BURNING THE KORAN

Florida Preacher, Terry Jones, burned a Koran in his church and caused huge protests in Afghanistan. Thousands of people waving Taliban flags rioted. More than 20 lost their lives. Seven were U.N. workers.

With pictures (like this one), of the Preacher being burned in effigy, a few weeks ago, the protest was mentioned a few times in our news. Right now, except for the families of the dead, it's more-or-less a forgotten fact that's filed away in the mind of Preacher Jones as a success.

Last year, before September 11, Jones promoted an International Burn A Koran Day. Threatening to burn a Koran every day, he sparked wild protests around the world. It was only after the intervention of both the President and Defense Secretary Robert Gates that Jones withdrew the plans, claiming he did so because he had made his point, and vowing not to go through with it.

But ON March 20th, he changed his mind.

To me, this man's burning of the Koran is a misplaced, distorted passion for his own religion and his own beliefs in the Lord God.

I bow my head, and mourn the people who died. This post today is my plea -- don't disrespect Muslims -- don't make war with them -- don't let it become our bible versus theirs.

Please don't dismiss the fact that 20 died because a preacher burned a Koran.

I am hoping my voice is yours too.

IF THE SHOE FITS?

I was on 8th Street, in Greenwich Village, buying colored pencils at my art supply store. The weather was almost warm. My feet in my sneakers were sweating. I saw two girls wearing flip flops. (I don't like them. They make me feel sloppy. I never wear them!)

Falling in love with a pair of shoes is like falling in love with a car. Back in my car buying days, I cruised around the dealers on Santa Monica Boulevard, but didn't seriously consider any auto until I saw a blue-blue Acura Legend. The specs were similar to the specs on a red Lincoln Town Car that I liked, but pushed out of my mind -- I needed a small car. Ahh, but the blue-blue Legend -- its sleek shape -- I was in love.

(I drove it for four years when we lived in Malibu.)

I wasn't shopping for shoes. Noticing this shoe in a store window and thought: "Yuck -- how klutzy, excessive! Lacing them would take ten minutes! Never would I wear dumb, over-fancy wedgies like that!"

The sign said: "Flatform. $2,100."

Shoes prices are nuts, out of whack -- way, way over the top ever since the "Sex in the City" heroines and their pumps. Yes, ridiculously fancy, expensive cruel high-heels are IN, but I can't walk, mince, or inch-along in any slipper that has more than a two-inch heel.

Of course, I notice shoes. I laugh and shrug off the out-of-sight prices, like this beauty -- $994 ---------

But that flatform -- I love being taller. The outrageously over priced price on the silly, klutzy shoe was what our Chevy Station Wagon cost my father, umpteen years ago. Why was I wasting time, staring at a silly, klutzy, over-priced, ridiculous, high fashion summer sandal?

I have handmade yellow leather sandals I can wear with bare feet, and blend in with people who are wearing flip flops. I also have comfortable green flats that give my bare toes more than enough air.

Damn flatforms -- it's string laces will loosen! I'd be bending and retying them, and spending what Daddy spent so that he could take my family for a Sunday drive!

Okay, times have changed! Maybe it's time to change -- put away my winter outfits and get out and see and be in today's world! But ... but ... hey, in today's world people are starving --.that money for the shoes could go to needy, desperate Japanese. Or cancer research?

I'll think about this tomorrow. If I still want them tomorrow I'll buy them.

Wham! Here I am, with the shoes on, sitting in my office, writing "IF THE SHOE FITS" for my blog. I'm putting words together about being decisive, clear thinking about what's important, with my two feet under my desk, bedecked in flatforms.

Feeling wonderfully ridiculous, klutzy, marvelously tall, and stylish as I finish this shoe story, I'm aware that it's chilly outside, too chilly for my bare-foot flatforms.

Yes they're very comfortable. Yes, they're lovely. Yes. they are tricky to lace up.

Shall I kiss them goodbye, and pack them back in the shoe box? And return them tomorrow?

Hmm.

Should I? Shouldn't I?

ATTITUDE

A dear friend emailed me this. It's just what I needed to read today.

ATTITUDE

There once was a woman who woke up one morning,
looked in the mirror,
and noticed she had only three hairs on her head.
'Well,' she said, 'I think I'll braid my hair today.'
So she did and she had a wonderful day.

The next day she woke up, looked in the mirror
and saw that she had only two hairs on her head.
'Hmm,' she said, 'I think I'll part my hair down the middle today.'
So she did and she had a grand day.

The next day she woke up, looked in the mirror and noticed
that she had only one hair on her head.
'Well,' she said, 'today I'm going to wear my hair in a pony tail.'
So she did, and she had a fun, fun day.

The next day she woke up, looked in the mirror and
noticed that there wasn't a single hair on her head.'
Yeah!' she exclaimed. 'I don't have to fix my hair today!'

Attitude is everything..

Be kinder than necessary,
for everyone you meet is fighting some kind of battle.
Live simply,
love generously,
care deeply,
speak kindly,
and pray continually.
Life isn't about waiting for the storm to pass...

It's about learning to dance in the rain.

Life is too short to wake up with regrets!

WHAT HAPPENED TO CIVILITIES?

I like please and thank-you, and courtesies. I personally bend over backwards to avoid, in writing, all four- letter expletives.

I refuse to admit that I was ever a part of the IN world or involved in the super-expensively manufactured, tip-top echelon of cosmeticised, surgically improved, mantra-Kaballah-Yoga-Joe-Pilates educated entertainers, who were the exponents of godliness.

Who specificially?

Well, it was Norman-"advertisements for myself"-Mailer -- and of course Bob-the-poet-chronicler-"blowing in the wind"-Dylan. It included Andy-soup-can-Warhol -- boss Bruce-"born in the U.S.A" -Springsteen. Also, the young Robert Downey Jr. (in and out of jails and various nut houses, sort of like Charlie Sheen ) and the "'oh I'm not gay" Tom Cruise, and the coke-bottle-sucking "truth or dare" Madonna.

And others too -- they were civil, tasteful, quite elegant, mannerly, solemn, self righteous and fantastically Jet-Set CHIC.

Okay, I like please and thank-you, and gracious nods and hand-shakes, and an air-kiss or a bow is a wow; but ... well ... hey ... that's sort of slipping out of prime focus these days.

It's as if Charlie Sheen's public vomiting is a preview of where we are heading with "Jersey Shore's" sloppy nobodies, the various "Wives Shows" with under-scripted, over-dressed married babes, and holy cow -- have you heard rapper Cee Lo 's "Fuck You" hit, or Niki Minaj's "Check it out?" And seen/heard, and tried to sing along with Gaga's gargling her latest semi melodic truths?

And the Kardasians? My goodness, all that much ado about absolutely zero-nothing but stupefyingly boring ego, and, oh dear -- there's other aloof, raw, bulletproof personalities -- like Zuckerberg, with his childlike blank stare controlling how we say "hi."

I am not sure who I am, or where I am, or if I belong in this huge city, my hometown New York City with all these guys-ees, gals-ees dressed in the emperor's new clothes -- with their fleshy parts out there flopping, sagging, bouncing, poking pointing here and there, while they're insulting, attacking, offending, haha-amusing me by amusing themselves.

Should I join in? And do, say, chat about what? Good God, what should I wear?

I don't know what to wear!

Where can I hide. Maybe I shouldn't hide. I should stop, look, listen and make sure I'm not run over while I wend my way back inside my house and pull the shades.