Badminton

 I'm sorry to have to use that word, but things are getting serious.

Shuttlecock, tits, and blue boobies are all things that fly.

Boeing 737 MAX does not fly.

Your love is like a quickie sex change

The meatloaf sandwich had a slice of meatloaf so large, I almost had to unhinge my jaw to get it in my mouth. You're just waiting for me to say "now I know how Mrs lefty feels" but I'm not going to do that.

I'm happy to say the house is now decorated, as is the tree. It looks fantastic; more fantastic than I could ever make it. Presents were exchanged the other night. There was great tittering about the Eeyore onesie. Onesie is a stupid word, with an even more stupid spelling. Yes, we need a new word for it, but let me explain: it's almost Eeyore pajamas that you step into and zip up. We have Eeyore shirts, mugs, sweatshirts, overalls, jackets, and even panties. There are no Eeyore bras (I looked).

There are multiple (haha) advantages of living with a dissociative. It's always Christmas, because they don't always remember getting the present. You can ask one what the other would like. They're also not likely to remember what they told you they like or what they told you to order, so it's new again!

A short while back, I wrote about the evolution of PONG and video games in general. What should appear but a box with a 3' tall Pac-Man game. I'm more impressed with all the ways you can mount it - they did a great job. There is approximately 1 video game enthusiast in the house, although I haven't asked the dog yet. "But who do I play against?" Yourselves? "They suck."  And I'm going to be any better? I don't even like video games.

"I'm going to take a nap and set my alarm. When I'm done, we can play video games."

I see. And what time are you setting your alarm for?

"Well, the first one for 1:35, the second one for 2:25, and the 3rd for 2:45."

I see. And why do you need 3 alarms?

"In case I miss one."

I see. Wouldn't you be better off setting them for 5-10 minutes apart because you're not likely to be in the same sleep cycle?

"NOOOOOOOOO - this is the way we do it."

I see. Enjoy your nap.

Today I identify as  mace - the spice and the pointy implement you swing around to cause great damage

I got a thing for xmas. It's really difficult to describe. Take a tv soundbar and shrink it down to about a foot. Then plug it into your tv (or laptop). There's a setting to emphasize speech frequencies, in case I'm going to have a problem with my hearing.

The thing sounds really good plugged into the laptop, which is just not made for hifi sound. I even tested the speech emphasis, which does exactly what it says it does. It's not that I'm not grateful, I just want to know the mindset that produced this product as a gift for me. As far as I know, my hearing's ok. I hope these people aren't psychic...

Mrs lefty, however... it's difficult to tell how much is hearing loss and how much is Space Cadet. I have banged on a door she's sitting against, then scared her when I spoke. I have taken to trudging through rooms so she'll be aware I'm coming. When I say hello, she levitates 6". This became a very popular party game with the nieces and nephews. They'd creep up behind her and say HELLO, and she'd leap. I believe the winner was the one who got her to leap the highest. The sad part about this is that even without knowing about the party game, the kids (and my brother) would still come up behind to watch her levitate. I think it's abusive, so I stopped (last week).

Ever see the stamps dot com commercial? Sure you have - everybody has. If you know anything about the final lady with the big hair, leave the info in comments, please. Just for science, of course.

Where are your packages, lefty?

UPS continues to give insights into the never-before-explored area of Package Delivery Dynamics (PDD). One box has spent 3 weeks taking trips around the seller's state. Several more are in the Abyss. I understand this might've been a volume issue, but it's not like the Flying AIDS was a secret and nobody knew people were buying online. Didn't we discuss this during the election, with mailin votes? People have long advocated privatizing the post office. This should be the final nail. Roughly half of my gifts are still in USPS Delivery Uncertainty Hell. These gifts were guaranteed to be here long before xmas.

Mainstream or Pr0n: I'll list a title of a recent release. You tell me if it's mainstream or pr0n. SpongeBob SquarePants Battle for Bikini Bottom Rehydrated

So Hoarders is on. I have no idea why Mrs lefty watches this. Maybe she wants to feel better about us.. you can see carpet and there are pathways in our house. This 1 poor guy hoarded and had OCD - he hit the jackpot. I feel terrible about the issues these people face. Either that, or I'm terrified the city will come around and demand we clean up or else... or else... Idiot Mayor will mandate masks inside the house.

Of course I'm kidding. I take the trash out and vacuum on special occasions.

OCD is rough. My sis-in-law has it. Twice. She would make sure the cereal boxes were in alphabetical order, then arrange the pots and pans. I have no idea how someone with OCD arranges pans, but there's a fair chance if we find out, we'll explode. Her young child picked up rearranging the pots and pans and did it as a form of play (not as OCD). This might be the first ever case of OCD by Proxy. I just made that diagnosis up.

Before the Flying AIDS, there were compulsive hand washers. Look under the sink, people. If there's a gallon jug of hand cleaner, there might be an issue. If there are several gallon jugs of hand cleaner, one of those tv therapists from Hoarders might be convinced to come by. OCD is compoulsion to do stuff. Like pulling the door shut 3 times or you can't go anywhere. Or pulling the door shut on your foot, in which case you can't go anywhere, but as the ambulance is carrying you away, you're SCREAMING that you have to go back because you didn't pull the door 3 times. Another is having to come back to the house 4 times to make sure you didn't leave the gas burner on. This is particularly interesting when you're late for work. What you don't know is the neighbors are standing at their windows with stopwatches, timing and counting your returns. The one who comes closes wins a prize. Hint: don't go to the neighborhood fair. That's where they present the prizes.

Make sure to get your cereal and other boxes lined up alphabetically. Or is that size order? You gotta have this right or you can't go on to making certain the toilet paper comes off the right side. Not that anything like this would happen in our house, but we were food shopping once and I was throwing cans on the slider. I was informed that the labels had to be pointing OUT. Because I'm a complete bastard, I kept pointing them in other directions, causing great consternation. This is but a tiny example of the horrors of living with me.

