A senior citizen recipe for happiness, rediscovered soup plates and urgent Texas news.

It’s 4:45 in the morning and I’m here in the study with a tasty Glucerna milkshake for people with diabetes who get up in the middle of the night for no particular reason whatsoever. Until I’m ready to go back to bed I’ll do my best to entertain y’all with a Howdygram post.

These pre-Code films have enough uncensored grit, grief, sex and horror to last five lifetimes.

Holy crap. Have you been watching any of those pre-Code movies this month on TCM? THEY’RE INCREDIBLE! I saw two on Saturday while Sam was unconscious on the sofa and now I wish I’d saved them for him. They were: 1) Call Her Savage (1932) starring Clara Bow and Gilbert Roland; and 2) The Hatchet Man (1930) starring Edward G. Robinson as the “enforcer” of a Chinese gang and Loretta Young as his Chinese child bride. (Seriously.)

Yesterday’s big parade included cowboys on horseback, Elvises and lots of girls with legs.

It’s 9:40 Saturday morning and Sam went back to bed about half an hour ago, leaving me alone in the study with a Marcytini and a big blank screen that’s waiting for a Howdygram post. I’m not feeling especially perky or creative at the present time so you can either bear with me or go watch TV for a little while. (If I were you, I’d watch TV.)

Here’s our essential guide to the 2014 State Fair of Texas.

Hi, y’all. Howdygram headquarters is full of late-breaking Texas news today! But first ... in case you haven’t seen the latest photo from Paris Fashion Week, here are frozen-face professional poser Kim Kardashian, wearing a skirt so short she had to hide her “hoo-hoo” from the media, and her douchebag spouse, the megalomaniac Kanye West, both TOPLESS at the Lanvin runway show. Caught on video by TMZ, they were booed loudly by the crowd when they entered the arena and Kanye had a fucking STROKE because the dumb slob thinks he deserves to be the most respected half-naked American in the room with man-boobs and a trophy tramp wife. That’s definitely one of the best sentences I’ve ever written.

L’shanah tovah from Marcy and Sam.

Rosh Hashanah — year 5775 on the Hebrew calendar — kicked off about 45 minutes ago when the sun went down, so this would be a perfect opportunity to wish y’all a VERY HAPPY NEW YEAR if you’re Jewish like we are! Sam and I aren’t observant, although we cling to the really important traditions like gefilte fish and yahrzeit candles.

Shalom from Texas. Tonight is Jewish New Year’s Eve!

This post will include a timeline separated into convenient paragraphs. Deal with it, okay?

Please eat more pea salad and elect Democrats in November.

Mazel tov, people. Today is September 23 and a GIGANTIC MILESTONE on the Howdygram’s calendar. It’s officially the first day of autumn, two days before Rosh Hashanah, one week until we go to the Choctaw Casino in Oklahoma for the senior citizen buffet and only 38 days left until my birthday. THIS IS SO DAMN EXCITING A PERSON COULD EXPLODE ALREADY.

New fonts, old movies and a shitload of loose change.

In case you’re wondering where the hell I’ve been for the last two days, the answer is RIGHT HERE, DOING NOTHING. Actually, yesterday I slept a lot and watched a bunch of really good movies (details follow) and today I’ve mostly been rolling Sam’s collection of loose change and trying to get rid of a headache. For your possible interest our total haul today was $287, which included the contents of two Folger’s coffee cans and a little metal tray where Sam throws his car keys at night.

Congratulations, Florida. You’ve finally upstaged Texas.

Hi, people. I have a variety of fascinating topics for today’s Howdygram post but I don’t know yet if I’ll get to all of them or not. I guess it depends on two things: 1) what time I want to eat dinner because it’s already 8:45 and nobody’s getting any younger here; and 2) if I become too involved with the bag of Russell Stover sugar-free chocolate-covered peanuts that Sam just deposited on my desk. It’s always something, isn’t it?

There’s no such thing as too much gravy.

Yo, people, and I’d like to extend my best wishes for a very HAPPY FRIDAY to you and yours! I didn’t have time to write a Howdygram post yesterday in-between naps, two hypoglycemic episodes and Melvyn Douglas movies, so I’ll do my best to make amends for it RIGHT NOW. Thank you.

A nuclear stress test is out of the fucking question.

Let’s take a minute or two to recap this morning’s cardiology appointment, shall we? This was my first session with Dr. Singh. He’s nice, he went to college and I’m pretty sure I like him even though he thinks I’m overweight. He studied the EKG from my visit with Dr. M a couple of weeks ago and concluded that an occasionally-irregular heartbeat is nothing to worry about since I’m breathing fine, shlepping around like a typical old lady with lousy knees and I don’t have chest pains. But, he says, it would still be terrific fun to subject me to an echocardiogram RIGHT NOW — even though he can’t find a single legitimate reason for it — and then schedule me for a two-day “nuclear stress test” at his office in Greenville that involves pumping shit into my veins UNTIL I PRACTICALLY HAVE A HEART ATTACK because my mobility issues make a treadmill test not such a hot idea.

Delusional looks from the runways of London Fashion Week.

