There are many famous people who seem (emphasis on the “s” word) reasonably human. And there are some who seem to be off on their own orbit, who ignite suspicions about a lack of something or other…a certain sincere, semi-vulnerable, open-hearted quality.

It was a little over four years ago when Taylor Swift and Tom Hiddleston…I don’t want to talk about it. But after that affair crashed and burned, I suddenly had an idea that Swift is a cyborg. An idea, not a conclusion. I know nothing.

“Wherever you stray, I follow / And I’m begging for you to take my hand / Wreck my plans, thats my man / Life was a willow, and it bent right to your wind.”

To me, Owen Wilson, whom I’ve known since ’94, will always be the Wedding Crashers guy. Or, you know, the Butterscotch Stallion. He’s only 52, but in the Disney + Loki TV series he looks like a moustachied John Slattery. Is he wearing older guy makeup? If so, fine. If not, fine. I miss the golden mane.

To me a sponge is for cleaning whatever. Soak in hot water, sprinkle liquid soap and scrub away….floors, dishes, bathroom walls, wine glasses, bicycles, pasta sauce stains on pants, etc.

“No!”, I’ve repeatedly been told by Tatiana. Different tasks require different sponges, and only a coarse animal would mix them up.

There are elite eating and drinking sponges (plates, cutlery, wine glasses, drinking glasses) and there are second-class kitchen and bathroom sink sponges. Never mix these up! A third sponge is needed to scrub the refrigerator and bathroom tub, and ideally a fourth sponge should be set aside for floor scrubbings (kitchen or living room) or walls…a floor sponge being the lowest of the low.

You can also use your coarse floor sponges to wash your car or motorcycle, but never, ever allow the eating and drinking sponges to be soiled with floor or wall dirt, and don’t even mention surfaces soiled by the great outdoors.

All this time I thought that after a sponge is soaked and cleaned with hot water, it would suffice for any cleaning purpose or surface. Because, you know, it’s been purged of all dirt and impurities. Silly me.

NHS Charities Together, a British concern, is behind a nice little ad about a Covid-afflicted Santa Claus being nursed back to health in a hospital. The 90-second spot is titled “The Gift.” It’s about love and caring, and it has a happy ending.

But a cabal of rightwing idiots and outraged parents are saying “how dare they show Santa suffering from the coronavirus!? Our kids were really upset by this. Doesn’t the NHS understand that Santa is magical and never gets sick? He just cruises around in his flying sled going ho-ho-ho….how dare they?”

I never told my kids that Santa was real. To kids indoctrinated by this silly fable, Santa means one thing and one thing only — loads of free toys. There’s nothing about the Santa legend that mentions love and kindness and charity for the less fortunate.

When I was three or four I was taken to see “the real” Santa at the original Macy’s in Herald Square. Santa has a tight schedule and a lot to prepare for so he restricts himself to Macy’s, my mother told me. “But doesn’t he live at the North Pole?” Yes, but he makes a special trip to Macy’s so children can tell him what they want for Christmas. He can’t meet everyone but he has a special feeling for Macy’s.

“What about the other Santa at Bamberger’s?” He’s not the real Santa, she explained — he’s just a helper. Santa only has time to visits Macy’s. “But what about the Santas in all the California department stores?” Helpers. “Well, what about England? Does Santa visit kids in England or just America?” (I had recently seen Brian Desmond Hurst and Alistair Sim‘s A Christmas Carol.) No, he flies to England, I was told. In fact, Santa flies there first because they’re five hours ahead of us.