Tag Fun

Under It All

Michael 5 Comments

Please bear with me as I try to control myself today. You know how excited I get over special days and holidays. You also know that at least in America, every day is “Something Day.” We have the big ones like Christmas Day, the socially aware days like Blood Donor Day (June 14), the fun ones like Ice Cream for Breakfast Day (first Saturday in February) and the fun ones with a little more activity to work off those celebratory calories like Dancing Day (April 29). Today may seem a day more aimed to a specific special interest than most but it’s a day most of us can well relate to. It is National Underwear Day. Yes, that is a thing. At least in the US. Citizens of other countries may want to consult … I’m sorry, I have no idea who you would consult to determine when your country celebrates Underwear Day. Chances are it doesn’t. Feel free to join us!

Sometime at the start of the century a some marketing people at the e-tailer Freshpair thought it would be cool to celebrate unmentionables. This was genius on their part since Freshpair e-tails nothing but unmentionables. What better thing for them to mention. So after years, months, weeks, or perhaps hours of planning, National Underwear Day was introduced to the nation on August 5, 2003. Ten years later they discovered they set their sights too low and instead should have introduced World Underwear Day to the World.

It was at the 2013 celebration they invited everyone to meet at Times Square in New York City to break the world record for the largest size gathering of people in underwear. Just underwear. I suppose everywhere people gather they are in their underwear but this gathering was for people just in underwear. Or maybe underwear over outerwear. I don’t know, I didn’t get there for that gathering. Who did get there were 800+ people all in their underthings. If you are wondering, that did not break the record which was set on September 24, 2011 when 2,270 participants gathered at the Utah Undie Run in Salt Lake City, Utah wearing only underwear. That’s a lot of skivvies.

Although people have been wearing layers of clothes since the ancient Romans, underwear that we would recognize came around in the 1800s when both men and women started wearing undergarments that resembled pants. Prior to then, although men had been wearing something resembling shorts since the Middle Ages, women wore simple shifts under their dresses until long pant like underwear was introduced at the beginning of the 19th century. Have you ever wondered why we refer to them as a pair of pants or or why panties is plural? (are plural?) The first examples were actually two separate legs that were pulled on separately then tied together at the waist.

Back to the celebration…what will you do to mark National Underwear Day? Whatever it is, wear that wear with pride and try to keep it clean. We’ve progressed as a society with unmentionables so mentionable that they appear in the Guineas Book of Records. No word on if another attempt will be made to break that record but rest assured, wherever you are, most of those around you would qualify.

NotMyShorts.jpg

Not My Underwear

What A Dump

Michael Leave a comment

It’s that time again, the time when if you don’t pull the mental chain your brain will back up and then you’ll have to get out the big plunger.

Misunderstanding

You’ll recall my recent discussion on non-dairy butter, not the concept but that the package read “butter.” Not “plant butter,” not “soy butter,” not “butter tasting butter substitute,” but “butter.” I guess I have a wider readership than even I could have imagined. Shortly after that post – ummm – posted the ACLU filed suit against Arkansas claiming the state’s new labeling law stipulating that only meat can be called meat, only milk can be called milk, only rice can be called rice, and presumably only butter can be called butter violates the manufacturers’ of the ersatz products free speech. Hmm. Now this is just a thought, but if American chicken and hog farmers actually came up with green eggs and ham and attempted to market them as “broccoli” and “kale” would that same ACLU step in to protect them?

Although I don’t like it and have said so, there is no stopping American stores from running back to school sales in July. I’m sorry but in my mind that is just way too early. And I’ve been one of those parents with a calendar on the kitchen wall crossing off the days until those kids go back to school! But I get it, it’s a once a year marketing opportunity and they have to make hay, or money, while the sun shines. But now I have a real issue with those stores. Two days ago I was in the local supermarket and at the end of the “seasonal” aisle where all the back to school items were located was a big display of Halloween candy. Come on now!