But I want to defend us: we're not hoarders, we're putting-it-back impaired. If we put stuff back, the place would look almost normal. Mrs lefty doesn't hoard shoes - she just keeps buying new ones before she's worn the old ones much. I am certainly not a hoarder - I just have Guitar Acquisition Syndrome (GAS). What if I need to make a certain sound or tone? I have equipment for that. Even if I don't play with a band or record at all. I'm not a hoarder - I'm extremely well prepared.

Some of these people don't throw out trash. There can be rats, mice, or deceased pets in the mess. Thus far no deceased spouses, but it's early in the season.

What causes hoarding? Lack of sex.

C'mon, lefty, you blame lack of sex for everything.

Do you really want to prove it isn't?

Oh. Ok.

Sometimes it's trauma. A death. An abandonment. Some ass turning all your labels the wrong way. The takeaway here is that you get help for the issue before you're swimming in 5 year old UPS boxes you never opened, swimsuits 5 sizes too small, a kitchen you can't get in to cook, and several cries for help that are getting progressively softer by the day.

Uh-oh.

Just as I said that because of sex robots, women had better be nicer to men, it appears that for procreation, men had better be nicer to women.. parthenogenesis: how females from some species can reproduce without males.

What of Windows?

How, you ask, is my favorite operating system?

When I shut it down last week, it gave me no option to update, so I  shut it down and it updated. Now that I boot it up this morning, for WORK, it decides it has to update some more. So far I'm 10 minutes late for work. My coworkers are chuckling - "I'll bet old lefty's Windows had to update some more! He's probably red with anger and ready to launch the laptop into the stratosphere. Heh heh." [general laughter]  It's been at 84% for 5 minutes. 84 is a sacred number with Windows (unless it gets stuck at some other number). As if to mock me, it says not to turn off the pc and "it will take a while." 5 - 4 - 3 - 2 - 1 LIFTOFF! We have liftoff, one laptop, on this historic lunar laptop trip. Bob, this will be the 1st time Windows has been to the moon. Yeah, Frank, although many suggest that's where it belongs.

It finally allowed me the privilege of logging in, after which it just stared at me and said 'preparing Windows'. What kind of preparation does an operating system need? Does it go around the corner for some coffee and donuts? If it does, it never got ME any. Linux never got me breakfast either, but then again, it never makes me wait while it prepares itself. Women make you wait while preparing themselves, not operating systems.

After 30 minutes, it allowed me to get to work. And when I say it allowed me, I mean I was technically connected, but moving like Congress through a pay cut. It tells me the disk is 100% in use, but the listing shows about 5%. The recent 'updates' changed the task manager and put a search bar in my task bar (HEY - you've got your search bar in my task bar!). Yes, I turned it off, but I didn't need it there. Next update will be an IoT toaster meter, which keeps track of anything in the toaster, whether I have a toaster or not. STOP HELPING ME, WINDOWS. That's a persistent cry.

Science is a wonderful thing.

The astronauts on the International Space Station grew radishes in a microfarm.

Sometimes you have to sit down and ask Science why? 

The group of people who stole the monolith in Utah, on their way out, came across another group, on their way to destroy the monolith - "That's exactly what we didn't want to happen". For those of you following along at home, the thieves didn't want the destroyers to destroy the item they thieved.

The thieves discussed the matter with BLM and had quite a shock when they realized they were talking to Black Lives Matter, when they needed to speak to the Bureau of Land Management. For their part, Black Lives Matter pronounced the monolith a tool of white supremacy and racist, before asking what a monolith was.

President Trump signed the Flying AIDS package into law.

What you don't know is that the president is in Walter Reed Hospital, after a heart attack.

Congress came up with the $600 per person bill and sent it to the president.

The president said it was rubbish, and suggested $2,000 per person.

Nancy Pelosi and the democrats were jubilant, and lined up squarely behind the president, for the first time in 5 years.

The president had a heart attack.

Exercise Causes Cancer

I'm annoyed by the exercise mirrors. I'm annoyed by most things, but that's not relevant now. You've seen the commercials... impossibly fit people exercising in front of a mirror, some impossibly attractive, while the offscreen instructors' voices urge them on. Some riding bikes. Some lifting weights. It's a horror movie for me; not only for the privacy invasion, but for the exercising. Those people are sweating. Is this the kind of thing you want to do with your day?

The devices are impossibly expensive and depend on your home's wireless internet connection. The moment you start using them, the kids are going to start hurling sharp, pointy sticks at you, because you're interrupting their torrenting, Kardashians, and pr0n. You're not going to win here. Nothing good will come out of it. I should be one of those offscreen instructors (or offscreen destructors)..

What's it today, coach?

Warmups. Warmups are essential before any exercise. Sit on the floor, legs crossed.

Ok, now what?

Take out your tablet and surf a bit. We're working on both mind and body.

[15 min later] Ok, I surfed.

Very good. I was watching and liked the way you did that. Now stand.

Standing.

This is the final part of warmup. Stand there and feel your vibes. Locate each part of your body, and make note of any that are missing.

When do I start exercising?

You are exercising, Grasshopper. You can't blow up a building without Thermite.

What does that even mean?

Are you sure you want to exercise today?

Yes, I'm sure.

This is your day off, isn't it?

Yes.

You should treat yourself... go back to bed and get up when you're done resting. You work hard. You deserve it.

Look, I paid $4,000 for this bloody exercise mirror so I could exercise.

Open the freezer, Grasshopper, and grab some Haagen Dazs.

Ok.

Have a spoonful.

Ok.

Have another.

Ok.

Isn't that good?

Yes, but I eat too much of it.

Have another.

Ok, one more.

Have another.

Coach, I can't.

Dig down deep and find the strength to have another spoonful. I know you have it in you.

Mmph....groan..... I DID IT!

