In the day


Sunday, July 24, 2016

Post  #2691.   I wondered about television in the future.  Say 2016. Geez, would we even still be here, as this bit of wondering was a very long time ago. Well, of course we are! Better than ever. In fact, I was just watching the news, "... today's terrorist attack is brought to you by Coors ..." it began, and it went on to show a marginally effective video of the explosion and the usual screams and running, voiced over with the stats: peaceful demonstration, 60 dead, hundreds injured. I thought it was interesting that the anchor pointed out that while the video was disturbing, his producers judged it was okay to show. As far as I can tell, the "standard" today is dead bodies - yes; missing parts, faces, kids - no. See, life marches on. Or maybe I should say death, because we have a LOT of it these days.Rick Macherat Rick M. In the day.


Sunday, May 08, 2016

Post  #2690.   Hooray, hooray .. for the 8th of May!  He sez, "Dude, what's that all about?" I explain. Then he explains, patiently, "Dude," it's always 'dude' with this kid, "Dude, we don't need that sort of foolishness anymore. They live right here. It's just down the hall and a soft, 'Knock-knock.'"

Really?

Suppose I'm the only one left alive who even remembers?

Silence.

Oh my.Rick Macherat Rick M. In the day.



Post  #2689.   Dipswitch, WV.  What a mess of a town that was. It sat in a scruffy West Virginia Valley with no police, no fire department, spotty utilities and a population I would describe as skinny, hairy and dimwitted. The only reason Dipswitch existed was its location where a bunch of rail lines came together. You'd probably think they made a living servicing the crews, you know, restaurants, bars, a general store. Nope. It was there because of the frequent train wrecks and the great looting since it took so long for help to arrive.

Almost overnight near the turn of the century, everything changed. A new railroad consolidated the various freight lines, straightened up the tracks and actually followed a schedule. No more wrecks. I remember seeing those lovely, speeding locomotives tear through town with 100-odd cars in tow, never even slowing down. Nice logo on the side, big letter: "USB," United States Busses, I think. Something about a bus anyway.

Not to many of us old timers left who remember any of that, the crazy wild days. One thing I do miss is when something broke, there were people around who knew how to fix it. Them days are long gone, that's for sure.Rick Macherat Rick M. In the day.


Wednesday, April 06, 2016

Post  #2688.   Lordy .. has it been that long? The word "allele" popped into my head today, leading me to yet another advice column: How to go to College. Now, at one time, I knew all about alleles and also glacial moraines, neurasthenia, pinnate venation, 1812, gerunds, anomie, x y and z; even, really, hujambo bibi vezuri sana? I knew the ins and outs of all that stuff for exactly one hour. The thing is, unless you're attending college for some actual reason, like pre-med or bizness, don't take it too seriously. My advice would be to pay attention in your first English class to pick up a little grammer and comp, but other than that just enjoy the rest of the classes like you would a movie or play. And for pete's sake, don't study to learn! Studying is for passing tests. Either way, you won't remember anything but the gist of the class later. Test-taking is the most valuable lesson to come away from college with. That, and how to compose a sentence not ending with a preposition. As you know by now, there are two kinds of prof philosophies on tests. The first wants to know what you got out of the course and will be more essay-oriented. Give the prof back all his emphasized points, but in your own words. Write enthusiastically, like you got really inspired. The other type of talker just wants volumes of facts, more likely to be multiple-choice and T/F. This takes more cramming. Do some research on the prof. Find out if he's the kind of prick who does questions on captions under pictures in the text. Also, does he test on notes, the book, or both? If you have a little time before an exam, don't cram up to the last minute. Bad move. Ready or not, close your books an hour or two before and do something else. Write as legibly as you can. Take a moment to organize your answer in your head before you start writing. On multiple choice, try and get inside the head of the T.A. who wrote it. Chances are, he will have avoided C,C,C,C,C. By the third C it has to be something else. If it looks like a trick-question, go with your first impulse. The second one is designed to put doubts in your head. Above all, be confident. You know it, and if you don't know it you're smart enough to fake it. Believe that. Panic is the enemy.

I would advise not to cut class often. Even if it's crap, it's crap you're paying for. Besides, one trick they use is to slip in something innocuous that doesn't make it into anyone's notes (that you borrow later) but which does make it on the exam. I had an Econ prof who did that on a 25% essay question on the final. It had come from a poorly-attended Friday class before break.

A note on a previous subject: people who have cable on all day vs. people who don't. Remember that flight attendant who thwarted the shoe-bomber, Richard Reeves? Well, the first video of her was taken as she got out of an aid car after what must have been hours of debriefing. She took a few steps, then she reached in her pocket, retrieved and lit a cigarette and took a good long toke. Ahhhhhh. I saw that, but you didn't. All the subsequent reruns of that sequence are cut just before she reaches into her pocket. Those are the kinds of things where you see an editor's heavy hand. "This woman is a hero. We can't show her smoking!" I see a lot of stuff like that.

I was thinking about the 70's last night and this morning. It may go down in history as the most fun decade in U.S. history, but almost no one remembers anything about it! Relatively speaking, nothing exceedingly bad happened (well, you had Watergate and the Oil Shock - seem bland now). Everyone was into that magical confluence at the apex of sex, drugs and rock-and-roll. Par-deee! I will confess to my loyal readers that I did a little of one of those and a lot of the other two. OK, so the clothes and hair are a big yuk now, but it was very serious business at the time. I didn't go with the hair, though. Glad about that since there aren't any embarrassing pictures to live down. Rick Macherat Rick M. In the day.


Sunday, March 27, 2016

Post  #2687.   The rain MMXVI. I just ventured out to the front porch for a minute. It's raining. Since this time last evening, around midnight, it hasn't stopped. It rained all night, plinking occasionally on the wind chimes. It rained all day in a perpetual gray you'd have to see to believe, on another type of planet somewhere, one without a sun. Come dinnertime, it was still raining as I opened a window to cool off the kitchen. After dinner, the rain set off the mood nicely, what with the fire and all. It's strange, I know, but I love the smell of a thousand wet wood fires. You wouldn't think smoke could be wet, but it can.

It has continued to rain all evening. I suppose there was a sunset because it's dark now. How dark? As dark as Seattle can get when you might ask, "Was there ever light around here anyway?"

So, mark this one down. Rain. Tomorrow, I'll look at the back page of the second section of the paper, weather facts, yesterday's stats, and it will say .. Seattle - tr.

Can you imagine how many days of raining all morning, then raining all day, followed by raining all evening and finally raining all night and still only manage a trace? What's more, imagine how many days like that it takes to get 38 inches in a year (supposedly.)

I do love it so.Rick Macherat Rick M. In the day.


Sunday, March 20, 2016

Post  #2686.   The Freud Class.  I took it, back in 1965. Psych 311, I think. It went all over the place, but the central theme was Freud's Five Stages of Psychosexual Development:
Oral
Anal
Phallic
Latent
Genital
Take two Bluebooks and remember Original American People Lost Ground. You could write for days. Easy A.Rick Macherat Rick M. In the day.


Monday, March 07, 2016

Post  #2695.   Pretty slow tonight, so I'll type some. I wrote this.
on Monday, she wrapped the bug tenderly
tossed it out the window
on Tuesday she stomped one in a fury
scraped it off her shoe
this was the same little girl!
different bugs though

Where I left off

I walked over to Larry's yesterday and rang the bell. No answer, so I went around back. Arlene was out there by the pool, with a monkey! Hi, Rick, come on in the gate and let me show you what the monkey can do.

I went in the yard and sat down, and Arlene shouted, Go on, little money, do your trick, whereupon the money climbed up the pool slide and went sailing into the water. Gee, Arlene, I wouldn't have thought a monkey would like the water, I said. Me either, but he loves it. Hold on, I'll go and get you a drink, she replied as she left

No sooner had she gotten into the house did the monkey come over to me. Cute little monkey, one of those tiny ones they cut up for research. He says, You want to see what else I can do? I didn't answer. He picked up her drink and downed a good slug of it. Then, he went over and got the garden hose, turned on the faucet, refilled the glass and put it back where it had been.