This morning a man was stopped at the local airport for carrying a loaded gun in his carry on bag. It was the 23rd such seizure this year. Today is the 210th day of 2019 so a little more frequently than once every 10 days somebody is trying to sneak a gun into the secure area of the airport. Ours is not a particularly large airport with about 400 departures a day. I can’t imagine what TSA agents at a big airport find. I said those people carrying weapons are trying to sneak a gun past security. They claim they “forgot” the gun was in their carryon or they “had it when they were at the range last week.” Did they really? Did they really bring their travel carryon to the range last week? The gun confiscated this morning had 14 bullets in the clip, the clip in the gun, and an additional bullet in the chamber. Doesn’t seem like something one could, or should “forget.”

The lawyers at Publishers Clearing House are really good. You’re not going to see them okay an ad that calls margarine butter, I mean that says “You are a winner!” No, they say you could be a winner or you might be holding the winning entry. They ain’t gonna get sued for stretching the truth. I got another one of those mailings last week. Not from PCH. From the dealership where I bought my car and have it serviced. That would be Car #2, not the daily driver although the last letter I got was in reference to my everyday vehicle. Car #1 is a ten year old Chevrolet Malibu and earlier this year the dealer sent me a notice that it was time to “exchange” that car for a new model. I agreed with them but when I went over to swap keys and registrations they really wanted me to exchange money for a new car! I knew all along they weren’t serious but I had to go over for a state inspection anyway so I thought I’d see how much I could get out of them. Not much it turned out. Last week’s letter was from a different dealer about a different car. I know it’s a marketing tool just like back to school sales in July but the letter says they need cars like mine to “fulfill special used vehicle requests.” This particular car is not a 10 year old Chevy. It’s a 20 year old Mazda Miata with not quite 31,000 miles. I bought it from this dealer and they have serviced it since it was in the internal combustion engine equivalent of diapers. They might very well have a request for such a car. But when they say “We would like to exchange your 2000 Mazda MX-5 Miata for any new or Certified Pre-Owned Mazda from our inventory,” I doubt their sincerity. But as fate would have it, Wednesday I have a service appointment there for that very car. I know just the new Miata in their inventory that would make a dandy exchange!

I feel better now that I held my occasional brain dump. Thank you for tolerating me. I’d be happy to exchange your new reading for my old writing any day!

Miata

Saving Congress

Michael 1 Comment

Did you get your deal on Amazon Prime Days. Maybe you picked picked up a special price on a Summer Black Friday at Best Buy. Or maybe you’re still cashing in on the Christmas in July savings at Target. As a consumer nation we are nothing if we aren’t a bunch of sheep.

That’s really not a horrible thing. I picked up a collector edition of a book I’ve been eyeing on a Thrift Books this week while grabbing a couple kitchen gadgets at Macy’s.com. Following the path of a bunch of other bargain hunters chasing sales thought up by other companies at another time of the year saved me over $70. That’s a month Internet service.

Unfortunately as a nation we are still a bunch of sheep when it comes to things like political alliances. I’m sure other than for George Washington and probably Gerald Ford, political mudslinging at our highest offices has been going on since the 1700s. (George and Jerry get excluded because neither one really had aspirations of becoming President as much as just were the benefactors (or victims) of circumstances. Recently though through the “miracle” of social media can the common man act as stupid as the ones we elect to office. In the years that started with a “1” it took organized efforts and multiple layers of volunteers to get people to believe their preferred politician was one miracle short of sainthood. Today that happens with blinding speed matched only by the efforts to convince followers that their least favorite politician is two steps ahead of the devil for the race to evil emperor.

We no longer care about right or wrong, truth or lie, sense or nonsense. If we read it on-line, particularly if it was posted by somebody we know well to have had a drink with or want to know well enough to buy a round of drinks for, we eat it up like sugar coated, double dipped, sprinkle laden ice cream in a waffle cone. I’m quite convinced many of not most of us know the tenets of the political party with which we identify or the actual background of its “stars players.” In my state a bill passed by the state legislature that, among other reforms including the purchase of new voting machines (which it could ill afford financially) was vetoed by the governor because it also called for the elimination of the single lever straight party voting option. Considering how Congress has itself voted with a straight party mentality for this century that shouldn’t have been a surprise coming from a politician.