I'm very proud of you. Now take a shower and a nap. I'll see you next week.

I don't know why or how this would happen, but let's say someone left one of these torture devices at my house one day....

Hi, you're new. It's lefty?

Yup.

lefty, what's your end goal?

For Bob to get his mirror the hell out of my house.

What's your end goal for your body?

Ummm... lots of attractive women touching it?

lefty, be serious.

I am serious.

Let's warm up.

It's 75 degrees outside. The air conditioner's about to come on, Why on Earth would I want to warm up? Let's cool down. Besides - exercise causes cancer.

lefty, what would you like to work on?

mmmm... I already did napping... hey, I know, my sleep is interrupted a lot lately. Whatcha got for that?

Well, we have an exercise that...

HOLD on.. you can't exercise before bed or you won't be able to get to bed.

What should we work on - arms, legs, abs?

Penis.

Penis?

Penis.

Why do you want to exercise your... thing? 

Well, it thinks it's busy all the time and needs to be convinced to rest. It doesn't get half the fun it thinks it does. All the ladies at work call me Tripod. It's embarrassing,

I'm sorry, lefty, we have no exercises for your... genitals. Say, you're looking a little scrawny, with a small beer gut, how bout some sit ups?

Are you kidding me? Do you have any idea how difficult it was to sit up in bed before I got in front of this mirror?

Have you ever done any lifting?

Tons. With my fork.

Why don't you try the bicycle?

Why don't you try the bicycle? Besides, it doesn't go anywhere.

It's not supposed to go anywhere, it's a fitness bicycle.

Well what's the point of that? You put all that energy into pedaling and you don't go anywhere..

How about jogging in place?

Same thing, isn't it?

Chin ups?

Oh man, I always hated those. One time in high school I did one.

Push ups?

Too much like having sex by myself.

You sure are creative.

So I'm told.

Especially when it comes to not exercising.

It's my life's work.

lefty, how about we get you one of those impossibly fit. attractive models to demonstrate the exercises - would that be ok?

Perfect, thank you.

How would this affect your views on exercising?

No change. She'd go through the exercises, I'd sit there and evaluate her performance. Please be sure to send a clipboard.

I hear your wife has a strict No Dating policy.

Only below the belt. Please don't send a fat one.

Can you imagine being my parents?

If you ever feel you're not getting enough out of the USPS mangling your delivery, sign up for alerts. You already know from looking at the tracking info, the package has gone "into the system" and no one will ever see it again. I just discovered that the package sent 3 weeks ago from one state north has just shown up: one state east. Perhaps it needs to complete the entire compass before arriving. I'm signing up for alerts for the rest of the packages that never showed up. I desperately need the entertainment.

Hey, lefty - how's the new car?

I'm glad you asked. I was handed the quick start manual the other day, because manuals are Men's Jobs. You know you're in trouble when there's a quite start manual for your car. Suffice it to say the description of the car on the website was... somewhat.... lacking.. in a good way. Not that I remember a single thing I read (ever), but there's a lot of stuff in that car. I think what they do is use a template: car comes complete with 4 wheels, seats, 5 cylinder engine, and trunk. Going further might hurt someone's coffee cake. 

I mentioned remembering old Lincoln commercials where seat positions had 2 different memory settings for different drivers. Check. Auto-start - check (with app). What kind of car requires an app? Turn off backup camera (suck it, neighbors!) - check. Other ridiculous stuff - check. I feel like I bought a luxury car. There is absolutely nothing wrong with Hyundais, but they're not exactly luxury cars. Mrs lefty loves it already. I was allowed to drive it once. The problem is that there's some connectivity to the outside world. This is an extreme no-no. Things like GPS and OnStar-like services have to GO. And this isn't a new car. They're tracking beacons. Since the cars are more electronically controlled, they're easier to find and easier to remotely operate. Now I have to find the bloody modems and rip them out. Wanna buy a modem, anybody? Maybe we can switch, so your Ford identifies as a Hyundai and vice versa. I just don't need that kind of connectivity....  Unfortunately this will require some kind of sleuthing and mechanical ability, so I'm pretty much in trouble...  

Before the previous Hyundai, we experienced Sticker Shock when buying new tires. I bought tires for my land yachts for $60. Hyundai tires were $250! And they had considerably less rubber, perhaps with considerably less comfortable ride. And need to be replaced more often. Do car makers own the tire companies?

Text Me

Texting is the Next Big Thing. Yes, we've been using it all along, but businesses are getting into it. Doctors are texting to burn up the coverage for the year, so they can start burning up next year's coverage next year. Phone carriers text. Quite frankly, I'm all for it. When you text, you have to keep it short and you don't have to talk to anybody - what greater gift could there be to humanity and agoraphobes specifically? I'd rather spend twice the time scheduling office visits than actually call the office. Now there are a bunch of businesses (and people) you wish would get on the texting bandwagon... (definitely not politicians) like...  your relatives. The older they are, the more fun they are in text. Some sign them - Love, Aunt Martha. If they like to dictate them, it's even funnier - And the mask is tomorrow love you Fritos.

Assuming Amazon Advances the Arrival of the Aardvark Adventures

Your love is like  Covid-20

Prominent liberals call for Dianne Feinstein's resignation over cognitive decline.

"We only tolerate cognitive decline in presidents"

Bill Gates makes bleak prediction for when Flying AIDS will finally end.

The guy responsible for a horrid operating system is now a virologist. Let's ask him about the common cold - that's annoying. 

A top coronavirus adviser to President-elect Joe Biden delivered a stern holiday message to Americans on Thursday - "no Christmas parties" 

Biden will call out the Army and National Guard to break into houses and look for wrapping paper. Any trees or Christmas stockings will result in a lengthy jail term, especially ugly stockings. Biden is bringing in Christmas specialist Bill Gates to assist.

Bethlehem will hold midnight mass without the public.