HA! Silly monkey, I laughed, She's a vodka drinker and would miss evaporation! That monkey looked at me quizzically; at least it appeared quizzical, how can you tell with monkeys, and went back to his screeching and bounding about. I called out to him, Say, monkey ... do they know you can talk? Nope, he replied. Suppose I tell them? He laughed long and hard, and I can tell you that a monkey-laugh is spooky, especially from this one who not only talked but seemed to have an odd sense of humor. He replied, Who'd believe a story like that, Rick?

He's right, of course. This recounting is about an episode which very probably happened yesterday afternoon. I feel I may meet this monkey again.

Some notes for industry. To Hewlitt-Packard: You should either (1) put a note on your printers: Not recommended for use by old people; or, (2) hire some geriatric folk to work in the ergonomics department. Once you observe that it takes two of them, one to help the other to the floor and back up and hold the flashlight, and the other to crawl in with the magnifying glass, just to read the model number, you'll see why. And for you, Nokia, and other makers of cell phones, are you ashamed of your model numbers? Probably so, since they become extinct before the "Plan" even runs out. Which brings us to AT&T Wireless, and I know you were just acquired by Cingular, but I fully expect your "Plan" nonsense to migrate over there. Would it be too much trouble to keep some old time (beyond two years) employees around awhile, so there is someone on staff who has at least heard of a few of the legacy "Plans?" Mine has almost gotten to the point where I can finally cancel it without a penalty, but it seems no longer to exist. Oh, and by the way, Cingular, you know where is says to call AT&T customer service to convert our "Plans" to you guys? They never heard of you.

La maison mauvaise de la famille. Or something to that effect. I have to turn the sound down on French films because I pick up just enough of the dialog to realize the subtitles are being translated too freely. This one is about skeletons in the closet with a lot of love tension. Uh oh, they just did it, so the die is cast. See, her father and his mother died in a car crash, then the remaining spouses married each other. Besides, the fathers were brothers. That makes them already cousins, but wait. He remembers his stepmother telling his father in an argument that he might not be the son's father. Soooooooo, either the new lovers are not related at all or they are really brother and sister, which might account for the distress at home when the aunt tells the parents that they've gone off to La maison mauvaise for a three-day getaway. Too late now.

The girl is pretty and has the kind of face that will stay pretty even into middle-age when the lines set in. However, the boy who is also pretty now, well, his face is the kind of French face which will morph into a beaked, pea-eyed, chinless miscreation just like his father's, whoever he was.

Why am I watching a French film, again? Have you seen television today? Don't turn it on, just don't even turn it on today.

It's only money. Some people, mainly economists, believe it is simplistic to compare a national economy to the finances of the average household. Simple, yes, but not simplistic. You make and you spend, then you borrow the difference. (Or save it, theoretically.) When you've borrowed too much, you just sign up for a new credit card! That's what the government does. Some day, they'll make an announcement that a "computer glitch" accidentally erased the Treasury's records of Bills, Notes and such. That was the bad news; the good news is that the National Debt is gone.

How could that be!!? Easy. They don't actually print up notes and bills anymore. It's all just booked electronically. While they still issue U.S. Savings Bonds, they make up only a tiny fraction of the debt. Sure, a lot of furrin countries will be pissed, along with the drug lords, but what recourse do they have? Repossess the country? The United States is the world's savings account, and as soon as they think we'll be paying interest again we can start borrowing some more. Not to worry.

Incidentally, while the debt is largely electronic now, there are still some actual instruments in circulation, held by collectors and old people mainly. So, if you run across a $500,000,000.00 Treasury Note, make sure it has McKinley's picture on it. Otherwise, don't take it.

In aviation news, Middle Eastern startup carrier, Jazeera Airlines, has postponed plans for direct service to several destinations in the United States. Company officials could not be reached for comment. In a related story, startup U.S. carrier, Bombing-you-and-stealing-your-oil Airlines also had no comment on their cutback to plans for service to a number of Middle Eastern locations.

While pouring (about half a million pieces of) Instant Rice last night, I was reminded about that Free Rice website. So tonight, with The Season and all, I went over there. First, I missed couple of words to see what the penalty would be. Seems there is none, except you get no rice. Bummer. Then I went on to score an impressive string of correct answers, raised my Vocab score to a 10 and sent 680 grains of rice to somebody starving. Cool. Then I lost interest in it.

Am I cynical about this too? You bet. See, we'll give, give til it hurts, but only if we're amused. If the concert sucks .. well let somebody else cure that disease, whatever it was. Sad thing is, very little would be given to charity without some kind of hook. I learned that when I got volunteered (decades ago) as the company representative for United Way. We'd have our little meetings and presentations - sometimes a good-looking fireman would come by and join in, and I guess they're all good-looking if you're a hotel maid who has already cleaned 15 toilets today and it's 3:15 and you get an unexpected 25 minute break before the 16th. And then our progress charts, and was it all ever gawdawful. We sent our money in and it got added to the pot and the city totaled it all up to $25 million or $250 million or whatever, and all those organizations survived for another year. And that night we got ripped and went to a concert and I think we gave some more money to something else and felt really, really good and warm about it as we sang along sort of and tried to light something to wave. It was a very boozy cause, I remember that. Did I say boozy? I meant worthy, a very worthy cause.Rick Macherat Rick M. In the day.


Friday, March 04, 2016

Post  #2694.   A miserable crank.  I'm going to be 71 years old this week. There, that should clear out 70% of people browsing about. They hate the idea of old people on the Internet. In their place, I would too. I don't smoke, drink or do sex anymore. Not by choice, I assure you. That leaves sitting in my chair, watching television, eating and then sleeping. No no no ... don't feel sorry for me; I'm perfectly content. Was.

Comcast changed the cable box for a newer model, and my lamp finally broke, cruelly, on the same day. I've rigged some substitute illumination, but it isn't good. Light has to be Just Right, and this isn't. As for the cable box remote control .. there are no words. As I explained earlier, one of the benefits of turning 70, the only one actually, is that you don't have to give a shit anymore. That in mind, I can type that only the Chinese could royally fuck up something as miraculous as a cable remote device. And get this, my sweet great-grandniece can't watch the Disney Channel during my nap because it's in Spanish now!

If all of that wasn't bad enough, once you do get the television on and find a channel, it's all about the election. Can you believe this mess? What happens if it's ultimately Trump vs. that Commie? Well, the old people won't vote at all for once, and that leaves the choice to the 70%. God help us already.Rick Macherat Rick M. In the day.


Thursday, February 04, 2016

Post  #2693.   Science has found evidence of previous life on Mars.  You would think news like this would be rockin' all over the world. So, that's how blasé we've become. (Maybe. I'd put us quite a few notches below that.) Now if something was exploding ... make that a big explosion, or drooling over a lifeless corpse, then it might make CNN. If they have time. Not Fox News though. No bare legs or titties.

Maybe it's because of the fossil they found: a piece of cauliflower. I thought it was perfect actually. Suppose Joel Edward McHale checks the Internet for his name? Of course he does.


Monday, January 18, 2016

Post  #2692.   Oh, What a Night.  Despite all the revisionist history, I still insist that this song was indeed written in 1963 and features Frankie Valli on lead vocals. It is my perpetual #1 pick-me-up song, and I relate. My similar adventure was early April, 1965, incidentally, close enough.

Anyway, I was reading through tidbits, headlines, tonight and came across these three:

The Internet Had Some Great Reactions To The Panthers Blowing Out The Seahawks

Strangers Show Kindness to Dog Who Refuses to Leave the Spot Where He Was Abandoned

20 Words Americans Use That Foreigners Do Not Like


I read two of them. The first one was about something I choose to believe never happened, so I didn't read it.Rick Macherat Rick M. In the day.


