The Blog I'm Not Writing

Department Of the Peeviest of Pet Peeves,;
Aka, Most Unhelpful Phone Message Ever

“The person at extension 4-0-0 is on the phone.”

That’s it. Followed by dead silence.

Gee, that’s…uh…great to know.  The person at extension 4-0-0 is on the phone; I’m so happy for them.

No person’s name; no options to remain on the line, or return to the main menu, or to leave a message…no indication if the clinic is still “on the line”….

In order to protect the privacy of this business with the significantly inferior telephone answering/routing system, I’ll call them The Rinehart Clinic.  Because that’s their name. (Oops.   [1]    )

The ten-plus phone calls I made to the clinic were regarding a message left on my cell phone Monday morning, in which The Person at Extension 4-0-0- ®  asked me to call the clinic to “verify some information regarding your insurance.”   [2] .  As is the case with many businesses, when you call the number they leave on their message to you, there is no actual person with whom to speak.

 

 

First, you must navigate through the answering messages (starting with, “Press 1 on your keyboard for English and 2 for Spanish…”) and go through the various options.  No problem with that; moiself  does it all the time…except that this time (these ten plus times I called over the next two days) I am left hanging with a “huh?” after I go through all of their menu options,  none of which is the “for all other questions/options, press zero (and or stay on the line) and a person will assist you.”

 

 

*   *   *

Department Of All of #45’s “Die Hard Supporters” Deserve This Surname

A woman (“a die-hard supporter of former President D_____ J. _____”   [3]  ) living in a New Jersey Town has been ordered by a local judge to take down three of the ten anti-Biden signs she has put up outside her home, after she refused requests from the town mayor and code-enforcement officer to do so.  Neighbors complained that three of the signs use the f-word and/or other obscenities, in violation of the town’s anti-obscenity ordinance. 

” ‘There are alternative methods for the defendant to express her pleasure or displeasure with certain political figures in the United States,’ (a local judge) said in his ruling… noting the proximity of (the house) to a school.
The use of vulgarity, he continued, ‘exposes elementary-age children to that word, every day, as they pass by the residence.’…
‘Freedom of speech is not simply an absolute right,’ he added, noting later that ‘the case is not a case about politics. It is a case, pure and simple, about language.’ “

( “She Hates Biden. Some of Her Neighbors Hate the Way She Shows It.”
NY Times 7-20-21 )

The die-hard woman’s name?  Andrea Dick.

 

 

*   *   *

Department Of The Age Of Aquarius…Not

For many years, when people asked for and/or estimated  my age   [4]    they underestimated it. Most times by a decade or more.

Moiself  thinks this is because I had my children relatively later in life.  [5]  Thus, I was older than most of my kids’ peers’ parents…and, if you hang in that group, everyone curves you down. That, plus basic immaturity and wearing Chuck Taylor Hightops as my formal footwear of choice got most people to shave ten years off my actual age.  [6]

 

Guess what shoes moiself wore to her wedding?

 

Just in case y’all think I’m bragging:  that underestimation of my age?  Doesn’t happen anymore.

I haven’t thought about that for a long time.  Then, earlier this week, moiself  was listening to the most recent Clear + Vivid podcast (“Paul Rudd: In The Moment With Antman”), and heard an exchange between host and guest which made me guffaw aloud, startling the woman who was across the street from me, walking her German Shepherd (neither the woman nor her dog noticed my earbuds; they just saw me as someone who seemingly made snorting laugh sounds, apropos of nothing).

What caught my attention was at the end of the podcast, where host Alan Alda asked his guest, actor Paul Rudd, several questions that have some connection with the topic of communication.  The question of note was, “What is the strangest question anyone has ever asked you?”

Rudd:
“I have one question that I never really know how to answer…in that people always want to know, they say, “You don’t age – what to do you do…”
like they want to know, uh,  my skin care routine, or what is it?  They don’t think I am aging as quickly as I should.…
I never know what to say…it’s nice…I go, ‘Thank you,’ but I always struggle with that one.”