Also without baby Jesus and the animals. Bill Gates will personally vaccinate Mary.

Today I identify as  the metal spiral from a spiral notebook that pokes you a lot

The Amazon Delivery Uncertainty Principle is the only rule of science that remains solid these days.

My package guaranteed to arrive today has.... SURPRISE!... not arrived. This is very disappointing because I had a big party set up for the box when it arrived. Several relatives, important guitar store owners, and a Flying AIDS-free mariachi band. Now what am I to do?

The great thing about ordering things these days is the Tracking. Tracking is a concept whereby you get a thing called a Tracking Number. When you haven't received your package (roughly 98% of the time), you check tracking. Tracking gives you a pretty little set of steps your package allegedly took on its way to you. The steps are all made up. The only 2 accurate things about Tracking are your number and the time it was delivered: anything else is pure drug-fueled fiction.

Tracking tells me Guaranteed Delivery today. As I mentioned, today is rapidly slipping away, like a vacation's last minutes. Beneath the guarantee is a graph indicating it was picked up. This is a great start, especially on the date of delivery (guaranteed delivery), only at the end of the graph it says Estimated delivery today. So the Guaranteed AND Estimated delivery are BOTH wrong. Einstein had nothing on Amazon.

This item was located 1 state away, an approximate 2-3 hour drive. Under the Guaranteed date (and all dates) was "High shipping volumes are causing some delays. Please allow extra time."

Schroedinger's cat could be alive or dead. Amazon's package system actually split probability into four:

1. the delivery date promised at sale
2. the guaranteed delivery date
3. the estimated delivery date
4. the actual arrival date

Did you ever think Amazon could outdo Einstein? I guess when you have Bezos money, anything is possible.

My last package is still in Amazon Oblivion - a state of matter impossible to describe or see. Tracking knows it went into Oblivion, but everything stops after that. Not even Quantum Expert Bill Gates can see into Oblivion.

UPS Tracking is known to all and always brought out during the holidays when everyone is filthy drunk needs a laugh. USPS tracking is new and fresh! USPS tracking makes you ask how a humongous nationwide organization which can't track its employees is going to track your little box. It can't. Our postman, Bob, said we weren't getting our box today because they don't deliver on Sundays. We didn't have the heart to tell Bob it's Tuesday. Fedex and the others use new-fangled scanners. They make the public feel secure in the location of their packages, but in reality, all it does it keep you sure the packages are lost. "Yup, 3726452XX2 - that's lost. Definitely. Anything else?"

The other curve ball is label printing. The label is printed 2 days after your credit card is charged - no one knows why. The label is attached to the box, which allows Tracking. The label can sit on the box for days before USPS or UPS or Grandma picks it up, because she's going that way anyway. So we're at a week before the box actually leaves the seller, but you have Tracking, dammit, so you feel better. My Tracking says Grandma picked it up 2 days ago, then it goes quiet. This means it will probably arrive within a week of the Guaranteed Arrival, but no one will update the graph. Until the package arrives, quietly, on your steps, at which point you'll get an email that it's delivered. Hopefully Grandma baked you some cookies.

UPDATE: It arrived! Only 2 days late. 2 days after the guaranteed delivery date. I can't bring myself to examine Tracking, so we're left to assume the package left the seller on the date stated (markings said it did), but after that date, it went into Amazon Oblivion. Since we are not advanced enough in our human development, we cannot see into Amazon Oblivion. There it lay, while we can only assume the Amazon Quantum Delivery Uncertainty Principle attempted to squeeze 2 days into 1, hoping we wouldn't notice the package had arrived 2 days late. Unfortunately the Uncertainty Principle uncertainly spit the package out, without having compressed time, therefore only the people paying attention (only the buyer) eventually notice the package being delivered 2 days late.... or that's what the Amazon Lady who answered the phone told me.

Santa Clara, California (of course), is going door-to-door to test for Flying AIDS. The article is mealy-mouthed on whether this is mandatory. The Vaccine Card is next, people.

In France, dogs have been trained to sniff out the Flying AIDS, by sniffing armpits. Shock and surprise, the dogs are showing up in airports.

Dear lefty  

• My dog sheds all over the car. My wife is really upset about this. What do I do?
• good cars are hard to come by: get rid of your wife  

Buying a car sure is different.

I have a serious allergy to salesmen, of any variety.

Car salesmen contact can cause a trip to the hospital, faster than dinner with Idiot Governor, who is Flying AIDS positive.

I log onto the dealership's site, tell it what I want, and POOF- I can take my choice from whatever comes up. Note: Sofia Vergara is NOT an option. They make the whole thing so easy. You can even apply for financing and they'll deliver it to you. You barely have to look at a salesperson - it's like heaven, without all those allergy-causing wing feathers. They also do curbside delivery. This is where you buy the car and someone in a HAZMAT suit gives you the keys (this is not all that different than picking the car up, except you're wearing the HAZMAT suit).

Being a generally silly person, I cling to the old concept of test driving. I need to know which part of the wheel is going to imprint itself on my head if I crash. Whether the passenger seat has an annoying DING DING if the passenger doesn't have his seat belt on (or the dog sits on the seat). Which spot offers the most room for Boom Boom and which lever is most likely to have to be removed in the emergency room. Whether the 'backup display' gets HMO. Or HBO. How to make phones play through the stereo, failing, and the first gunshot location. Stuff like that. As a former land yacht driver, I want a car that can drive right over other cars, like an Abrams tank, but do it comfortably. "Honey, what was that little bump?" "A Toyota, I think."

