived and they confirmed the times when we should see them.
On
the next morning I planned my first excursion tracing Betty’s tracks. I
spread out the map of Seattle. “Oh dear” I realized “the Olympic
Peninsula is much too far away for me to get there.”
Betty nodded to me! “Very difficult, Letizia, without a car.”
“But I so much wanted to see your chicken farm”
“My chickens are no longer there and you can admire the mountains from a distance”
But
I wanted to go there. I left the hotel and walked to the waterfront
where the State Ferry terminal is. Mamma mia, the streets in Seattle are
so steep! I couldn’t prevent my feet from running down the hill. Why
hadn’t I asked for brakes to be fixed on my shoes? I looked at the
drivers. How incredibly good they must be to accelerate away from the
red traffic lights. The people were walking uphill towards me as briskly
as agile salmon. Good heavens, these Americans! I tried to keep my
balance. The force of gravity is relentless. I grasped hold of objects
where I could and staggered down.
In Canada a friend had warned me that in Seattle I would see a lot of people with crutches.
Betty laughed. “ It’s not surprising, Letizia, walking salmon don’t fall directly into the soft mouth of a bear!”
“ Betty, stop making these gruesome remarks. We are not in Firlands!”
I
went further. Like a small deranged ant at the foot of a palace monster
I came to a tunnel. The noise was unbearable. On the motorway, “The
Alaskan Way Viaduct”, cars, busses and trucks were driving at the speed
of light right over my head. They puffed out their poisonous gas into
the open balconies and cultivated terraces of the luxurious sky-
scrapers without a thought in the world. America! You are crazy!
“Betty,
are all people in Seattle deaf? Or is it perhaps a privilege for
wealthy people to be able to enjoy having cars so near to their eyes and
noses to save them from boredom?”
“When the fog democratically allows everything to disappear into nothing, it makes a bit of a change, Letizia”
“ Your irony is incorrigible, Betty, but tell me, Seattle is meant to be a beautiful city, But where?”
I had at last reached the State Ferry terminal.
“No
Madam, the ferry for Vashon Island doesn’t start from here,” one of the
men in the ticket office tells me. ”Take a buss and go to the ferry
terminal in West Seattle.”
Betty explained to me “The island lies in
Puget Sound and not in Elliott Bay! It is opposite the airport. You must
have seen it when you were landing!”
“Betty, when I am landing I shut my eyes and pray!”
It’s time for lunch. The weather is beautiful and warm. Who said to me that it always rains here?
“Sure
to be some envious man who wanted to frighten you away from coming to
Seattle. The city is really beautiful, you’ll see. Stay by the
waterfront, choose the best restaurant with a view of Elliott Bay and
enjoy it.”
“Thank you Betty!”
I find a table on the
terrace of “Elliott’s Oyster House”. The view of the island is
wonderful. It lies quietly in the sun like a green fleecy cushion on the
blue water.
Betty plays with my words:
“Vashon Island is a big
cushion, even bigger than Bainbridge which you see in front of your
eyes, Letizia. The islands look similar. They have well kept houses and
beautiful gardens”.
I relax during this introduction, “Bainbridge” you are Vashon Island, and order a mineral water.
“At one time the hotel belonging to the parents of Monica Sone stood on the waterfront.”
“Oh, of your friend Kimi!” Unfortunately I forget to ask Betty exactly where it was.
My mind wanders and I think of my mountain hike back to the hotel! “Why is there no donkey for tourists?” Betty laughs:
“I’m sure you can walk back to the hotel. “Letizia can do everything.””
“Yes, Betty, I am my own donkey!”
But
I don’t remember that San Francisco is so steep. It doesn’t matter, I
sit and wait. The waiter comes and brings me the menu. I almost fall off
my chair!
“ What, you have geoduck on the menu! I have to try it” (I
confess I hate the look of geoduck meat. Betty’s recipe with the pieces
made me feel quite sick – I must try Betty’s favourite dish!)
“Proof that you love me!” said Betty enthusiastically “ Isn’t the way to the heart through the stomach?”
I order the geoduck. The waiter looks at me. He would have liked to recommend oysters.
“Geoduck no good for you!”
Had he perhaps read my deepest thoughts? Fate! Then no geoduck. “No good for me.”
“Neither geoduck nor tuberculosis in Seattle” whispered Betty in my ear!
“Oh Betty, my best friend, you take such good care of me!”
I order salmon with salad.