I think I have a solution that can actually result in more amicable relations among all parties (apparent there actually are more than two), eliminate party voting mentality, and save us enough money to actually pay for things like health care, infrastructure, or education.

First we eliminate Congress. That’s not exactly right, we eliminate the Congressional presence in Washington. Since they have clearly demonstrated since 2001 that our elected officials – Representatives and Senators – vote en bloc however the leaders want them to vote there is no need for them in Washington. They can stay in their districts were they can actually serve the people by helping with disability forms, selecting Medicare supplement plans, and going to the occasional Fourth of July picnic. Back in Washington each house gets two representatives, one from each party who can hash out their own deals and compromises without the distraction of party rhetoric.

Second we forbid all elected officials from using social media and prepared press releases. If anybody wants to communicate with their constituents, and it is only their constituents they should be communicating with, they must do it in person. Because all but four representatives will be in their home districts that will not pose any burden. Further, if somebody already elected to an office wants to give up that office to run for another office, then he or she or other must actually give up their office. No ignoring their work so they can apply for another job.

Now here’s where the real fun stuff happens. Did you know the average average salary for the rank and file Congressman is $174,000. Majority and minority leaders of the House and Senate make $193,400. The Speaker of the House is the highest paid member of Congress at $223,500. (These are 2016 figures. A handful of websites reporting these salaries mention these salaries are comparable to mid-level managers in the private sector. They go on to say that Congress has not accepted a raise since 2009. I was firmly in the middle of mid level management and I can tell you I would have had to work almost two full years before I made $174,000 in 2009 dollars.) In addition, Congressmen are permitted to make up to 15% of their salary from outside salary sources like with the law firm they all seem to still belong to. There is no limit on non-salary sources of income such as interest, dividends, and honoraria. And of course they all get money to run their offices.

The staff allowance for members of the House of Representatives depends on the size of his district which is determined by the official U. S. Census but in 2016 the average allowance was $1,268,520. That’s not the total. That’s per representative. That’s almost 1.3 million dollars. Times 435 representatives that’s $551.8 million dollars. That’s over a half a billion dollars. For office expenses. Per year. Senators in 2016 averaged $3,306,570 allowance per Senator. The math here is pretty simple. That comes out to $330,657,000 for the full senate. Every year we spend over $882 million to staff representatives’ offices. If we eliminate half of their offices by limiting Congressional work to the local office that will save us $441 million.

And finally, because they all like to remind us of what our founding fathers meant when they said something, they should be paid like them. Not in 1789 dollars. That would be cruel. In 1789 a Senator only made $50 a day and had to cover his own expenses except for postage for official correspondence. They did get lunch though. Note that salary was not per year or per session, it was per day. Today’s Congress should be paid likewise. When a member shows up he or she or undecided can punch a clock and get paid for the days worked. Assuming 225 working days per year. That’s $773 per day. I think that’s more than fair. But since 2001 Congress has average only 138 legislative days per year the average Congressman can expect to take in about $107,000 per year. This will save us $35,845,000. Added to the $441 million we already saved we are now $477 million ahead.

That’s close enough to a half a billion for me. That’s about as much as the CDC gets for immunization research. Congress  might not still be worth the trouble they cause but maybe now we can find a cure for them!

Coming soon…Fixing the Presidency.

Capitol

Halt! Who Goes There?

Michael Leave a comment

I had all sorts of stuff I was going to ramble on about but I lost my complete train of thought when it was pointed out to me on last week’s post that the moon landing was JULY 20, not JUNE 20. I am so mortified. I can only imagine what you think of me. Alternately I can only imagine that nobody actually reads this drivel. Either way, it’s no wonder why I never saw anything celebrating its anniversary and I’m very sorry for misleading everybody.

