Regular reader and accidental acquaintance, Kelly Garland and I shared an exchange today on Facebook about the weather. Not so much about the weather so much as the 24 hour news cycle and the tendency of the news to do everything in its power to assure you that death is imminent, it will be painful, and you can only be saved if you watch their news program at five, five-thirty and six-because even though the news cares deeply about you and saving you from the thing that will surely kill you, it will not give you the whole story at one time.
My local news says it is "on my side", though you wouldn't know it by the way they mete out information like a reluctant pimp being shaken down a la a seventies cop show. By which I mean in little bits, only after you've paid dearly for it.
After getting the tease at five, you get the tease and the footage at five-thirty and the promise of an interview with someone close to the investigation six. So you wait and watch at six and there is some sketchy person with their faze fuzzed out saying they were quietly smoking their bong when the event unfolded and they are "shocked" and "can't believe it."
Give me a break. At five you tell me there is a polygamous serial murdering arsonist who will gain entry into my home posing as a gas company official at which time he will rape my pet force me to marry him and then will burn down my house. You tell me only you know the information pivotal to my safety and you are going to wait until six to tell me?? How is this being on my side? What if he is on my street right now? Maybe he is at my door! I am powerless against him! You haven't given me the tools I need! It's only five-forty-five!
And the weather! Every day, weather is out to get me. It's either too hot, too cold, too sunny, too much rain, el nino, la nina, hurricane, killer water spout, malevolent jet stream, pernicious sand storm or the greatest snow storm in a thousand years and it's all happening, right now! The forecast is replete with graphics and dramatic music and a very serious sounding man with an impressive bass voice telling me to hang the on, Sloopy the weather is coming. Now! If they could find a way to put in Bam! and Zow! and Wang! graphics on the screen and not make it too much like an old Batman show, they would.
Why does everything need to be so damn dramatic? Especially since if you were telling the truth you would at the very least include a disclaimer explaining that statistically, you couldn't predict sunset at noon.
Right now, the worst winter storm since ninetee-diggity-three is barreling down on us here in the midwest. That's right, cities like Chicago, Detroit, Cleveland, Minneapolis and Pittsburgh are expecting snow. In February. No shit? This is unprecedented! Run to the store and buy three weeks worth of food, it's gonna snow a lot! Seriously, we mean it this time! It's not like the snow contains tiny daggers, or is radioactive or heat seeking and pissed off that you kissed its sister. It's snow. It's winter. Get over it. If on February 1st you don't own a shovel and boots and a coat, you are in trouble, however I submit that if you are in this predicament, you probably don't own a t.v., either.
And why do people go crazy at the store? Do you expect every plow in your city to break or be swept away by some unforeseen force and thereby will starve to death in your own home? Don't you have neighbors? Do they like you? If it's that bad, we are all truly screwed. Buying every loaf of bread on the shelf isn't gonna put you in any better stead than the rest of us. Especially because I bought all the tuna! Even the stuff that says it's mostly dolphin and is packed in whale oil! Now who's laughing? I guess we're gonna have to work together here, partner.
So, as Kelly and I mused earlier, for those of us in the path of this great freight train of the angry killer storm that will surely end the world, throw another log on the fire, uncork a bottle of wine, don the snuggie crack open a book and relax. It's a snow storm. That is not news.
Monday, January 31, 2011
Monday Morning Miscellany
Apologies to Danny Glover
"I'm too old for this stuff [sic]!" was the line Danny Glover made famous in the Lethal Weapon movies as Sergeant Murtaugh a guy who was seemingly always only days away from retirement. It's a line that pops through a chaperone's mind a time or two on an overnight event with a bunch of kids. I know it went through mine.
We got together with a couple youth groups from some local African American congregations in an attempt to explain to our children that there are other people than white people and Asians adopted by white people. I joke, our kids go to diverse schools and are all very inclusive people, but our youth group is pretty monochromatic, much like our congregation. We went sledding, had a meal, played games and did a worship service. It was great.
Sledding is terrifying, which is why it's fun I guess. It certainly is only fun half the time. the other half you are dragging yourself back up a slippery hill with other sledders aiming for you like they were trying to pick up a spare. Not exactly as life-threatening or dramatic as storming the beaches on D-day, but exciting none-the-less. You want a big hill so that the down portion is more fun. The bigger the hill, the bigger the climb. It's a vicious cycle. We had our share of wipe-outs and whitewashes. Getting snow up your nose is now called Snowt (a mashup of snow and snot). I decided it would be best to slide down the side of the hill to the car, rather than hike down. The problem was the trees. I almost did a Sonny Bono into a white pine. Pine is a soft wood, but somehow, I think it would win. I rolled off the sled instead and starfished the rest of the way down, narrowly avoiding the tree.
Then I got to watch all the kids, who had just seen me almost die, do the same thing, the whole time trying to remember where those signed indemnity wavers were. I am not a role model.
The retreat was a good idea and went well. Though, like salad dressing, the kids tended to separate into their component groups and needed a little shaking up here and there. The adults had no such problem. I dare say we had at least as much fun as the kids and I got to know some fine people.
Two, Two-and-a-half hours sleep tops, on an air mattress with chaos swirling around you is not the best setting for a good hard rest, but you find a way to make it through and you hope the kids have a good time. Even in college I was never the stay up all night type. I was almost always the first one to bed.
Your reward for all this is to get up before anyone else and cook breakfast and then to clean up after them. I thought I said no to parenthood! But, it is all fun and keeps me young, because I am sure I nary would have left the house if it weren't for the retreat.
Sitting through church after was really hard. The sermon was, how to say, technical, rather than inspiring and the pacing of the whole thing was sort of like swimming through nacho cheese. If you get anywhere it's gonna be slowly. Blessedly it was over after an hour.
I took a nap Sunday before the Hockey All-Star game and that was surprisingly refreshing, sustaining me until the ripe old hour of 9:45, when in the middle of a chapter, my body said "Sleep NOW!" in a very serviceable Charlton Heston as Moses voice. Who can argue with Moses? Come to think of it, it was more of a Phil Hartman doing Charlton Heston as Moses voice. For me, equally effective.
Thankfully, I am feeling normal today. Stiff from sledding, which I haven't done in an eon, but normal. It is a Monday and there are a lot of things going on professionally so this could be a great day, or a frustrating day. I have no idea what the weather brings and since there is travel in my forecast, I am sure that will be of some influence on my day as well.
The Winter Ooooohs
Yesterday was gorgeous, y'all. Sunny and crisp, with a nearly fresh blanket of snow on the ground. It was light until almost six o'clock, which makes me nostalgic for the long days ahead. I have been cruising through Corvette magazines and websites again, planning what projects will be done this season. Corvette fever, a regular yearly relapse for me is a sure sign that spring is on its way. January never visited upon us the expected onslaught of snow. It was cold, but it was also often sunny. The snow all year has been powdery, light and shiny. The pretty stuff. Bad for snow men, good for skiers. And it hasn't fallen in feet at a time, only inches. It has been, manageable.
No Good Deed Goes Unpunished
I stopped short of a driveway the other day to let a woman out who was trying to make a left turn onto a busy street. I saw a car coming on my left and I put my hand up to stop the woman from leaving the driveway. She looked at me and smiled and waved and went for it... con brio to coin a musical direction.
And so now, three feet off the front of my car is a tangled mess of late model sedan and two very angry people. I was on an emergency call myself and had to get out to my client in 25 minutes. I had an hour by contract, but I was eating lunch so 25 minutes was all that was left. Anyway, in good weather is would have been a stretch to get there in that time and the roads were sort of bad this day, so I sneaked around them and went on my way once I saw there were no injuries. I went to the police station after and gave my statement. I haven't heard anything back, but as of then, there had been no call to an accident. Probably another example of a couple customers from the Doantgott/Enny Insurance agency, featuring the popular affordable "Yo Fault" insurance program for thousands of drivers in the Michigan market.
That's what you get for trying to be nice.
"I'm too old for this stuff [sic]!" was the line Danny Glover made famous in the Lethal Weapon movies as Sergeant Murtaugh a guy who was seemingly always only days away from retirement. It's a line that pops through a chaperone's mind a time or two on an overnight event with a bunch of kids. I know it went through mine.
We got together with a couple youth groups from some local African American congregations in an attempt to explain to our children that there are other people than white people and Asians adopted by white people. I joke, our kids go to diverse schools and are all very inclusive people, but our youth group is pretty monochromatic, much like our congregation. We went sledding, had a meal, played games and did a worship service. It was great.
Sledding is terrifying, which is why it's fun I guess. It certainly is only fun half the time. the other half you are dragging yourself back up a slippery hill with other sledders aiming for you like they were trying to pick up a spare. Not exactly as life-threatening or dramatic as storming the beaches on D-day, but exciting none-the-less. You want a big hill so that the down portion is more fun. The bigger the hill, the bigger the climb. It's a vicious cycle. We had our share of wipe-outs and whitewashes. Getting snow up your nose is now called Snowt (a mashup of snow and snot). I decided it would be best to slide down the side of the hill to the car, rather than hike down. The problem was the trees. I almost did a Sonny Bono into a white pine. Pine is a soft wood, but somehow, I think it would win. I rolled off the sled instead and starfished the rest of the way down, narrowly avoiding the tree.
Then I got to watch all the kids, who had just seen me almost die, do the same thing, the whole time trying to remember where those signed indemnity wavers were. I am not a role model.
The retreat was a good idea and went well. Though, like salad dressing, the kids tended to separate into their component groups and needed a little shaking up here and there. The adults had no such problem. I dare say we had at least as much fun as the kids and I got to know some fine people.
Two, Two-and-a-half hours sleep tops, on an air mattress with chaos swirling around you is not the best setting for a good hard rest, but you find a way to make it through and you hope the kids have a good time. Even in college I was never the stay up all night type. I was almost always the first one to bed.
Your reward for all this is to get up before anyone else and cook breakfast and then to clean up after them. I thought I said no to parenthood! But, it is all fun and keeps me young, because I am sure I nary would have left the house if it weren't for the retreat.
Sitting through church after was really hard. The sermon was, how to say, technical, rather than inspiring and the pacing of the whole thing was sort of like swimming through nacho cheese. If you get anywhere it's gonna be slowly. Blessedly it was over after an hour.
I took a nap Sunday before the Hockey All-Star game and that was surprisingly refreshing, sustaining me until the ripe old hour of 9:45, when in the middle of a chapter, my body said "Sleep NOW!" in a very serviceable Charlton Heston as Moses voice. Who can argue with Moses? Come to think of it, it was more of a Phil Hartman doing Charlton Heston as Moses voice. For me, equally effective.
Thankfully, I am feeling normal today. Stiff from sledding, which I haven't done in an eon, but normal. It is a Monday and there are a lot of things going on professionally so this could be a great day, or a frustrating day. I have no idea what the weather brings and since there is travel in my forecast, I am sure that will be of some influence on my day as well.
The Winter Ooooohs
Yesterday was gorgeous, y'all. Sunny and crisp, with a nearly fresh blanket of snow on the ground. It was light until almost six o'clock, which makes me nostalgic for the long days ahead. I have been cruising through Corvette magazines and websites again, planning what projects will be done this season. Corvette fever, a regular yearly relapse for me is a sure sign that spring is on its way. January never visited upon us the expected onslaught of snow. It was cold, but it was also often sunny. The snow all year has been powdery, light and shiny. The pretty stuff. Bad for snow men, good for skiers. And it hasn't fallen in feet at a time, only inches. It has been, manageable.
No Good Deed Goes Unpunished
I stopped short of a driveway the other day to let a woman out who was trying to make a left turn onto a busy street. I saw a car coming on my left and I put my hand up to stop the woman from leaving the driveway. She looked at me and smiled and waved and went for it... con brio to coin a musical direction.
And so now, three feet off the front of my car is a tangled mess of late model sedan and two very angry people. I was on an emergency call myself and had to get out to my client in 25 minutes. I had an hour by contract, but I was eating lunch so 25 minutes was all that was left. Anyway, in good weather is would have been a stretch to get there in that time and the roads were sort of bad this day, so I sneaked around them and went on my way once I saw there were no injuries. I went to the police station after and gave my statement. I haven't heard anything back, but as of then, there had been no call to an accident. Probably another example of a couple customers from the Doantgott/Enny Insurance agency, featuring the popular affordable "Yo Fault" insurance program for thousands of drivers in the Michigan market.
That's what you get for trying to be nice.
Tuesday, January 25, 2011
The Origin of Minutiae
Good morning, blog sphere. Sorry it's been a while since I signed on to share a Grandiose Rumination. I haven't had too many as I have been all button-down and work lately. I hate when that happens. Life would be so much better if we all just hung around and traded what we needed with people we liked instead of working for it. We would actually have to form bonds and reciprocate kindness and live in relative peace... like the first few days in college before classes started. I loved the first few days of college before classes started. It was all just fun and laid back getting to know people, figuring out who you want to know and who you want to avoid and forging your groove. Then the classes start as does the studying that accompanies them and you have to limit your partying and socializing to three nights a week. Bummer. Of course, I went to a public school, so for all you ivy-leaguers and trust-fund babies that went to private school I don't know what your life was like. I had friends who went to some pretty highfalutin institutions and they always seemed to be partying.
But in reality adult world, we are already here on Thursday morning and I am only just catching my breath. There is quite a bit more of this frenetic activity to come on the horizon, which I guess is a good thing. It beats the alternative, which is being homeless and cold with nothing to do. I guess it is futile to complain.
A former colleague of mine was not especially well-spoken, but with what words he did know, he was creative. He had a young son and so was working hard at not swearing. He would say other words in the place of curses, but words that made him feel better nonetheless. Chief among them was 'minutiae'. Though I don't think he knew what it meant, and certainly couldn't have spelled it if he had a dictionary and a tutor on hand, he could bring the room to stitches with a well placed 'minutiae.'
"Man this new form we have to fill out for these things, it's just more minutiae, keeping us from doing our job!" was a typical thing he would say. Or after he got off the phone with a client or an employee (he was not especially well liked by either) he would slam the phone down and look at it and say "Minutiae!"
Going back and re-reading this, it is not funny. You had to be there, you had to know the guy, but my blog would later be based in minutiae. His kind of minutiae. I thank him for his gift.
I have had a lot of wonderful and interesting people to work with over the years. The current crop of managers is really excellent. We have a symbiotic understanding... I will give any of them the shirt off my back, but if you leave your shirt lying around, and I need it, I am going to steal the hell out of it.
We have limited resources and we will not hesitate to get ourselves out of a very bad situation by putting each other into a slightly bad situation. It is the only way we get anything done in our world. It is the cowboy support network and it is the only support network. It is, oddly, an honor system, placing limits on 'unauthorized reallocation' and without it, the whole place would come crashing down. I am proud to work with people who can make an honor system work, well, honorably.
I have never been turned down help when I have asked from these fine people. I do not turn them down. We are all of a piece and no one outside could possibly understand the level of minutiae we face. Hell, most of the people inside can't fathom. At least I have these good and honorable people to prop me up. This fact alone keeps me going when the minutiae is hip-deep.
When the minutiae is falling from the sky, you better have a good raincoat. When it is accumulating on the ground, your boots better be high and tight. And when you are living and breathing nothing but minutiae and it has overcome your ability to repel it, make the best of it by growing some Grandiose Ruminations. They grow well in the highly fertile soil of minutiae.
Book Progress
Down so far in 2011:
Naked Airport
My Lobotomy
Dexter by Design
A Walk in the Woods
In the middle of Jet Age and soon to take an unplanned detour through the book that Em got for me. Even being very busy I am keeping up my goal of 40 books in 2011! I am keeping you posted only because it keeps me honest and on my toes.
Toodles!
But in reality adult world, we are already here on Thursday morning and I am only just catching my breath. There is quite a bit more of this frenetic activity to come on the horizon, which I guess is a good thing. It beats the alternative, which is being homeless and cold with nothing to do. I guess it is futile to complain.
A former colleague of mine was not especially well-spoken, but with what words he did know, he was creative. He had a young son and so was working hard at not swearing. He would say other words in the place of curses, but words that made him feel better nonetheless. Chief among them was 'minutiae'. Though I don't think he knew what it meant, and certainly couldn't have spelled it if he had a dictionary and a tutor on hand, he could bring the room to stitches with a well placed 'minutiae.'
"Man this new form we have to fill out for these things, it's just more minutiae, keeping us from doing our job!" was a typical thing he would say. Or after he got off the phone with a client or an employee (he was not especially well liked by either) he would slam the phone down and look at it and say "Minutiae!"
Going back and re-reading this, it is not funny. You had to be there, you had to know the guy, but my blog would later be based in minutiae. His kind of minutiae. I thank him for his gift.
I have had a lot of wonderful and interesting people to work with over the years. The current crop of managers is really excellent. We have a symbiotic understanding... I will give any of them the shirt off my back, but if you leave your shirt lying around, and I need it, I am going to steal the hell out of it.
We have limited resources and we will not hesitate to get ourselves out of a very bad situation by putting each other into a slightly bad situation. It is the only way we get anything done in our world. It is the cowboy support network and it is the only support network. It is, oddly, an honor system, placing limits on 'unauthorized reallocation' and without it, the whole place would come crashing down. I am proud to work with people who can make an honor system work, well, honorably.
I have never been turned down help when I have asked from these fine people. I do not turn them down. We are all of a piece and no one outside could possibly understand the level of minutiae we face. Hell, most of the people inside can't fathom. At least I have these good and honorable people to prop me up. This fact alone keeps me going when the minutiae is hip-deep.