My old boss was way ahead of me. He bought a Jaguar sight-unseen. He had to special order it because he wanted green and blood red interior (he was a doctor), but he never even sat in it. His previous car was a Mercedes and he taught me a riddle: 

Q. Why is a Jaguar $60k and a Mercedes $120k?

A. So you can buy 2 Jaguars and rotate them in an out of the repair shop

He had a diesel Mercedes. It was the first Mercedes I ever drove. When he was off terrorizing people in other states, he'd encourage me to drive it around while he was gone. Little did I know this was because if left alone, it would turn into a  pumpkin. A diesel pumpkin. At least it wasn't finicky....  it was a damn comfortable car, with very good handling. The ads said you could feel every nuance of the road. Translated, this meant "It's really friggin bumpy." The only slightly maddening, mind-shredding, temper causing thing was the acceleration: there was none. The car would do zero to 30 in one week flat, but you had to order it 2 weeks in advance. The best thing I can say about the acceleration is that when you floored the pedal, it kept moving. It kept moving at whatever speed you were going before you hit the pedal. And it kept at that speed for quite a while, sometimes til your destination. As you were parking it, the engine might ROAR. When I asked, he told me it was supposed to be like that. These are the kinds of things I miss by not being able to afford a Mercedes.

He tried to sell it to me once. I told him no matter how much he wanted to pay me, I wasn't buying. I couldn't get down the block without a display of Precision Temper Tantrum because the thing didn't accelerate. I couldn't make it to the convenience store around the corner without needing a drink. To make matters worse, you can't buy alcohol at convenience stores in PA.

UPDATE: It's a non-bouncing baby Hyundai.

We picked out the one we wanted online, went for a test drive, and bought a car with a 4 cylinder engine. My ancestors are spinning. They did a good job on this engine or we wouldn't have bought the car. We don't race, but it's not nice to be passed by old ladies jogging at the red light. The dealer was incredible.. it went so smoothly, I kept looking around for a 16 ton weight to fall on me. Am I excited? Yes - I will never have to listen to FM radio again!

A car. A house. These are things adults have. I am not an adult, although Mrs lefty says I'm being dragged to it, kicking and screaming (and napping). What you look for in a car changes as you pass your teens. Mrs lefty, with her back, wants a comfortable seat, that accelerates (the car and the seat). I want a huge, comfortable car with a large trunk to handle guitars (and bodies). Come to think of it, I haven't changed at all. 

It took longer to sign 143 papers than test drive. No haggling, no naggling, and with the eyes of the lady helping out, I would have signed anything. Good thing I had my trusty wife there to throw a pail of cold water over me. Have I mentioned no more FM radio? Bluetooth and Aux In work. The one in the old car was broken and we were left with only FM radio. It was torture. We verified this with torture expert Bill Gates.  I expect to be allowed to drive the car eventually, for the first time, if there is an emergency and Mrs lefty is out in the other car that hates her, which she hates and won't drive.

• People Who Drink 6+ Glasses Of Water Daily Happier, More Successful...
• because people who drink 6+ glasses of wine daily couldn't stand up to report for the survey 

M*A*S*H was a really cool show. One of the recurring plots was Corporal Klinger, who wanted to get out of the army on a Section 8 (crazy) discharge. He dressed like a woman all the time but never got thrown out.

Going back more years, Gomer Pyle could've gotten out immediately by making a pass at Sergeant Carter. They'd throw him out faster than you can say "don't ask, don't tell." Unless Sergeant Carter was also gay, in which case the Marine barracks would require a Marine-size closet.

I just saw another one of those legal Sue Them commercials about the Mormon church and molestation. We know about the Catholic church and the Boy Scouts - now the Mormon church. We know pedophiles put themselves into places where there are a lot of potential victims. WTF is wrong with these people? Why are there so many of them? Why are there so many legal commercials?

You cannot 'fix' a pedo. Period.

Speaking of which, churches are debating reparations to both African Americans and Native Americans. Good for them - it's their money.

Still no mention of pedophile priests.

The Unemployment Follies (#7) - Dusty White Shirts

[In this post, our hero has amazing difficulty in the act of becoming employed, in spite of major effort.]

COMING OUT OF THE CLOSET

The bedroom closet is a bit shallow but extremely wide.  I'd estimate that it could sleep two people, foot to foot.  Four people foot to foot and breast to breast; twenty-four people if you slice them correctly.  How, you ask, does this relate to employment?  By a damn fine thread, as most of my output tends to go.

When interviewing, I discovered it is strongly advised not to wear Hawaiian shirts.  A wag suggested I flout the system and wear Hawaiian underwear but the jury is still out on that.  After paying an absolutely frightening amount for a new dress shirt in the wrong size, the wife came up with about seven of them in the correct size. From the closet, of course.  I'm beginning to think that this closet occupies several more dimensions than we know of, as stuff seems to appear and disappear when searching.  It probably also does this when we're not searching, but I'll leave this to the quantum mechanics to work out (Shroedinger's shirt?).  Speaking of quantum effects, most everything in the closet has dust on it but only the very top.

So there are seven additional shirts in the correct size. This indicates that at some point, it was possible to purchase shirts off the shelf in the correct size.  Just not anymore, plus they're a lot more expensive.  Ain't progress grand?  I'm not good at math (or history or science or databases) but I'm going to say that these business shirts in the correct size look incredible for what must be sixteen years old.  No, really, they look every bit as good as the hideously expensive new shirt, including one that's almost the same shirt.

Speaking of Hawaiian shirts, I have a strange fondness for them.  Because of their dusty-topped condition, the wife decided to wash them.  As it turns out, I have rather a lot of them.  Really rather a lot of them.  The beauty of Hawaiian shirts (or most things) is that if you hold onto them long enough, they'll be back in style in a few years.  I don't want to say my shirts are old but they have come and gone out of style four times.

THE JOB SEARCH

One of my mentors suggested I arrange the Hawaiian shirts very close to the middle of the closet and the business shirts at the far unused end.  This way the Universe knows I need a job in which Hawaiian shirts are just fine and business shirts are laughed at.  So the Hawaiian shirts are just to the right of center, because if I cross the center line, my wife will bite me in a very sensitive place (and not in a good way).

