Any list of my personal peeves would have to include New York City’s Mayor Bill De Blasio. Those of us who used to take shots at the former mayor, referring to him as Nanny Bloomberg, didn’t fully appreciate how much worse New York voters could do once they really put their minds to it.

I honestly thought that after siding with the street mob against the NYPD, De Blasio ran the very real risk of facing a recall election, but I should have known better than to expect New Yorkers to show any sign of sanity.

Now I have no doubt that the city’s left-wing Jewish and Italian voters will applaud De Blasio’s latest decision, which is to close the public schools for two Muslim holidays, Eid al-Adha and Eid al-Fitr. No doubt the voters will also applaud themselves for having elected this ecumenical buffoon.

In announcing this brainstorm, De Blasio explained: “This is a common sense change. It recognizes our growing Muslim community and honors its many contributions to our city.”

Unfortunately, he neglected to mention if he was referring to 9/11, the Times Square car bomber or the Muslim convert who attacked two New York cops with an axe.

In the distant past, I was a movie critic, and for a good portion of my life, I was a movie fan. But not so much lately. Part of the problem is that Hollywood has pretty much decided that stories, characters and dialogue, are nonessential, mainly due to lousy writers and to technological advances in special effects. In the industry’s defense, they have determined that they are satisfying its base audience, which consists of children and young adults.

Believing in capitalism as I do, I don’t really have a problem with the current state of affairs. Thanks to other forms of technology, I have ready access to the great movies of the past. But, having said that, I still rue what has happened to an American art form that, as with popular music, once held so much promise.

Among my major peeves is that the majority of films I’ve seen in recent years have been under-lit, as if trying to pass themselves off as radio shows. It is a fad I simply can’t get my head around. I mean, it’s not as if light bulbs constitute a major studio expense.

Another annoyance I’ve encountered are movies that open without credits, holding them off until the end, as if the producers are worried that if the action doesn’t start as soon as the film begins to roll through the projector, the audience will switch to another station.

And what’s with the damn fireballs? How many times are we going to see the hero have to out-run flames without even singeing his tail feathers?

One final peeve are directors who think that by having characters talk over each other, they’re striking a blow for realism, when in fact people are rarely that rude except on Fox News and in other lousy movies.

In the real world, one of my major peeves happen to be wealthy communists. Maybe because I grew up with a bunch of rich Russian-born uncles who never stopped praising the Soviet Union – although none of them ever packed their bags and moved back – such people have a special place in my craw. Today, of course, the rolls of the Democratic Party are full of these rich hypocrites, and they can always be counted upon to ballyhoo Obama’s radical transformation of America and his trampling of the Constitution.

I recently came across a word, “ultracrepidarian,” that describes a person who spouts opinions far beyond his area of expertise, assuming he or she has an area of expertise. What makes the word unique is that it allows you to describe Obama without resorting to obscenities.

Another of my numerous peeves are parents who give cutesy or crazy names to their children. This is particularly popular among the celebrity crowd. Until I looked into it, I thought that perhaps Kenye West and Kim Kardashian, who named their daughter North (North West) were the prime offenders. But that was before I delved more deeply into this pathology.

Sylvester Stallone named his kid Sage Moonblood. Rob Morrow named his son Tu. (Get it? Tu Morrow.) Jason Lee labeled his first born Pilot Inspektor. Penn Jillette went with Moxie Crimefighter. Nicolas Cage, showed his allegiance to Marvel Comics by naming his son Kal-El, while Frank Zappa apparently had two kids so he could curse one with Moon Unit and the other with Diva Thin Muffin.

Just in case you were wondering if drug use is as widespread in show biz as you’ve heard rumored, wonder no longer. All I can say is if Moxie Crimefighter or Tu Morrow ever gets around to killing his parents, he’ll want me either serving on the jury or as his defense attorney.

Of late, I have been urging my readers to drop certain charities and to support others. Having recently warned that the Humane Society of the U.S. is as corrupt as Congress, stashing untold millions of dollars in the Cayman Islands while offering only chump change to a very few animal shelters, I’m happy to report that dog lovers who wish to make a real difference should consider contributing to Paws & Stripes.

After rescuing the animals from shelters, the charity trains them to be service dogs for military veterans suffering from mental or physical injuries.

Help a dog help a soldier. I don’t think it gets much better than that.