When the minutiae is falling from the sky, you better have a good raincoat. When it is accumulating on the ground, your boots better be high and tight. And when you are living and breathing nothing but minutiae and it has overcome your ability to repel it, make the best of it by growing some Grandiose Ruminations. They grow well in the highly fertile soil of minutiae.
Book Progress
Down so far in 2011:
Naked Airport
My Lobotomy
Dexter by Design
A Walk in the Woods
In the middle of Jet Age and soon to take an unplanned detour through the book that Em got for me. Even being very busy I am keeping up my goal of 40 books in 2011! I am keeping you posted only because it keeps me honest and on my toes.
Toodles!
Tuesday Morning, Please be Gone, I'm Tired of You
Bill's Book Club
It has been cold lately here in the great north. Not really cold, frigid. It is the kind of cold that you would scarcely notice if it were 10 degrees colder. It all becomes relative after a certain point and we have reached that point. It is perfect reading weather.
The toilet in the half bath has been rendered inoperable due to a frozen supply pipe. I almost forgot last night and was actually in situ before remembering I could not avail myself of that particular facility. A quick jaunt up the stairs fixed my predicament so all was well in the end.
I am almost through A Walk in the Woods, which will be my 4th book of the year. Bill Bryson is so amazingly good. I can't describe how much I appreciate and aspire to his quality of writing, ability to tell a story and present difficult facts in a way that is palatable and meaningful without being forced and sort of nebulous. Thank you, Mr. Bryson. I look forward to the 3 other of your books I have selected for future reading.
Em bought me a book by a local man, a former columnist for the Grand Rapids Press by the name of Tom Rademacher. I look forward to reading it, too. I believe it is a collection of columns and stories about normal people from around here. I like that kind of thing very much and it was thoughtful of Em to buy it for me.
I think, though, I will take a break from the first person story-telling genre for a book or two just to keep it lively. Not sure what I will read next, but I will have to choose soon.
Something Good This Way Comes
I got a hold of the woman I used to work with and she is going to help me out. We haven't done anything substantive, yet, but anything is something and something is almost always better than nothing and since nothing is what I have had a whole lot of, I will take anything as a positive sign. See how I did that?
Re-connections
I am very pleased to have re-connected with a couple buddies with whom I used to work. Barnes and Noble is a place filled with a wide variety of people. They range from merely odd, to mentally very ill, but almost all of them are kind and wonderful people. You can see why I didn't fit in there.
Every unit I worked in, in every state was filled with enjoyable people of above average intelligence and certainly above average wit. Lew, regular reader, was the only source of sanity for me in New Jersey. When he got moved to another store, I knew it was time to leave. So I moved. Not solely on account of Lew leaving, but it didn't hurt. Lew was one of those with uncommon wit, like a restless whip in the hands of a dangerous man. Mike and Clayton fall into the that category nicely as well. I worked with them in Muskegon and we got through some pretty interesting times together. When I left the company, you know, we just had a hard time maintaining closeness.
Well, now we are at least making an attempt, so just like with the above item, even though nothing has happened per se, it is happening and I'll take it! Can't wait to get together with the guys and riff on some highly intellectual movie scenes or to reminisce. Whatever we do it will be time well spent. This much I know.
Furious 'D'
I am spending a lot more time in Detroit ('Angry fist shake here'). I am not happy to be on the road so much, especially in crappy weather. We all know about my feelings toward winter and driving in winter and snow and cold and winter. I don't like you, winter. Anyhow, I keep going back to the good things... let's hope they come! Soon!
It has been cold lately here in the great north. Not really cold, frigid. It is the kind of cold that you would scarcely notice if it were 10 degrees colder. It all becomes relative after a certain point and we have reached that point. It is perfect reading weather.
The toilet in the half bath has been rendered inoperable due to a frozen supply pipe. I almost forgot last night and was actually in situ before remembering I could not avail myself of that particular facility. A quick jaunt up the stairs fixed my predicament so all was well in the end.
I am almost through A Walk in the Woods, which will be my 4th book of the year. Bill Bryson is so amazingly good. I can't describe how much I appreciate and aspire to his quality of writing, ability to tell a story and present difficult facts in a way that is palatable and meaningful without being forced and sort of nebulous. Thank you, Mr. Bryson. I look forward to the 3 other of your books I have selected for future reading.
Em bought me a book by a local man, a former columnist for the Grand Rapids Press by the name of Tom Rademacher. I look forward to reading it, too. I believe it is a collection of columns and stories about normal people from around here. I like that kind of thing very much and it was thoughtful of Em to buy it for me.
I think, though, I will take a break from the first person story-telling genre for a book or two just to keep it lively. Not sure what I will read next, but I will have to choose soon.
Something Good This Way Comes
I got a hold of the woman I used to work with and she is going to help me out. We haven't done anything substantive, yet, but anything is something and something is almost always better than nothing and since nothing is what I have had a whole lot of, I will take anything as a positive sign. See how I did that?
Re-connections
I am very pleased to have re-connected with a couple buddies with whom I used to work. Barnes and Noble is a place filled with a wide variety of people. They range from merely odd, to mentally very ill, but almost all of them are kind and wonderful people. You can see why I didn't fit in there.
Every unit I worked in, in every state was filled with enjoyable people of above average intelligence and certainly above average wit. Lew, regular reader, was the only source of sanity for me in New Jersey. When he got moved to another store, I knew it was time to leave. So I moved. Not solely on account of Lew leaving, but it didn't hurt. Lew was one of those with uncommon wit, like a restless whip in the hands of a dangerous man. Mike and Clayton fall into the that category nicely as well. I worked with them in Muskegon and we got through some pretty interesting times together. When I left the company, you know, we just had a hard time maintaining closeness.
Well, now we are at least making an attempt, so just like with the above item, even though nothing has happened per se, it is happening and I'll take it! Can't wait to get together with the guys and riff on some highly intellectual movie scenes or to reminisce. Whatever we do it will be time well spent. This much I know.
Furious 'D'
I am spending a lot more time in Detroit ('Angry fist shake here'). I am not happy to be on the road so much, especially in crappy weather. We all know about my feelings toward winter and driving in winter and snow and cold and winter. I don't like you, winter. Anyhow, I keep going back to the good things... let's hope they come! Soon!
Friday, January 21, 2011
Friday Miscellany
Car Show!
We will be second-homeward bound later today. It is the highly anticipated weekend we go to the car show with Greg and Dave. I love the car show. I wish I had enough money to shut the thing down for 2 hours so I could just go through it alone with my friends, but that ain't gonna happen. It becomes hard to look at the cars critically when people are traipsing here and there and everywhere, but it is worth it nonetheless.
It isn't really so much the people in general as it is the children. I don't mean teens, I mean the young ones. It seems as if there is some tacit understanding among them that they must touch everything. I believe it is a well-organized conspiracy to take out the weakest among us by foisting child-borne disease upon them. It's almost like a contest. Who can leave more finger prints?
I like to touch things, too, to gain a further appreciation of the quality of the surface. Say a paint job, or the materials used for the interior. But I doubt these kids are touchy-feely for purposes of making a rational decision based on perceived quality. They just want to touch.
And sit and play car. In every car. This never gets tiring. To them. I am tired of it already and I won't be there for another 24 hours yet. I understand I have to wait in line to sit in a particular model. Maybe there is heavy buzz, it's a new introduction or there is a change from the previous year or something. I am critically evaluating these machines based on a specific list of wants and needs and the hope that someday, I can drop this Fisher Price company I work for and get a big boy job with a big boy paycheck. And no, I do not want to work at Big Boy.
I think there should be a rule that you have to have a credit rating over 700 to touch or sit in the cars. After all, most of us finance our cars so shouldn't we be required to show ability (if not intent) to purchase? I reckon that would knock out a bunch of people. Especially the kids. Let's face it, most of the adults, too.
Siriusly
As predicted, I am spending most of my time between Channel 30, 'The Coffeehouse', and channel 33, vaguely named 'The Bridge' with some 'Deep Trax' and 'Classic Vinyl' thrown in when I get tired of weepy singer songwriter types and their feelings. I admit, I love mush music, but sometimes it does get a little maudlin, like the later episodes of M*A*S*H when they stopped trying to be funny and started trying to prove a point. But I can change the channel and there is always something on and it is never someone trying to sell me a car. So far? Thumbs up.
Ferry Fairy
Among my many talents is driving and being in the right place this weekend to ferry a van across the state for my company. This is not the first time. Because of my unique situation (that of having and impossibly large area of responsibility through which, to which, and from which I am always driving) I fairly often get pressed into service as livery delivery, and courier. I quipped once to my boss that I am either the most over-paid courier or the most underpaid manager in America. He said I was both and sent me on my way. This means Em will drive back in Large Marge the Barge and I will follow (or attempt to) in some van of unknown origin and condition.
You'll recall we have lost many company vehicles over the last few months to deer and other maladies like the back ends of other cars and some guard rails. So we do the only thing that makes any sense, which is to buy more vehicles to crash. Yeee Haw, we're goin' for a record!
My assessment of some of the issues with our vehicles is that partially the reason for them getting into accidents is because they are improperly maintained. I drove one on a dark winter night and had to go so slow on the highway, not due to lack of power or ability to speed off, but because the headlights were so poor. I could have set the cruise control (oh, wait no I couldn't because that is an option, and options are not an option), so I could have put a cinder block on the pedal, gotten out and run beside the van with two stick candles and been able to see farther than by using the headlights alone. This fails to mention the dreadfully inadequate windshield wipers that barely touched the terribly pocked and scarred windshield. It was no surprise, by the way, that this very van would become the latest casualty of deer strike, (of course I haven't checked my e-mail or read my reports this morning so I suppose I may have spoken too soon), because if you can't see it, it may as well not be there. Anyway, problem solved. The hard way, perhaps, but that's the way we do things.
So, will it be a newer van that is still proud and has life left? Or will it be a sagging, rusty hulk with sunken springs that results in a sort of skyward look as if it were prostrate, begging God himself to smite it and put it out of its misery? I have my guesses. If I were a betting man, it will be a very loud, slow, giggly ride home wrestling a bouncy steering wheel, and squishy brakes that are only vaguely aware of their purpose. I doubt it will even have a radio. If it does, I won't be able to hear it over the din.
Then there's the picture of me driving a van with no windows merrily down the way. The kids call it a 'sketch van', as in 'sketchy'. We used to call it a kidnap van, or a Mister Rogers, (ok, I called it that... he creeped my out!). I hope to God there isn't an Amber Alert because I'll get pulled over and searched at the boarder of every municipality. I have one of those faces as it is... I just look even more guilty and lascivious behind the wheel of a windowless van. It the heater is bad, I'll have to put up the hood of my sweatshirt, which means they will assume I am on my way to blow up... something.
Pray for me, brothers, sisters, well-wishers and friends. It's gonna be a long ride home.
We will be second-homeward bound later today. It is the highly anticipated weekend we go to the car show with Greg and Dave. I love the car show. I wish I had enough money to shut the thing down for 2 hours so I could just go through it alone with my friends, but that ain't gonna happen. It becomes hard to look at the cars critically when people are traipsing here and there and everywhere, but it is worth it nonetheless.
It isn't really so much the people in general as it is the children. I don't mean teens, I mean the young ones. It seems as if there is some tacit understanding among them that they must touch everything. I believe it is a well-organized conspiracy to take out the weakest among us by foisting child-borne disease upon them. It's almost like a contest. Who can leave more finger prints?
I like to touch things, too, to gain a further appreciation of the quality of the surface. Say a paint job, or the materials used for the interior. But I doubt these kids are touchy-feely for purposes of making a rational decision based on perceived quality. They just want to touch.
And sit and play car. In every car. This never gets tiring. To them. I am tired of it already and I won't be there for another 24 hours yet. I understand I have to wait in line to sit in a particular model. Maybe there is heavy buzz, it's a new introduction or there is a change from the previous year or something. I am critically evaluating these machines based on a specific list of wants and needs and the hope that someday, I can drop this Fisher Price company I work for and get a big boy job with a big boy paycheck. And no, I do not want to work at Big Boy.
I think there should be a rule that you have to have a credit rating over 700 to touch or sit in the cars. After all, most of us finance our cars so shouldn't we be required to show ability (if not intent) to purchase? I reckon that would knock out a bunch of people. Especially the kids. Let's face it, most of the adults, too.
Siriusly
As predicted, I am spending most of my time between Channel 30, 'The Coffeehouse', and channel 33, vaguely named 'The Bridge' with some 'Deep Trax' and 'Classic Vinyl' thrown in when I get tired of weepy singer songwriter types and their feelings. I admit, I love mush music, but sometimes it does get a little maudlin, like the later episodes of M*A*S*H when they stopped trying to be funny and started trying to prove a point. But I can change the channel and there is always something on and it is never someone trying to sell me a car. So far? Thumbs up.
Ferry Fairy
Among my many talents is driving and being in the right place this weekend to ferry a van across the state for my company. This is not the first time. Because of my unique situation (that of having and impossibly large area of responsibility through which, to which, and from which I am always driving) I fairly often get pressed into service as livery delivery, and courier. I quipped once to my boss that I am either the most over-paid courier or the most underpaid manager in America. He said I was both and sent me on my way. This means Em will drive back in Large Marge the Barge and I will follow (or attempt to) in some van of unknown origin and condition.
You'll recall we have lost many company vehicles over the last few months to deer and other maladies like the back ends of other cars and some guard rails. So we do the only thing that makes any sense, which is to buy more vehicles to crash. Yeee Haw, we're goin' for a record!
My assessment of some of the issues with our vehicles is that partially the reason for them getting into accidents is because they are improperly maintained. I drove one on a dark winter night and had to go so slow on the highway, not due to lack of power or ability to speed off, but because the headlights were so poor. I could have set the cruise control (oh, wait no I couldn't because that is an option, and options are not an option), so I could have put a cinder block on the pedal, gotten out and run beside the van with two stick candles and been able to see farther than by using the headlights alone. This fails to mention the dreadfully inadequate windshield wipers that barely touched the terribly pocked and scarred windshield. It was no surprise, by the way, that this very van would become the latest casualty of deer strike, (of course I haven't checked my e-mail or read my reports this morning so I suppose I may have spoken too soon), because if you can't see it, it may as well not be there. Anyway, problem solved. The hard way, perhaps, but that's the way we do things.
So, will it be a newer van that is still proud and has life left? Or will it be a sagging, rusty hulk with sunken springs that results in a sort of skyward look as if it were prostrate, begging God himself to smite it and put it out of its misery? I have my guesses. If I were a betting man, it will be a very loud, slow, giggly ride home wrestling a bouncy steering wheel, and squishy brakes that are only vaguely aware of their purpose. I doubt it will even have a radio. If it does, I won't be able to hear it over the din.
Then there's the picture of me driving a van with no windows merrily down the way. The kids call it a 'sketch van', as in 'sketchy'. We used to call it a kidnap van, or a Mister Rogers, (ok, I called it that... he creeped my out!). I hope to God there isn't an Amber Alert because I'll get pulled over and searched at the boarder of every municipality. I have one of those faces as it is... I just look even more guilty and lascivious behind the wheel of a windowless van. It the heater is bad, I'll have to put up the hood of my sweatshirt, which means they will assume I am on my way to blow up... something.
Pray for me, brothers, sisters, well-wishers and friends. It's gonna be a long ride home.
Thursday, January 20, 2011
Progress Report
Reading My Way Through 2011
So far, so good. I have read about the history and development of the airports of the world, which was a snooze, but I am glad I read it. I went on to read a book about a man who had a Lobotomy at the age of 12 and his struggles and tribulations and eventual redemption and peace. It was really good and very worth reading. Then, to clear my head, I rammed through the fourth book in the 'Dexter' series which was better than the third one, not as good as the first or second. I get the device, but the guy is supposed to be a serial killer and the body count is always racked up by the other killers. Dex gets in maybe one or two. The whole 'frustrated killer' thing is wearing a little thin. We'll see if this is fixed in the most recent book which I will read later in the year. Right now, I am taking 'A Walk in the Woods' with Bill Bryson following along as he hikes the Appalachian Trail. He has only just begun and I am already there with him. Bryson is a genius. A brilliant observer. An amazing writer. A great humorist.
'Walk...' will take me a little time. It's a bit lengthier and there is much to absorb in Bryson's dense writing. He packs a lot into as little as possible. He manages to get all the subtext of emotion through, too, so the spaces between the writing are important as well. You don't breeze through a Bryson book. You savor it. If you don't you'll miss half of it and that is a shame.
So I am on pace for 40 books. In the summer, I'll start reading two at a time, one for the outhouse, one for the bed side. For now, one is all I can do.
Dreams and Visions
Emily asked me to come up with a dream and outline some steps to achieve it. This as assistance for an exercise the Cool Cats (her hearing impaired student group) are doing. I have so many dreams, I don't know where to begin. But, again for the second time in as many days, goal setting came up as a topic of conversation. So, I shall set some goals and some metrics and go forth. My first goal is to find the time to pluck a do-able dream from the many floating just above my head which are not so tangible (like being a pirate, or owning an airplane, or having abs like the "Situation"), and set some goals. Baby steps.
Emily is focused on a garage. Good dream. Ours is moldering into the ground at an ever-increasing rate. It is alarming, actually. After 4 years of no discernible erosion, the old girl is coming down fast. The door, once nearly impossible to operate is now essentially impossible to operate. A window rotted and popped out of its frame. I think it was a load bearing window. Anyway, it is no longer a weather tight structure and it would be feeble to expend the effort to try and make it so.