Now on to today’s drivel. I know it had something to do with standing in doorways. I remember that much because I have a constant reminder of blocked doorways. You see, I’m not home right now. I was discharged from the hospital 2 weeks ago but I’ve been staying with my daughter at her house until I am strong enough to be back on my own. I’m getting there but every couple days when I think I’m making progress I have dialysis which beats me up like a nogoodnik beats on a shamus in a classic film noir. Sorry, I digress. As I was saying, there is a constant reminder there of blocked doorways and it goes by the name of Jingle, a part pointer, part husky, part bull dog, part Yeti 3 year old rescue who is convinced he is a 3 year old human. Except…

Except a three year old human you can deal with when every time you enter a room he bounds around you and stands in the doorway looking up at you mentally asking if this was the room want to go to, is it, huh, huh, is it. A three year old dog, who really should know better, not so much. A three year old human can be reasoned with, and barring reasoning he can be lifted and moved out of the way. A three year old multi-mix, especially one exceeding your lifting limit sevenfold, not so much. A three year human someday will grow into a four year human and then five and so on and so on and if today you don’t get your point across eventually he will understand probably when he is the one tripping over an impediment to room entry. A three year old canine living statue, who will only grow into a four year old living statue and then five and then so on and so on, not so much.

So I have this reminder it I’m not sure what the big story behind it is. I’m sure it was quite profound and may even change your outlook on the world around you. If I should remember I’ll jot it down somewhere and write a proper post about it. But not on July 20. That date is taken.

JingleAndPenguin

Jingle and Penguin

Color My World

Michael Leave a comment

First the good news. I’m out of the hospital. Now the bad news. We are in a color rut.

While I was in the hospital my daughter would bring get well cards that popped up in either of our mailboxes. I don’t know about anybody else but I have hard time with cards in the hospital. There’s so little room to begin with and what space is there is loaded with stuff. Hospital stuff. Bags and bottles, water and tissues, and those funny machines you breathe in on to keep you from getting pneumonia. But it was nice to see them, read them, and call the well wishers when I had a few moments. But the cards went back home so they would not be lost or thrown away.

When I got home I had a chance to take them all out and really read them and the notes so many had added. Then my daughter noticed it. “Are they color coding greeting cards?” She had observed, and observed correctly, that the vast majority of the get well cards were contained in yellow or some shade of yellow envelopes. There were also about half as many white, two brown, and one lowly blue card cover.

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Naturally this led to other occasions and what is used to wrap those greetings. Some were easy and unanimous (although with only two of us participating in the survey, unanimity was hardly conclusive). Envelopes for St. Patrick’s Day cards while we aren’t certain why they exist exist in green, usually swaddling a card portraying a drunken cartoon leprechaun or somebody presumably more than a little tipsy wearing beer goggles. Yellow envelopes when not paired with get well cards wrap themselves around Easter cards. Valentines come with red envelopes, Hanukkah cards are festooned in blue, First Communion, Confirmation, and Wedding cards get white envelopes, and Halloween cards, which confound us as much as St. Patrick’s Day cards, are distributed with orange envelopes. And although we’d think a black envelope for a sympathy card could catch on, they always seem to be in a plain white wrapper.

Some cards have standard colors but more than one. Christmas cards can be counted on the be in red or white envelopes with an odd green cover tossed in now and then. Thanksgiving is usually celebrated in brown or other earth tone shade although an orange envelope apparently left over from Halloween may pop up. Baby shower cards have the predictable pink or blue or the unpredictable white enclosure.

And some cards make no sense at all. Although you can almost count on a Mother’s Day card being in a pink envelope, a Father’s Day card might be in almost any color cover. And birthday cards exist with a rainbow of choices of envelope color.

I suppose somehow it all makes sense and although it’s rather formulaic it’s the system we’ve gotten used to. My question is who responsible and if I want to corner the market on Waffle Iron Day cards (which is coming up on May 29) do I have to submit an envelope color proposal before I willy nilly make them maple syrup amber?