Saturday, January 16, 2016

Post  #2691.   Small town.      Only a few people were in the coffee shop that day. It was a bit early, but the place would fill up shortly with the usual lunch crowd. Jessica had decided on an early lunch for her mother’s birthday. Mrs. Elaine Davis was 79 and had insisted that any celebration be modest, in favor of a big vacation or cruise next year.

Just about the last thing anyone would have expected was for the door to bang open loudly and a young, scruffy, zitty man to rush in, shouting, “Everybody get down and give it up!” or some variation of that as remembered by the several witnesses. The very last thing anyone would have expected was for Mrs. Davis to pull out her Smith and Wesson BODYGUARD® 38 Special handgun and put a hole right between his squinty eyes.

At least one other person in the coffee shop was not all that shocked. Everett Knuth had been a young assistant in his father’s mortuary many, many years earlier when he accompanied him to a job out on Long Drive. He remembered the sheriff saying, “Yup. Too bad. Looks like a massive heart attack all right,” as they all .. the sheriff, the deputy, Mrs. Davis, Jessica and the two ambulance guys .. looked down at the extremely dead Mr. Davis and his extremely prominent middle-of-the-forehead bullet hole. As it turned out, that put an end to his brief unfortunate habit of sneaking into Jessica’s room late at night and molesting her. Rick Macherat Rick M. In the day. RMacherat



Post  #2690.   What debate?  When I casually started this thing around 2700 posts and almost thirteen years ago, I never imagined I would be still doing it. Getting to these numbers. Ultimately not even caring about the numbers being screwed up, because I'm 70 now and the really, seriously best thing about being 70 is you DO NOT have to care about things anymore. I had heard about it but never imagined ...

Fourteen years? Almost fourteen years. Really?Rick Macherat Rick M. In the day.


Wednesday, January 06, 2016

Post  #2689.   Our distinguished passenger.  It was the Captain ...
"Ladies and Gentleman, we hope everyone has come down from Light Speed comfortably, as we are now crossing the Bullock Expanse prior to a careful passage through the Oort Cloud ..."
I was especially looking forward to seeing Professor James Steven Bullock as his presence on this cruise was the reason most people took it - for the lectures. And yes, in case you were wondering, he is STILL HOT, in a centenarian way, even at the age of 259!Professor James Steven Bullock Rick Macherat Rick M. In the day.


Sunday, December 27, 2015

Post  #2686.   The Warlord. He was Magnificent, and his title was just as Magnificent and it was expected that one would employ it, being careful to include all the honorifics and nuances, when addressing His Magnificence. I always did anyway. This day he was energized, enthusiastically reviewing the grand plans for his new city, and he finally decided upon the alignment for our Grand Boulevard which was pretty much the key to the whole plan. Now, things could move forward. I didn't imagine at the time that a question about the statue would end up being so important. As it happened, the Boulevard, when extended, pointed directly at a small statue of Jesus on a nearby hillside, and His Magnificence asked about it. Somebody explained, briefly, and we moved on.

Who would ever have expected it? Later, I'm not sure how much later, in a vast, fine gathering of All Who Were Important, Noble and Well-dressed, His Magnificence announced that his subjects would be converting to Christianity, as he only just had, and furthermore he planned to introduce human rights, universal suffrage, capitalism and a few other things which I can't remember now. It was heady stuff, and this made persons in the assemblage heady as well, though I remember thinking as some of the questions grew slightly more impertinent than usually would be dared that all it would take would be a slight shift of mood and heady might end up being headless. I stayed out of it anyway and just listened.

Later, he presented a large map to a group of advisers (I was there too) which he had drawn himself. The map showed the proposed boundaries of our kingdom (somewhat expanded from what I remembered our extent as having been) relative to the boundaries of the adjoining kingdoms. I think there were three neighbors on the map. He had written a rather crude threat and something like, "This is how it's going to be from now on, fellas," right on the map and, so he told us, had already mailed it to the other three kings. So, I thought, it's Christianity, Freedom and now War. Quite a week.

Through this adventure there are incredible costumes and pageantry, horns announcing arrivals, feasts and the usual royal stuff. Oh, and did I mention that we were all Japanese? Pretty impressive, taking place as it did from the time I got up to pee at about 5:10am and an hour or so later when the alarm went off. (See: Norvasc, side-effects, vivid) Rick Macherat Rick M. where sre you Scott Thompson In the day.


Wednesday, December 16, 2015

Post  #2685.   My absence.  I just spent a week in the hospital, first contact with the medical profession of any significance since 1948. I'm not offering that as an excuse for the lack of posts. There is no excuse other than my turning 70 years of age and suddenly not giving a shit about anything. It's quite amazing actually.

The hospital thing might be good for a few words. I'll work on it. Some things happened which make it harder to be a complete cynic about the world.Rick Macherat Rick M. In the day.


Tuesday, October 27, 2015

Post  #2684.   Facebook.  Can you believe the pos is worth more than $280,000,000,000.00? More than Walmart which actually does something. It is the fastest company to reach a quarter-trillion in value - three years. As far as I'm concerned, this abomination and its twerp founder are very high up on the list of what's wrong with our planet.

I'm on it. Because of the wimmin. I started to collect them early on, friends from as long ago as 62 years plus a bunch from the working years. They won't let me leave. They all remember me from THEN. I should post a current picture. That should solve it. Too cruel maybe.Rick Macherat Rick M. In the day.


Tuesday, September 15, 2015

Post  #2701.    This is so Seattle. The city employs Trash Checkers whose job it is to go around in the early morning on Trash Day and audit people's trash. Especially recycling, which I can tell you is very hard to get right. The consequences of a F-A-I-L are mild for the time being, a polite notice on your trash toter, but the ordinance specifies an escalating scale of punishments all the way up to execution (or so it has been rumored.)

Coincidentally, and I'm happy to report also "so Seattle" is the trend for the biggest night of tagging to happen on Trash Day Eve. After a night of defacing the city, the little bastards throw away their spray paint cans in as many recycling bins as they can.

The final stage, a series of angry community meetings with lines at the speaker's microphone snaking all the way out the door, isn't unique to our city. The appearance and indignation of the various speakers is, however, and worth watching on the news.Rick Macherat Rick M. In the day.


Sunday, September 13, 2015

Post  #2700.   Why "government" and "money" are meaningless terms. Type "Biden" and "rape kit" on Google. You'll see one of the 36 television appearances the Vice-President made on Friday. They're rolling him out. This one was to announce that SEVENTY-NINE MILLION DOLLARS is being allocated* to help clear up the rape kit backlog. In most major cities, the backlog is stuck in the year 1904 when the government first became involved and dictated from then on the identification of victims would be of the "Jane D." form. From 1904 until late 2014, all those cases are still on the shelves, waiting for someone to decide what to do with them. That's what the $79,000,000.00 is for. There will be meetings (see: Travel) and studies. As for current rapes, the same seven technicians are working as hard as they can to finish up December of 2014 and get into 2015 before it's over. The film clip showed a pair of techs handling a rape kit box. Although it appeared so, shirley they weren't trying to figure out how to open it.Rick Macherat Rick M. In the day.