The time is growing nigh and so we are talking about it in hushed tones with the vehemence that comes when ones hand is forced and action must be taken. I have offered favors of day labor to several friends who have projects they are working on in the hopes I can cash those chips in before too long because the only way I am going to get a new garage is to build one myself. And by myself, I mean myself and my army of fine friends who have carpentry skills and work for beer. Domestic beer. Cheap domestic beer. From a keg.
I am looking every day at the kit garage website and seeing if there is a closeout model that just went on sale for 90% off, but of course lumber never goes out of style, so that's not likely to happen. And of course the economy is picking up a bit so prices are starting to come alive. Unfortunately, my company hasn't heard of this new-found optimism and I am still operating on a salary reduction.
But even if I wasn't that still would change anything. The line between want and need is going to cross sooner rather than later and something will have to give. Likely that something will be the main support beam of my garage.
One Last Note
Sometimes I am myopic and don't really see what's going on outside my own sphere. I saw Clayton Pauer, who I used to work with at Barnes and Noble in Muskegon in December. It was all me me me me me me me me me me me. Why he didn't punch me in the face is beyond me me me me me me. And so while Clayton was apprised of all aspects of my life, I never stopped to realize he has some big things going on, too. Please go to his web page and read about his quest. He and Mike Spalsbury (who worked with us as well and with whom I was at one point going to try to be on a game show testing out knowledge of pop culture) are doing this together and need support in many forms. Give them a hand if you are able.
Clay-hopefully my plug makes up for my endemic egomaniacal inability to ask the simple question, "what have you been up to?" Best of luck and I can't wait to talk to you in person about your plans and how this all came about. Benne fortuna!
So far, so good. I have read about the history and development of the airports of the world, which was a snooze, but I am glad I read it. I went on to read a book about a man who had a Lobotomy at the age of 12 and his struggles and tribulations and eventual redemption and peace. It was really good and very worth reading. Then, to clear my head, I rammed through the fourth book in the 'Dexter' series which was better than the third one, not as good as the first or second. I get the device, but the guy is supposed to be a serial killer and the body count is always racked up by the other killers. Dex gets in maybe one or two. The whole 'frustrated killer' thing is wearing a little thin. We'll see if this is fixed in the most recent book which I will read later in the year. Right now, I am taking 'A Walk in the Woods' with Bill Bryson following along as he hikes the Appalachian Trail. He has only just begun and I am already there with him. Bryson is a genius. A brilliant observer. An amazing writer. A great humorist.
'Walk...' will take me a little time. It's a bit lengthier and there is much to absorb in Bryson's dense writing. He packs a lot into as little as possible. He manages to get all the subtext of emotion through, too, so the spaces between the writing are important as well. You don't breeze through a Bryson book. You savor it. If you don't you'll miss half of it and that is a shame.
So I am on pace for 40 books. In the summer, I'll start reading two at a time, one for the outhouse, one for the bed side. For now, one is all I can do.
Dreams and Visions
Emily asked me to come up with a dream and outline some steps to achieve it. This as assistance for an exercise the Cool Cats (her hearing impaired student group) are doing. I have so many dreams, I don't know where to begin. But, again for the second time in as many days, goal setting came up as a topic of conversation. So, I shall set some goals and some metrics and go forth. My first goal is to find the time to pluck a do-able dream from the many floating just above my head which are not so tangible (like being a pirate, or owning an airplane, or having abs like the "Situation"), and set some goals. Baby steps.
Emily is focused on a garage. Good dream. Ours is moldering into the ground at an ever-increasing rate. It is alarming, actually. After 4 years of no discernible erosion, the old girl is coming down fast. The door, once nearly impossible to operate is now essentially impossible to operate. A window rotted and popped out of its frame. I think it was a load bearing window. Anyway, it is no longer a weather tight structure and it would be feeble to expend the effort to try and make it so.
The time is growing nigh and so we are talking about it in hushed tones with the vehemence that comes when ones hand is forced and action must be taken. I have offered favors of day labor to several friends who have projects they are working on in the hopes I can cash those chips in before too long because the only way I am going to get a new garage is to build one myself. And by myself, I mean myself and my army of fine friends who have carpentry skills and work for beer. Domestic beer. Cheap domestic beer. From a keg.
I am looking every day at the kit garage website and seeing if there is a closeout model that just went on sale for 90% off, but of course lumber never goes out of style, so that's not likely to happen. And of course the economy is picking up a bit so prices are starting to come alive. Unfortunately, my company hasn't heard of this new-found optimism and I am still operating on a salary reduction.
But even if I wasn't that still would change anything. The line between want and need is going to cross sooner rather than later and something will have to give. Likely that something will be the main support beam of my garage.
One Last Note
Sometimes I am myopic and don't really see what's going on outside my own sphere. I saw Clayton Pauer, who I used to work with at Barnes and Noble in Muskegon in December. It was all me me me me me me me me me me me. Why he didn't punch me in the face is beyond me me me me me me. And so while Clayton was apprised of all aspects of my life, I never stopped to realize he has some big things going on, too. Please go to his web page and read about his quest. He and Mike Spalsbury (who worked with us as well and with whom I was at one point going to try to be on a game show testing out knowledge of pop culture) are doing this together and need support in many forms. Give them a hand if you are able.
Clay-hopefully my plug makes up for my endemic egomaniacal inability to ask the simple question, "what have you been up to?" Best of luck and I can't wait to talk to you in person about your plans and how this all came about. Benne fortuna!
Wednesday, January 19, 2011
Small Voices and the Claw-Bearing Alarm Clock
First With the Pun
As you all are smart enough to know, I use mostly songs, albums, band names and parodies of those as my post titles and headers. That is the only reason I am writing "The Claw Bearing Alarm Clock" bit, because it is like the 60's one hit wonder "The Strawberry Alarm Clock" of Incense and Peppermints fame. Of course in this case, I am talking about Juliette, who has managed to turn my hair trigger readiness to her advantage.
She sleeps with us and since she and Atticus is restless and doesn't sleep through the night, we close him out. This necessitates having a food dish, water bowl and restroom facilities for the cat in my bedroom about which I expressed my extreme consternation many, many blentries ago. Juliette has taken to using the very expensive carpet in our room as a scratching medium. To stop this, I have to sleep several layer more lightly than I normally would and either snap my fingers or find the energy to admonish her vocally. The latter doesn't usually work since my throat is dry and I was just awakened from a sleep.
Juliette, the dear, now uses this against me. See, she doesn't enjoy being locked in the room, either and in the mornings, when she's really ready to go, she starts scratching the carpet perniciously, knowing it will wake me up, I will look at the alarm and notice it's not worth going back to sleep and get up and let her out.
I open the door and Atticus is always right there in the hall. He wants us to be up, too. She sees him, rears back, looks at me with fear and loathing as if to say "I thought I told you to take care of this!"
This chain of events has played out more or less the same way for much of the last week. I think it Juliette is so restless to get out and play, we need to reinstate the open door policy, or close them both out completely. I am tired of this song by the Claw Bearing Alarm Clock.
Small Voices
Small voices can sometimes have big impact. Driving home from Detroit last night, I got a bolt from the blue. "It said quite clearly call Magna Zimmerman." Actually, it didn't say that at all, but I am not going to put the real name of the person my psyche told me to call as I don't know whether she would appreciate that or not.
Anyhow, we used to work together until one day, she was not there. I still don't know the circumstances surrounding her exit and I frankly never attempted to get a hold of her at the time, which I feel badly about. In a former life she was a head hunter and recruiter and had designs on doing public speaking gigs and was putting some stuff together.
Within seconds, I found her on speakerwiki and sent an e-mail. I hope she calls me. My e-mail was simple, it had to be as it was limited to 100 characters to avoid spammers. The voice was so clear in my head that I have a strong feeling about it. Keep your fingers crossed that if I build it, they will come.
Podcast
So, I have had no time to put real energy into this idea, which sits in an incubated section of my mind where my book is keeping it company. It is safe there, and it will grow, but the process is often slow as this spot is way in the back of my mind. I have to move a lot of things to get there. But I like this idea enough to at least do some poking around and investigating.
In one day since I posted about the possibility, I have had a lot of positive response. I have a person working on instructions for how to make and distribute a podcast courtesy of Heather O. in Illinois. I have a new blog template courtesy of TMcR which will bow sometime next week if all goes as planned and I have a couple spit-ball ideas of what do do and how to format the cast.
First, it will be audio for now, but I hope to include some sort of graphic if possible. I will consult my multi-media friends about this soon. It will be about 1/2 hour max and maybe more like 20 minutes, once per week.
The first segment will be an "In the news" type of segment... perhaps called "Our Messed up World" where I can make jokes about horrible things that happened in the world that week. I'm sure I can't out-daily the Daily Show, or be more Colbertian than Colbert, but I believe I can run behind them and catch the scraps.
The second segment will be me and possibly a guest or guests either telling funny stories we lived through (some of which may be nay, will be, blog repeats) or doing some improv type comedy stuff or bits we have written, or discussions of books or movies or the like that we can make funny. This segment will be the bulk of the podcast.
Segment three will be the close with a random thought or gag and perhaps, if we ever get this advanced, a bit of a preview of the next cast.
I know none of this breaks ground, but I don't know what the heck I'm doing. I think keeping it simple will make it a reality faster. People say you should have a goal when starting an endeavor and that goal should be clearly stated and all decisions you make should be clearly steering you toward that goal. This is good advice and it is where I almost always doom myself because I usually just do things because they sound fun.
In the interest of self-improvement and the betterment of all the free world, I will state a goal.
"The Podcast is meant to be entertaining first and foremost and bring joy to a joyless world. If anyone accidentally learns something, or some wisdom burbles up from the ground like a bubblin' crude, then so be it but I swear it is purely accidental. If anyone gets offended, it is also accidental, however no apologies will be made.
"We will explore the fun side of dark things and do it in a conversational tone that hopefully everyone will be able to enjoy.
"In the end, I hope the thing goes viral and I can stop working for a living and do the podcast, speak publicly and do things I love to do rather than what I have to do and spread that love around and hope it takes root and grows."
Stay tuned peeps. This could be fun!
As you all are smart enough to know, I use mostly songs, albums, band names and parodies of those as my post titles and headers. That is the only reason I am writing "The Claw Bearing Alarm Clock" bit, because it is like the 60's one hit wonder "The Strawberry Alarm Clock" of Incense and Peppermints fame. Of course in this case, I am talking about Juliette, who has managed to turn my hair trigger readiness to her advantage.
She sleeps with us and since she and Atticus is restless and doesn't sleep through the night, we close him out. This necessitates having a food dish, water bowl and restroom facilities for the cat in my bedroom about which I expressed my extreme consternation many, many blentries ago. Juliette has taken to using the very expensive carpet in our room as a scratching medium. To stop this, I have to sleep several layer more lightly than I normally would and either snap my fingers or find the energy to admonish her vocally. The latter doesn't usually work since my throat is dry and I was just awakened from a sleep.
Juliette, the dear, now uses this against me. See, she doesn't enjoy being locked in the room, either and in the mornings, when she's really ready to go, she starts scratching the carpet perniciously, knowing it will wake me up, I will look at the alarm and notice it's not worth going back to sleep and get up and let her out.
I open the door and Atticus is always right there in the hall. He wants us to be up, too. She sees him, rears back, looks at me with fear and loathing as if to say "I thought I told you to take care of this!"
This chain of events has played out more or less the same way for much of the last week. I think it Juliette is so restless to get out and play, we need to reinstate the open door policy, or close them both out completely. I am tired of this song by the Claw Bearing Alarm Clock.
Small Voices
Small voices can sometimes have big impact. Driving home from Detroit last night, I got a bolt from the blue. "It said quite clearly call Magna Zimmerman." Actually, it didn't say that at all, but I am not going to put the real name of the person my psyche told me to call as I don't know whether she would appreciate that or not.
Anyhow, we used to work together until one day, she was not there. I still don't know the circumstances surrounding her exit and I frankly never attempted to get a hold of her at the time, which I feel badly about. In a former life she was a head hunter and recruiter and had designs on doing public speaking gigs and was putting some stuff together.
Within seconds, I found her on speakerwiki and sent an e-mail. I hope she calls me. My e-mail was simple, it had to be as it was limited to 100 characters to avoid spammers. The voice was so clear in my head that I have a strong feeling about it. Keep your fingers crossed that if I build it, they will come.
Podcast
So, I have had no time to put real energy into this idea, which sits in an incubated section of my mind where my book is keeping it company. It is safe there, and it will grow, but the process is often slow as this spot is way in the back of my mind. I have to move a lot of things to get there. But I like this idea enough to at least do some poking around and investigating.
In one day since I posted about the possibility, I have had a lot of positive response. I have a person working on instructions for how to make and distribute a podcast courtesy of Heather O. in Illinois. I have a new blog template courtesy of TMcR which will bow sometime next week if all goes as planned and I have a couple spit-ball ideas of what do do and how to format the cast.
First, it will be audio for now, but I hope to include some sort of graphic if possible. I will consult my multi-media friends about this soon. It will be about 1/2 hour max and maybe more like 20 minutes, once per week.
The first segment will be an "In the news" type of segment... perhaps called "Our Messed up World" where I can make jokes about horrible things that happened in the world that week. I'm sure I can't out-daily the Daily Show, or be more Colbertian than Colbert, but I believe I can run behind them and catch the scraps.
The second segment will be me and possibly a guest or guests either telling funny stories we lived through (some of which may be nay, will be, blog repeats) or doing some improv type comedy stuff or bits we have written, or discussions of books or movies or the like that we can make funny. This segment will be the bulk of the podcast.
Segment three will be the close with a random thought or gag and perhaps, if we ever get this advanced, a bit of a preview of the next cast.
I know none of this breaks ground, but I don't know what the heck I'm doing. I think keeping it simple will make it a reality faster. People say you should have a goal when starting an endeavor and that goal should be clearly stated and all decisions you make should be clearly steering you toward that goal. This is good advice and it is where I almost always doom myself because I usually just do things because they sound fun.
In the interest of self-improvement and the betterment of all the free world, I will state a goal.
"The Podcast is meant to be entertaining first and foremost and bring joy to a joyless world. If anyone accidentally learns something, or some wisdom burbles up from the ground like a bubblin' crude, then so be it but I swear it is purely accidental. If anyone gets offended, it is also accidental, however no apologies will be made.
"We will explore the fun side of dark things and do it in a conversational tone that hopefully everyone will be able to enjoy.
"In the end, I hope the thing goes viral and I can stop working for a living and do the podcast, speak publicly and do things I love to do rather than what I have to do and spread that love around and hope it takes root and grows."
Stay tuned peeps. This could be fun!
Tuesday, January 18, 2011
Podcast?
Dave said to me last night I should have a podcast. And I am just enough of an egotist to agree. The only thing that could possibly be better than reading my deepest and most obtuse thoughts is to hear me speak them.I could have guests and do interviews and rip out some improv stuff. My mother always said I had a face for radio, so I really got to thinking.
Heather Oysti, you produce audio/video, can you help me?
TMcR, (Still a minor so I won't use his name but he knows who I am talking about), how about some videography/graphics/credits/etc.?
Heather Waterman, I'd like you to be my first guest.
Em Uebbing, continue to be my long-suffering wife and help me even though this will make us exactly zero money.
Everyone else, I'd like a commitment to listen if I do a weekly podcast.
What do you think? I think it might be fun to try. I'd love the feedback.
That's all! I am on the road and racing mother nature, so I am out.
Heather Oysti, you produce audio/video, can you help me?
TMcR, (Still a minor so I won't use his name but he knows who I am talking about), how about some videography/graphics/credits/etc.?
Heather Waterman, I'd like you to be my first guest.
Em Uebbing, continue to be my long-suffering wife and help me even though this will make us exactly zero money.
Everyone else, I'd like a commitment to listen if I do a weekly podcast.
What do you think? I think it might be fun to try. I'd love the feedback.
That's all! I am on the road and racing mother nature, so I am out.
Monday, January 17, 2011
The Chili Shoulder and Major Tom
Chili Out, Dude
Despite our best carnival barker efforts and a pretty good batch of chili, we did not win the chili cook-off. We had lots of compliments and many people gave us their full votes (there were five to give for each person, additional votes could be purchased), including the pastor who said quietly "I gave you three out of five of my tickets. I'd like your recipe."
But, when it comes down to it, I didn't have a committee I was representing, I was just representing the youth. Kids don't have any money. And so, unlike 'Social Concerns' and 'Missions', I didn't have a broad constituency putting in tons of votes for me just because they were rooting for their committee. I had all the chili there, and mine was the best.
Still, we made a little more than $70.00 for the youth scholarship program which for a micro-fund raiser like this isn't too bad. Sure, $10.00 of that was mine, but why split hairs? I will do it again next year and I am confident in my chances since it was a quick decision to enter this year. I shall make some chili again for the forthcoming Superbowl party that thanks to our friends, we don't have to host!
This is Sirius Stuff
For Christmas, I received a Sirius radio for my car. I installed it yesterday. I found the location I wanted it where it wouldn't be in the way or too far out of the way. It is easy to reach with my fingers while holding on to the shift lever. Also I can see it easily without taking my eyes off the road.
The install kit was comprehensive and everything was straightforward. Until I got my factory radio out of the dash. I know my radio has an Auxiliary port, so I figured pulling it out using the correct removal tool and plugging this thing in would be a snap.
