Category Humor

Summer, Santa, and Selfies

Michael 2 Comments

MeWelcome to Selfie Day 2018. I’m not sure if it’s a National or International Selfie Day. I guess wherever there are cameras, err phones, and selfie worthy backgrounds, err phones, people can celebrate.

Personally I think we would be better off celebrating Half Christmas than Selfie Day. Even though marketing people are very up on doing Christmas in July specials that’s only because nothing else is happening in late July. But if you really wanted a hot celebration (Southern Hemisphere inhabitants understandably forgiven for minimal enthusiasm over the summer Christmas thing in general), now is the time, well, in 4 days is the time for summer Christmas. That’s when it’s really halfway betwixt last Christmas and next. Just because American mattress sellers and used car dealers are wrapping up the Banner Flag Day Specials and putting their Hot Fourth of July Sales on deck is no reason to ignore a natural not made up reason to celebrate.

But since we do relish made up reasons to be as selfish as we can, we instead have Selfie Day 2018. When you can mug for all the world and make it look like an almost natural thing to do.

Happy You! And did I mention Happy Summer?

The Almost Open

Michael 10 Comments

Picture this. It’s late on a Sunday afternoon. You’re full from too much Father’s Day celebratory luncheon, it’s too hot to take a walk, it’s even too hot to go swimming, and you’re not in the mood to read. You just want to sit. If it was 40 years ago you’d do your imitation of a couch potato.

Then you remember, even though it’s not your sport, you know this is that weekend. The Weekend. The weekend that gets capitalized   The one with the biggest names, the longest drives, the finesse when it’s needed, the trophy, the payoff. The U. S. Open.

Of badminton.

USABadmintonI didn’t set out to watch the U.S. Open of Badminton. I didn’t set out to watch the U. S. Open of Golf. (That’s the one you were thinking of, wasn’t it?) I wasn’t in the mood to do anything so I sat in my chair. (Yes, I have a “my chair.” Every male over the age of 40 has a “my chair.”) And after sitting therein (thereon?) (there?) for some time, I decided I needed to do something other than just sit. So I reached for the remote and remembered about that golf thingie. But I didn’t know what station was carrying it so I pushed the button with the picture of the microphone and said “U S Open” (I might have said it with the periods after the “U” and the “S” but I didn’t hear them so I’m not including them here) figuring it would take me to that golf thingie. Instead it brought up a screen for me to clarify which “U. S. Open” (I saw the periods on the screen so I am including them here). Who knew?

Since I was given a choice, I picked badminton. Wow. It’s not your backyard after picnic probably most played on Father’s Day badminton. First of all they use a real court with real poles holding up a real net. We always had to hold up one end of the net with the clothesline pole and make the sidewalk to the tool shed one back boundary and the hedges with the red berries you’re not allowed to eat the other. The other thing is they had a lot of shuttlecocks. We had three. One was stuck in the gutter and would remain there forever. One we couldn’t use in case we lost the one we were using. They certainly didn’t need a lot of shuttlecocks. I watched them for several sets and they never once flung the one in play out of anyone’s reach.

That’s another thing. They played it sets. And kept score. Even though the court looks like a 3/4 scale tennis court the scoring is more like table tennis. Unlike tennis, or golf for that matter, the crowd is obviously into the competition. Tennis and golf spectators might be into their respective competitions but you could never tell. Everybody at those events is so reserved. Even the TV announcers whisper. Not in badminton. These fans cheer their favorites, they scream their approval at a diving save, and they openly applaud a well-placed lob. When the contestants entered the arena it could have been 1974 with Muhammed Ali and Joe Frazier coming down the aisle at Madison Square Garden. The lights, the music, the cheers! They don’t do that at Wimbledon.

Overall, it was a good way to spend a late afternoon. I’m not sure that I’ll track the progress of the world class badminton players on their March to the Olympics (yes, it is), but if I’m not doing anything next Sunday, I have an alternate to watching golf.

 

No Bones About It

Michael 7 Comments

Last week at the deli I finally took the time to actually read the little tags in front of the rows of meats waiting to be sliced to your favorite thickness, or thinness, to your preferred weight. Actually to the weight you want the meat. Probably if you were looking to get to your preferred weight you wouldn’t be at the deli.