Saturday, September 12, 2015

Post  #2699.   A bit more on the History of Seattle. In 1792, Captain Vancouver heard the story of how Mt. Rainier was named and decided to take credit for it himself. You might note that the Wikipedia biography doesn't mention this at all, a reminder, perhaps, of the suspicion which has been around literally for hundreds of years. As native lore tells it, Lt. Rainier and Chief Seattle were walking one day, having another of their many difficult conversations. They came to a rise and beheld, as Rainier would have had it, presciently, Mt. Victoria, after his own 2nd cousin. The Chief pointed at magnificent Mt. Tahoma, and said, "Lnrainier!" The Lieutenant replied, "Yes?" The Chief repeated, pointing and moving his finger up and down, "Lnrainier!" The Lieutenent, again, said, "I heard you the first time, Chief .. Whut? Whut. Do. You. Want?" As always happened in their communications, this went on until Rainier got it. "Ahhh. You are renaming Tahoma in my honor, Mt. Rainier." "Yes, yes, yes!" said Chief Seattle," now speaking excitedly in Lushootseed/Whulshootseed, hoping the news would induce Rainier finally to leave and spread the news to the world. He did just that and ultimately became Admiral of the Blue, a Member of Parliament and wealthy. Here is a painting showing how well life treated him:



On one of their earlier walks, Dkhw'Duw'Absh Chief Seattle, also known Si'ahl, Sealth, Seathle, Seathl, or See-ahth, had pointed at the expanse of what is now Elliott Bay and said, "Sea!" "See whut?" said Rainier, and off they went again, finally discovering to their great amusement that the word was the same in both their languages with "tle" meaning "by the.".

For years later, people on both sides said recounted that Chief Seattle waved vigorously as Rainier's ship pulled away at last, obviously missing his dear friend already. Happily, he and all of us would forever have that magnificent mountain the remember him by. Incidentally, did you know that it is not illegal to make up anything you want on the Internet? It's true! Know what else? There are no rules. Grammar? Forget it. Spelling? The machine handles that. Usualy. Style? Please. In my case, I'll never see another big red "AWK!" next to my typing. I've been doing this and trying to hasten our march toward the State of Idiocracy for about 24 years now. Rick Macherat Rick M. In the day.


Tuesday, August 04, 2015

Post  #2698.   Poor nukes.  It should be so simple, and miraculous, but it will never be. I was checking out a site for a company which makes small nuclear power systems. Would I ever want one of those - lasting forever, problem-free. So, I clicked on the link which was to lead me to the how what when why page.


*sigh*Rick Macherat Rick M. In the day.


Saturday, July 25, 2015

Post  #2697.   Our day.  Did you know this thing saves drafts? Yes. All of those posts you started and abandoned for various reasons. This one was pretty funny, I thought. Seems it was just after a Christmas, years ago.

   A little departure for this blog - a trip inside the real world. Brother and I got up at the usual time and had breakfast, but from then on the day was completely different from our usual. I am only just now getting to the computer for the first time - 10:45 at night. We opened a portion of the loot, then sister-in-law came over. She has many stops to make on Eve and Day, but she ends up spending the remainder with us, or at least she has for the past thirty years or so. Brother pointed out that today was the 41st Christmas in this house, for him anyway.

Tons of cool stuff. I spent like a drunken sailor and was glad to do it. From here on out, any Xmas could be the last. Besides, I used a credit card. One little story I have to tell you about.

I opened a package that smelled a little. As more and more paper came off and the item came closer to my nose, the unmistakeable Puer la Chine began to make me dizzy. Yes indeed, an item of clothing from China. I held it up at a distance and was surprised, no flabbbergasted, to behold a Size 14 Petite pair of leather/suede ladies' jeans. There was much more to do, so the solving of this mystery would have to wait until later. Questions continued to bob in and out of my mind. Why did brother give me a pair of ladies suede jeans? Jeans that were too small. How do the Chinese make suede out of recycled tires? Would Brother really just wrap something like that without wondering where it came from? (That one answered itself. He would.)

The investigation. It was brief and, as it fairly typical in these cases, a complete waste of time. A rigorous interview with Brother and a long telephone conversation with the by then home and having wine Sister-in-law proved inconclusive. The receipts went out of course, but the trash hasn't been picked up yet. I have until Thursday to go out there and dig for them or simply let it go. My nature would generally compel me to make a half-assed attempt to get the stink-to-high-heaven jeans back to the person or store they they belong to, ASSUMING I didn't pay for them. They aren't on the AX bill which contained the other items bought that day. Those two can't even remember what stores they went to, however. See, Brother gets a little woozy when he gets taken out for shopping and lunch with Sister-in-law, and she, well, she is a bit off all of the time.

Any advice would be appreciated, of course, but I'm leaning toward re-gifting them to a certain relative (she's about a petite-14 as it happens) once some time has gone by. Rick Macherat Rick M. In the day.



Post  #2696.   Some fun.  Want to do something fun? Have "Alexa" or use some other means to play Surfin' Bird by the Trashmen (1963) and get an idea of what your grandparents were up to and the general level of sophistication of the times.Rick Macherat Rick M. In the day.


Sunday, July 19, 2015

Post  #2695.   What happens out west.    See, because we're behind and you folks up east, in the center of the Universe, you never hear the news from out here. For instance, on a Saturday night through Sunday morning this happened:
The dump truck was carrying a 80,000-pound load of clay and gravel when it crossed the I-5 median Saturday, plowing into oncoming traffic that was stopped while police investigated an earlier fatal shooting, authorities said.

Twenty-eight vehicles were involved in the collision, and traffic backed up for miles as lanes were closed for hours in both directions.

"It was bumper-to-bumper traffic, and then ... it was like the semi just flew over the whole median and there was dirt everywhere. So much dirt, it was like a sand storm. It was astonishing," witness Bobby Grace observed.

Incidentally, the shooting involved the killing of two people in a car by a passing vehicle, according to the passenger who leaped from the back seat into the front to stop the car.
As is the case pretty much everywhere, what really matters is the traffic. Here's JeanAnne with that ..Rick Macherat Rick M. In the day.


Saturday, July 18, 2015

Post  #2694.   Our modern cushy keen world.     It's especially keen that we make so much money and everything is so cheap. The reason for that is that we search the world over for the poorest, most desperate people to build, make, put together and, increasingly, grow all of our stuff. We never give them a thought.

One of the better things about this arrangement which, by the way, history will not look kindly upon, is that very high quality is maintained with all of these products because the workers are honored to have the opportunity to make life keen for us, the people who select the items, put them in our carts, take them home and, in about a year, throw them out because they were even too crap for the yard sale.

Buy that?

I didn't think so. Because you are probably one of the sad slobs who has had a finger or two ripped off, had an eye gouged out, been electrocuted or endured the worse eleven days of explosive diarrhea of anybody who lived anyway. Yeah, they're honored all right.Rick Macherat Rick M. In the day.


Friday, July 17, 2015


Post  #2693.   I've been searching so long ...   As for me, I'm glad to hear Google is cleaning up its algorithm in the neverending battle with the opposition, specifically "content farms." There's a term for the age we live in, huh? I would be looking for something, say horse food, and the first return would be BUY YOUR HORSE FOOD AT TARGET. Well, as we all know or soon discover, Target does not carry horse food. Instead, they lurk there in electroland for anyone to ask about any product, then they pounce. The new "algorithm" seems to have put a stop to that one anyway. This doesn't put any brownie points in Google's column, to be sure. They're still being evil and denying it daily. Why, some bot is probably in here with me right this moment. If you hit "end" and go to the very bottom of my blog, you'll see how I feel about that. 

I wonder when we are going to get serious about these things, the computers. They've been ubiquitous for almost twenty years now. In fact, an entire generation has gotten to graduate school without having known a world without them. Seriously, kids, we did not spend our whole lives typing into a television set in the old days and believe it or not, things got done somehow. Still, we continue to put up with the nonsense: spam, hacking, viruses, outright theft and other crime. Every person who has an email account gets a spam-folder of crap every day. Why hasn't some national intelligence agency done a little house-cleaning (wet work) yet? You wouldn't have to hit all of them. A tiny sample would be enough to get the message out. And it isn't like there would be Congressional hearings about the unprecedented extralawlessness of it since there isn't any law to begin with. Congressmen get viruses too, especially with the huge amount of porn they download. How do you know they download porn? Stands to reason - any vice that members of the public have, you can bet the elected representative has as well, only much more.

I know, I know. I complain about this about once a year. Let me tell you, though, if I was about 40 years younger we would not be sitting here just whine-typing about it.
Rick Macherat Rick M. In the day.