Pulling out the radio was fine, but there is no direct way to plug in the Sirius receiver without paying a lot of money for an aftermarket install kit that allows you to plug in everything, including the kitchen sink into your radio. I don't want that. I don't plan on keeping the car forever more, I've already had it forever. Or more.
So, since it is a Grandma car and has a radio with cassette and CD, I am using the janky fake cassette thing we all used to use when we had our portable CD players balanced precariously on our thighs while trying to drive. All the work of running the wires and pulling off trim pieces to hid wires and thoughtful placement so this thing didn't look terrible, and now there's this big-ass wire hanging down the front of my dash. Bother. Update, I wrapped it up so it's not so bad, but still, not ideal.
The hardest part of the install was the activation. I try very hard to set up all my services online, mostly due to my chilling hatred of any kind of interaction with people when it's not completely necessary, but for some reason, Sirius didn't like my credit card number. I checked and double-checked and triple checked, but it would not take it online.
So I was forced to speak with "John" from customer care. I was unaware that John was such a popular name in Swaziland or wherever he is from. It ain't Madison Wisconsin, that's for sure. Anyway, I walked him through the process since it seemed to be his first day on the job and aside from entering in my payment I had already gone through this all before. John was very upset I did not buy the lifetime subscription for $499.00 in 4 easy payments. I am smart enough to know the subscription stays with the radio and not with the person, so I did not take him up on that. He was further dismayed I did not take him up on his benevolent offer of paying for one year... "It's like getting a month for free!" I pointed out to him that paying quarterly was the same and I would like to do that. He wasn't so sure I had made up my mind, but after a tense moment he understood it would be best to give me what I want and dispense with the salesmanship. Typical customer service, they are basically only trained to take your money. Everything else is a mystery to them.
In the short interactions the service I have had so far, I like it. The sound would be better if it were wired into the radio properly, but it will have to do for now. I like the coffee house station, which ironically played a string of songs that are on my personal favorites list. I say ironic because I in fact own all the songs. But, I know I will eventually hear new things, especially world music and hip hop which I do not have a lot of in my collection, and not having to lug around CDs is very appealing since I am on the road a lot and sometimes on short notice.
I'll get more impressions this week as I will be in the car. A lot. I wish there was a Bowie station... I would love to listen to Ziggy Stardust stem to stern and enjoy the fact that it was being beamed to me from space. Delicious.
Despite our best carnival barker efforts and a pretty good batch of chili, we did not win the chili cook-off. We had lots of compliments and many people gave us their full votes (there were five to give for each person, additional votes could be purchased), including the pastor who said quietly "I gave you three out of five of my tickets. I'd like your recipe."
But, when it comes down to it, I didn't have a committee I was representing, I was just representing the youth. Kids don't have any money. And so, unlike 'Social Concerns' and 'Missions', I didn't have a broad constituency putting in tons of votes for me just because they were rooting for their committee. I had all the chili there, and mine was the best.
Still, we made a little more than $70.00 for the youth scholarship program which for a micro-fund raiser like this isn't too bad. Sure, $10.00 of that was mine, but why split hairs? I will do it again next year and I am confident in my chances since it was a quick decision to enter this year. I shall make some chili again for the forthcoming Superbowl party that thanks to our friends, we don't have to host!
This is Sirius Stuff
For Christmas, I received a Sirius radio for my car. I installed it yesterday. I found the location I wanted it where it wouldn't be in the way or too far out of the way. It is easy to reach with my fingers while holding on to the shift lever. Also I can see it easily without taking my eyes off the road.
The install kit was comprehensive and everything was straightforward. Until I got my factory radio out of the dash. I know my radio has an Auxiliary port, so I figured pulling it out using the correct removal tool and plugging this thing in would be a snap.
Pulling out the radio was fine, but there is no direct way to plug in the Sirius receiver without paying a lot of money for an aftermarket install kit that allows you to plug in everything, including the kitchen sink into your radio. I don't want that. I don't plan on keeping the car forever more, I've already had it forever. Or more.
So, since it is a Grandma car and has a radio with cassette and CD, I am using the janky fake cassette thing we all used to use when we had our portable CD players balanced precariously on our thighs while trying to drive. All the work of running the wires and pulling off trim pieces to hid wires and thoughtful placement so this thing didn't look terrible, and now there's this big-ass wire hanging down the front of my dash. Bother. Update, I wrapped it up so it's not so bad, but still, not ideal.
The hardest part of the install was the activation. I try very hard to set up all my services online, mostly due to my chilling hatred of any kind of interaction with people when it's not completely necessary, but for some reason, Sirius didn't like my credit card number. I checked and double-checked and triple checked, but it would not take it online.
So I was forced to speak with "John" from customer care. I was unaware that John was such a popular name in Swaziland or wherever he is from. It ain't Madison Wisconsin, that's for sure. Anyway, I walked him through the process since it seemed to be his first day on the job and aside from entering in my payment I had already gone through this all before. John was very upset I did not buy the lifetime subscription for $499.00 in 4 easy payments. I am smart enough to know the subscription stays with the radio and not with the person, so I did not take him up on that. He was further dismayed I did not take him up on his benevolent offer of paying for one year... "It's like getting a month for free!" I pointed out to him that paying quarterly was the same and I would like to do that. He wasn't so sure I had made up my mind, but after a tense moment he understood it would be best to give me what I want and dispense with the salesmanship. Typical customer service, they are basically only trained to take your money. Everything else is a mystery to them.
In the short interactions the service I have had so far, I like it. The sound would be better if it were wired into the radio properly, but it will have to do for now. I like the coffee house station, which ironically played a string of songs that are on my personal favorites list. I say ironic because I in fact own all the songs. But, I know I will eventually hear new things, especially world music and hip hop which I do not have a lot of in my collection, and not having to lug around CDs is very appealing since I am on the road a lot and sometimes on short notice.
I'll get more impressions this week as I will be in the car. A lot. I wish there was a Bowie station... I would love to listen to Ziggy Stardust stem to stern and enjoy the fact that it was being beamed to me from space. Delicious.
Friday, January 14, 2011
Harry Potter 7 Part 1
We finally broke down and saw Harry Potter and the Never Ending Sequels, Part I last night and it was good. The last book of the series was a particular letdown for me. I didn't like the structure, I didn't like the pace and I didn't like the ending. At all. For what it's worth, this movie (broken into two parts) was the most faithful recreation of the book. In fact, this movie was likely the best of them all so far based solely on that yardstick and I would say it is more enjoyable than the book.
Infamnia! my literary friends, Barnes and Noble geeks and much of the general population cry! How can this be true? Well, two words. Emma Watson.
Ok, her hotness is over 18 now, so I don't want a lot of guff about this. Truly, when the story is not moving the picture along, having a good looking person on the screen helps. A lot. As is the case here. There are a lot of shots of Miss Watson where she is simply mugging for the camera in full model pose. Normally, this would not work on me because I am too savvy, too deep for this shallow cheap method of distraction. But even I have my weaknesses.
There are a lot of good looking people in this movie- it's just some of them are tarted up to look really, um, not good looking. Em and I noted Alan Rickman has gained weight. Like, a whole person worth. He needs to start pounding the slim fast - and fast. I guess when you've been able to wear flowing black robes in your roles for the last decade you can let yourself go a little, but seriously, Severus, give someone else a turn at the craft services table.
What amazed me is how old these 'kids' are. I live in a world where in my mind nobody ages except for me. So to see these people who were wee lads and lasses when first we met it stunning, since they are now adults. The same is true for my youth group kids. It always surprises me they grow up and go away. Then they come back big, strong, grown-up and I wonder when that happened. Clearly I am not a parent.
In fact, it's a good thing the movie series is coming to a close before too long. Any more and the title would be "Harry Potter and the Half-Broke Hip," where Madame Pomfrey can't even fix Harry after a seniors league game of Quidditch gone awry, Hermione becomes impossible to be around because of the constant hot flashes and fits of crying each time she looks at the medicare pamphlet in an effort to figure out which plan is best for her and Ron suffers terribly because he can't operate his Hover-Round without knocking everything over.
It is time for these actors to assume their rightful place in the pantheon of fame... that of the non-working typecast actor who none of the establishment is willing to put into a different role because they assume the audience will not, can not, see them in a different role. I hope they saved their money. Especially Rupert Grint. I diagnosed him with McCauley's syndrome, (cute youngster, then progressively less cute until apparently hit in the face by a frying pan. Repeatedly. Named for Macaulay Culkin who suffered acutely -get it?-. Other sufferers include Frankie Muniz, Mayim Bialik and I have strong suspicions about Justin Bieber), way back in the second movie. Sorry, Rupe, it was pretty clear things were going the wrong way with you from the start. Hey, but you got to kiss Emma Watson, which never would have happened otherwise and by nature of your fame you will likely get more tail than a donkey poster at a birthday party so don't feel too bad. Some of us are ugly and don't have fame and money to make us feel better.
Dan Radcliff reached his zenith in the looks department, too and now is starting to look like David Letterman to me. Presuming he did his own stunts in this movie, he likely hurt his acting future when by jumping into the frozen lake to retrieve the sword of Godric Gryffindor which pretty much ruins his chances for any reprisals of his role in Equus due to eternal penile shrinkage which is an unfortunate side effect of 'polar bearing' that only a few can recover from. The end of the same scene shows Ron facing a lusty, sort of dreamlike, airbrushed incantation of a naked Harry and Hermione making sweet sweet love that dissolved into the firmament just in time so we couldn't see any of the naughty bits so it's hard to tell what if any effect the cold had on Harry's magic wand.
Rating systems are all the rage so if I must give a rating to soothe the masses, I give this movie 2 stars and a purple horseshoe out of a possible 3 green clovers. Not bad at all.
Infamnia! my literary friends, Barnes and Noble geeks and much of the general population cry! How can this be true? Well, two words. Emma Watson.
Ok, her hotness is over 18 now, so I don't want a lot of guff about this. Truly, when the story is not moving the picture along, having a good looking person on the screen helps. A lot. As is the case here. There are a lot of shots of Miss Watson where she is simply mugging for the camera in full model pose. Normally, this would not work on me because I am too savvy, too deep for this shallow cheap method of distraction. But even I have my weaknesses.
There are a lot of good looking people in this movie- it's just some of them are tarted up to look really, um, not good looking. Em and I noted Alan Rickman has gained weight. Like, a whole person worth. He needs to start pounding the slim fast - and fast. I guess when you've been able to wear flowing black robes in your roles for the last decade you can let yourself go a little, but seriously, Severus, give someone else a turn at the craft services table.
What amazed me is how old these 'kids' are. I live in a world where in my mind nobody ages except for me. So to see these people who were wee lads and lasses when first we met it stunning, since they are now adults. The same is true for my youth group kids. It always surprises me they grow up and go away. Then they come back big, strong, grown-up and I wonder when that happened. Clearly I am not a parent.
In fact, it's a good thing the movie series is coming to a close before too long. Any more and the title would be "Harry Potter and the Half-Broke Hip," where Madame Pomfrey can't even fix Harry after a seniors league game of Quidditch gone awry, Hermione becomes impossible to be around because of the constant hot flashes and fits of crying each time she looks at the medicare pamphlet in an effort to figure out which plan is best for her and Ron suffers terribly because he can't operate his Hover-Round without knocking everything over.
It is time for these actors to assume their rightful place in the pantheon of fame... that of the non-working typecast actor who none of the establishment is willing to put into a different role because they assume the audience will not, can not, see them in a different role. I hope they saved their money. Especially Rupert Grint. I diagnosed him with McCauley's syndrome, (cute youngster, then progressively less cute until apparently hit in the face by a frying pan. Repeatedly. Named for Macaulay Culkin who suffered acutely -get it?-. Other sufferers include Frankie Muniz, Mayim Bialik and I have strong suspicions about Justin Bieber), way back in the second movie. Sorry, Rupe, it was pretty clear things were going the wrong way with you from the start. Hey, but you got to kiss Emma Watson, which never would have happened otherwise and by nature of your fame you will likely get more tail than a donkey poster at a birthday party so don't feel too bad. Some of us are ugly and don't have fame and money to make us feel better.
Dan Radcliff reached his zenith in the looks department, too and now is starting to look like David Letterman to me. Presuming he did his own stunts in this movie, he likely hurt his acting future when by jumping into the frozen lake to retrieve the sword of Godric Gryffindor which pretty much ruins his chances for any reprisals of his role in Equus due to eternal penile shrinkage which is an unfortunate side effect of 'polar bearing' that only a few can recover from. The end of the same scene shows Ron facing a lusty, sort of dreamlike, airbrushed incantation of a naked Harry and Hermione making sweet sweet love that dissolved into the firmament just in time so we couldn't see any of the naughty bits so it's hard to tell what if any effect the cold had on Harry's magic wand.
Rating systems are all the rage so if I must give a rating to soothe the masses, I give this movie 2 stars and a purple horseshoe out of a possible 3 green clovers. Not bad at all.
Thursday, January 13, 2011
On Being 100
Welcome to my 100th blog post! There are no celebrity guests to talk to, or streamers or anything like that. There are people out there who probably make 1oo posts a month - it has taken me 7 months, but I rather like to believe that my blentries tend toward quality rather than quantity. But then I have a high opinion of myself.
I have written since I was a kid, but in the last several years gave it up completely. I never shared anything because I was certain it was terrible, or worthless or people couldn't identify with it. Let's face it, I am a bit odd, my humor is skewed a bit toward the insane and when I rant, I do it pretty effectively so how would I know if you (all) would see any value in a blog?
I can't believe I have as many readers as I do. I don't know how many for sure, but I am surprised when people say, "I read your blog." My mother is a regular as is my wife. They have both been very encouraging because they know it is my favorite part of the day. And while it has gotten harder to come up with things to say, it has gotten easier for me to hit the publish button without feeling like a giant waste of time. Well, I can handle the giant waste of time part, but I'd like to think I am at least an entertaining and insightful waste of time.
I have a few youth group kids who read regularly. I encourage them to see and say 'rainbow' in the places where the language gets a little rough. Self-censoring was never a strong suit of mine, even when social convention would dictate that anything other than sitting quietly would be inappropriate.
I had a class in college- Introduction to Anthropology, or something like that. It could have been such a good class, but the professor, who clearly taught only to bide time between research grants and field work was terrible.
I didn't make it easy on him. I sat in the back of the large lecture and read the newspaper. Loudly. I did the crossword and would ask the people around me if they knew the answers. Loudly. If I recall, a few cohorts from high school were in there with me and did little to nothing to discourage this behavior. Finally, it came to a head. He called me out in class and asked why I was being so disruptive. I won't repeat what I shouted at him, but it came down to him performing certain acts on a male donkey.
I got applauded by many of the other students and we walked out - many of us. Later I felt badly, (I can't imagine why, must be that good old Catholic guilt that I haven't been able to shake), and I apologized. We talked in his office for a long time and he was funny and engaging and interesting. Why couldn't he be that way in class? I don't know, but I never told him my name, and I got an A in spite of leading an insurrection.
I already told the story of a young me slapping an adult neighbor lady. I am sure there are countless other examples that people who know me could come up with. I find my boldness charming and largely lacking in a world where people aren't very straightforward. Like a strong breath mint. I admit, it is hard to hear when people are straightforward with you, but in the end I would always rather the band-aid be ripped off at once than peeled off slowly.
I stopped to see a friend at her office the other day. She was a mom from the neighborhood. She was always funny and let me get away with basically murder because she thought I was funny. And cute. Well, half-right ain't bad. Anyhow, we talked for awhile and those crazy whacked out things are what she remembers. My legacy is being a goof! I liked her because she treated my like an adult and was playful in a way that my friends my age couldn't be because they were stupid kids.
And with all this boldness and brashness, I still couldn't historically put my writing out for anyone to see. So, this blog has been therapy and fun. Now I say to myself, "I am gonna blog the rainbow out of this rainbow when I get home. Then we'll see who is so high and rainbow mighty." Knowing my release will be forthcoming, I am able to more appropriately control my tongue in the moment.
I have a few buds from high school who read. That's always nice, because while I have changed a lot, I haven't changed at all. I think I am a bit more sophisticated in my childish humor. But even though I don't remember being a cut-up in high school, people tell me I was. I guess it runs deep. One friend who reads, Don, was probably my first 'writing partner'. We spent a lot of time coming up with silly things. Parodies and things like that. I still remember a lot of things we wrote. We did a parody of Livin' on a Prayer called Livin' on Welfare. I remember the entire first verse and chorus of that. We both worked at Burger King and did a Tears in Heaven parody, "Would you know my name, if I saw you at BeeKay..." and a delicious "Mammas don't let your babies grow up to flip burgers." Ok, so nothing really ground breaking, but it was a start.
One cold Sunday it was dreadfully snowing and very slow. There was not much to do, so we made a song and a rap for the people who came through the drive thru.[sic]
"Oh the weather outside is frightful, but the food is so delightful, and since you've come here to eat, whatcha need? Whatcha need? Whatcha need?
After they placed the order came the rap.
"We've got your order crystal clear. You know you're smart, for stopping in here and as the snow may fall and wind may blow, please pull ahead to the second window."
It was here I first realized not everyone in the world sees or appreciates humor out of context. Some people loved it, some people complained to management.