Having located the jacket, with dust only on the top, I am now officially ready to go on interviews.  That is, if there were any.  According to the ads, there are many jobs available... just not for me, apparently.

The recruiters are driving me up a tree.  The metric tonne of Indian recruiters have called about very old jobs and want to submit me for them regardless of skills or location.  Last week I got calls about jobs in Colorado and Wyoming.  One job search turned up a result for restroom attendant (don't laugh - I applied).  Ok, maybe not.  The local recruiters are a different species altogether.  They call, spend some quality time with me, sound incredibly interested, all but promise me a job and then I never hear from then again.  I suspect these folks are recent graduates from local used car lots.  I don't want to tar all recruiters with the same slime - one of them has actually called me back.

I did find a government job.  I couldn't understand the job title or description, so I figured I'd be perfect for it and applied.

I am going to depart from this blog's entertainment and sarcasm focus to mention that this whole thing is downright depressing.


SUPPORTING THE AUTOMOTIVE REPAIR AND RENTAL INDUSTRIES

No post to this blog would be complete without some new and exciting information about the car.  The collision repair place for the insurer called to tell us the car was ready.  When we got there, we discovered that there was yet another five-hundred-dollar deductible.  This topic has actually gone to the realm of logic: how can an unemployed guy make five-hundred-dollars appear out of thin air?  You might be surprised to learn that my piles of hundreds have been depleted by unemployment and tithing to Dunkin Donuts for the dog's coffee.  And even if I had hundreds in the closet, they'd be dusty up top.

Not being independently wealthy has been complicated by another ironic phone call, this time from the insurance company.  It seems we are just about to exceed the number of rental car days for the year.  I've never even heard of this happening.  So every day that passes is another day we have to pay for our rental.

Causing five-hundred-dollars to appear is no small feat.  Do they expect me to pull it out of my buttocks?  Let's face it - if I could, as my friend pointed out, I wouldn't need a job.  Perhaps I'm just a masochist.

The entire process of getting the car repaired this time has been one of frustration.  I suppose it's ironic that this is the only time the person who hit us had insurance.  There was a huge amount of confusion over whose insurance was going to cover it and if theirs was, why were we paying a deductible.  After weeks and many phone calls, the repair place overruled the insurer and our insurance is covering it.  The lady in charge of the process possesses all the grace and charm of Genghis Khan.

Off we went to pick up our baby.  The wife got back into the rental and just looked at me.  What now? An additional part had to be repaired and the car, which was 'ready' the prior day, would take another hour or three.  And we're racing the clock on the rental.

Know what?  I have to give major points to Hyundai.  As you've undoubtedly read, we have driven a lot of rental cars lately (stop laughing) and my wife still prefers her Hyundai.  There are definitely features on the other cars that surpass ours (seats, stereo, handling) but the Hyundai is still the better car (or close) overall.  The current rental is from a country known for its meatballs.  We have this car because the choice was between it and a Mini Cooper.  It hurts me to even look at a Mini Cooper; my eyes feel cramped and unprotected.  I have never priced the Meatballmobile but I understand they're fairly expensive.  And after driving it for a few weeks, I'm not impressed.  It's bumpy as hell.  Yes, the power seats have presets and lower back support and the engine has balls BUT that doesn't justify its premium over the Hyundai.


WHAT IS LIVING IN THE KITCHEN

We have an issue with trashcans in our house.  By this I mean we have a Dog Issue.  He loves trash, among other things.  After the little monster kept getting into the trashcans, we bought the cans with the lids that you have to lift.  This kept the dog out for all of two weeks.  Between his innate intelligence and my wife's failure to put the lid back, he was back into things immediately.  Failing that, he just knocked the thing over and took what he wanted.

I have no idea whose idea this is or where it was found but we have a new trashcan.  This one is an automatic can, where you wave your hand over it and the lid opens by itself.  Then closes by itself.  Until the dog figures this one out, it's a perfect solution, plus it's pretty neato for the people.

The other night, we heard a weird noise in the kitchen.  Then the dog started barking in its general direction.  My parents would say we had ghosts - I'm skeptical.  It turned out to be the can, opening and closing by itself.  If the dog hadn't barked, I'd swear he just figured out how to operate it.

Bright as he is, he sometimes fails to notice his mortal enemy, the mailman, coming up the drive but the moment you put your coffee cup on the table, he starts barking like a rabid animal and circling the door.  I yell between hysterical barks and he somehow manages to completely ignore me.  If ignoring me weren't a regular occurance with everyone in the house, I'd be upset.

Closed Caption THIS

Ok, I know.... I haven't been keeping up the prior schedule of blogging.  I have no idea why. Perhaps because my life is... less interesting(?) lately...

But let me update you.

No post would be complete without News of the Car.  We're proudly riding with our almost brand new (looking) right side.  Yes, a number of thousands of dollars later, we were free of unsightly dents, which went right up the entire right side of the car.  Not to mention our fourth or fifth passenger side mirror.

I was really proud of the end result.  Several of my coworkers came up to me, unsolicited, to let me know how great the car looked.  You know where I'm going with this, right?

Two days later, the wife calls me at work. "I spun 360 degrees because this Philly piece of dung, no doubt without insurance, ran a red light and came withing inches of the car." [Note: it is stated that over fifty percent of Philly drivers have no insurance].  One of the earlier accidents involved Church People who said they'd pray for us.  It turns out that they were using their dead mother's insurance card and the insurance had lapsed because they hadn't paid the premiums.

Over the weekend I got another call.  It's getting to the point that I'm afraid to take calls from the wife. This time it was a pothole.  Apparently it had swallowed a few businesses and it took out one of the horribly expensive performance tires (on our Hyundai).  Off to Pep Boys after triple A arrived to change to the donut.

Pep Boys, ever the accomodating enterprise, informed her that it would be three and a half hours, minimum, to replace the tire.  The fellow advised her to come back the following morning, scheduling an appointment at ten.