 

Uplyfting Moments

Michael 2 Comments

Today’s Word of the Day at Dictionary.com is JOMO. I admit it, that was a new one for me. FOMO (Fear Of Missing Out) I think most of us would recognize. MOJO (okay, usually “mojo” as in a magic power) I think most of us might even claim to have! But JOMO, umm, no, I think a lot of us would scratch our heads at that. But then, what do I know? Maybe I’m the only one who doesn’t know JOMO is the Joy Of Missing Out. The Dictionary people define it as “a feeling of contentment with one’s own pursuits and activities, without worrying over the possibility of missing out on what others may be doing.”

In a Psychology Today article (“JOMO: The Joy of Missing Out,” July 26, 2018) Christine Fuller, MD calls JOMO the “emotionally intelligent antidote to FOMO.” In fact, she subtitles her post with that very phrase. She goes on to say, “JOMO allows us to live life in the slow lane, to appreciate human connections, to be intentional with our time, to practice saying “no,” to give ourselves “tech-free breaks,” and to give us permission to acknowledge where we are and to feel emotions, whether they are positive or negative.” Well now, that I’ll buy. But I have to wonder why she didn’t lead with that instead of that FOMO antidote business. That all sounds pretty positive and you don’t have to have feared something to enjoy a human connection, to be intentional with your time, or to feel an emotion.

I’ve not worked at a meaningful, paying (which aren’t necessarily mutual) job since 2014. And if it wasn’t for an occasional foray back into the medical world but as a patient, I’d be even more bored than I have been. I would have loved to experience some additional human connections than the few I would stumble across and be more intentional with my time other than how long it takes me to complete a morning walk where incidentally I would stumble across most of those few human connections. But the boredom aside, I wasn’t unhappy. I certainly wasn’t afraid I was missing something. We used to call that being comfortable in your own skin. I guess BCYOS doesn’t have the same flare as JOMO.

I bring this up because last month I found new joy and it involves human connections and intent and emotions. But I can’t call it JOMO because the word police would question why I’m laying claim to the antidote if I hadn’t acknowledged the fear.  So let’s just say I picked up some work. The folks who would say I’m not experiencing JOMO would call it a side hustle if I had a main hustle to have something to put beside it. Oh yes, we old timers had a phrase for that also. We called it moonlighting. Some people even were audacious enough to call it “a second job.” Yeah, if you look in an urban dictionary it will tell you a component of a “side hustle” is that the hustle is something the hustler is passionate about but I bet a lot of them are just a way to cover a bill or two. And for me it can’t be a second job without a first one going on. It’s just something to do.

Anyway, to make a long story short (I know, too late) last month I entered the gig economy. Or for my generation, I got a part time job. You may have picked up from the many times I’ve come right out and said it that I used to work in health care, specifically in a hospital, that I used to work in health care, specifically in a hospital. I was good. I actually won awards. But I was not a nurse and not an administrator so that means I have the background and experience that no hospital considers valuable enough to bring back as a part timer or an as needed consultant. So I gave up on peddling 30 years of health care management in the “gig economy” and started driving for Lyft. Seriously. And it’s been a very positive experience. Again seriously.

Hailing

To be honest I think you would have to work really hard to make a “real living” driving for a ride sharing company. Fortunately I’m at a point that I don’t have to make any kind of a living out of it. I just wanted something to do when and where I wanted to do it. And if I make enough for an extra dinner out each month I’d be happy.

Also fortunately I live very close to our main airport, many hotels, and lots of corporate offices. I can take two hours in the morning and never drive more than 10 miles from my front door ferrying business people from hotels to meetings and an occasional drop off at the airport. Ninety percent of the riders I’ve had wear suits, like the jazz I always have on in my car (or at least don’t complain about it), carry on pleasant chit chat (yes, yet another term from back then), and sometimes even tip. Obviously I don’t go out on dialysis days and the day after is a 50/50 proposition, but the few morning a week I get out I stay on the road about two hours and pick up 3 or 4 short rides. And that’s enough for what I want. When I want it.

The company and connection with others has been the most uplifting experience. The use of time to actually do something has been a close second. And the extra $100 a week doesn’t hurt either.

Am I’m joyful because I’m missing out on some part of life? Nope. I’m joyful because I’m taking part in it!