My friend Heather reads the blog. She is a new edition since she up until recently lived like the Unibomber. She is the only person in the world who had a wireless dial-up network to the internets. She and I did time in Mt. Pleasant together. She is funny. She is very funny. And she has gigantic copper clangers because she actually got up and did stand-up as an Emcee at one of the local clubs. We did some writing together. I can't tell you the jokes because I don't remember, but I do remember the table all us buds were sitting was laughing like we were on nitrous and the rest of the place was almost utterly silent. But Heather kept working them and eventually got some laughs. At that moment, I was sure I would never do that. I need validation, not stony silence. This is, after all, attention and acceptance seeking behavior. Why else do it?
Some of the people I work with read the blog, which scares the rainbow out of my mother because I do so much complaining about work. John Tesh tells me that if I were being intelligent in my life, I wouldn't talk about work so other people could read it. Prospective employers may read my blog and current employers may, too.
It is my attempt to find something funny about work when work, no matter where you do it, can be downright awful. It is like my version of Dilbert, only not so innocent. Again, I seek redemption in what I must do but hate to do. I don't mean harm. Some stories contain hyperbole, others I assure you, do not. I make no intention of indicating which is which. I am trying to create a compelling or humorous story, or both, based on my very pedestrian existence.
To you, prospective employer, if you don't want someone who will give you the truth as he sees it without varnish or trying to save his or your rainbow, then keep moving on. I am done being someone other than myself for the benefit of you. There is a place for everyone and I hope you find the right person for your place. I hope I find the right place for me.
As for toning down the rhetoric of my blog, it is already pretty toned down by the time it gets to you. I actually run it through the mom filter before I send it out to the world. It's just that the mom filter isn't super stringent. You should see some of the stuff I write that never makes it.
Replete with typos, grammatical and punctuation errors, lack of continuity, changes in voice and changes is tense with no warning or reason (literary Crazy Ivans) and other egregious errors, this is my blog. It and I are imperfect, but hopefully in an entertaining and worthwhile way. Thank you to each and every one of you who has made a comment, or who has said in person that you really liked something I wrote. It makes me feel very good and fills me with positive energy that gets me through my sometimes negative days.
On the occasion I frighten, repel or upset you, remember that I seek humor and irony in all things, up to and including death, religious fanaticism, social distortion, mental illness and all other manner of touchy-feely subjects. It's how I deal with the darkness in the world. You may not be ready to joke about it, but I am trying to heal. This is how I do it.
So, onward to the next milestone! With tongue in cheek and flying fingers of fury, I will hunt and peck my way through the funny, the sad, the difficult and the rainbow-est rainbows of this thing called life. Won't you please join me? I love the company!
I have written since I was a kid, but in the last several years gave it up completely. I never shared anything because I was certain it was terrible, or worthless or people couldn't identify with it. Let's face it, I am a bit odd, my humor is skewed a bit toward the insane and when I rant, I do it pretty effectively so how would I know if you (all) would see any value in a blog?
I can't believe I have as many readers as I do. I don't know how many for sure, but I am surprised when people say, "I read your blog." My mother is a regular as is my wife. They have both been very encouraging because they know it is my favorite part of the day. And while it has gotten harder to come up with things to say, it has gotten easier for me to hit the publish button without feeling like a giant waste of time. Well, I can handle the giant waste of time part, but I'd like to think I am at least an entertaining and insightful waste of time.
I have a few youth group kids who read regularly. I encourage them to see and say 'rainbow' in the places where the language gets a little rough. Self-censoring was never a strong suit of mine, even when social convention would dictate that anything other than sitting quietly would be inappropriate.
I had a class in college- Introduction to Anthropology, or something like that. It could have been such a good class, but the professor, who clearly taught only to bide time between research grants and field work was terrible.
I didn't make it easy on him. I sat in the back of the large lecture and read the newspaper. Loudly. I did the crossword and would ask the people around me if they knew the answers. Loudly. If I recall, a few cohorts from high school were in there with me and did little to nothing to discourage this behavior. Finally, it came to a head. He called me out in class and asked why I was being so disruptive. I won't repeat what I shouted at him, but it came down to him performing certain acts on a male donkey.
I got applauded by many of the other students and we walked out - many of us. Later I felt badly, (I can't imagine why, must be that good old Catholic guilt that I haven't been able to shake), and I apologized. We talked in his office for a long time and he was funny and engaging and interesting. Why couldn't he be that way in class? I don't know, but I never told him my name, and I got an A in spite of leading an insurrection.
I already told the story of a young me slapping an adult neighbor lady. I am sure there are countless other examples that people who know me could come up with. I find my boldness charming and largely lacking in a world where people aren't very straightforward. Like a strong breath mint. I admit, it is hard to hear when people are straightforward with you, but in the end I would always rather the band-aid be ripped off at once than peeled off slowly.
I stopped to see a friend at her office the other day. She was a mom from the neighborhood. She was always funny and let me get away with basically murder because she thought I was funny. And cute. Well, half-right ain't bad. Anyhow, we talked for awhile and those crazy whacked out things are what she remembers. My legacy is being a goof! I liked her because she treated my like an adult and was playful in a way that my friends my age couldn't be because they were stupid kids.
And with all this boldness and brashness, I still couldn't historically put my writing out for anyone to see. So, this blog has been therapy and fun. Now I say to myself, "I am gonna blog the rainbow out of this rainbow when I get home. Then we'll see who is so high and rainbow mighty." Knowing my release will be forthcoming, I am able to more appropriately control my tongue in the moment.
I have a few buds from high school who read. That's always nice, because while I have changed a lot, I haven't changed at all. I think I am a bit more sophisticated in my childish humor. But even though I don't remember being a cut-up in high school, people tell me I was. I guess it runs deep. One friend who reads, Don, was probably my first 'writing partner'. We spent a lot of time coming up with silly things. Parodies and things like that. I still remember a lot of things we wrote. We did a parody of Livin' on a Prayer called Livin' on Welfare. I remember the entire first verse and chorus of that. We both worked at Burger King and did a Tears in Heaven parody, "Would you know my name, if I saw you at BeeKay..." and a delicious "Mammas don't let your babies grow up to flip burgers." Ok, so nothing really ground breaking, but it was a start.
One cold Sunday it was dreadfully snowing and very slow. There was not much to do, so we made a song and a rap for the people who came through the drive thru.[sic]
"Oh the weather outside is frightful, but the food is so delightful, and since you've come here to eat, whatcha need? Whatcha need? Whatcha need?
After they placed the order came the rap.
"We've got your order crystal clear. You know you're smart, for stopping in here and as the snow may fall and wind may blow, please pull ahead to the second window."
It was here I first realized not everyone in the world sees or appreciates humor out of context. Some people loved it, some people complained to management.
My friend Heather reads the blog. She is a new edition since she up until recently lived like the Unibomber. She is the only person in the world who had a wireless dial-up network to the internets. She and I did time in Mt. Pleasant together. She is funny. She is very funny. And she has gigantic copper clangers because she actually got up and did stand-up as an Emcee at one of the local clubs. We did some writing together. I can't tell you the jokes because I don't remember, but I do remember the table all us buds were sitting was laughing like we were on nitrous and the rest of the place was almost utterly silent. But Heather kept working them and eventually got some laughs. At that moment, I was sure I would never do that. I need validation, not stony silence. This is, after all, attention and acceptance seeking behavior. Why else do it?
Some of the people I work with read the blog, which scares the rainbow out of my mother because I do so much complaining about work. John Tesh tells me that if I were being intelligent in my life, I wouldn't talk about work so other people could read it. Prospective employers may read my blog and current employers may, too.
It is my attempt to find something funny about work when work, no matter where you do it, can be downright awful. It is like my version of Dilbert, only not so innocent. Again, I seek redemption in what I must do but hate to do. I don't mean harm. Some stories contain hyperbole, others I assure you, do not. I make no intention of indicating which is which. I am trying to create a compelling or humorous story, or both, based on my very pedestrian existence.
To you, prospective employer, if you don't want someone who will give you the truth as he sees it without varnish or trying to save his or your rainbow, then keep moving on. I am done being someone other than myself for the benefit of you. There is a place for everyone and I hope you find the right person for your place. I hope I find the right place for me.
As for toning down the rhetoric of my blog, it is already pretty toned down by the time it gets to you. I actually run it through the mom filter before I send it out to the world. It's just that the mom filter isn't super stringent. You should see some of the stuff I write that never makes it.
Replete with typos, grammatical and punctuation errors, lack of continuity, changes in voice and changes is tense with no warning or reason (literary Crazy Ivans) and other egregious errors, this is my blog. It and I are imperfect, but hopefully in an entertaining and worthwhile way. Thank you to each and every one of you who has made a comment, or who has said in person that you really liked something I wrote. It makes me feel very good and fills me with positive energy that gets me through my sometimes negative days.
On the occasion I frighten, repel or upset you, remember that I seek humor and irony in all things, up to and including death, religious fanaticism, social distortion, mental illness and all other manner of touchy-feely subjects. It's how I deal with the darkness in the world. You may not be ready to joke about it, but I am trying to heal. This is how I do it.
So, onward to the next milestone! With tongue in cheek and flying fingers of fury, I will hunt and peck my way through the funny, the sad, the difficult and the rainbow-est rainbows of this thing called life. Won't you please join me? I love the company!
Wednesday, January 12, 2011
For My Mother on Her Birthday
Happy Birthday, Mom!
I couldn't begin to list or reminisce about all the things I have learned from you, both what to do and what not to do. Each is valid in its way. I consider you a force, rather than a mere person. You have beaten cancer. Twice. You have beaten your own demons, which you came by honestly by nature and nurture. You have done it all with grace and strength and the uncanny ability to laugh.
You always laugh. I learned it from you. You can make a tough situation more like a day in the park because you laugh. You laugh at me even when I am not so funny and you appreciate me when other moms would be ashamed of their sons if they acted the way I did.
I slapped the neighbor lady. You laughed. I laughed at you when you slapped me... you were really mad. It made you laugh. We ate McDonald's after. You laughed when I was precocious and snide and all too cynical for my age. You laughed. And I laughed.
I never felt alone much, because you seemed interested when I needed you to be and sort-of on the fringe otherwise. You didn't hover, but you always knew what was up. I never hesitated to come to you. You were and are still always there for me.
You taught me right from wrong. You placed me second to Dad- at the time, I wasn't sure that was the right way, but now I am married and I know that was the most valuable lesson you could teach me.
You waited years on a list for me, enduring home visits and the jaundiced eye of a nun. You never gave up waiting for me, even though you didn't know it was me you were waiting for, and when I came you took me as your own and I have never belonged to anyone else.
Thank you for teaching me that singing doesn't require a good voice, and being intelligent doesn't require being smart and being yourself doesn't require people liking you all the time. I have never heard of you being mean to anyone. People really like you. And they say I am like you, sometimes. That is high praise.
So to my friend, my mentor, my best audience, my Mom. Happy Birthday. I love you dearly.
I couldn't begin to list or reminisce about all the things I have learned from you, both what to do and what not to do. Each is valid in its way. I consider you a force, rather than a mere person. You have beaten cancer. Twice. You have beaten your own demons, which you came by honestly by nature and nurture. You have done it all with grace and strength and the uncanny ability to laugh.
You always laugh. I learned it from you. You can make a tough situation more like a day in the park because you laugh. You laugh at me even when I am not so funny and you appreciate me when other moms would be ashamed of their sons if they acted the way I did.
I slapped the neighbor lady. You laughed. I laughed at you when you slapped me... you were really mad. It made you laugh. We ate McDonald's after. You laughed when I was precocious and snide and all too cynical for my age. You laughed. And I laughed.
I never felt alone much, because you seemed interested when I needed you to be and sort-of on the fringe otherwise. You didn't hover, but you always knew what was up. I never hesitated to come to you. You were and are still always there for me.
You taught me right from wrong. You placed me second to Dad- at the time, I wasn't sure that was the right way, but now I am married and I know that was the most valuable lesson you could teach me.
You waited years on a list for me, enduring home visits and the jaundiced eye of a nun. You never gave up waiting for me, even though you didn't know it was me you were waiting for, and when I came you took me as your own and I have never belonged to anyone else.
Thank you for teaching me that singing doesn't require a good voice, and being intelligent doesn't require being smart and being yourself doesn't require people liking you all the time. I have never heard of you being mean to anyone. People really like you. And they say I am like you, sometimes. That is high praise.
So to my friend, my mentor, my best audience, my Mom. Happy Birthday. I love you dearly.
The Red-Hot Chili Pepper
Less Artsy, More Fartsy
I love chili. I love making it, eating it. I love smelling it in the dutch oven as it simmers. There is some sort of joke in there about chili and dutch ovens, but I will let that one pass. It's too easy. My all-time favorite episode of The Simpsons is entitled "El viaje misterioso de nuestra Jomer", which roughly translated means "The Mysterious Voyage of Homer." This episode is full of inside gags and I love it for its outright Simpsons-ness.
Briefly, Homer wants to make his annual trip to the chili cook-off but Marge is trying to avoid it because Homer always gets drunk and becomes, well, Homer. She even goes so far as to cut out from the newspaper all references to the chili cook-off and takes up smoking in the house in order to throw off Homer's sense of smell.
It doesn't work. They go. Homer is immediately put-off by Marge's desire to enjoy the craft show- hence the line above "less artsy, more fartsy..." At the event, the townspeople marvel at Homer and his cast-iron constitution. The police chief is bent on getting Homer, well, bent and ads some wicked peppers. They are in fact "The merciless peppers of quetzlzacatenango, grown deep in the jungle primeval by the inmates of a Guatemalan insane asylum." Homer eats the peppers triumphantly with the aid of some candle wax to coat his mouth and goes on a long acid trip and meeting his spirit guide (voiced by Johnny Cash). The trippy animation is amazing.
There is a chili cook-off my church is having on Sunday and I am going to enter mine. This is a big step for me as I know what I like in food tasting, but I am just mentally ill enough to assume that my taste buds are different from all the other people on earth. I am also, therefore certain that the universal acceptance of my chili by my family and friends is a vast conspiracy. They really hate it and they talk about me behind my back. The multiple yearly requests they make for batches are but a sham. They throw it away as soon as I am not looking.
So this is a big step for me, to put my name out there on something that people I hardly know or don't know at all will taste and judge. Furthermore, there is a monetary component involved. If I win, the proceeds from the "box office" go to the group whom my chili represents, in this case, my beloved youth of the church. There are literally tens-of dollars at stake here. I may have to start biting my nails again.
I am fraught with concern. There are a lot of people over 1000 years old in my church, will my chili kill them? We are Methodists and so not predisposed to liking a lot of fancy seasoning- a good salty tuna casserole being about as wacko as we get. Are the 20 cloves of garlic and 25 peppers I add too much for the waspy decacentenarian palate? Should I dumb it down in hopes I appeal to a broader audience and thus take home the glory and the money? Or should I simply go with what I know and create my normal fire-breathing, ass-puckering chili that I am so well-known for?
These are all good questions. I guess it will all be decided when I go into the kitchen on Friday to create my monster. Will it be toothless or will it melt your teeth? Stay tuned to find out.
Speaking of Cooking
Emily roped me into helping with a cooking class this Saturday for the Cool Cats, the group of hearing impaired students she volunteers with and who are sponsored by the group of which Emily is currently President. I am looking forward to it and terrified all at once.
I am not a good teacher. I am impatient and move too fast. I expect people to know what I know and don't effectively communicate the tools that people need in order to learn. And I'm talking about fully capable people without discernible disability. What of these impaired youngsters?
I am sure it will go well and I look forward to helping. I just hope for wisdom, guidance and patience for the sake of the kids. The last thing I need is to learn the ASL for "I hate you, you make me cry" from a kid who was just trying to have fun on a Saturday.
I love chili. I love making it, eating it. I love smelling it in the dutch oven as it simmers. There is some sort of joke in there about chili and dutch ovens, but I will let that one pass. It's too easy. My all-time favorite episode of The Simpsons is entitled "El viaje misterioso de nuestra Jomer", which roughly translated means "The Mysterious Voyage of Homer." This episode is full of inside gags and I love it for its outright Simpsons-ness.
Briefly, Homer wants to make his annual trip to the chili cook-off but Marge is trying to avoid it because Homer always gets drunk and becomes, well, Homer. She even goes so far as to cut out from the newspaper all references to the chili cook-off and takes up smoking in the house in order to throw off Homer's sense of smell.
It doesn't work. They go. Homer is immediately put-off by Marge's desire to enjoy the craft show- hence the line above "less artsy, more fartsy..." At the event, the townspeople marvel at Homer and his cast-iron constitution. The police chief is bent on getting Homer, well, bent and ads some wicked peppers. They are in fact "The merciless peppers of quetzlzacatenango, grown deep in the jungle primeval by the inmates of a Guatemalan insane asylum." Homer eats the peppers triumphantly with the aid of some candle wax to coat his mouth and goes on a long acid trip and meeting his spirit guide (voiced by Johnny Cash). The trippy animation is amazing.
There is a chili cook-off my church is having on Sunday and I am going to enter mine. This is a big step for me as I know what I like in food tasting, but I am just mentally ill enough to assume that my taste buds are different from all the other people on earth. I am also, therefore certain that the universal acceptance of my chili by my family and friends is a vast conspiracy. They really hate it and they talk about me behind my back. The multiple yearly requests they make for batches are but a sham. They throw it away as soon as I am not looking.
So this is a big step for me, to put my name out there on something that people I hardly know or don't know at all will taste and judge. Furthermore, there is a monetary component involved. If I win, the proceeds from the "box office" go to the group whom my chili represents, in this case, my beloved youth of the church. There are literally tens-of dollars at stake here. I may have to start biting my nails again.