Anyway, I was reading the tags and I kept noticing a theme with the ham selections. They were all “off the bone.” I didn’t understand. Isn’t ham supposed to be off the bone? If I wanted ham on the bone I’d go buy the big chunk of pig leg and bake my own ham to ultimately slice as thick, or as thin, as I’d like. I know on those occasions I have done just that, step number one to slicing ham however thick, or thin, you like it is cut the ham off the bone.

HamHam has always had something of an image problem. Years ago there were basically two kinds of ham you could get. Cooked or not cooked. You had to cook both but the not cooked took more steps and more hours than the cooked to cook. Then someone decided that was too confusing so they started calling them city hams and country hams. It only took a few times to the store to figure out which was the cooked ham that didn’t require as much cooking as the not cooked ham. That’s the one I wanted. Maybe because I was from the city. Or maybe it was because I liked the idea of someone starting the cooking for me. I don’t know. But I figured out which was which and which to take home and cook. Or finish cooking.

And then those same theys (I think it was the same theys but it could have been a new group of theys) started fooling around with the pig anatomy and came up with a semi boneless ham. I never knew which part of the bone, or the leg, was halved but the ones I got always still had a bone in them. But that was a good thing because how are you going to make the bean soup when you’re all done slicing the ham off the bone as thick, or as thin, as you want it if you don’t have the bone to start the soup with. I have read several recipes for bean soup and they all start with “put a ham bone in a big pot.” Not “put half a ham bone in a big pot.”

Now the latest thing they (the original theys, the second wave of theys if there was even was a second wave, or a whole new they group) came up with is the spiral sliced ham. Oh sure, you can say that’s not new, those have been around a long time. But in the past to get a spiral sliced ham you had to go to a special store and they were all the way cooked and they cost about as much as filet mignon instead of your basic pig leg. But now you can walk into any grocery store and pick up a spiral sliced ham as long as you want the cooked version and don’t mind relinquishing the how thick, or how thin, the slicing to an anonymous spiraler.

But to get back to the short story, no matter what kind, how cooked, in the city or out in the country, with or without half a bone, or presumed pre-sliced spirally speaking, you have to get the ham off the bone. So what’s the big deal with this “off the bone” label?

And don’t even get me started on the salami!

 

 

 

 

Tactical Sandals and Assault CEOs

Michael 2 Comments

I don’t know what it is about weekends but I get the strangest emails and see the oddest posts between Friday afternoon and Sunday morning.

For example, an email from Friday touted this season’s best hiking sandals. I don’t know why I was getting an email encouraging me to buy women’s clothes but after I got over that bit of incredulity I was left wondering if the purveyors were actually serious about encouraging anybody with the intent of setting off on say the Appalachian Trail to do it in sandals. Or were they using term “hiking” in a more poetic sense as in trekking from Sak’s to Nordstrom.

If you’ve watched any cable channel in the last month you’ve seen a spate of advertising for “tactical” sunglasses. “Tactical” must mean something new and different for the 21st century. I learned that it meant something used to gain a desired advantage or outcome particularly in military applications. Recalling my own years in the military (admittedly in that other century that brought me those vocabulary lessons which included my working definition of tactical) I know I never had a briefing on the correct eyewear for a particular campaign, drill, or exercise. Yet it was just last Saturday that I saw a banner ad march across my screen warning me not to be taken in by imposters, these are the tactical sunglasses our heroes are wearing. Oh, and if I act now I would get a free tactical flashlight. Just pay a separate fee.

This one isn’t so care free. If you didn’t see it, the weekend news included an article about a Chicago firefighter who was cited for not securing a firearm and having an assault type rifle within the city limits when his 14 year old daughter posted a picture of herself holding the weapon on Snapchat captioned “Don’t worry, I won’t shoot up Lane,” referring to Chicago’s Lane Tech College Prep High School. It seemed a straightforward enough news story until America got hold of it. Comments to the online article ran from “they have nothing better to do than arrest 14 year olds,” and “all your cities are cesspools,” to “it’s not illegal for a child to hold a gun,” and “in all fairness the firefighter is probably white.” I’m sure none of that was what I had envisioned as protecting either our First and Second Amendments or any other rights when I volunteered for the military back in that different century. But then, I didn’t get the class on the tactical sunglasses either so what do I know.  By the way, none of the commenters questioned why the young lady was either threatening a high school or who misled her about what constitutes online humor.