Hurry Up and Wait

Michael 3 Comments

It is annual exam time and I’ve been spending a lot of time in doctors’ offices this week. A fixture of doctors’ offices is the waiting room. Some waiting rooms are actually nice pleasant places to be that make lasting impressions on the patients there. I recall from my youth the dentist who had fish tanks, aquaria even, with sunken pirate ships, treasure chests, and probably fish but as a six year old boy I mostly remember the pirate stuff. Some waiting rooms are actually one eyebrow raising (which I have never been able to master) like the gastroenterologist’s office who had an aviary, a bird cage even, where several colorful birds and pages noting why they were actually beneficial in a doctor’s office and probably plaques to identify the birds but as a sixty year old waiting for a colonoscopy I mostly remember just that there were birds. But mostly doctor’s office waiting rooms are sort of bland with sort of cheap furniture with sort of old magazines with small screen TVs hanging in an upper corner of the room sort of over there by the sliding glass window that somebody opens at irregular intervals to check in new arrivals, copy insurance cards, and distribute privacy notices. To me waiting rooms seem almost oxymoronic. Not much waiting goes on in them, and except for the one with the birds, most don’t have much room. The real waiting goes on in “the other room.” The exam room. The surgery in 18th century colonial speak. Back there.

We all know the drill. The office nurse sticks his or her head out into the waiting room, calls out a first name hoping there is only one Augustine (thank you HIPPA), leads Mr. X down the hall to the scale, then places him into “the other room.” There things start optimistically. A blood pressure is taken, the little finger thingie that measures oxygen in your blood is put on your finger, maybe some questions about changes in meds or general health are asked and answered, notes are made on the computer, a smile is flashed, the line “The doctor will be right in” is sing songed your way (sing sang?), and the door is pulled shut behind her. Or him. And now we wait. There are never any old magazines in the little room. Maybe you brought your phone or tablet and still have enough battery power to play a game or thirteen. But you don’t because you know you’ll be moving up to level 57 when the knock on the door comes.

DoctorSignSo I play a different game while I wait in “the other room.” Guess The Footsteps. For example, if I know somebody ahead of me went in with a walker and I hear the slide of it I might figure that person is on the way out so then from recalling how many patients went in between him and me I can guess if I have enough time to finish that crossword puzzle. If I hear two sets of footsteps that’s the nurse and new patient coming in so that doesn’t help with figuring out how much longer it will be. A single set needs evaluating before I can determine its significance. A slightly hesitant pace might be a patient leaving making certain to take no wrong turns. (I’ve noticed that although you are always escorted to the exam room it’s about a 50/50 chance somebody will accompany you out. And yes I have gotten lost along the way.) (Sigh.) A fast pace barely heard through the closed door is the nurse returning to the waiting room to bring back another patient. A fast pace clearly heard approaching and receding is the office person who handles the billing and probably the only staff member other than the doctor not in scrubs and tennis shoes. A purposeful step that pauses outside your door with an accompanying rustle of paper is the doctor arriving at the wrong door and putting your chart back in the holder mounted on the wall next to the door. And somehow with all that marching up and down the hall, when the doctor does knock once and open the door to finally get on with the main event, I never hear those steps.

So that’s how I spend my time waiting. It might not be all that much fun but I got a whole blog post out of it! I wonder if this was how Milton and Bradley got started.

No Business Like Shoe Business

Michael 2 Comments

Have you ever had a day when to want to say something but are sure it will unwarrantedly ruffle someone’s feathers? You don’t mean to. You really just have a thought you want to express but, particularly in the now when every thought, let alone action, regardless of intent is either forgiven or vilified depending on the political affiliation (real or perceived) of the thinker and/or actor, you hesitate. So I’ve been very concerned about bringing this up but I just can’t hold it back any longer. Where the hell are all the brown shoelaces?