I am fraught with concern. There are a lot of people over 1000 years old in my church, will my chili kill them? We are Methodists and so not predisposed to liking a lot of fancy seasoning- a good salty tuna casserole being about as wacko as we get. Are the 20 cloves of garlic and 25 peppers I add too much for the waspy decacentenarian palate? Should I dumb it down in hopes I appeal to a broader audience and thus take home the glory and the money? Or should I simply go with what I know and create my normal fire-breathing, ass-puckering chili that I am so well-known for?
These are all good questions. I guess it will all be decided when I go into the kitchen on Friday to create my monster. Will it be toothless or will it melt your teeth? Stay tuned to find out.
Speaking of Cooking
Emily roped me into helping with a cooking class this Saturday for the Cool Cats, the group of hearing impaired students she volunteers with and who are sponsored by the group of which Emily is currently President. I am looking forward to it and terrified all at once.
I am not a good teacher. I am impatient and move too fast. I expect people to know what I know and don't effectively communicate the tools that people need in order to learn. And I'm talking about fully capable people without discernible disability. What of these impaired youngsters?
I am sure it will go well and I look forward to helping. I just hope for wisdom, guidance and patience for the sake of the kids. The last thing I need is to learn the ASL for "I hate you, you make me cry" from a kid who was just trying to have fun on a Saturday.
Tuesday, January 11, 2011
40 Books, Me Wii, Grillas in the Midst
My Resolution
In the new year, I am again trying to reach 40 books. To some of you, that would be an oppressive amount to read, to others but a trifle. Reading always is important to me and I usually start off strong. Then work and social activities will get in the way. I find myself reading more in the summer even though I am much busier, this is mostly because in the summer I require only about half the sleep I do in the deep dark winter and so a whole new cornucopia of time opens to me. I fill much of that time with reading.
In order to assist me I have created a list to get me through my first few books. Since I can't think about anything else to write, I am including them here.
My Lobotomy by first timer Howard Dully is aptly named. As a 7-year-old he was given a trans-orbital (ice pick lobotomy), for what and why he never knew. The book is his remembrance of his childhood and search for why this was done to him. Some dark times are ahead in this book, I can feel it but I am hoping to find redemption in the end.
Notes from a Small Island Bill Bryson is next. A palate cleanser after the heavy talk about abuse and lobotomy. I consider Bryson a masterful writer. He is witty and clean of line, but also clever and inventive in tone. Were I ever to be compared to him I would consider it high praise indeed.
Dexter by Design Jeff Lindsay is next. I love the Dexter books. I could write them myself. They aren't especially amazing in any way but the entertainment value is off the charts and the concept is really quite good... a do-gooder serial killer who also works for the police by day. It is a romp into the world of a psychopath who has a conscience of sorts. Very interesting indeed.
Jet Age 707 Vs. Comet Sam Howe Verhovek. Nerd Alert! I love planes! This is a book about the people involved with the development of both the British DeHavilland Comet (the first jet powered passenger plane to enter revenue service) and the American Boeing 707 (proving sometimes being first isn't tantamount to being best). I love learning about the personalities behind such huge, momentous accomplishments. I know about the accomplishment, tell me about the people who made it happen.
Made in America Bill Bryson. I hope to get through all the rest of the Bryson I haven't read yet this year. So I'll continue with this one. I also bought A Walk in the Woods which I read but didn't own. So I'll re-read that if I can't find anything else to fit my fancy.
I have finished one this year so I am counting that. I am roaring through Lobotomy so I am on track so far to hit 40. We'll see if I can do it this year. I usually crap out halfway through. Wish me luck.
Media
Em said something to me the other night about how we as youth leaders need to keep up with the way the world is now in order to understand our kids. We need to recognize that sit and listen is just not feasible in this world of media bombardment. It is truly an unrecognizable place to me sometimes.
So we came to the realization that the kids are better multi-taskers than we are, (even though I am quite good) and we need to play into that.
Also, I think this means we must buy a Wii. How can we stay in touch with the younger set if we don't know what they are experiencing? And since they don't bottle angst, or box adolescent crisis, I think a Wii is the best way we can understand. This is of course 100% incompatible with almost every other goal and aspect of my life, including reading 40 books this year, fixing my old Corvette, stripping paint off the trim upstairs and painting and myriad other things that I want to accomplish but cannot if I am playing on the Wii. Also, since I don't have kids, I don't have to put on heirs and draw boundaries and stuff. I could (and would) play deep into the night.
Does Nintendo put out an eye cream that reduces bags? That would be a good incremental business for them. I guess I am not going to get one... yet. We'll see if I still have these unnatural urges toward the end of the year.
And Finally
I travel a stretch of I96 which is a main artery in southern Michigan. It stretches coast to coast, east to west across the fattest part of the lower peninsula. It is mostly well maintained, unlike many of Michigan's roads and it is not a slave to truck traffic like it's cousin I94 to the south. I mostly like this road. I know it blindfolded. I know where the cops sit, I know where the bathrooms are, I know where the best fried chicken ever can be gotten. All along I96.
What else I notice is the number of dead deer. It is excessive. On a round trip from Grand Rapids to metro Detroit, I will spot 3o sitting on the side of the road in various states of gory rot. Some look like they are napping, others look like something or someone was very angry and took that anger out on the deer.
My point- We praise Jane Goodall for her work with the chimps. There is federal money all over the place for researcher who endeavors to make primates communicate through sign language (which is admittedly better than communicating through kinesethetic fecal maneuvering). I suppose this money is there because as humans' closest cousins, we want desperately to prove or disprove (depending on what side of Darwin you fall on) how close or far apart we really are.
Great. But what of the deer? I like venison meat, but deer on your grille is not a substitute for having deer on the grill. There are too many deer, even after hunting season. They are a menace. I have lost, no joke, 5 company vehicles to deer since the fall.
I am not advocating killing, so save your cards and letters. I think hunting is fine, but let's explore something even more effective... Teaching deer to look both ways before they cross the road. The signs we put up are clearly ineffective. Motorists recognize the sign as a place where deer may be present and crossing. I think deer flock to it. Like it's the sign for a bus stop, or a nightclub. The signs need to be much more graphic.
We need to record the sound of deer being hit by cars and play it at irregular intervals at night along the road to keep the deer from venturing out. In the winter, the asphalt road stays warmer longer than the woods, so they congregate en masse in the road and get taken out whole families at a time. How about some solar powered warming pads off in the woods where they can hang out and, I don't know, be deer?
Or we can go with gore. Show them films of the after effects of deer, narrated by that stern sounding guy who did the driver's ed films.
"Timmy was too cool to listen to his father, Buck and hung out in the road with the rest of his young friends (flash to a very dead Timmy with a Toyota logo embossed into his ribcage). Timmy doesn't hang-out in the road, anymore..."
We have to get through to these carrion that this can't, um carry-on! For the sake of our shiny grilles and unrumpled fenders and hoods, for our unbroken windshields and for the safety of the deer that they may grow up big and strong and get shot to death by rednecks like god intended and turned into sausage and eaten thus completing the circle of life. We should, nay, we must to something.
In the new year, I am again trying to reach 40 books. To some of you, that would be an oppressive amount to read, to others but a trifle. Reading always is important to me and I usually start off strong. Then work and social activities will get in the way. I find myself reading more in the summer even though I am much busier, this is mostly because in the summer I require only about half the sleep I do in the deep dark winter and so a whole new cornucopia of time opens to me. I fill much of that time with reading.
In order to assist me I have created a list to get me through my first few books. Since I can't think about anything else to write, I am including them here.
My Lobotomy by first timer Howard Dully is aptly named. As a 7-year-old he was given a trans-orbital (ice pick lobotomy), for what and why he never knew. The book is his remembrance of his childhood and search for why this was done to him. Some dark times are ahead in this book, I can feel it but I am hoping to find redemption in the end.
Notes from a Small Island Bill Bryson is next. A palate cleanser after the heavy talk about abuse and lobotomy. I consider Bryson a masterful writer. He is witty and clean of line, but also clever and inventive in tone. Were I ever to be compared to him I would consider it high praise indeed.
Dexter by Design Jeff Lindsay is next. I love the Dexter books. I could write them myself. They aren't especially amazing in any way but the entertainment value is off the charts and the concept is really quite good... a do-gooder serial killer who also works for the police by day. It is a romp into the world of a psychopath who has a conscience of sorts. Very interesting indeed.
Jet Age 707 Vs. Comet Sam Howe Verhovek. Nerd Alert! I love planes! This is a book about the people involved with the development of both the British DeHavilland Comet (the first jet powered passenger plane to enter revenue service) and the American Boeing 707 (proving sometimes being first isn't tantamount to being best). I love learning about the personalities behind such huge, momentous accomplishments. I know about the accomplishment, tell me about the people who made it happen.
Made in America Bill Bryson. I hope to get through all the rest of the Bryson I haven't read yet this year. So I'll continue with this one. I also bought A Walk in the Woods which I read but didn't own. So I'll re-read that if I can't find anything else to fit my fancy.
I have finished one this year so I am counting that. I am roaring through Lobotomy so I am on track so far to hit 40. We'll see if I can do it this year. I usually crap out halfway through. Wish me luck.
Media
Em said something to me the other night about how we as youth leaders need to keep up with the way the world is now in order to understand our kids. We need to recognize that sit and listen is just not feasible in this world of media bombardment. It is truly an unrecognizable place to me sometimes.
So we came to the realization that the kids are better multi-taskers than we are, (even though I am quite good) and we need to play into that.
Also, I think this means we must buy a Wii. How can we stay in touch with the younger set if we don't know what they are experiencing? And since they don't bottle angst, or box adolescent crisis, I think a Wii is the best way we can understand. This is of course 100% incompatible with almost every other goal and aspect of my life, including reading 40 books this year, fixing my old Corvette, stripping paint off the trim upstairs and painting and myriad other things that I want to accomplish but cannot if I am playing on the Wii. Also, since I don't have kids, I don't have to put on heirs and draw boundaries and stuff. I could (and would) play deep into the night.
Does Nintendo put out an eye cream that reduces bags? That would be a good incremental business for them. I guess I am not going to get one... yet. We'll see if I still have these unnatural urges toward the end of the year.
And Finally
I travel a stretch of I96 which is a main artery in southern Michigan. It stretches coast to coast, east to west across the fattest part of the lower peninsula. It is mostly well maintained, unlike many of Michigan's roads and it is not a slave to truck traffic like it's cousin I94 to the south. I mostly like this road. I know it blindfolded. I know where the cops sit, I know where the bathrooms are, I know where the best fried chicken ever can be gotten. All along I96.
What else I notice is the number of dead deer. It is excessive. On a round trip from Grand Rapids to metro Detroit, I will spot 3o sitting on the side of the road in various states of gory rot. Some look like they are napping, others look like something or someone was very angry and took that anger out on the deer.
My point- We praise Jane Goodall for her work with the chimps. There is federal money all over the place for researcher who endeavors to make primates communicate through sign language (which is admittedly better than communicating through kinesethetic fecal maneuvering). I suppose this money is there because as humans' closest cousins, we want desperately to prove or disprove (depending on what side of Darwin you fall on) how close or far apart we really are.
Great. But what of the deer? I like venison meat, but deer on your grille is not a substitute for having deer on the grill. There are too many deer, even after hunting season. They are a menace. I have lost, no joke, 5 company vehicles to deer since the fall.
I am not advocating killing, so save your cards and letters. I think hunting is fine, but let's explore something even more effective... Teaching deer to look both ways before they cross the road. The signs we put up are clearly ineffective. Motorists recognize the sign as a place where deer may be present and crossing. I think deer flock to it. Like it's the sign for a bus stop, or a nightclub. The signs need to be much more graphic.
We need to record the sound of deer being hit by cars and play it at irregular intervals at night along the road to keep the deer from venturing out. In the winter, the asphalt road stays warmer longer than the woods, so they congregate en masse in the road and get taken out whole families at a time. How about some solar powered warming pads off in the woods where they can hang out and, I don't know, be deer?
Or we can go with gore. Show them films of the after effects of deer, narrated by that stern sounding guy who did the driver's ed films.
"Timmy was too cool to listen to his father, Buck and hung out in the road with the rest of his young friends (flash to a very dead Timmy with a Toyota logo embossed into his ribcage). Timmy doesn't hang-out in the road, anymore..."
We have to get through to these carrion that this can't, um carry-on! For the sake of our shiny grilles and unrumpled fenders and hoods, for our unbroken windshields and for the safety of the deer that they may grow up big and strong and get shot to death by rednecks like god intended and turned into sausage and eaten thus completing the circle of life. We should, nay, we must to something.
Monday, January 10, 2011
Don't Know Much About History
Good morning, Blogosphere, Today is Monday, January 10th, 2o11. We are officially in the second decade of the 21st century and as such we need to go about ruining it for everyone, just like those pesky 1811-ers and 1911-ers did for us. If we don't, what will children read about in history books in 80-100 years? Are they going to read the same crap that bored us into submission?
Let us look at some of the 'highlights' of 1811:
Jan 2nd - US Sen Thomas Pickering is 1st senator censured (revealed confidential documents communicated by the president of the US). At his censure hearing, he is heard to repeat "I'm #1" over and over again while headbanging and waving his hand in the air.
Feb 11th - Pres Madison prohibits trade with Britain for 3rd time in 4 years. The flow of dental product to the U.K. devastates to population which is still not fully recovered.
Feb 20th - Austria declares bankruptcy after Vienna sausages found to be high in nitrates and cholesterol.
Mar 1st - Egyptian king Muhammad Ali Pasha oversees ceremonial murder of 500 which earns him amateur status on the middle eastern stage.
Mar 25th - Percy Bysshe Shelley is expelled from the University of Oxford for his publication of the pamphlet The Necessity of Atheism. There is nothing funny about this.
Apr 12th - 1st US colonists on Pacific coast arrive at the aptly named Cape Disappointment, WA
Jul 11th - Italian scientist Amedeo Avogadro publishes his memoir about molecular content of gases. Avogadro's number, or 'Mole' will go on to torture 9th graders for all recorded history.
Sep 18th - English expeditionary army conquerors Dutch Indies by painting their homes with vivid paint colors and teaching the locals to 'chill out'.
Oct 6th - French emperor Napoleon visits Utrecht, leave immediately upon seeing how tall the podium is at the high school where he was scheduled to speak.
Oct 11th - The Juliana, 1st steam-powered ferryboat, begins operation. It is powered by slaves.
Nov 2nd - Battle of Tippecanoe: Gen Jackson vs indians. General Jackson 5, Indians 2.
Nov 7th - Battle of Tippecanoe, gave Harrison a presidential slogan "Tippecanoe and Tyler too" which meant nothing then and still means nothing now.
Dec 26th - A theater fire in Richmond, Virginia kills the Governor of Virginia George William Smith and the president of the First National Bank of Virginia Abraham B. Venable. It is said there are so many casualties because it had been made illegal to shout "fire" in a crowded theatre.
BORING! I didn't know any of that stuff. Well, Pickering I did and Tippecanoe, but that could have happened in 1965 for all I remembered. See, we can't keep exposing our future children and grandchildren to this crap. We should, nay, we must band together and start the wheels in motion for something epic, something just nearly cataclysmic! Let's refer back to 1911 and see if we can find some inspiration.
Ok, nope, bad example. Nothing happened in 1911. There were a lot of labor movements and factory fires and things like that. Personal tragedies, yes, but nothing that, say, predicted the upcoming great war, or indicated the end of days. Well, except the Ottawa Senators took the Stanley Cup... that's a sure sign of armageddon.
But if you look at the early 1900's in general you have all sorts of things that set the stage for the advancements we made in the late 20th century. For instance, all those people bitching about their 14 hour work days and deplorable conditions and the lack of child labor laws gave rise to the unions, which in turn started the mass exodus of manufacturing to other countries. Now there are millions of unemployed children in this country, their jobs having been exported to China and Singapore, whose children enjoy earning power unmatched by our American standards.
The seeds of war were being sewn as well. I seem to remember World War 1 started when the king of Spain and a then little known mid-level government official, Winston Churchill got drunk and made fun of Kaiser Wilhelm's hat. Talk about a war! Nobody was actually shot by anybody since they couldn't hit the broad side of a barn with the old timey guns they had. Every single death in the war was attributed to bad cooking, and something called "Trench Toe". The Germans called it Saurfootenunternail-funkenshmelling. Such a beautiful language. Anyway, famine and disease is what killed to soldiers and when the last unit was standing it was because they had robbed a convenience store and picked up a bunch of beef jerky and tube socks to sustain them.
World War 1 should have taught us that war is always a worthless effort. It is not worth the lives, the money, the suffering to accomplish so little... or in this case, anything. But it didn't. Instead, the lesson we took from World War 1 was how to apply all our energy into more effectively killing our enemies so that we would be ready for World War 2. This turned out to be a good thing, because we didn't know that somewhere there was a 28 year old man filled with anger that his mustache wouldn't fill out no matter what he did and for that he would make millions of people pay.
I am referring of course to Charlie Chaplin who would foist upon us the worst cinematic dreck ever seen up to that point. At least until Ben Stiller came along. We had to go to war just so their would be a ration on cellulose so this guy could stop making movies! Yeah, we get it, your life is hard. Seen it.
World War 2, often considered the only justifiable war of the 20th century, gave us hope in history class. It gave us something to read about that didn't seem like it happened on an episode of the Waltons. It gave us fast airplanes and big powerful ships and computers and RADAR and medical technology that we can't imagine life without. It gave us Churchill and Roosevelt and Stalin with that amazing porn-stache the likes of which wouldn't be seen again until Freddy Mercury of Queen graced the stage. Finally, something worth reading about. Where would the History Channel be without World War 2? And if there were no documentaries about things, how would teachers teach, or children learn?