So the following morning (Easter, mind you), she showed up at ten in the morning and found people lined up all over the place.  She went to claim her ten o'clock appointment, only to discover that the previous evening's employee wrote nothing down, including the alleged appointment and wasn't in all day, as is customary.

So I got another call.  I wonder if somehow I stop accepting her calls, flats will stop happening.

Eventually they get to her.  I can't stress highly enough that you purchase the optional tire insurance for your tires (especially the performance tires, which are as rugged as tissues). The total price was thirty bucks.

But WAIT......

Whilst replacing the tire with the huge performance hole in it, the technician discovered another tire, which apparently had a performance bubble in it.  A second thirty bucks well spent.  And it's much better to learn of a tire bubble on a lifter than on a road (at the speed limit, of course).

If anybody knows a shaman or voodoo priest who takes the whammy off cars, please refer them to me.

===========================================

For some reason known only to my wife, Closed Captioning is enabled on our television.  It's not really a problem unless we want to see something on the bottom of the screen.

So she's watching some horrid old movie, as is customary.  There's a Jewish wedding happening and the father is talking to the bride, telling her how proud he is and how she has always brought him naches. Naches is a Yiddish word, meaning joy or blessings,pride especially from ones children, grandchildren.

The people who do Closed Captioning apparently don't see much Yiddish, as what came onscreen was 'You have brought me knockers.'

Dad must've been really proud.

Son of Return of Hyundai Hell

So I've largely stopped trying to tear my face off; that's a good thing.  The Stupidbowl is over too.  My favorite moment was when my (traitor) wife went to bed - I got to turn the tv off.

It's been lightly snowing off and on every other day or so, which brought up something about the car: the ESC traction control (or whatever it is) is going off a lot earlier these days.  Let me put it this way: in over two years with the Hyundai, it has almost never kicked in.  Now it kicks in as soon as there's a coating of snow on the ground.  We have no idea why.

Perhaps motivated by the horrible noises the ESC makes, my wife took the car to have the brakes checked.  POOF - the brakes were band and had started eating into the rotors.  No warning, no squealing, no brake lights and the requisite four-hundred dollars to fix it.

Have I mentioned that one of the headlights is out too?  We looked up the process for changing a headlight and discovered it was way too ridiculously difficult and left it for the mechanic.  The last place we took it too said they were afraid of breaking it and told us to take it elsewhere.  Elsewhere charged us a frightening amount of money for a bulb.  In my many years of driving, I always changed my own bulbs.  At most it was a few bucks and some cursing.

So during the brake fiasco, the shop noted that all four tires needed replacing.  I thought the top of my head was going to explode, painting the ceiling a bright red, with spots that might look like cranium and other small bits that looked like cauliflower.

Stick with me for a Financial Moment<tm>:  a fiscally smart coworker stated that his decision to purchase a new(er) car was when the monthly cost of repairs exceeded the monthly cost of purchasing the car.  With two old land yachts, we were routinely spending over what one new car would cost so we went for it.

I was so proud of my almost new Hyundai.  It started every morning, which was largely what I was looking for in an automobile.  Until we discovered the tires.  PERFORMANCE TIRES on a Hyundai, at two-hundred plus dollars a piece.   The stock ones were crappy and needed to be replaced.

Back to the present, after replacing all four performance tires, they needed to be replaced again.  The shop showed us the wear and the statistics on when we purchased two of them.  They were only rated for thirty thousand miles.  The ones we purchased elsewhere were in even worse shape.

I have completely had it with Hyundai and the idiotic decision to put large rims and performance tires on an import family sedan.  This is an additional eight-hundred dollars plus that it will cost to make the car driveable/inspectable.  I used to love my car; now I can't stand to look at it.  In spite of a great used warranty, I suspect this car is trying to bankrupt me by failing in small, expensive pieces.  It's like the prison camp prisoner who had to have limbs amputated and the guards accused him of trying to escape in pieces.

The mechanic at the shop agreed with us on the tires and suggested we just get different rims and sensible tires for the car and be done with it.


Our tax refund this year was earmarked for a new couch.  The current couch is extremely old and is sagging to the point where it makes my butt hurt when I sit for too long.  This got scrapped when the car started draining our bodily fluids.  So this is over twelve-hundred dollars to start the year.

We're more than tired of this type of excrement storm.  It hits fairly regularly.  Others verify that if it weren't for bad luck, we'd have no luck at all.   Later this month, we celebrate our twentieth anniversary and my wife attempted to give me a present.  I can't accept it, knowing that it will only get sucked out an exhaust pipe or a pharmacy.

--------------------------------

In other news, work went to set up a videoconference this morning, only to find the large-screen monitor missing.  Again.  This makes the third set of large-screen monitors stolen from work.  It was literally ripped from the wall.

Management does not believe in Big Brotherism, hence no security cameras: the thief must have really needed the monitors.  At this point, I demand that work give me a large-screen television.  After all, I have an old CRT-based television so I really need a new one.  Since the thieves are allowed to steal because they need it, I deserve one too (ten years should entitle me to something).

This is Why I Can't Have Nice Things

For my entire life, I have driven very old, very used land yachts.  With many additional exterior modifications and features (by which I mean wrinkles, crinkles and dents).  One day a coworker made a comment about my car being an external mess and it bothered me for the first time.

Keeping a pair of land yachts was becoming very expensive, especially after one quit completely.  We decided it would be cheaper to pay for a new(er) car.  I thought it was the best decision and long overdue.   The Hyundai was new to me, but low mileage.  And it had no external modifications and features.  No longer would my coworkers make fun of my car... it was a great new feeling (in spite of five $200 tires).

I felt like the king of the world.  For at least a few months, until some uninsured piece of Philly dung rammed into it while making an illegal U-turn.  BAM - a door that wouldn't open, complete with external modifications and features.  Then a pair of rear-enders, for good measure.  Note that none of this had anything to do with the drivers of our car.