I don’t need new shoelaces right now but there is a pair (are a pair?) (no, is a pair) fraying and will surely and shortly break. I’d like to be proactive and have the replacement on hand if not actually on shoe before that happens but I can’t find laces for brown dress shoes. White for athletic shows yes. Hundreds of any length and thickness imaginable. Thick black laces in lengths clearly for boots most probably fitted with steel toes are everywhere. Those rawhide looking things for hiking shoes hang on racks by the score of scores. Some places seem to begrudgingly devote a hook, maybe two, to black laces appropriate for dress shoes, but brown…um, nope. Not out there.

I think it started with Casual Friday. I never understood that. Why should somebody making an appointment with a banker, broker, car dealer, or human resource manager on the last day of the week be made to feel like the appointment maker has already started on his or her weekend? Why do Tuesday appointments get treated more formally than those who scheduled on Friday? I guess others felt the same way because it seems there is no more Casual Friday. It is now Casual Week. (I think I also once mentioned an off shoot of this. That is, why everybody who has anything remotely to do with medicine now feels the need to wear scrubs. If I hit the next billion dollar Power Ball jackpot and feel the urge to endow a hospital nephrology department, I do not want to meet with an administrator in a Looney Tunes scrub top to discuss my multimillion dollar gift. Just putting that out there.) Anyway, that’s how it all started – when men shed their suits and ties.

Women can be just as casual but a woman knows there are times when “dress” means more than the garment. And still have them in their closets. The garments that is. (That are?) I am certain if women’s dress shoes required laces there would be sufficient stock from which to choose.

BrownShoesI guess we men just lost our will to dress up. And stores responded. The Men’s Department yielded space to The Active Male, Sports and Leisure, and You’re Only as Young as You Feel departments. And the space they gave up used to be occupied by shoelaces for dress shoes. Even brown. Well I want it back! I want that space that used to hold tie bars and pocket squares. I want a belt that isn’t reversible. I want shoes that need polishing. And I want brown shoelaces!

I sincerely apologize for feathers that have been ruffled and trust this won’t result in some social media frenzy. But one last thing … if you should happen to have knowledge of brown shoelaces appropriate for a men’s dress shoe with 4 eyelets please email me their location. I will not share your information.

Thank you

 

Just a Number

Michael 2 Comments

Welcome to Major League Baseball 2019. Today is opening day. I remember way back when I was a kid, a youngen, a tyke, a small fry even, on opening day we would sneak our transistor radios into school with our earphones surreptitiously threaded up our short sleeves so the teacher would not know we were listening to the game instead of conjugating irregular verbs. Like she really wasn’t going to notice that hunk of plastic on the desk. But we were young and stupid. Much like the players we cheered on. Oh, not the stupid part. Young. They were young, just like us. Younger than I ever, even to this day, realized.

BaseballOf the four major American sports, baseball has often been maligned as the old man sport. It’s slow, it’s boring, nothing happens for long stretches, anybody can play baseball. Eh, probably that last part is true. It does not take much to play baseball. A bat, a ball, a glove, and an open field and you have the minimum requirements for the game. But it’s not an old man’s sport. No, not at all. You see, also of the four major American sports, baseball is the only one opening this year’s season with nobody playing who was playing MLB baseball in the 20th century. Nobody taking the field today was there on opening day in 19-anything. No one. Not one. Nary a soul.

That’s only been 19 years. That’s one less than 20. For some of the younger folks reading those words 20 years could be a large percentage of their lives and might still seem like a long time. But looked at from a regular job perspective, twenty years doesn’t even get you a commemorative watch. Apparently for Major League Baseball, less than twenty years gets you retirement. Even for a government job you need to put in the “whole twenty” to cash in on a cushy pension.

Only 19 years. If a player started his major league career at the seemingly ancient age for a rookie of 25, he is among those sitting in lap of retirement luxury and not yet 45 years old. I had dreams of retiring at 55. I figured if that was old enough for the government to say I could start drawing from my IRA without penalty, and considering “retirement” is right there in the name of the account, then it must be the perfect age to target for retirement. Of course I knew I would more likely work until I hit 75. But 45. Forty-five! Wow.