I can’t believe I forgot to include this in my last post so I’ll just do another one, okay? Here are some recent photos from the runways of London Fashion Week that highlight the latest looks for spring from some of the planet’s most delusional designers. Details appear below.

If Dr. Singh’s storm troopers won’t accept a typed list of medications they can all go piss up a rope.

News bulletin: OLD AGE GIVES YOU A LICENSE TO BE CRABBY. I never do anything I don’t want to do, I won’t tolerate shitty service, I usually refuse to pick up a ringing phone and sometimes I won’t even make the bed. With regard to my doctor appointment tomorrow, I’m ready for a battle with the cardiologist after receiving a lengthy, recorded robo-call yesterday with an annoying list of demands and instructions for my first appointment, including an iron-clad rule that I have to bring along all of my prescription bottles — NO FUCKING EXCEPTIONS WHATSOEVER — “or risk being turned away at the reception desk.” Well, good luck with that, pal! I don’t keep prescription bottles because I’ve got diabetic peripheral neuropathy in both hands and can’t open the damn things, so I pour my pills into neatly-labeled Ziploc bags that I keep in a little plastic crate in my desk. Bottom line: If Dr. Singh’s storm troopers won’t accept a typed list of medications — spelled correctly in a legible typeface with accurate dosages — THEY CAN ALL GO PISS UP A ROPE and I’ll come straight home and watch Myrna Loy movies.

Only a Republican would be stupid enough to accuse himself of plagiarism in an effort to improve his reputation.

Here’s the post I promised to write with our latest Putz of the Week award! This time the Howdygram is honoring Russell Pearce, the first vice-chair of Arizona’s Republican Party and disgraced (and recalled) Arizona state senate president, for some seriously shitty remarks he made on September 6 on his weekly radio talk show. Pearce is a first-degree jackass and anti-Semite who eats lunch with white supremacists and shills for the Corrections Corporation of America, which has never met an immigrant it didn’t want to throw into prison.

Pleasant and productive activities.

Hi, guys! I’ve had a pleasant and productive day that’s included all of the following pleasant and productive activities so far. There is always a possibility that additional pleasant and productive activities may be added later but we won’t worry too much about that now. Thank you.

I’m really, really sick of the news again and I know I’m not alone here.

I’m grieved to report that going back to bed this morning didn’t really do much to help my complaints du jour. My throat is still raw, my eyes are dripping and I’ve got an annoyingly low body temperature (currently hovering at 95.7°) that makes my skin feel like a dead mackerel. As soon as Sam gets home from Wal-Mart I’ll heat up a nice can of Campbell’s cream of mushroom soup for lunch and try another nap on the chaise. In case you care, Sam is buying no-carb cream (for the soup) plus assorted other Sunday essentials that include sugar-free Jell-O cups in exciting flavors, Hillshire Farm wrinkly chicken lunch meat and some 12-ounce bottles of Coke Zero for my new teeny fridge in the study. Oh boy, right?

Announcing another delicious convenience for housebound old ladies with shitty knees.

Know what happens when I get hungry? I buy amazings edible things on the interwebs! Last night I reordered more of that surprisingly tasty YODERS CANNED BACON from the nice people at Pleasant Hill Grain. I love this stuff, guys. Yoders manages to shove 52 regular-size slices of fully-cooked, ready-to-eat bacon in every can ... no more greasy frying pans or bacon shpritzies all over the stove! I ordered two cans this time. One for now, one for later.

Greg Abbott has entered the sixth grade name-calling phase of his gubernatorial campaign.

I know you’ll forgive me for not writing a Howdygram post yesterday. As the old saying goes, the spirit was willing but the rest of me took naps. Two of ’em. At the moment it’s 6:10 a.m., Sam is in bed and I’m having a minor episode of hypoglycemia that I’ll milk for all its worth because low blood sugar makes me feel inebriated and creative at the same time. (Also really, really hungry.)

I’m in the throes of a dire artificially-flavored milkshake crisis.

I was supposed to go to the podiatrist today at 9 a.m. If you’ve been paying attention, however, that first sentence tells you TWO THINGS: 1) I didn’t actually go; and 2) okay, only ONE thing, which means I should ALSO tell you that I had to cancel at the last minute because I didn’t get out of bed until 8:40 — next time I hope somebody reminds me to remind Sam to wake me up — and I positively did NOT feel like walking out of the house with bed-head, stiff knees (we’re expecting rain), untweezed eyebrows and a shitty attitude. (But please don’t say anything. I simply told the doctor’s office I ruptured something.)

Big Tex has been scaring the shit out of people for more than 60 years.

Before I get carried away with this post and drift into assorted subjects, please allow me to make a very important announcement:

A Howdygram ranking: The 25 Shittiest Men of All Time.

While I sit here wondering how come I never got the results of last Tuesday’s blood tests from Dr. M’s office I thought it might be a fun distraction to assemble the following list for you. It’s our first official Howdygram ranking, so-to-speak. Here, for your possible interest, are ...

Will independence for Scotland mean a worldwide shortage of bagpipes and Lorna Doones?

Did you ever notice that some days are newsier than other days? Today, for instance, has been newsy as hell around here, which I’ll expound for you below in attractive separate paragraphs.