Tuesday, July 14, 2015
Post  #2692.   BlogSpot Trouble.  I don't know if something broke or someone got
into the Blog and messed with it. The latter would depend on that someone Finding the blog, some thing which hasn't happened in years. As you can see, this place is thoroughly messed up tonight.

So, if I never come back, I didn't die after all. Rick Macherat Rick M. In the day.


Sunday, July 12, 2015


Post  #2692.   VP of what?    An article in the paper today about a Google Vice President of "search products and user experience" got me thinking about the world of work in general. And why I am so glad not to be remotely involved with it anymore. The business channel was running stock footage of employees in cubicles while voicing a report on some business thing. Just think about it: millions upon millions of people sitting in those things, typing away, with maybe a stuffed animal and some family pictures nearby to give some illusion of life to the experience. Each day that passes means fewer people like me who think this is all unnatural and more people like them who are quite comfortable with it. Just this weekend I was telling someone, a young someone, about traveling to the airport in the day. You know, how you drove up, parked at the curb, walked out to the gate, greeted your arrivee, picked up bags and left. Elapsed time: maybe 40 minutes, of course that included a stop for a drink at the bar where you could watch the planes for a bit. Oh, and everyone was well-dressed and not the least bit hurried or stressed, even though their chances of ending the day in a flaming plunge from six miles high was about 1,000 times more likely than it is today.

But we do have cable. And cell phones. Oh, and don't forget porno, plenty of porn 24/7, so there's that. Rick Macherat


Tuesday, July 07, 2015

Post  #2691.   Hot.     My day involved a few phone calls, some messing around and generally fighting the heat. Are you going to complain about the heat all summer long again this year? Why yes, I had planned to. Why? No reason. [My imaginary person actually sighed.] Of course I have to complain about the heat, for three reasons: 1) I live in a heat-containing house; 2) I have that special heat disease; 3) Seattle has a peculiar kind of heat, recognized for the evil that it is by only a few of us with 2).

So how hot was it today? [yawn] Glad you asked. It was 87° in Seattle, and despite the extreme measures that I take during the hot season and which won't be delved into here because of credibility and mental stability issues, it is still 82° in the living room where I'm sitting. Note for those considering air conditioning: when they tell you that floor ducts work just fine as long as you get a really BIG unit and a really BIG fan, well, they're right - so long as you don't stand up.

A funny thing about Seattle. People went AFN today, what with the sailing and the sunbathing, the skipping work and mainly just the sitting out and soaking up. Almost none of those people thought ahead to the fact that tomorrow morning will be one of the crabbiest on record. Why? Since this is the first day of it, few people remember, but approximately 45 seconds after they lay down to to try and sleep, they will. Friends in Seattle, take this from an old timer: it is pointless even to go to bed because it will just get hotter and hotter and sweatier and angrier every second you stay there tonight. Your bedmate will seem like a yule log, and you might get to where you contemplate tossing him/her/it right out the window. Best thing to do is run water in the tub and sleep in there. Yeah, you might die, but along about 4:30AM even that won't seem so bad.

The sister-in-law, who is Completely Immune to Heat by the way, went for her annual physical yesterday. What I'm going to tell you about next is the reason why she won't be getting my URL [I have to live with her, so to speak.] Sister is distressed over the fact that she is in perfect health and doesn't have anything while it seems like everyone else our age is having operations, getting chemo, dying .. like crazy. A couple of weeks ago, brother and I were discussing how we were going to get this awkwardly weighted and sized oven upstairs. So, she comes over, sizes up the task, semi-not-so-silently whispers something like Oh forgodssakes and lifts and carries the blasted thing up two flights of stairs to the kitchen. The rest of the visit was spent talking about how Doctor doesn't understand about her bad back.

So, they have her down for an Isotope [Nuclear] Stress Test. How could I resist, huh, when she asked me what I knew about it? First I went the silly route and told her they set off a tiny nuclear device and see how fast you can run to escape it. In truth, the test is so gawdawful that I would sooner take the nuke-and-run. NFW I would consider it, no matter how badly I wanted to have something. So, I explained that they inject you with stuff which alternatively constricts and dilates various arteries and veins while starving the heart and basically getting you as close to being dead as they possibly can without outright killing you, all the while watching what this radioactive "dye" does as it courses through your poor heart and circulatory system.

She took all of that like she usually does - like I hadn't uttered a word - and said she planned to look the procedure up on the Internet. Then I mentioned, just as an aside, that they use Thallium. Thallium? You mean .. Yes. But, there isn't anything to worry about, of course, because the medical profession always has the well-being of the patient first and foremost and they certainly wouldn't schedule you for something which wasn't Completely Safe, even considering the fact that she has been like The Creature That Won't Die to them for about twenty years. Rick Macherat Rick M. In the day.


Saturday, July 04, 2015

Post  #2690.   John Wick kills.  I'm not violent, but I like violent movies. John Wick satisfies anyone so-inclined. I wondered, "Has anyone counted?" Of course they have. This is the Internet, and everything that has ever been imagined is already there.

Count 'emRick Macherat Rick M. In the day.


Monday, April 06, 2015

Post  #2689.   Next 1964. 

Rick Macherat Rick M. In the day.



Post  #2690.   Rick Macherat.  There was a reason for this silliness at one time, and soon I'll remember what it was and edit this post into something sensible.


Rick Macherat is so cool.

Rick Macherat is number one.

Rick Macherat is away.

Rick Macherat Is Dead On Target.

Rick Macherat is our Director for Vampire plots.

Rick Macherat is refusing to let me open them.

Rick Macherat is the artist behind the incredible Precious Moments dolls.

Rick Macherat is having problems right now with a white screen.

Rick Macherat is a new graduate student who hails from Dayton, Ohio.

Rick Macherat is upset.

Rick Macherat is a must-see.

Rick Macherat is hard at it.

Rick Macherat is not in the cast photo for 2002!!! Rick Macherat is continuing his on-going studies of population structure and social dynamics of a shallow-water population of Bluntnose Sixgill Sharks.

Rick Macherat is Coming to Your School.

Rick Macherat is also co-author of the world-famous Nephroid Lab.

Rick Macherat is not worth Amber's time.

Rick Macherat is the author of three books.

Rick Macherat is a committee member of one of the largest ranch organizations in Northern Arizona.

Rick Macherat is a bullshitter.

Rick Macherat is now bulletproof?

Rick Macherat is too slick.

Rick Macherat is the libelous one.

Rick Macherat is going to Washington to fix that.

Rick Macherat is scheduling his 2003 calendar now! Rick Macherat Rick M. In the day.


Tuesday, February 24, 2015

Post  #2688.   Memories. It was just a matter of time before I would come across the perfect container for storing this item. I made a mental note to keep an eye out. Sure enough, after some time, no way to know how much time, here was this little black vinyl packet, about the size of several CD's, nice big fold-over flap, no lettering or logo, even a little fuzzy inside. Just right for .... what? Now, what the heck was it that I needed to store? THAT memory was gone, gone like it never existed gone. You know how that feels - your mind is never going to be able to pull it up.

I've put the container in a location fully in view in my kitchen should the lost item ever turn up. When it does, I'll finally be able to match them and store the package in some place in this house where I'll never find it again.

This sort of thing goes on All The Time. Rick Macherat Rick M. In the day.


Monday, February 23, 2015

Post  #2687.   The Rock. Of course, I should use bifocals. If I did, the check would have been written for the amount of the premium due instead of the dividend. So many numbers, so little attention span. To shorten this up, I discovered it the next day while filing, called the mechanical information center to get the mailing address for that type of mistake and sent off a new check. About ten days later, I received a notice from Prudential and THAT'S when I got on the phone.