I guess this was news earlier in the week but I didn’t see it until Saturday. Apparently there is a regulation that requires CEOs to declare their salaries in terms of percentage of the average worker of their company. Without going into all the details, the average CEO makes about 17 times what the average worker does. We know some CEOs make millions of dollars but the average CEO salary is $730,000. We also know that hundreds of thousands of people make minimum wage but the average salary in the US is around $43,000. We further know the average company president (there are a lot more of them than CEOs) is making $147,000 a year. Now nobody asked me but I got curious. How much does the average union president make compared to his or her rank and file. A 2017 survey of union presidents revealed 22 of them made over $400,000 in 2016 with an average salary of slightly more than $300,000. Oddly enough it was difficult to find an accurate average salary of American union laborers. The most recent number I found was from 2014 and that was $950 a week or about $49,400 per year. Like I said, nobody asked but I was interested.

This is a good one. It’s always challenging when I get to talk with my cable and Internet provider. Sunday my service went out. It was working fine until … well, let me start at the beginning. In Saturday’s paper (you do still read your local paper, don’t you?) I read an article about a widespread computer virus that was discovered and neutralized by whomever (whoever?) tracks these sorts of things. This particular thing was affecting not computers but modems and routers. Apparently a simple reset of your modem is enough to protect or free your equipment from this virus. I read this at dialysis and was a few miles away from my modem but I made that mental note to do just that when I got home. Of course I forgot. When I finally remembered on Sunday, I managed to reset my modem just as a major system outage was occurring. When my modem did not go back on line I panicked thinking I activated the virus and would never be able to go on line again and would never be able to buy those hiking sandals that would best show off my calves or those tactical sunglasses with free bonus tactical flashlight. To make a long story short (I know, too late), I called my provider and got a recorded message describing the extent of the outage and that service would be restored in a few hours. If I wanted to follow the progress I could do so at their website. Hmmm.

I don’t know what it is about weekends.

 

Penny for My Thoughts

Michael 7 Comments

It’s another one of those days when I have all these questions in my head and it’s going to explode if I don’t take some pressure off it and get them out in the open. Feel free to fill in any blanks you can.

I was reading one of my food-centric magazines and came across an article on the most important kitchen tools to pack for your next vacation. The only tool I’m planning on using on vacation for dinner is my telephone to call for reservations.

Sticking with food, I recently made a (surprisingly really good!) two ingredient bagel recipe I found on the Interwebs. I wonder if anybody else noticed it took six ingredients.*

There’s been a glut of TV commercials for guaranteed life insurance. You know, the kind that “you can never be turned down and your rates will never go up.” They all cost “35 cents a day.” Never more, never less. The coverage you get varies depending on how old you are and probably your zip code but the rate is always “35 cents a day.” But did you ever try to buy a day’s worth of insurance? Sure, they’ll quote you that rate but see what kind of answer you get if you ask them to draw “35 cents a day” from your checking account.

QuestionSince I brought up the high finance world, have to you noticed the ads for that company who will protect your personal information, information that impacts your credit reports and affects your credit score, from the “dark web.” They probably know something about it because wasn’t that the same company whose data bases that hold all your personal information, credit reports, and credit score were breached a couple years ago, maybe even by someone on the “dark web.”

Why, after years of encouraging hands-free phone use and no text use in cars, are we now making cars with multifunction touch screens in the middle of the dashboard in place of the traditional tactile buttons and knobs?

Does anybody else remember Dag Hammarskjöld?

—–

*One cup flour, 1&1/2 tsp baking powder, 1/2 teaspoon salt, one cup plain Greek yogurt, one beaten egg, toppings of you choice (I used sea salt and cracked pepper on two and onion flakes on the other two so I guess I actually used 8 ingredients). Whisk flour, salt, and baking powder together, add yogurt to combined flour mixture and mix until combined, flour work surface and knead until dry(ish), form into ball and cut into four pieces, roll each piece into a 6-8 inch log and turn into a circle, brush with beaten egg, top as desired, place on parchment lined baking sheet, bake at 350 degrees for 24 minutes then at 450 for 4 minutes more.