After World War 2 a lot of nothing happened, meaning history texts will be like 1811 and 1911 all over again if we don't do something about it. Sure, we had 9/11 and a dozen never-ending skirmishes in the desert with no discernible benefit, but in 50 years that will be boring to read about. We need to start needling China. We need to call our other Asian friends South Korea and Japan and start screwing with China. Hell, we can even call India... Just don't tell Pakistan. You know how Pakistan gets. They'll get all pissy and the next thing you know we'll stop getting poor quality child-slave made goods that can be sold at the Wal*Mart price causing the immediate economic meltdown of the western world.
We need to drag this whole sunofabitch into war. You want your lasers and flying cars and jet packs and implanted chip cerebral processors and mood rings that actually work? All these things come from war. If man has proven anything it is that he is never so inventive as when he is trying to kill something, or save it life after someone else tried to kill it. It is our natural god complex. So, John Lennon, you're out, and Vladimir Lenin, you're in. War is the answer. It is the anathema to the boring history text. We must do these stupid horrendous things now so our young people can grow up to be this century's greatest generation.
This is a call to action, people. I hear a lot of talk about trying to fix the world before it collapses and before we lose our preeminence in the world. I say, it's the next generation's problem. And to make sure we fully test steel their resolve and make sure it requires their best full effort, stop trying. Just let the place go for awhile! Then, sit back and watch the lasers fly.
Let us look at some of the 'highlights' of 1811:
Jan 2nd - US Sen Thomas Pickering is 1st senator censured (revealed confidential documents communicated by the president of the US). At his censure hearing, he is heard to repeat "I'm #1" over and over again while headbanging and waving his hand in the air.
Feb 11th - Pres Madison prohibits trade with Britain for 3rd time in 4 years. The flow of dental product to the U.K. devastates to population which is still not fully recovered.
Feb 20th - Austria declares bankruptcy after Vienna sausages found to be high in nitrates and cholesterol.
Mar 1st - Egyptian king Muhammad Ali Pasha oversees ceremonial murder of 500 which earns him amateur status on the middle eastern stage.
Mar 25th - Percy Bysshe Shelley is expelled from the University of Oxford for his publication of the pamphlet The Necessity of Atheism. There is nothing funny about this.
Apr 12th - 1st US colonists on Pacific coast arrive at the aptly named Cape Disappointment, WA
Jul 11th - Italian scientist Amedeo Avogadro publishes his memoir about molecular content of gases. Avogadro's number, or 'Mole' will go on to torture 9th graders for all recorded history.
Sep 18th - English expeditionary army conquerors Dutch Indies by painting their homes with vivid paint colors and teaching the locals to 'chill out'.
Oct 6th - French emperor Napoleon visits Utrecht, leave immediately upon seeing how tall the podium is at the high school where he was scheduled to speak.
Oct 11th - The Juliana, 1st steam-powered ferryboat, begins operation. It is powered by slaves.
Nov 2nd - Battle of Tippecanoe: Gen Jackson vs indians. General Jackson 5, Indians 2.
Nov 7th - Battle of Tippecanoe, gave Harrison a presidential slogan "Tippecanoe and Tyler too" which meant nothing then and still means nothing now.
Dec 26th - A theater fire in Richmond, Virginia kills the Governor of Virginia George William Smith and the president of the First National Bank of Virginia Abraham B. Venable. It is said there are so many casualties because it had been made illegal to shout "fire" in a crowded theatre.
BORING! I didn't know any of that stuff. Well, Pickering I did and Tippecanoe, but that could have happened in 1965 for all I remembered. See, we can't keep exposing our future children and grandchildren to this crap. We should, nay, we must band together and start the wheels in motion for something epic, something just nearly cataclysmic! Let's refer back to 1911 and see if we can find some inspiration.
Ok, nope, bad example. Nothing happened in 1911. There were a lot of labor movements and factory fires and things like that. Personal tragedies, yes, but nothing that, say, predicted the upcoming great war, or indicated the end of days. Well, except the Ottawa Senators took the Stanley Cup... that's a sure sign of armageddon.
But if you look at the early 1900's in general you have all sorts of things that set the stage for the advancements we made in the late 20th century. For instance, all those people bitching about their 14 hour work days and deplorable conditions and the lack of child labor laws gave rise to the unions, which in turn started the mass exodus of manufacturing to other countries. Now there are millions of unemployed children in this country, their jobs having been exported to China and Singapore, whose children enjoy earning power unmatched by our American standards.
The seeds of war were being sewn as well. I seem to remember World War 1 started when the king of Spain and a then little known mid-level government official, Winston Churchill got drunk and made fun of Kaiser Wilhelm's hat. Talk about a war! Nobody was actually shot by anybody since they couldn't hit the broad side of a barn with the old timey guns they had. Every single death in the war was attributed to bad cooking, and something called "Trench Toe". The Germans called it Saurfootenunternail-funkenshmelling. Such a beautiful language. Anyway, famine and disease is what killed to soldiers and when the last unit was standing it was because they had robbed a convenience store and picked up a bunch of beef jerky and tube socks to sustain them.
World War 1 should have taught us that war is always a worthless effort. It is not worth the lives, the money, the suffering to accomplish so little... or in this case, anything. But it didn't. Instead, the lesson we took from World War 1 was how to apply all our energy into more effectively killing our enemies so that we would be ready for World War 2. This turned out to be a good thing, because we didn't know that somewhere there was a 28 year old man filled with anger that his mustache wouldn't fill out no matter what he did and for that he would make millions of people pay.
I am referring of course to Charlie Chaplin who would foist upon us the worst cinematic dreck ever seen up to that point. At least until Ben Stiller came along. We had to go to war just so their would be a ration on cellulose so this guy could stop making movies! Yeah, we get it, your life is hard. Seen it.
World War 2, often considered the only justifiable war of the 20th century, gave us hope in history class. It gave us something to read about that didn't seem like it happened on an episode of the Waltons. It gave us fast airplanes and big powerful ships and computers and RADAR and medical technology that we can't imagine life without. It gave us Churchill and Roosevelt and Stalin with that amazing porn-stache the likes of which wouldn't be seen again until Freddy Mercury of Queen graced the stage. Finally, something worth reading about. Where would the History Channel be without World War 2? And if there were no documentaries about things, how would teachers teach, or children learn?
After World War 2 a lot of nothing happened, meaning history texts will be like 1811 and 1911 all over again if we don't do something about it. Sure, we had 9/11 and a dozen never-ending skirmishes in the desert with no discernible benefit, but in 50 years that will be boring to read about. We need to start needling China. We need to call our other Asian friends South Korea and Japan and start screwing with China. Hell, we can even call India... Just don't tell Pakistan. You know how Pakistan gets. They'll get all pissy and the next thing you know we'll stop getting poor quality child-slave made goods that can be sold at the Wal*Mart price causing the immediate economic meltdown of the western world.
We need to drag this whole sunofabitch into war. You want your lasers and flying cars and jet packs and implanted chip cerebral processors and mood rings that actually work? All these things come from war. If man has proven anything it is that he is never so inventive as when he is trying to kill something, or save it life after someone else tried to kill it. It is our natural god complex. So, John Lennon, you're out, and Vladimir Lenin, you're in. War is the answer. It is the anathema to the boring history text. We must do these stupid horrendous things now so our young people can grow up to be this century's greatest generation.
This is a call to action, people. I hear a lot of talk about trying to fix the world before it collapses and before we lose our preeminence in the world. I say, it's the next generation's problem. And to make sure we fully test steel their resolve and make sure it requires their best full effort, stop trying. Just let the place go for awhile! Then, sit back and watch the lasers fly.
Friday, January 7, 2011
Void If Detatched
Those who know me best know that my dream job would be to write and speak to high school age kids and above about how to overcome obstacles in school, life, family and work. I may not be so good at doing those things myself, but I do know how to identify strategies to help others. I would mix in a lot of humor, personal experience, stories of what I know and what I've seen. I can be very approachable and find it very easy to get people to identify and "buy in" to what I am saying.
After a fair amount of searching, I think I have found my theme, or my hook or my gimmick.
Void If Detached
This three word phrase appears on a car wash receipt that for some reason is folded in just such a way that I see those words peeking up at me from the map pocket in my car door each time I get into and out of the car. Void If Detached. It is the stub end of a receipt that the car wash would remove if I were to go back within 48 hours for a rewash... even if it rained. Now, I never do that, not being a deuchebag since I consider most reasons why a car gets dirty to be force majeur and therefore I hold the provider of the service harmless. Not the point. I think Void if Detached is an interesting phrase. How else could it be said?
Without substance if disconnected.
Not fulfilled if separated.
Baseless without context.
Empty without its mate.
From here in my presentation, I could go into myriad examples pertinent to the audience about how we as people are Void If Detached. We can use school, spiritual, marital, business, ethical and other examples tailored to the specific needs of the listener. Certainly, I have a million stories about being Void If Detached. It's a good "runner" with broad thematic qualities. I think it could be a winner.
What makes you feel detached? Are you happy in your life? Are you expecting to get more return than is due to you based on the effort you are putting forth? If you are not putting forth the effort, why? Are you doing what you want to do? Are you doing it for the right reasons?
I can't say I have the answers for these questions, but I believe with the whole fiber of my being that if you put the maximal effort into something because you want it so badly you can't live without it that you will get it.
Sounds kind of boy-scouty, I know, but I believe it. I believe I could have gotten a 4.0 GPA in school. I believe had I wanted it I could be the President. I didn't care about those things. I wanted to have fun in school and what I learned around and outside the classroom had served me far better than anything I could have picked up by putting in that kind of effort. I knew since I was 5 I didn't want to be President when I found out I could have a 40 hour a week job and make almost the same money (no, I don't make $450K a year, but you get the point).
What I want is to be affective in life to the people around me. I want to be inspirational. I want to be referential. I want people to remember me when I am gone, not for what I did or said, but for what they took from me and will pass on to others.
Whew. Heady stuff. I want to be a speaker, a comic, a therapist, a faith healer, a friend, a guru, a resource, an oracle and I want to be those things for thousands of people. I want to be Dr. Oz, or Dale Carnegie or Oprah. I want to be the voice coming at you that washes away the numbness and compels you to follow the path that is right for you while doing no damage to others and maybe even helping them along the way.
Maybe you can't change the world, but you can change your world. You can help a friend who helps a friend who helps a stranger, like those insurance commercials or that horrible Pay it Forward movie that is redeemed only by Hailey Joel Osment's death. The theme for that movie should have been "You'll wish you saw dead people". Sorry, I got off topic there but I hate preachy sanctimonious self-righteous crap like that. I want to have my own brand of sanctimonious self-righteous crap to spew to the masses and make a buck or two while doing it. Just enough for a cool rock star bus and a small plane and a Bentley (man I love a Bentley). But it wouldn't be about the money, (once you have the money it never is), it would be about the helping people.
And that's where it all comes back to Void If Detached. I haven't followed my own rules and put forth the effort to fulfill my own dreams and as such I have not. I have achieved the level of success that is equal to the amount of energy I have put toward it. A few days ago, I posted some thoughts. I am going to highlight some of them again here, if only to keep repeating them to myself so I will actually start to follow my own advice.
You must remember nobody owes you nothin'.
Your attitude makes or breaks you, and everyone around you.
First, be kind to the extent it is possible, thereafter be patient and direct.
You must identify what you want so you know where to find it. It will not come to you.
People will screw up. You will screw up. Let's all move on.
Today, you will be asked to do impossible things under unprecedented circumstances with no assistance, tools or guidance. This is yours to do. Do it to the best of your ability. Expect for the next challenge to be no different.
Someone is always watching you.
Each time you interact with another human being it is another chance to pass or fail that challenge. Break your day into individual challenges. Be proud of your success, honest about your failures and vigilant for challenges to come.
A happy life is not a life without struggle or tests of faith. A happy life is a life well lived under the circumstances.
You do not need to be rich to have all you could ever need.
Thank people for the criticism they offer, even if they offer it in a way that is upsetting to you. Assume they mean well and they want you to succeed.
Offer criticism to others in a way that lets them know you want them to succeed. Do no harm to them and make them feel good about their prospects.
Don't forget to hug your pet goodbye.
Don't forget to kiss your spouse/significant other and tell them you love them.
Drive safely. People you don't even know are out to kill you.
Most importantly - God is with you, always.
I really could use your help on this one, dear reader. I am asking you to put a little energy out for me. Let me know your thoughts and feedback. I really want to run with this.
Namaste.
After a fair amount of searching, I think I have found my theme, or my hook or my gimmick.
Void If Detached
This three word phrase appears on a car wash receipt that for some reason is folded in just such a way that I see those words peeking up at me from the map pocket in my car door each time I get into and out of the car. Void If Detached. It is the stub end of a receipt that the car wash would remove if I were to go back within 48 hours for a rewash... even if it rained. Now, I never do that, not being a deuchebag since I consider most reasons why a car gets dirty to be force majeur and therefore I hold the provider of the service harmless. Not the point. I think Void if Detached is an interesting phrase. How else could it be said?
Without substance if disconnected.
Not fulfilled if separated.
Baseless without context.
Empty without its mate.
From here in my presentation, I could go into myriad examples pertinent to the audience about how we as people are Void If Detached. We can use school, spiritual, marital, business, ethical and other examples tailored to the specific needs of the listener. Certainly, I have a million stories about being Void If Detached. It's a good "runner" with broad thematic qualities. I think it could be a winner.
What makes you feel detached? Are you happy in your life? Are you expecting to get more return than is due to you based on the effort you are putting forth? If you are not putting forth the effort, why? Are you doing what you want to do? Are you doing it for the right reasons?
I can't say I have the answers for these questions, but I believe with the whole fiber of my being that if you put the maximal effort into something because you want it so badly you can't live without it that you will get it.
Sounds kind of boy-scouty, I know, but I believe it. I believe I could have gotten a 4.0 GPA in school. I believe had I wanted it I could be the President. I didn't care about those things. I wanted to have fun in school and what I learned around and outside the classroom had served me far better than anything I could have picked up by putting in that kind of effort. I knew since I was 5 I didn't want to be President when I found out I could have a 40 hour a week job and make almost the same money (no, I don't make $450K a year, but you get the point).
What I want is to be affective in life to the people around me. I want to be inspirational. I want to be referential. I want people to remember me when I am gone, not for what I did or said, but for what they took from me and will pass on to others.
Whew. Heady stuff. I want to be a speaker, a comic, a therapist, a faith healer, a friend, a guru, a resource, an oracle and I want to be those things for thousands of people. I want to be Dr. Oz, or Dale Carnegie or Oprah. I want to be the voice coming at you that washes away the numbness and compels you to follow the path that is right for you while doing no damage to others and maybe even helping them along the way.
Maybe you can't change the world, but you can change your world. You can help a friend who helps a friend who helps a stranger, like those insurance commercials or that horrible Pay it Forward movie that is redeemed only by Hailey Joel Osment's death. The theme for that movie should have been "You'll wish you saw dead people". Sorry, I got off topic there but I hate preachy sanctimonious self-righteous crap like that. I want to have my own brand of sanctimonious self-righteous crap to spew to the masses and make a buck or two while doing it. Just enough for a cool rock star bus and a small plane and a Bentley (man I love a Bentley). But it wouldn't be about the money, (once you have the money it never is), it would be about the helping people.
And that's where it all comes back to Void If Detached. I haven't followed my own rules and put forth the effort to fulfill my own dreams and as such I have not. I have achieved the level of success that is equal to the amount of energy I have put toward it. A few days ago, I posted some thoughts. I am going to highlight some of them again here, if only to keep repeating them to myself so I will actually start to follow my own advice.
You must remember nobody owes you nothin'.
Your attitude makes or breaks you, and everyone around you.
First, be kind to the extent it is possible, thereafter be patient and direct.
You must identify what you want so you know where to find it. It will not come to you.
People will screw up. You will screw up. Let's all move on.
Today, you will be asked to do impossible things under unprecedented circumstances with no assistance, tools or guidance. This is yours to do. Do it to the best of your ability. Expect for the next challenge to be no different.
Someone is always watching you.
Each time you interact with another human being it is another chance to pass or fail that challenge. Break your day into individual challenges. Be proud of your success, honest about your failures and vigilant for challenges to come.
A happy life is not a life without struggle or tests of faith. A happy life is a life well lived under the circumstances.
You do not need to be rich to have all you could ever need.
Thank people for the criticism they offer, even if they offer it in a way that is upsetting to you. Assume they mean well and they want you to succeed.
Offer criticism to others in a way that lets them know you want them to succeed. Do no harm to them and make them feel good about their prospects.
Don't forget to hug your pet goodbye.
Don't forget to kiss your spouse/significant other and tell them you love them.
Drive safely. People you don't even know are out to kill you.
Most importantly - God is with you, always.
I really could use your help on this one, dear reader. I am asking you to put a little energy out for me. Let me know your thoughts and feedback. I really want to run with this.
Namaste.
Oooh, What a Lucky Man
I have always considered myself a lucky man. I guess blessed if more proper a term considering my faith leanings, but luck is a concept understandable even by those not touched by a belief in God. So, we'll go with luck.
Just today, I got a phone call from one of the area codes I service professionally. I did not recognize the number, but it was the second time it had called me. There was no message left the first time, so I felt compelled to find out what was so important that this person needed to talk to me on the phone in person, rather than leaving me a message.