It was the same lady machine. Evidently, she handles all the calls, only this time I became hopelessly lost somewhere in her mind. Help sent me to General Help, same person there! Complete Silence While Not Even Breathing got me "Sorry, I didn't hear that." She had the bases covered better than an indignant 40-year wife just inside the door at 3:31am with a rolling pin. Eventually, I managed the golden reply (which is REPRESENTATIVE, by the way, make a note) and was call-forwarded to Tim. I suppose it started to go downhill when I mused aloud that it seemed unlikely that "for my protection," the giving my full address, ZIP code and telephone number to a complete stranger was truly in my best interest. Although Tim retained his basic English-speaking ability, he suddenly lost the comprehension part. I could tell when he asked me if I had been drinking when the dog bite occurred.

The usual ponderously long story made short, I eventually got to a genuine 'maircun named Roger in Wisconsin. He told me, after some prodding, that Tim was in Panama. AHA! A new location in my call center trip around the globe. One of these days I'm going to land in a country where I speak the language, like Amharia or Urdustan and then I'll have them, won't I? Incidentally, Roger was so oily that I needed a Arm 'n Hammer rubdown when I finally got done with him.

Seriously, folks, this doesn't happen very often, and I want to assure you that I DO NOT START IT. Many, many times I have had delightful exchanges with customer service and learned all about Jean Ann's acceptance into beauty school and Uncle Horace's battle with psoriasis. Because I ask. Rick Macherat Rick M. In the day.


Saturday, February 21, 2015

Post  #2686.   An alternate ending.  Several years have passed, important and life-changing years. Anastasia "Ana" leaves the bedroom, carrying little Precious, not her name but what they call her, and goes into the living room where, almost buried in the décor and overwhelming view of the city, sits the husband, reading, of course.

"Darling," she interrupted, "Often when I'm changing Precious I remember so well the night we made her."

Interested, he had to ask, "How could you know?"

"A woman knows," she said with considerable certitude, "And I certainly knew at once that new life was there."

"How wonderful," he said, putting down his book, "But why only when you're changing her?"

"Oh that's easy, silly," she laughed, "That was the first night you peed on me."Rick Macherat Rick M. In the day.


Wednesday, February 18, 2015

Post  #2685.   The other neighbors.      Mrs. Cleese lives a few houses down with her two children. The son is about twelve, and his name is Corcoran, so-named because that's where his father was when he was born. Despite the spotty parenting, he seems like a nice boy. The baby girl's name is Velveeta. Mrs. Cleese named her that because she was extremely pissed at being knocked-up again just before Mister Cleese was headed back to prison. That's how she explained it to me anyway. Grandma Cleese warned her not to name the child Velveeta, but Mrs. Cleese is very headstrong. I know. She's my neighbor. I predict little Velveeta will also turn out to be pretty assertive. Corcoran asked if he could mow my lawn for some extra money. I'm "thinking it over." If I pay him too little, he may have me killed. Too much and he'll think there's money here and rob and kill me in the night. Then again, he may just mow the lawn like any regular kid, and not even steal anything. I like to be fair. Rick Macherat Rick M. In the day.


Tuesday, February 17, 2015

Post  #2684.   One more time.

Post #2512. Rerun, Boast, Milestone. One of my posts, #2435, had words in it, when searched, make it to the top of a Google. It was just a little post.

Post #2435. 4411 Huguenot Walloon Drive. That was just for you folks who were trying to remember, What WAS that address? Sometimes I'll laugh out loud, thinking about those two kids. They're still alive, you know. He's 79 and she's 78. And still very much in love, we'd like to think. Hint: Mike Nichols and Elaine May

Of course, Mike's gone now. But there will always be a 4411 Huguenot Walloon Drive. Google reports, politely, as always, "We couldn't understand this location."Rick Macherat Rick M. In the day. RMacherat


Friday, December 12, 2014

Post  #2683.   A post from 1964.  Got up real late this morning. Roommate gone for the weekend. Had he been here, being as he doesn't drink, he would have gotten up early and woke me up, and I would be hurting even more than I am. Made it to the dining hall just in time for lunch. Liz and I doubled with Jim and Jennifer last night, sort of. Not official dates, just met up and decided to go to the street dance together. We scored a considerable amount of malt liquors prior to - they are excellent since you can squeeze up to four in each jacket pocket. It was a cold as it ever gets here, but everyone was drunk and the dance was great. We just sort of rowdied around for a few hours and got the girls in just before closing hours. Had to run most of the way since we had ended up way out by the golf course. Way too cold to even think about making out (like that would have happened anyway), especially being on foot. When we got back to the dorm, the fire hose had been out, and those who had not passed out were mopping up. The key, as I remember from last time we had waterworld, was to get it up before it ran down the stairwell to the 9th floor. Jim and I helped out, sort of, then went back to my room for more beer. A few other die-hards drifted in and out, then I kicked everyone out about four, I think. Never did see or hear from the RA. I guess the water wouldn't have flowed had he been here. I felt better after lunch and went over to Neill for some touch football on the hill. Girls can wear pants on the weekend, but they cheat at football. Came back, had dinner, then studied from about 7:00 to 12:30. Dang, just remembered I missed Star Trek, was it Friday??. Roommate came back this evening, and his sniffing and honking (allergies) sent me to the study lounge which was a waste of time til most everyone cleared out. Went back after he went to sleep. Stupid freshman. Seeing his little fatface sticking out of that blanket ... naw, I wouldn't smother him - he isn't a bad kid, just dumb. Got an 8,9,10 and 2 tomorrow, not a bad schedule this semester. Tu-Th I have a 10-11:30 and a 2-3:30. Human Phys is a flunkout course, but I needed 3 science and wanted to take it anyway - a better lab would have been nice. Excellent prof. Everything else is manageable, lots of papers. I mean lots. Mid-terms this week and tonight was the start of cram. The washers were busy all day Saturday, so I'll have to do pants and shirts tomorrow night, I guess. Tomorrow, guess I'll pull the cords out - they go forever. No clean shirts, so I'll go with a sweater only. That's about it.


Friday, September 26, 2014

Post  #2682.   Military Brats.      You've probably heard of us. We're "military" because our fathers were career members of the armed services. "Brats" because we believe we're special (and other people do not.) Typically, we moved a lot and attended many schools. In my case, I went to seven schools by the fifth grade and three different high schools. One was scary and full of hoodlums, one had fewer than 100 students and one had over 1,500. I don't remember anybody from the elementary schools, but I do have a lot of memories from high school. Sometimes, rarely, we get together with someone we knew far, far away and long ago. It might have been in Turkey, Iceland .. Japan maybe. Here is a typical conversation from that meeting.
Remember that time when Harriet Schultz actually came to school drunk?

Who's Harriet Schultz?

Oh yeah, she left before you got there.

Well, speaking of drunks, what about old Gribble, what a ruin he was.

I don't remember any Gribble

He must have come after you left. To bad. He was a lot of fun.

Did you know about Maggie Seller?

What about her?

Her dad was molesting her in high school.

Colonel Seller?! Jeez man, I took her to the prom. Met him when I picked her up. Jeez. Where is she now?

Dead.

Oh.
All three of my high schools had 50th Reunions. I didn't go to any of them, and I was a little sad about that.Rick Macherat Rick M. In the day. RMacherat


Saturday, September 13, 2014

Post  #2681.   At the speech.     Mr. Jack Sprat and his wife Noleen listening to President Obama's speech.

Rick Macherat Rick M. In the day. RMacherat


Tuesday, August 26, 2014

Post  #2680.   I KNOW HOW TO DELETE CALLS.      This is the new Amazon Fire Phone. I signed up as soon as Jeff announced it, and it arrived in the mail to much excitement (brief) around this household. You might remember the ad:


Before long, we had problems. First, how to use it. No manual, of course. No instructions. Not like the old days. We did figure out how to make calls, and before long the numbers-called/received list began to grow.
How do I delete calls on the Firephone?

Deleting a call from the list on the Amazon Firephone

Puleeeeeeeze, tell me how to delete calls from the list on the aMAZON fIRE pHONE.