Tonight was the coup de grace.  A deer committed suicide-by-car, using our car.  It was in a High-Deer Area that we drive through now and then.  I thought I saw movement in the distance, which I apparently did.  All of the sudden there is a deer ten feet in front of the car.  Have you ever had a very large animal appear right in front of your car, as if by magic?  If we had the time, it would have been most disconcerting.  At about thirty-five miles per hour, we didn't have the time.  We hit it and physics took over from there.   I felt sorry for the deer.

When we made it to our destination, we looked at the car.  We had no idea there was so much damage... we couldn't see it from inside.  I immediately stopped feeling sorry for the deer.  A friend who works for an insurance company told us he's working overtime due to [wait for it.......] an incredible number of deer-related claims.

They really are after us.

Our insurer was a pleasure to work with when the uninsured idiot hit us.  I expect the same level of service this time.  Can't remember whether I have rental coverage but it's academic at this point.

THE LARGER PICTURE

I have to keep reminding myself that Life Is Not Fair.  We'd probably all be better off if we remembered this.  But I can't help noticing that we get more than our share of Life's Little Mishaps.  Four accidents in  two years, two of which caused significant damage.  I'm kinda tired of being an asshole magnet.  I even did a little research among friends and relatives; they agree that we get more than most.

Saying that I'm not exactly an optimist is like saying Hitler wasn't exactly fond of minorities.  Yet I've had to console myself with faux-optimistic nonsense lately because that's all there is.

A deer took out the front of my car tonight.
Well, you're lucky it didn't come through the window and kill you.

I just got paid for playing an xmas gig with the band and all of it went to pay for a new tire.
Hey, at least it was only one tire.

My band played last night and stunk up the place.
But the audience applauded.

Do you see where I'm going here?  I'm tired of having to play an optimist on tv just to get by.  When my wife complains that her fibromyalgia pain is through the roof after the accident, am I supposed to tell her that at least we got home?  Is that the highest level of comfort I can provide?

There really should be something better than this.

Dear Mr. Hyundai

Good day, Sir.

I did quite a bit of research before I purchased my Hyundai Sonata.  The cars constantly come up at the top of Consumer Reports' reports and I hear nothing but good things from owners.

Before my Sonata, I owned nothing but big cars.   Really big cars.  Cars of the class Land Yacht.  Vehicles that had different area codes in the front and rear seats.   Purchasing a Sonata was tacit admission that I could no longer afford land yachts.

The joke, of course, was on me.  My Lincoln got seventeen miles per gallon.  My Sonata gets eighteen to twenty-four (with two less cylinders).

But don't take this as a shot at Hyundai.  My Sonata, purchased as a three year old vehicle, has started every morning and has never failed me (which is more than I can say for the ancient Town Car).

The real shocker came when it was time to purchase new tires.  Why a three year old car needs new tires is beyond the scope of this post.

So tell me:  whose brilliant idea was it to put performance tires on a Hyundai?  Why does a sedan require two-hundred-dollar tires?  Does it have something to do with those silly ethnic wheels?


I have been putting large, round rubber tires on cars since I was sixteen.  Not even the largest and most expensive luxury tire has ever approached this ridiculous price point.  Why?

Today I took the car in for inspection and learned another Interesting Fact<tm>: apparently the same joker who selected the tires had a hand in selecting and placing the bulbs.  Two repair stations told me to take the car to a dealer to have the bulbs replaced; it was too difficult for them.  The inspection station had no trouble at all, in fact, charging me the better part of one hundred dollars to do the job.

I have been replacing bulbs since before I could drive.  Somebody over there at Hyundai is having the last laugh on owners in spectacular fashion.

Are your tires and bulbs made of Unobtanium?  Do you get a kickback from tire manufacturers?  I do not drive a hot rod.  In fact, it's more of a boring family sedan on purpose.  I was hoping to avoid this nonsense....

I will continue to insist that Hyundai makes good, solid cars, adding that a serious investment program (or retirement fund) is required for tire and bulb replacement.

Sincerely,

leftystrat
from the blogosphere

The Law of Inverse Proportions [as Applied to Rubber]

In music, it is widely known that volume is inversely proportional to talent.

In women's clothing, the less material used, the higher the cost.

This morning, we came across a similar law for cars: the less actual rubber in a tire, the more expensive it is.

You might remember that I have exclusively owned land yachts; cars that have different area codes in the front and rear seats.  These automobiles had humongous tires.  If you stacked up the tires, you could comfortably fit a small family in them, standing up.

Since the money I earn goes to medical costs and taxes, we had no choice but to bite the bullet and purchase an almost new car.  A small(er) car.  Some would call it a mid-size sedan.  Some would call it a full-size car.  I call it a Hyundai Sonata (as in Sonata big car).

The first thing I noticed when I saw the car was that it had ethnic wheels.   This is a recent phenomenon, wherein the wheel is huge and the tire small.  If the owner is particularly nuts, the wheels appear to spin backwards.  If other drivers are particularly intoxicated, the wheels all spin in different directions anyway.

Possibly as a result of ethnic wheels, the ride is bumpy as hell.  Never mind that I'm used to humongous eight-cylinder American cars.

Insult was added to injury this morning, as my wife went to get new tires.  She had done some research and budgeted a certain amount, only to discover that these tires are performance tires. 

Everybody say it at the same time:  "Performance tires on a Hyundai?" 

That's what my wife said.  That's what I said.  The mechanic just shook his head, sadly bemused.

Six to nine hundred dollars for tires?

Why does a six-cylinder sedan that can't best twenty-two miles per gallon require performance tires?  Whatever happened to couch tires?  Bloated tires?  Running over speed bumps and small cars without knowing it tires?


I haven't even mentioned that someone sideswiped my wife and ran her off the road the other day.

This is not looking like a good week.