 

Telling Tales

Michael Leave a comment

My daughter was over for lunch yesterday. After our meal we sat out on the patio enjoying the air’s in-between storms sweetness. While we discussing the differences between curly and straight leafed parsley she brought up traits children inherit that they don’t notice until they’ve put a few years on their adulthood and that reminded me that UPS avoids left turns in their delivery routes.

Well it made perfect sense to us! That’s because of the trait she got from me. Babbling (her word). Or rambling (my word). Or perhaps story telling (the polite words I should have led off with). (Maybe)

Apparently it came up last week when she was out with a couple of her girlfriends and their conversation move to the things they do they don’t realize they do that nobody but their families understand. Mostly only their families understand. Most of their families only understand. Some of their families understand. Their families might recognize but even most of them don’t necessarily understand.

It you think about it, there is probably at least one thing you do that nobody else in the world (or at least is not common behavior in your part of the world) that you can trace to you parents or an older sibling or that great aunt who came over every Sunday for chicken and spaghetti and then stayed to watch Gomer Pyle then the Ed Sullivan Show. It might be the way you tilt your head at a weird angle when contemplating answers to a particularly difficult question.  It might be how you fold a napkin under the plate at dinner’s end. Or it could be in how you ramble.

Actually, it’s not rambling as much as always providing the back story. And its back story if necessary. After all, every story has a story and a good story teller knows the story’s story as clearly as the story. It’s what makes for storied stories. In my daughter’s case, as a copywriter and content editor, being able to tell a story is essential although she often has to temper her desire to be as thorough as she’d like. But when it comes to her personal writing, no story takes a back seat to its own story. Or back story. Even.

For me, I was often reminded to get to the point more quickly at meetings or in email exchanges but just as often I was glad I kept the thoroughness in my correspondence knowing that while others were getting calls and memos asking for more detail, my projects were being presented for approval and reports stamped “OK.” Still, I have a hard time with text messages and even Twitter’s new expanded character limit is far less than appropriate for any meaningful communication.

So, you know UPS designs its routes with as few left turns as possible. Apparently it means a tremendous savings in fuel costs. That came up the last time my daughter was over and we has just finished a killer frittata for brunch.

It made perfect sense to us.

 

Come Here Often?

Michael 3 Comments

I had a most unusual dream last night. I met a female hockey referee after a concert and we went out for the “best cup of coffee we ever had.” I was certain I would not have ever picked up a random person at a concert but since she was a hockey referee I knew she had to be a good person. I’m not sure why she was wearing her black and white stripe shirt with the red arm band but fortunately she was so I knew what I was getting into.

In my half-awake state I tried analyzing this one of so very few dreams I ever remembered. I couldn’t make any sense of it so instead I started wondering how people meet others today. Television commercials and on-line pop-up ads and promoted posts would have you believe dating services are the way to go.

Of course dating services are not new ideas. They’ve been around for most of my entire life and we all know that’s a lot of years. Match is probably the most recognized on-line service but it goes back to only 1995. Date Mate might be the earliest recognized computer assisted service but it dates to just 1965. You have to go into the 50s, 1959 actually, to find the first documented dating service when the Happy Families Planning Service matched 59 men and 59 women in a Stanford University class project.

So how did the ancients (you know, those who matched up before Sputnik) find their mates? Even some of us who connected in the age of enlightenment (or during the cold war depending on how you want to remember time) managed to do so without handing over 3 bucks to find the perfect mate. How did we ever do that?

Dating

(All Things Clipart)

That gave me the idea to post a survey asking how you connected with your spouse, significant other, life partner, person of interest, paramour, special friend, companion, steady, beau, boo, or better half. But…I don’t know how to add a survey to a post and I really don’t feel like looking it up. And a survey only lets you answer once. You might have had more than one one-and-only over your lifetime. Who am I to deny you the opportunity to remember fondly all your initial hearts aflutter moments? And no matter how many choices I could come up with I’d certainly miss something and be forced to include the dreaded “other” catchall.