That should help with searches. Possibly not. So, believe it or not, there is a way to delete calls from your Amazon Fire Phone call list. Do this:
Put your finger along the RIGHT EDGE of the phone, just barely on the call you want to delete.

Ever so gently, not hard enough to generate a dialing, slide your finger to the LEFT

The word "delete" will pop-op. Tap it.

Voila
Tell all your friends. You will become a nerd tech hero and get all the girls. Really.Rick Macherat Rick M. In the day. RMacherat


Monday, June 23, 2014

Post  #2679.   Organizing MISC.     Late on a Sunday night, I'm working really well completely reorganizing and re-filing several years of collected papers on my kitchen/dining room desk. This used to be our dining room table. Old people tend to retire these. Organized homemakers have a lace table cover and a couple of candlesticks. I have papers. Loose papers in boxes and many assorted "too cool/neat/sweet/funny to discard." Like once or twice before in my life, I've had to be ruthless. Once you toss the first one, the rest are easy.

This was a jot. Of course, it demanded that I drop everything and come over here to type, at last, in my neglected, orphan but never forgotten blog.

French comedy
British sci-fi
Italian government
Greek thrift
Russian charity
Spanish punctuality
Chinese sanitation
Japanese television
German humor
Any more come to mind?Rick Macherat Rick M. In the day. RMacherat


Thursday, April 24, 2014

Post  #2678.   After.      If you watch the Discovery Channel, you are likely well-informed about the, "The ten most scary things that will destroy our planet and kill everybody." I call it the, "What the **** just happened?" scenario, because there won't be breaking news, public information, civil defense or any organized action at all. Maybe a few dazed survivors wandering around.

Group One is wandering through the badlands of Eastern Washington. Somebody spots a dog, Here, boy. Come here! whereupon The group
Catches the dog
Kills him
Cooks him
Eats him
Group Two is wandering the empty streets of Seattle. A member of this group spots a dog as well. The group
Catches the dog
Adopts him
Begins training him to search for vegetables.
Rick Macherat Rick M. In the day. RMacherat


Wednesday, April 09, 2014

Post  #2677.   News from the future.     I took some of today's news back to 1955 again. United plans 787 nonstop service 6,857 miles to Chengdu. Wow. What's a 787? How can a plane fly that far? Where is Chengdu anyway? Russian dictator invades, annexes Crimea. Wow. Hay, wait. Wasn't Crimea already theirs? Long story. CEO axed for opposing gay marriage. Huh? Also long story.

I may have to have another chat with Little-yap-yap-Dog. He's been getting out again and going all over the neighborhood just annoying everyone like crazy. He never stops barking, not for one second. I should say he goes everywhere except my yard, not since we had that little dog-whispering chat about two years ago. He stay away from me. Not so Big-old-woof-woof-Dog. Little-yap-yap-Dog goes around to all three sides of Big-old-woof-woof-Dog's yard and teases him. Big-old-woof-woof-Dog likes to take long naps, and Little-yap-yap-Dog wakes him up and then keeps barking so he can't get back to sleep. I'm so tempted to go over there and open the gate just a smidge and watch Big stop Little and his yap with one huge chomp.

The third player outside my kitchen window is Miss-highstrung-Ladydog. Another yap-yap type, only classier. She yaps too, but only a brief couple of barks, very emphatic when she's let out and struts to the middle of her yard. It clearly translate to: Alright, boys. Move along. Clear out. Miss Ladydog needs to take care of her lady business! Rick Macherat Rick M. In the day. RMacherat


Thursday, March 27, 2014

Post  #2676.   Shamelessly copied from somewhere.      Breaking or b-boying is generally misconstrued or incorrectly termed as 'breakdancing.' Breakdancing is a term spawned from the loins of the media's philistinism, sciolism, and naïveté at that time. With no true knowledge of the hip-hop diaspora but with an ineradicable need to define it for the nescient masses, the term breakdancing was born. Most breakers take great offense to the term.

So there. Please update your file. Incidentally, This machine underlined the word "sciolism," asserting that it is not a word, not in its universe anyway. In the Day blog would like to point out that sciolism indeed is very much a word, meaning, "a superficial show of learning." Appropriate, don't you think, to this particular moment and our lame times in general?Rick Macherat Rick M. In the day. RMacherat


Wednesday, March 19, 2014

Post  #2675.   Nine-eleven officially over.     "Rudy Giuliani, whatever you think of him, is held in high regard by many Republicans." - Jake TapperRick Macherat Rick M. In the day. RMacherat



Post  #2674.   Schul.     The Lakeside School (with the inevitable interjection that Bill Gates went there) has an enrollment of 484, of which 111 are Seniors. They produced 23 National Merit Semi's this year. Last year they had 30. In comparision, the twenty-one high schools in my neighborhood (south) with an average enrollment of 1,400 students had a combined total of 15 semi-finalists. This is not too good.

In a related story, there was a massive air traffic fiasco yesterday, affecting the southwestern United States. The radios at the Los Angeles Center went out, and for several hours the controllers were unable to communicate with any of the hundreds of aircraft on their screens. There were several very near misses before they were able to get the work-arounds going via other control centers. Most of the cities in the southwest enacted a ground stop, and a large number of inbound aircraft were diverted.
The investigation proceeded rapidly and revealed: " .. a required 30-day maintenance check was not performed. This system turns off if this check is not performed."

Furthermore, the backup was not configured to deal with that contingency.
Is it just me, or was this plain insane? Couldn't they put a bell on it instead? Listen, you guys, remember me when some day not too far off you can't get your refrigerator door to open because some yayhoo in Cairo or someplace tried to put chicken bones down his disposal. Rick Macherat Rick M. In the day. RMacherat


Monday, March 17, 2014

Post  #2673.   An afternoon at Cousin Lucille's.     Brother and I had travelled back to Virginia with my mother. It was August. Virginia. Was I insane, or what? This was about our third trip back there in as many years, so I had concluded that all the motels in town were now owned by East Indians. That was fine; they were clean and the Air Conditioning worked. Most days I could take Mom wherever she wanted (in the rental car which I had made sure had nice loud and powerful east coast air conditioning,) leave her there for as long as she needed and race back to the motel where I could change shirts and sit in front of the room air conditioner until time to fetch her.

Then came Sunday. Mother's double first-cousin Lucille (this was Virginia,) and I've always just assumed that this made her my double-second cousin, was having a get together at her home, a chance for relatives and old friends to see Mother all at one time. The family itself was so enormous that we would have had to stay back there several years to see everyone (again, Virginia.) Most of them were anxious to see me too, as it turned out, since I was after all, "the most beautiful baby anyone had ever beheld," or "laid azz own," so they all said. This should probably give you a clue as to the average age and gender of the invitees. So, I kissed an awful lot of chubby, rouged cheeks and smelled a great deal of old lady perfume until I got almost woozy from it and sat down next to the window air conditioner. The turned-off window air conditioner.

See, neither Lucille or any of the others present would dream of turning on the ay-cee when it was only 96° with humidity around 175%. Even though just about every one of them had truckloads of money now, they had all grown up in the very poor district just downhill from the poorer outskirts of Poortown, during the Great Depression, and no way were they going to waste money running thet thang. So, there I sat, beyond hot and almost back to cool in a way as my clothing was completely soaked through, down to the socks, listening to what seemed like hundreds of southern voices, old lady voices, all talking and laffin' at the same time about how darlin' I had once been, as my mind slowly left my body and I wondered if this was what it was like when you dad.

I remembered the episode so vividly today even though it isn't that hot at all around here.Rick Macherat Rick M. In the day. RMacherat


Monday, March 10, 2014

Post  #2672.   An auspicious day.     An auspicious day coming up. A survey from a company that I do business with came today, and the cozy letter which accompanied it was from their "Executive Vice President, Engagement." Isn't that precious? I say a little prayer each day that I am out of the workforce, hopefully forever. Why do I think that when this particular job title proliferates across industry, and it will, the position will always be filled by very high-energy women in their mid- to late thirties and never by crusty old men coasting out the last few years before retirement?