“Which salmon? Those that swim in water or those that run through Seattle?”
“Betty, I believe you want me to have a taste of your black humour.”
“Enjoy it then, Letizia.”
During lunch we talked about tuberculosis, and that quite spoilt our appetite.
“Have you read my book “The Plague and I”?”
“Oh Betty, I’ve started to read it twice but both times I felt so sad I had to stop again!”
“But
why?” asked Betty “Nearly everybody has tuberculosis! I recovered very
quickly and put on 20 pounds! There was no talk of me wasting away! What
did you think of my jokes in the book?”
“Those would have been a
good reason for choosing another sanitorium. I would have been afraid
of becoming a victim of your humour! You would have certainly given me a
nickname! You always thought up such amusing names!” Betty laughed.
“You’re
right. I would have called you “Roman nose”. I would have said to Urbi
and Orbi “ Early this morning “Roman nose” was brought here. She speaks
broken English, doesn’t eat geoduck but she does love cats.”
“Oh
Betty, I would have felt so ashamed to cough. To cough in your presence,
how embarrassing! You would have talked about how I coughed, how many
coughs!”
“It depends on that “how”, Letizia!”
“Please,
leave Goethe quotations out of it. You have certainly learnt from the
Indians how to differentiate between noises. It’s incredible how you
can distinguish between so many sorts of cough! At least 10!”
“So few?”
”And
also your descriptions of the patients and the nurses were pitiless. An
artistic revenge! The smallest pimple on their face didn’t escape your
notice! Amazing.”
“ I was also pitiless to myself. Don’t forget my irony against myself!”
Betty
was silent. She was thinking about Kimi, the “Princess” from Japan! No,
she had only written good things about her best friend, Monica Sone, in
her book “The Plague and I”. A deep friendship had started in the
hospital. The pearl that developed from the illness.
“Isn’t it
wonderful, Betty, that an unknown seed can make its way into a mollusk
in the sea and develop into a beautiful jewel?” Betty is paying
attention.
“Betty, the friendship between you and Monica reminds
me of Goethe’s poem “Gingo-Biloba”. You must know it?” Betty nods and I
begin to recite it:
The leaf of this Eastern tree
Which has been entrusted to my garden
Offers a feast of secret significance,
For the edification of the initiate.
Is it one living thing.
That has become divided within itself?
Are these two who have chosen each other,
So that we know them as one?
The
friendship with Monica is like the wonderful gingo-biloba leaf, the
tree from the east. Betty was touched. There was a deep feeling of trust
between us.
“Our friendship never broke up, partly because she was
in distress, endangered by the deadly illness. We understood and
supplemented each other. We were like one lung with two lobes, one from
the east and one from the west!”
“A beautiful picture, Betty. You were like two red gingo-biloba leaves!”
Betty
was sad and said ” Monica, although Japanese, before she really knew me
felt she was also an American. But she was interned in America,
Letizia, during the second world war. Isn’t that terrible?”
“Betty,
I never knew her personally. I have only seen her on a video, but what
dignity in her face, and she speaks and moves so gracefully!”
“Fate could not change her”
“Yes, Betty, like the gingo-biloba tree in Hiroshima. It was the only tree that blossomed again after the atom bomb!”
The
bill came and I paid at once. In America one is urged away from the
table when one has finished eating. If one wants to go on chatting one
has to order something else.
“That’s why all those people gossiping
at the tables are so fat!” Betty remarks. “Haven’t you seen how many
massively obese people walk around in the streets of America. Like
dustbins that have never been emptied!” With this typically
unsentimental remark Betty ended our conversation.
Ciao! I so
enjoyed the talk; the humour, the irony and the empathy. I waved to her
and now I too felt like moving! I take a lovely walk along the
waterfront.
Now I am back in Heidelberg and when I think about
how Betty’s “Princessin” left this world on September 5th and that in
August I was speaking about her with Betty in Seattle I feel very sad.
The readers who knew her well (we feel that every author and hero of a
book is nearer to us than our fleeting neighbours next door) yes we, who
thought of her as immortal, cannot believe that even she would die
after 92 years. How unforeseen and unexpected that her death should come
four days after her birthday on September 1th. On September 5th I was
on my way to Turkey, once again in seventh heaven, looking back on the
unforgettable days in Seattle. I was flying from west to east towards
the rising sun.
Is this Mr. Tigerli?
Take an illustrated day trip through Washington state’s largest city with artist Candace Rose Rardon.
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