I’m old enough not to be impressed by terribly much but that report really floored me. I’ve watched hockey players playing the game for over 20 years still this year. There is considerably more physical contact in hockey than baseball. Football and basketball both still have players who were wearing the uniforms from way back in the last century. Nobody ever called either of those an old man’s sport. Of any of them I’d not have pegged baseball as the first sport to lose everybody from the pre-2000 days.

As “they” might say, time marches on. It just doesn’t circle the bases.

 

Yes, No, Maybe

Michael 2 Comments

I’m a sucker for a good survey. Not the ones people with clipboards try to take at the mall while intercepting you rushing out of Spencer’s attempting to make it to Macy’s before the rest of the family realizes you’re missing. Not the ones that pop up at the bottom of otherwise legitimate online news articles implying (inferring?) you can turn your free time into earnings time. I mean real surveys by real polling outlets for genuine marketing, opinion, or news pieces.

Some years ago I shifted all my verbal correspondence to my mobile number and did away with the landline phone. I was all about eliminating unnecessary or duplicate services and as I was more likely to carry a cell phone around with me than I was a corded (or even cordless) device tied to a hard connection in the wall, the cell won. Unfortunately for as cutting edge as we want to believe our smart phones are and how sophisticated we talk ourselves into believing the service providers may be, they still haven’t figured out how to handle Caller ID. Or for all I know they have and haven’t yet figured out how to charge for such an archaic concept, or the government has decided it is in our best interest not to know who is on the other end of the call, or it is in their best interest not to get into a perceived battle over privacy issues some nut might claim. As a result I don’t answer a call unless it is someone in my contact list or is a number I recognize. As a further result I no longer get to enjoy participating in one of the few random phone surveys that still might come my way.

Now I do belong to a few opinion panels and occasionally get to answer a poll or do a survey on line. I also will answer surveys published by those I follow on social media if the topic interests me and I keep an eye out for new invitations from new or established pollsters. It’s all in fun for me. I haven’t filled any free time with “earnings time” and the most I’ve ever gotten from answering a survey was a $15 gift card.

I like surveys. And I think I like giving people a piece of my mind, but then that’s what this blog is for. And now you know we’ve gotten to the meat of the story, the heart of the topic, the reason for being here you and I. Who is getting a piece of my mind today?

You may not recognize it from my writing but I try to keep myself on the right side of the grammar and usage police. Some time ago I taught a few classes at a university. At that time there was a rather decent size to-do brewing over perceived favoritism demonstrated by the grading of essay type questions on tests and we were encouraged to administer multiple choice tests and to use machine gradable answer cards. (This was in the 90s. Now personally I think somebody had purchased a bunch of these cards for a dying technology and that somebody saw their budget approval rights in jeopardy if said cards did not find their way off the storeroom shelves. Just thinking out loud.) Anyway, I became the Mad Professor of Multiple Choices. Every question not only had three seemingly logical answer choices (a, b, and c) but also multiples of those choices (a and b, a and c, b and c) and total inclusion (all of the above) or exclusion (none of the above). I was always careful to arrange the answers so “all of the above” came before “none of the above” so I could not get drawn into the argument “but Perfessor Evil Tester, how can ‘all of the above’ be right if it includes something that might be right and ‘none of the above’ sayin’ that none of them is right ’cause there ain’t no way nothing can be right and not right at the same time.” I knew my tests, and my test takers! If you consider that a multiple choice test is just a big survey you could say now I know my surveys also.

So, to make a long story short (and aren’t you glad you’re not getting the long version?), I had to scratch my head when this little gem popped up in my Facebook feed, although it was Facebook.

Survey

Hmm. Did you watch TV last night? Yes, No, Not Sure. Not Sure? Really? You can’t tell if you were watching TV? Not “Both yes and no depending on when last night.” Not even to old “Prefer not to answer.” Nope, they really asked “Not Sure.” How are you not sure? Wait, I have it. You were watching a television network broadcasted show via a streaming service on your handheld mobile device. That makes sense. Yeah. Probably an offspring of the “Hey Perfessor” guy.

Oh, just so you know, somewhere in this country the “Hey Perfessor” guy is part of somebody’s health care team. Let’s just say I “prefer not to answer.”