So I invite you to tell me what service led you to your match. The ways I thought of might include:

  • One of the aforementioned dating services either modern online or classic computer assisted
  • A personal professional matchmaker ala Dolly Levi
  • A personal amateur matchmaker ala parents, siblings, or exceptionally nebby friends, relatives, or coworkers
  • A specific matchmaking activity ala speed dating, singles’ dance, or similar
  • Social media typically not affiliated with matchmaking (Twitter following, Facebook groups, old timey chat rooms)
  • At school (any level, from nursery school to community college adult education classes)
  • At work (while not impeding your ability to provide superior customer service, of course)
  • At church, hopefully not during actual services but perhaps after or at a social affair or sponsored activity
  • At a bar, tavern, pub, party, or other alcohol fueled social gathering
  • At a non-alcohol fueled social activity (there must be something that qualifies)
  • On vacation (That could be a non-alcoholic fueled social activity depending on your definition of holiday.)
  • At a sporting or athletic event including that Wednesday morning Tai Chi class
  • Some random meeting (I met who would become a close companion and still great friend standing in line at an ATM machine.)
  • In the produce section at the local grocery store (It’s happened in books, movies, and television shows so it must have happened sometime in real life, no?)
  • And the infamous “other”

 

How did you meet, or would like to meet, or are trying to meet your companion for all your days or a significant portion thereof? Feel free to comment away!

 

It Doesn’t Add Up

Michael 3 Comments

I’ve been noticing a disturbing trend here and I think it explains why stores are in trouble. It has nothing to do with on-line shopping or discount warehouse stores. It has to do with store managers who are stupid.

I was in our local grocery store comparing the prices of the admittedly overpriced pod coffee selections. Single people who live alone and drink one cup of coffee a day understand their attraction. I noticed the sale tags (yippee!) then I noticed the need for improved math skills. Same brand, same flavor, different size packaging. The 12 count box, regularly 8.99, was on sale for 5.99. The 36 count box, regularly 24.99, was on sale for 18.99. I’ll wait. (Lah de dah, do dee dee, dum, hum, hum) Yeah! That’s what I said! I even mentioned it to the guy reaching for the box of 36. “Oh, I go through a lot of them,” and he grabbed two of the larger boxes adding, “Great price.”

Different day, different store, different item. Actually this was in a well-known major retailer whose name I’ll not mention but it ends in mart. I happened to be in need of some maintenance items for my outdoor gas grill including the little heat tent thingies that go over the gas tubes. Three of those little thingies actually. I found them on the shelf at 5.49 each. Right next to them was the “Economy Two Pack” (buy in bulk and save!) for 12.49. Once again I noticed an in store sucker … er, shopper … grabbing, once again, not just one but two of the two packs.

SaleSignLater that same day I was at the nursery (the plant kind, not the baby kind), picking out some herbs for my patio garden. Fortunately I only needed 4, or at most 6 plants. Why is that fortunate? Because they were on sale! What were regular price pots of 3.28 each were on sale for “$2.87 each, $24/tray of 8.” Of course someone had three trays in his cart. I hope he was planning on asking them being rung up separately.

Maybe I spoke too harshly of the store managers. They probably really are quite adept at math. It’s the consumer who needs the arithmetic refresher course. I think I might set one up. A friend of mine says I’d make a good tutor and I always can use a little extra spending money. I’ll charge a very reasonable $19.99 per lesson. Or 4 for 100 bucks!

Who says you have to be a big retailer to get in on Special Pricing?

 

Frozen in Time. Or Space. Or Neither?

Michael 3 Comments

I should be celebrating still. Last week was my birthday. A dozen years ago I’d still be celebrating a week later. No, that’s not accurate. “Still” makes it sound like I spent an entire week in revelry. Well, I was younger then. At least by 12 years. That would have made me 50 which contrary to the teachings of 30 and 40 year olds, is the age when one is truly still young enough to get into trouble but old enough to know better but not quite yet to not care. But no, not even those dozen years ago was I inclined to spend a full week in celebration of aging. So “still” is still not right. No. I should have said my birthday was last week and a dozen years ago I’d be celebrating it again.

“Still” might seem to make more sense than “again” but trust me, “again” is right. Of course, I’d be happy to explain.

A dozen years ago we’d have taken pictures. A week ago we also took pictures. A week ago, among the 20 or 4,000 pictures taken, I saw 4. Then, of the 12 or 15 taken I would have seen 12 or 15. But not for a week. A dozen years ago we were still taking pictures with analog cameras and film that required developing know how (or at least the corner drugstore).