Me "Hello, Bill speaking..."
Guy On Phone (GOF) "Hello, Bill- I am Ted (or Red or Jed, I didn't really let the name register), with SoSo Fitness in Boondock, Michigan. How are you today?"
Me "Fine, uh...."
GOF "I'm calling because we are having a grand opening at our Boondock location and your number has been selected to receive 2 free unlimited one year memberships!"
I'm gonna stop here, because no kidding, this is the THIRD time in a year that SoSo Fitness has selected my number to win free memberships. Well, sometimes they say my friend put my name in and it was chosen, but same racket. My patience for these things is even less than my patience for Asian drivers, so I am already trying to get this guy off the phone. Back to the banter.
Me "Well, I see you're calling from the 555 area code. I have like, 10 phone numbers jetted through this phone. I don't even know them all. I am a regional manager, so while I do business in your area, I really am not there often enough to take this wonderful prize out of the hands of someone who is local and could actually use it."
I was trying to be so nice. I did all I could to not allow the anger, so readily available just below my veneer of humanity to come loose but he just didn't get it. This is where it should have ended, but Ned (or Fred or Rita or whatever its name was), just kept trying.
GOF "Well, with SoSo Fitness, you can work out anywhere you want in our facilities. That package would be just a nominal cost over the free membership you've already won!"
Me {Sarcastically enthused}"Wow, Andy... That sounds great, but business is really booming and I just don't think I have the time to take advantage of your benevolence and..."
GOF "What kind of work do you do, Bill?" Apparently we're now on a first name basis, my new best friend and I. Now. I'm. Pissed.
Me "Well, that's complicated. Up until late last year, I was the head salesperson for the Nazi Memorabilia division of my company... You know, reproduction uniforms, swastikas and iron crosses and reprinted propaganda and stuff..."
GOF "Like for museums?" Jim asked, still feigning interest and searching for an angle.
Me "I suppose, occasionally, but mostly it's for the personal market. There's a lot of call out there for Nazi glorification items... big market and we've got no competition so the phone keeps on ringing! You'd be surprised how much stuff you have to buy to fill a pole barn or meeting hall."
GOF {Very nervous now} "Um, but you don't do that anymore."
Me "No, it didn't gel with my Jewish upbringing. I always, I don't know, loathed it, or myself, I don't know. But for once, it was a Jew making a killing, so I guess in a way that served to help put things right between my people and the Nazis. I just wish grandpa made it out of Dachau to see my success."
GOF "Oh, my... my God. What do you do now?" Gotta admire his stick-toitive-ness.
Me "Now, oh, I am in marketing for our newest product... Little Angstie's home shoot-em-up kit. It helps children plan their attacks on schools, like whether to wait until lunch and release the thunder that way, or to hit classroom by classroom depending on the layout and the desired death-toll. It's really educational."
GOF "That's horrible! What kind of company would do that? I mean, how can you live with yourself?"
Me "Hey, pal, I gotta make a living like everyone else! Don't judge me. I didn't want to go into this division but the anabolic steroid division already had enough sales guys and I didn't want to go into finance... Say, maybe your company would be interested, we got all kinds of crap to shoot up and make you big. Really big. Like, Bane, big. Maybe I need to take a swing over there and show you what we've got and..." {Click}
I know the poor guy was just trying to do his job. Maybe the next call got him a sale. I guess I'll never know.
Just today, I got a phone call from one of the area codes I service professionally. I did not recognize the number, but it was the second time it had called me. There was no message left the first time, so I felt compelled to find out what was so important that this person needed to talk to me on the phone in person, rather than leaving me a message.
Me "Hello, Bill speaking..."
Guy On Phone (GOF) "Hello, Bill- I am Ted (or Red or Jed, I didn't really let the name register), with SoSo Fitness in Boondock, Michigan. How are you today?"
Me "Fine, uh...."
GOF "I'm calling because we are having a grand opening at our Boondock location and your number has been selected to receive 2 free unlimited one year memberships!"
I'm gonna stop here, because no kidding, this is the THIRD time in a year that SoSo Fitness has selected my number to win free memberships. Well, sometimes they say my friend put my name in and it was chosen, but same racket. My patience for these things is even less than my patience for Asian drivers, so I am already trying to get this guy off the phone. Back to the banter.
Me "Well, I see you're calling from the 555 area code. I have like, 10 phone numbers jetted through this phone. I don't even know them all. I am a regional manager, so while I do business in your area, I really am not there often enough to take this wonderful prize out of the hands of someone who is local and could actually use it."
I was trying to be so nice. I did all I could to not allow the anger, so readily available just below my veneer of humanity to come loose but he just didn't get it. This is where it should have ended, but Ned (or Fred or Rita or whatever its name was), just kept trying.
GOF "Well, with SoSo Fitness, you can work out anywhere you want in our facilities. That package would be just a nominal cost over the free membership you've already won!"
Me {Sarcastically enthused}"Wow, Andy... That sounds great, but business is really booming and I just don't think I have the time to take advantage of your benevolence and..."
GOF "What kind of work do you do, Bill?" Apparently we're now on a first name basis, my new best friend and I. Now. I'm. Pissed.
Me "Well, that's complicated. Up until late last year, I was the head salesperson for the Nazi Memorabilia division of my company... You know, reproduction uniforms, swastikas and iron crosses and reprinted propaganda and stuff..."
GOF "Like for museums?" Jim asked, still feigning interest and searching for an angle.
Me "I suppose, occasionally, but mostly it's for the personal market. There's a lot of call out there for Nazi glorification items... big market and we've got no competition so the phone keeps on ringing! You'd be surprised how much stuff you have to buy to fill a pole barn or meeting hall."
GOF {Very nervous now} "Um, but you don't do that anymore."
Me "No, it didn't gel with my Jewish upbringing. I always, I don't know, loathed it, or myself, I don't know. But for once, it was a Jew making a killing, so I guess in a way that served to help put things right between my people and the Nazis. I just wish grandpa made it out of Dachau to see my success."
GOF "Oh, my... my God. What do you do now?" Gotta admire his stick-toitive-ness.
Me "Now, oh, I am in marketing for our newest product... Little Angstie's home shoot-em-up kit. It helps children plan their attacks on schools, like whether to wait until lunch and release the thunder that way, or to hit classroom by classroom depending on the layout and the desired death-toll. It's really educational."
GOF "That's horrible! What kind of company would do that? I mean, how can you live with yourself?"
Me "Hey, pal, I gotta make a living like everyone else! Don't judge me. I didn't want to go into this division but the anabolic steroid division already had enough sales guys and I didn't want to go into finance... Say, maybe your company would be interested, we got all kinds of crap to shoot up and make you big. Really big. Like, Bane, big. Maybe I need to take a swing over there and show you what we've got and..." {Click}
I know the poor guy was just trying to do his job. Maybe the next call got him a sale. I guess I'll never know.
Thursday, January 6, 2011
It Tolls for Me.
Ma Bell Won't Leave Me Alone
I have been working doubles all week in Detroit. Now, my job is normally spread over a long part of the day. I might be working at 6:00am and at 11:00pm, but I might not have to work all the hours in between. This week, because of a new project, I have been working from early in the morning, until early in the next morning pretty much without stopping. We are going in to day 4. I look like a raccoon and feel like shit, too.
I have a guy who works for me. No kidding, his last name is the same as a major leading feminine hygiene wash brand. Which is good because he is a deuchebag. One of his co-workers has legitimately been off for two days with the flu. He returns today. Well, Mr. LeDeuche always calls off sick if one of his coworkers was out the day before. ALWAYS.
So when the phone rang at 6:07 this morning after I called it a night at 2:00 after working a 17 hour day and Deuchey McDeuche was telling me he was on the bus but his back hurt and he "just couldn't do it today", I was not surprised. Enraged, yes, but not surprised.
Me "Deuche, just don't change light bulbs today. Stay on the ground and you'll be fine."
Deuche "No, man, I just can't do it today, man"
Me "Um, Deuche, you said you were on the bus... They have TVs on buses now, because I hear
a McDonald's commercial in the background?"
Deuche "No, man, the driver's got the radio on, man... Look man, I got to turn around I just can't
do it today... My back be hurtin'"
This is when I chose to terminate the conversation by hitting the end button on my phone rather than launch into the UNChristian, UNfiltered litany that was rising in my throat... the kind of words that lead to UNemployment.
I managed to get back to sleep, albeit a fitful one. Then at 8:00am a client called about something that could have waited until our already prearranged 2:00pm meeting.
Me {Groggy} "Hello, Bill speaking."
Client "Good morning it's that client you find extremely annoying... you sound tired."
Me "Well, extremely annoying client, I worked until all hours and my phone keeps ringing."
Client "Oh, well I was just calling this early because I don't respect you or your time and since I am at work and the sun, moon and stars revolve around me, I thought I would ask this really inane question that could have been e-mailed, or even waited until I saw you this afternoon."
Me "Yes"
My Week in Detroit
In its infinite and unassailable wisdom, my company has decided to decrease my presence in Detroit in order for me to focus on the business where I live, in the Grand Rapids area. Therefore I no longer have a corporate apartment and the expense it brings with it. I do still have to be here to service my accounts at regular intervals. I also have to be here for regular monthly meetings. These have the same topic as the monthly meetings I have to attend on the west side of the state, too. So each month, I drive 400 miles 8 hours of road time, just to hear the same thing, twice. I didn't give a shit the first time, and you think I'm going to sit quietly the second time? I wanna be sedated.
To do this, (decrease my presence in Detroit), they are giving me more business in Detroit. Don't think about it too hard, it will only hurt your head. I've already done all the pondering for you, so just move on. So this project I am working on is my new albatross. Medium sized projects like this always take about a week to get going. As an afterthought my boss asks where I am staying.
Me "I'm staying with Dave and Greg, but I am sure you presumed that because you are presumptuous and a jerk."
Boss "Oh, I didn't know if you needed a hotel. I'm glad you don't because we need to keep our expenses down for this start up."
Me "Well, I didn't say it was going to be free to stay with Dave and Greg. I am staying for the better part of a week."
Boss "You'll only need to be here three days... I need you back in Grand Rapids."
Me {Threatening look on my face} "If you need me in Grand Rapids, why am I in Detroit? If you need me in Detroit, why am I in Grand Rapids? And besides, I can't star up this project in three days! It will take all week!"
Boss "Nah, you'll have all sorts of help. I'll be there tonight."
Me {To myself} Great, that's exactly what I need... you standing around not saying anything, glancing at your watch every five minutes, not even bothering to take off your coat.
Me {Aloud} "I'm sure that will do the trick, but I am packed through Friday in anticipation of needing to stay."
Boss "Well, I need you back in Grand Rapids, so we'll make sure to get you out of here."
Flash forward 5 minutes.
Boss "Um, some stuff came up, a poker game or something, and we need to cut your trainers in half. So, I'm confident you can handle it, but I'll need you here all week. And maybe for the first part of next."
Me {To myself} I AM psychic!
Me {Aloud} "I'll send you the bill."
Towne/Gruley Inns and Suites of Ferndale
"Luxury Has A Name. That Name Is Towne/Gruley"
Luxury accommodation including continental breakfast
and nighttime snacking privileges (Cost per night) $79.00 X 4 $316.00
1/3/10
Bar- Jack Daniel's $5.95
Bar- Jack Daniel's $5.95
Bar- Double Jack Daniel's $8.50 $ 20.40
1/4/10
Bar- Jack Daniel's $5.95
Bar-Double Jack Daniel's $8.50
Bar- Double Jack Daniel's $8.50 $ 22.95
1/5/10
Bar- Double Jack Daniel's $8.50
Bar- Double Jack Daniel's $8.50
Bar- Double Jack Daniel's $8.50
Bar- Volume discount ($5.00) $25.50
1/6/10
Anticipated bar tab based on trend $75.00
Jack Daniel's restocking fee $55.00
Total room food and beverage $516.00
Parking (Daily Charge) $10.00 X5 $50.00
Total $566.00
Gratuity $500.00
Grand Total Net 15 Corporate account $1066.00
"Thank you for staying with us. We look forward to serving you again next week when your company pulls some more shit out their ass about not spending so much time in Detroit and you are here all week again."
I have been working doubles all week in Detroit. Now, my job is normally spread over a long part of the day. I might be working at 6:00am and at 11:00pm, but I might not have to work all the hours in between. This week, because of a new project, I have been working from early in the morning, until early in the next morning pretty much without stopping. We are going in to day 4. I look like a raccoon and feel like shit, too.
I have a guy who works for me. No kidding, his last name is the same as a major leading feminine hygiene wash brand. Which is good because he is a deuchebag. One of his co-workers has legitimately been off for two days with the flu. He returns today. Well, Mr. LeDeuche always calls off sick if one of his coworkers was out the day before. ALWAYS.
So when the phone rang at 6:07 this morning after I called it a night at 2:00 after working a 17 hour day and Deuchey McDeuche was telling me he was on the bus but his back hurt and he "just couldn't do it today", I was not surprised. Enraged, yes, but not surprised.
Me "Deuche, just don't change light bulbs today. Stay on the ground and you'll be fine."
Deuche "No, man, I just can't do it today, man"
Me "Um, Deuche, you said you were on the bus... They have TVs on buses now, because I hear
a McDonald's commercial in the background?"
Deuche "No, man, the driver's got the radio on, man... Look man, I got to turn around I just can't
do it today... My back be hurtin'"
This is when I chose to terminate the conversation by hitting the end button on my phone rather than launch into the UNChristian, UNfiltered litany that was rising in my throat... the kind of words that lead to UNemployment.
I managed to get back to sleep, albeit a fitful one. Then at 8:00am a client called about something that could have waited until our already prearranged 2:00pm meeting.
Me {Groggy} "Hello, Bill speaking."
Client "Good morning it's that client you find extremely annoying... you sound tired."
Me "Well, extremely annoying client, I worked until all hours and my phone keeps ringing."
Client "Oh, well I was just calling this early because I don't respect you or your time and since I am at work and the sun, moon and stars revolve around me, I thought I would ask this really inane question that could have been e-mailed, or even waited until I saw you this afternoon."
Me "Yes"
My Week in Detroit
In its infinite and unassailable wisdom, my company has decided to decrease my presence in Detroit in order for me to focus on the business where I live, in the Grand Rapids area. Therefore I no longer have a corporate apartment and the expense it brings with it. I do still have to be here to service my accounts at regular intervals. I also have to be here for regular monthly meetings. These have the same topic as the monthly meetings I have to attend on the west side of the state, too. So each month, I drive 400 miles 8 hours of road time, just to hear the same thing, twice. I didn't give a shit the first time, and you think I'm going to sit quietly the second time? I wanna be sedated.
To do this, (decrease my presence in Detroit), they are giving me more business in Detroit. Don't think about it too hard, it will only hurt your head. I've already done all the pondering for you, so just move on. So this project I am working on is my new albatross. Medium sized projects like this always take about a week to get going. As an afterthought my boss asks where I am staying.
Me "I'm staying with Dave and Greg, but I am sure you presumed that because you are presumptuous and a jerk."
Boss "Oh, I didn't know if you needed a hotel. I'm glad you don't because we need to keep our expenses down for this start up."
Me "Well, I didn't say it was going to be free to stay with Dave and Greg. I am staying for the better part of a week."
Boss "You'll only need to be here three days... I need you back in Grand Rapids."
Me {Threatening look on my face} "If you need me in Grand Rapids, why am I in Detroit? If you need me in Detroit, why am I in Grand Rapids? And besides, I can't star up this project in three days! It will take all week!"
Boss "Nah, you'll have all sorts of help. I'll be there tonight."
Me {To myself} Great, that's exactly what I need... you standing around not saying anything, glancing at your watch every five minutes, not even bothering to take off your coat.
Me {Aloud} "I'm sure that will do the trick, but I am packed through Friday in anticipation of needing to stay."
Boss "Well, I need you back in Grand Rapids, so we'll make sure to get you out of here."
Flash forward 5 minutes.
Boss "Um, some stuff came up, a poker game or something, and we need to cut your trainers in half. So, I'm confident you can handle it, but I'll need you here all week. And maybe for the first part of next."
Me {To myself} I AM psychic!
Me {Aloud} "I'll send you the bill."
Towne/Gruley Inns and Suites of Ferndale
"Luxury Has A Name. That Name Is Towne/Gruley"
Luxury accommodation including continental breakfast
and nighttime snacking privileges (Cost per night) $79.00 X 4 $316.00
1/3/10
Bar- Jack Daniel's $5.95
Bar- Jack Daniel's $5.95
Bar- Double Jack Daniel's $8.50 $ 20.40
1/4/10
Bar- Jack Daniel's $5.95
Bar-Double Jack Daniel's $8.50
Bar- Double Jack Daniel's $8.50 $ 22.95
1/5/10
Bar- Double Jack Daniel's $8.50
Bar- Double Jack Daniel's $8.50
Bar- Double Jack Daniel's $8.50
Bar- Volume discount ($5.00) $25.50
1/6/10
Anticipated bar tab based on trend $75.00
Jack Daniel's restocking fee $55.00
Total room food and beverage $516.00
Parking (Daily Charge) $10.00 X5 $50.00
Total $566.00
Gratuity $500.00
Grand Total Net 15 Corporate account $1066.00
"Thank you for staying with us. We look forward to serving you again next week when your company pulls some more shit out their ass about not spending so much time in Detroit and you are here all week again."
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