God invented the caps-lock key and I intend to use it.

Know what I love? ALL CAPS. They’re my best friend and my favorite go-to default style for the Howdygram because ALL CAPS GIVE MY IMPORTANT SHIT THE BIGNESS IT DESERVES. They’re NOISY, EMPHATIC, UNFILTERED, UNAPOLOGETIC, THERAPEUTIC and GUTSY. They’re HONEST. And they EXPAND THE VISUAL DYNAMIC OF WRITTEN SPEECH. (Mine usually needs all the help it can get.)

Fonts and thunderstorms.

I almost didn’t want to write a Howdygram post today due to feeling like crap — I’m still battling that urinary tract infection — but here I am anyway because I just downloaded an amazing secret treasure of premium fonts that would have cost me about $350 if I’d been dumb enough to shop on MyFonts.com instead of Googling “free Hallmark fonts.”

I’m mad about a thing again. Except this time, three.

Irritating crap is threatening to derail an otherwise pleasant Friday that began, for a change, on a positive note after eight glorious hours of sleep interrupted by only one routine middle-of-the-night senior citizen bathroom adventure. In case you’re interested, here’s what’s getting on my nerves today.

The Howdygram recommends our favorite scandalous pre-Code films.

You know what I almost forgot to tell you? Not only is this Melvyn Douglas month on Turner Classic Movies, they’re also airing dozens of scandalous pre-Code films from the early 1930s on Fridays in September. There are lots of titles I can’t wait to see for the first time and old favorites that are always worth watching again. Here are some of my recommendations, okay? Please try not to miss the ones with teeny red stars; they’re AMAZING.

Customer service lesson: There are plenty of bozos with squeegees who know how to wash windows.

We have the sads right now at Howdygram headquarters, having just learned that legendary funny lady Joan Rivers died this afternoon. I loved Joan. I loved her voice, the huge fun she had entertaining an audience and every insane, outrageous thing that ever came out of her mouth, including a 20-minute shtick about “afterbirth” when I saw her live show in Las Vegas back in 1981. R.I.P., Joan.

I’m requesting a motorized chaise lounge on wheels for Hanukkah this year.

I knew it was just a matter of time. Last night I got a frantic phone call from one of my ex-clients who’s having a brain hemorrhage from the shitty customer service at Web.com, the miserable company that continued hosting her website after I retired a few months ago. Web.com apparently never credited her September hosting payment, shut down her website and email, and now they’re demanding a password in order to reinstate her service ... except NOBODY EVER ASKED HER TO SET A PASSWORD when we transferred her account back in June. Since I no longer have any connection whatsoever to Web.com — thank God! — I really didn’t know what to suggest, so I decided to give her my old administrator password and told her to give it a shot. I  have no idea if this actually worked or not but I seriously don’t give a crap. I’M RETIRED, DAMN IT. I’M NEVER ANSWERING THE PHONE AGAIN FOR THE REST OF MY LIFE.

Mock chicken parmesan for senior citizens that’s good enough for Dean Martin.

As promised, here’s another fine senior citizen recipe for old people with mobility problems who like to eat. This time it’s MOCK CHICKEN PARMESAN FOR SENIOR CITIZENS WITH EXTRA MOZZARELLA CHEESE AND BOGUS PASTA ... my answer to not being able to stand up long enough to cook the real thing and there’s also nobody around to take you to an Italian restaurant for dinner. This is actually a two-step recipe but they’re both fast as hell and you can sit down in-between if your knees hurt.

September is Melvyn Douglas month on TCM.

Howdy, boys and girls! It’s my sacred duty as a retired senior citizen to inform you that SEPTEMBER IS MELVYN DOUGLAS MONTH on Turner Classic Movies and I wholeheartedly encourage all of you to enjoy a whole bunch of this fabulous dude’s films ... every Wednesday starting TODAY. Here are my favorite picks for the month. (Check your local listings for times.)

I’m having a very shitty day.

Even though I try hard to remain upbeat in the face of day-to-day adversity — chronic pain, diabetes, running out of braunschweiger — today I’m mostly feeling bummed out, defeated and shitty following an early-morning appointment with Dr. M. For your possible interest the sordid details appear below with helpful subtitles.

I guess we don’t have a conundrum after all.

Remember that conundrum I mentioned in my Howdygram post yesterday afternoon? We’ve decided not to lose any sleep about the two shingles we found in our back yard because this morning when Sam went to the supermarket he saw a pile of loose roof shingles in the middle of Northwest Drive about two blocks from our house, so he figures they all went flying off a truck during Friday’s big-ass thunderstorm or maybe blew away from a construction site somewhere in the neighborhood.

Today is a day of multiple “happies.”

Today, dear readers, is a day of multiple “happies” here at Howdygram headquarters. For instance, it just doesn’t get much better than THIS:

• Happy Monday
• Happy First Day of September
• Happy Labor Day
• Happy Sam Just Bought Me a Huge Bag of Jimmy Dean Fully-Cooked Sausage Patties He Found in the Freezer Case at Tom Thumb

I’ll wait while you try to guess what I’m having for lunch today.