Here’s what usually happened.  Regardless of whose birthday or anniversary or whatever and the actual date of aforementioned whatever, the celebration happened on Sunday. People worked during the week. (Actually I worked on Sundays also but that never seemed to alter the pattern.) (Hmm.) Pictures were taken, cake was cut, more pictures, gifts, more cake, more pictures, cake, pictures, wine, cake, pictures, etc., more pictures, wine, pictures. Film was rewound, removed from camera, and placed in prominent position to be dropped off for developing Monday morning. Monday film was forgotten due to Monday morning rush to get out the door. Tuesday film was forgotten due to it being Tuesday. Wednesday film forgotten due to everyone making bad camel jokes on the way out the door. Thursday film was remembered and taken to be developed! Decision making now entered the process. One hour, overnight, or standard. Couldn’t hang around for an hour and since we waited this long, what’s another day. Overnight please. Friday, now developed pictures forgotten due to TGIF. Saturday … ugh! Sunday, special trip made to pick up pictures, everybody gathers around, pictures passed about, celebration renewed!

More importantly, afterwards, sometimes weeks or months afterwards but eventually afterwards, the pictures were transferred to a photo album and placed on book shelf for future re-celebrations.

Last week, pictures were taken, phones passed around after any particularly good ones (four) then never seen again. [Sigh] But if you’re interested, you are welcome to come over and see pictures from my fiftieth. I know just where they are.

BD40Actually, this is from my fortieth. Seems I can’t find those from ten years later. I think we were using digital by then!

 

Cramming for Finals

Michael 9 Comments

I have a test next week. I haven’t taken a test for years and frankly I’m a little concerned. I have just over a week to study up as much as I can for my stress test next Friday.

Yes, you read that right. A stress test. Go ahead and laugh. Here, I’ll even help. A guy asks his friend’s wife where he is. “At the bar. Studying.” “Studying? What kind of test can you study for at the bar?” “His urine test of course.” Ha. Ha.

But this is different. I think I really do have to study for this stress test. Stay with me for a while. There are two basic types of stress tests. One is an EKG/exercise test and one is a exercise/rest/perfusion test. The common factor between the two is the exercise part. Walk on a treadmill until your heart rate is elevated to some specific level or you fall over, whichever comes first. Maybe it’s not put quite so cavalierly by those administering them but that’s basically how the stress is induced during stress tests.

I’m not worried about getting my heart rate up. I know I can walk far enough to get my heart pumping. I’ve been walking again these past few days now that it is nice again here in the until recently frozen northeast. But the problem is I’ve only done that recently and only outside. I might be a bit out of shape from not taking advantage of the treadmills in the exercise room but that doesn’t concern me either. No, what has me wondering about how I’m going to do with this test is that darn treadmill.

Treadmill

Image: Freepik

I can’t work treadmills. That’s why I hadn’t taken advantage of them during the cold weather months. I can’t walk on them. How, you ask, does one say he can’t walk on a treadmill? Because I fall over. I walk with a cane. The reasons don’t really matter but what happens if I don’t is that I tend to tip over. Really. I also wobble and waver. Walking in a straight line is not one of my talents. And yes, I was once stopped at a random sobriety checkpoint, and no, the nice officer didn’t understand that either so don’t feel bad if it’s not making sense to you. On a treadmill I won’t have my cane so I’ll have to hold on to the rails and when I do that I can’t swing my arms and when I do that I lose my balance and when I do that I fall over. (The only person I ever knew who actually fell over during a stress test was a friend of mine who ended up being prepped for coronary bypass surgery minutes after hitting the floor.) (His problem had nothing to do with not being able to work a treadmill. He just had a bad heart.) (True story.)

So, that’s why I think I should study and put a few miles on my sneakers on a treadmill. So I don’t fall over. I’m not worried they might mistake me for one needing emergency open heart surgery. I’m worried they might say they can’t get any useful information out of my test and either a) chemically induce the stress (not pleasant), or b) give up (not an option). Since this is part of my ongoing kidney transplant evaluation you see why Option b) is not an option but Option a) is still not on my “things I’d love to be doing instead of falling over” list.

This is one test I really cannot afford to fail. But I’d be just fine with a C. So I’m thinking I have to study.