Alda:
“I have a funny version of that.  I seemed to have looked younger to people, for a long time, than I really was. And when I was sixty, people would say, ‘How old are you?’ and I’d say, ‘I’m sixty,’ and they’d say, “Oh, no, no, c’mon…” and now they say, ‘How old are you?’ and I say, ‘I’m eighty-five,’  and they say, ‘Uh huh.’
There’s an age everybody reaches where it’s, ‘Uh huh.’ “

Rudd:
“I know what you mean…I’m starting to get that – they ask, I say, ‘I’m fifty-two,’
and it’s, ‘Okay; yeah, that makes sense.’ “

 

*   *   *

Dateline: Thursday morning, returning from a walk.  I see a small metallic object on the sidewalk, glistening in the morning sunlight. I stride past it, then turn around and take its picture, when I realize that it appears to be the basket from a deep fat fryer.

What is it doing there, alone, on the sidewalk, no other cullinary implements in sight? Obviously, this is proof of extra-terrestrial visitation.  What other rational explanation could there be, other than an alien life form left a tracking device, cleverly disguised as an innocuous, commonly seen, fast food appliance part?

But seriously,  ladies and germs… if moiself  were to apply some classic deductive reasoning here, what is the context of this seemingly random item?

* I saw it on the sidewalk, between the light rail stop parking lot and the Washington County Fairgrounds complexes.
* the sidewalk was about 500 yards away from where the Washington County Fair will be held, starting today.

You may have had the misfortune occasion to visit a county fair once or twice in your life, and in doing so it is likely you noticed how such events are infested with “food” booths that serve almost anything deep-fried, from corndogs to pickles to ice cream to Oreos to green tomatoes to macaroni-and-cheese…. Thus, it is possible that a food booth vendor or employee took the light rail (or drove there and parked their car in the light rail lot   [7]  ) and was on their way to the Fairground, toting some of the equipment for their food booth, and one smaller component – the fryer basket in question – fell out of their arms, or box, or bag…

Now, how could they drop such an object, without noticing? The basket was metal; it would have made a clattering sound when it hit the sidewalk. A possible explanation is that the Fryer Basket Dropper, ®  ala 90% of the people I see each day, was walking with headphones or earbuds in their ears, listening to music (or a podcast!) or whatever, which effectively made that clattering sound just another a bit of background noise. And the basket wasn’t heavy enough to make the person notice its absence, as in, “Hey, my load has suddenly gotten really light – I all I must’ve dropped something…”

 

 

On the other hand, the ET object story is much more fun.

When trying to account for something which you find surprising, it is often more entertaining to take the religious point of view: don’t even question that which you do not understand, or for which you have no logical explanation.  Instead, embrace it as one of the great Mysteries Of Life  ® .

 

Perhaps a shrine to it will be erected soon. And is that an image of the Virgin Mary I see in the basket’s corner?

 

*   *   *

Pun For The Day

Old(er) Age Edition   [8]

 

 

What does a Sith Lord use to immobilize his enemies in their old age,
instead of killing them?
Darth Ritis.

An eight-year-old weasel walks into a bar.
The bartender says, “You’re under-aged; I can’t serve you any alcohol.
But I have bottled water, energy drinks, and pop.”
“Pop!” goes the weasel.

As I get older and remember all the people I’ve lost along the way, I think to myself,
“Maybe a career as a tour guide wasn’t for me.”

 

*   *   *

May you practice your freedom of political expression without being a Dick;
May you enjoy the ages of “Uh-huh” and “Okay; that makes sense;”
May you provide a really good explanation for a random object sighting;
…and may the hijinks ensue.

Thanks for stopping by.  Au Vendredi!

*   *   *

 

[1] Is that a violation of health care business HIPA?

[2] I received my COVID-19 vaccinations at a site run by the Rinehart Clinic; my only contact with them, so it must be re those visits.

[3] As long-time readers of This Blog ® know, that festering turd of an excuse for DNA shall not be dignified here by usage of his full, faux-human name.

[4] And 99% of the times people asked that question, the information was not relevant and my kneejerk, if unspoken, reaction was, “And you want to know this because….?”

[5] I birthed son K when I was 36 and daughter Belle when I was 39.

[6] And fifteen points off of your estimated IQ.

[7] Which they are not supposed to do, ahem, as the lot is for commuters only, not Fairground parking.

[8] How come I rarely insert footnotes in this section of the blog?