When I set out to learn about my mother's bridge club, the Jewish octogenarians behind the matching outfits and accessories, I never expected to fall in love with them. This is the story of the ladies, their game, their gen, and the ragged path that led me back to my mother.“Life is a racket. Writing is a racket. Sincerity is a racket. Everything’s a racket,” as spoken by none other than the late, great Nick Tosches (1949-2019). I have to admit, this quote comes about as close to my life philosophy as anything I’ve ever seen. Insincerity is also a racket. Love is a racket. Friendliness is a racket. Hopes and dreams: big racket. Being nice, gossip, NYC, racket, racket, racket. Nature is not a racket. Good self-esteem may seem like a racket, but it isn’t. Your book advance, your number of followers, the idea of following is a racket. Publishing is a racket. Believing that you can make a difference is not a racket, though it often gets dressed up as a racket. Rachel Maddow, Starbucks, Netflix, New Yorker, the guy on the home page of Chase on-line.
What’s your racket?
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Betsy Lerner 
This is a thought provoking post, and question. There’s so much I agree with here. One of the biggest rackets of all time is definitely social media. It could take first place, or at least come even with the political scene.
“What’s your racket?”
One is writing reviews. But, sometimes I find myself LOVING the work. (helloooo Dana Czapnik, THE FALCONER) and sometimes? Yeah, not so much. I was taught if you can’t say something nice, don’t say anything at all. Racket or not, it’s some of the best advice I’ve ever been given.
To me, most things are bullshit. Bullshit, bullshit, bullshit. Brokers are bullshit. Facebook (which I do not do) is bullshit. Politically correct is bullshit. Most (not all) doctors are bullshit. Dentists, yes. Financial advisors, bullshit. Family dynamics, a bushel of bullshit. Pharma, insurance companies–the zenith of bullshit. Politicians, hahahaha. We are just one great big Cruise Ship of Fools.
That was me. Pressed wrong key. However, I would like add that this blog, for myself, is not bullshit, but a great place for that which is real.
Electric guitar, cranked up and distorted; it makes a racket.
“What’s your racket?”
Doing whatever I need to do to make sure I can continue to write whatever I want to write, while avoiding hunger and homelessness.
And love. Being loved. Loving. Believing I am loved and believing I am loving.
Pursuing the infantile dream that I am important and valued and safe in the face of all evidence to the contrary.
Upon reflection, I think, fundamentally, my racket is manipulation.
Tennis Is A Racket.
That’s a good question.
The loud kinds I avoid, along with the illegal. Line of work is minimal, way of life pretty calm. No sports equipment among my rackets.
Self-loathing is my racket. Not writing is my racket. Fear is a huge racket of mine. Appearing non-judgmental when being judgmental is another biggie. But I flatter myself, which is also a racket.