This is his second bout with testicular cancer. This isn't funny, of course. Cancer is Not Funny. But I don't think he'll have to worry about a third bout with testicular cancer, will he?

More about soccer. I watched a sports news segment tonight - our very, very longstanding sports director was doing the piece. Nothing much going on actually: we have no NBA team anymore, of course; our football team .. well, you know about that; as for the Mariners - they've been playing golf for weeks, and what is there to say about Philadelphia vs New York? So, that left soccer. He should get an award for his spirited coverage of our Very First professional soccer playoff match. Qwest Field was filled to capacity, all lime green. It was about a two-minute segment, with clips of people bumping into one another, balls sailing into the stands, lots of running, lots and lots of running. Kind of the way my little brother used to run madly about with his eyes closed. Finally he revealed the score: 0-0. Zero-Zero, or naught-naught as they say. Sixty-seven thousand people filed out, shouting, singing soccer songs, yelling soccer things, clearly thrilled by the experience. As for me, I've typed about six sentences describing my feelings about it and backspaced each one of them out. (Have you ever seen Night of the Living Dead?)

As if that wasn't enough ... Rick Macherat Rick M. In the day. RMacherat


Thursday, February 13, 2014

Post  #2670.   Someone asked me.      I was surprised since it has been a very long time since anyone asked me what I thought. You'll see, that tends to happen. The question was: What popular trend baffles you? And I replied: Aside from contemporary music, art, philosophy, government, economics & business, theology, literature, history, clothing, telecommunications, manners, relationships and language, I'm pretty much OK with the modern world.Rick Macherat Rick M. In the day. RMacherat


Sunday, February 09, 2014

Post  #2669.   OMG it's 2014.      I don't mean OMG it's 2014 like so much time has passed since my last post or where has the time gone. More like it's 2014 and I'm completely amazed. How did I get here? Imagine going back to, say, 1955, which I often do and handing someone a sheet of paper with this printed on it:
First, there's the question of bandwidth. While the dual signals should not interfere with each other from device to router and home users won't have to pay for bandwidth that visitors use, what will happen to your streaming episodes of Burn Notice if someone happens to be standing outside watching a Game of Thrones bootleg on their phone?
Next, explain it to that person. (You might have to review a few things that Don't Matter in 2014: grammar, deficits, gender.) I mean a phone is The phone, that black thing on a table in the hall. You might even have an extension in the parents' bedroom if you're in the middle class. It doesn't go anywhere. Certainly not over to a complete stranger's house where you can hop onto his personal Xfinity Wi-Fi and watch a bootleg movie on it. Rick Macherat Rick M. In the day. RMacherat Richard Dale Robinson has vanished.


Saturday, December 28, 2013

Post  #2668.   Continuity.      Quite often you will come across a blog that has been abandoned for months, even years. So sad, because you just know the person had so much more to say but they were unable to stay with it. Even sadder is the fact that The Machine will arbitrarily decide to obliterate it at some future date. It Never Existed.

I'm determined this will not happen to me. So stay tuned.Rick Macherat Rick M. In the day. RMacherat


Thursday, November 28, 2013

Post  #2667.   Happy Thanksgiving to you too!      Did you ever wonder if people who bitch basically all of the time ever get tired and just run out of it? Well, we do. At times like this, we take a deep breath and try to take in the flowers and little critters scampering about and stuff like that there. And then write about them.

Eleven minutes go by.

The truth is, something awful happened in Seattle, and while I can't get it out of my mind because it makes me so mad, I don't want to write about it either. Oh, I will eventually, you know that.

In the meantime, the sister-in-law has a little ... issue. She and her S.O. travel a great deal and stay with new friends. They never say, "Oh, no. Thanks anyway, but that would be too much of an imposition." No, they would typically go with, "Which room is ours?" This weekend it has roosted, and a couple of their former new friends are in town. Seattle is lovely in November, so the new friends are comfortably set up in the sister-in-law and brother-in-other's spare bedroom. Is it truly evil to be enjoying a wee bit of secret pleasure while tsk-tsking and oh-mying over the phone at the complaints? Probably.

The guys who come to your house to fix and install things are all exactly alike. Is this part of some curriculum? We just finished day three of a one-day project, and Guy #4 has driven off in his truck. He had the least amount of personality of the group if you can envision gradations of zero emotion. I can't imagine what it would be like to go through a career, say, standing next to a blazing inferno of some sort and never having any interest in it at all. I asked Guy #4 as he was leaving what was next for him today. Blank stare. I pressed, "I mean, what job are you going to next?" I don't know," he says, "Wherever they send me." Anyway, I hope the danged thing works this time, because the little lady on the phone, the one who sends The Men to their various appointments and who was born and raised on this planet, left on vacation today.

BREAKING NEWS. The television is flashing red urgently with some report of an incident at the Hanford Nuclear Reservation. Frankly, the winds today are northerly, so I don't care. The spokeswoman is on the phone. She doesn't have that information, unfortunately. That's why she is the spokeswoman. Can you even imagine how many Guy #4 zombies there are in a place like that?

Something uplifting for a Monday, huh? Let's see ... Back when I used to work, for pay, that is, my Mondays were worst than most. Working Sundays will do that to you. Mondays are when all the fattened-up sunburned perkies stroll back in, oblivious to the chaos of the previous two days of drunks, fights, fire alarms, hookers and other assorted weirdoes. And ours was a nice hotel. I wonder who decided that weirdo is pluralized that way.

Hotels have "front of the house" and "back of the house" people, and the former have utter contempt for the latter. The latter think the former are generally psychological misfits. With that in place, Mondays begin. Paper is very important to the Backs, and they are impatient with coffee spills, rabid dog marks and mistakes. As for the Fronts, all they want is to get the hell out.

Fronts don't clockwatch. Time is irrelevant in their universe (except for 08:00:00.) They know work is over when the door opens and a chattery bundle of fur (winter version) bowls in, carrying bags of who-knows-what and starts emptying ashtrays with a disapproving air. The Backs never arrive on time, a calculated technique to send off the unwholesome Fronts with just a pinch of anger to get them through what is left of the day.

Fronts aren't blameless. Yes, we're messy. Yes, we're vindictive. That ten minutes of lateness from last Monday is remembered and rewarded with a subtle pickup error on an impossibly long tape.

Yes, I was a Front, a Warrior in a field of fat grazing bovines. And years later when I became a Back and then later an Up, may the Good Lord forgive me for giving in to the filthy lucre, I did remember. (Us pensioners try to throw in an occasional Good Lord, just in case, y'know.) True, I never was a very good Back or Up, just an old trooper in the home, a bit wistful for the grit and gusto.

So, take a look around you, Mondayites. Every first day will be exactly like this one until the end of time. Rebel! Join us in our senseless mayhem. You'll feel better, really.

Do you think you have a bad memory or two from high school? Consider this. State football championship game. Your team is leading. You're the punter on 4th down. All you have to do is retain possession for a few more seconds to win. So, the play is for you to run about 55 yards backwards after the snap and take a safety. So, you do just that, and when you get to the end zone, you drop the ball, pop up the We're Number One finger and begin jumping for joy. Hold on. Did you say, "Drop the ball?" Yes, indeed, whereupon an alert opposing player leaps on it. Touchdown. Poor kid, he is only 17, with at least sixty more years to live with it. Unless he can move to Pluto.

There was a bank robbery today in the suburbs. They caught the guy. Well, they caught him after they shot him. Afterward, a television crew came and interviewed the usual observers. This always interests me, since I try and imagine the goings-on in the newsroom which result in some things getting to air and others not. Obviously, since it was in the later afternoon, the news director said something like, "How many people did you get? Three? OK, go with it." Without checking. The first one was the hip chick who observed it was pretty stupid to hold up a bank in a strip mall which also has a Police Substation in it. Good point. The old man was the de rigueur, "This kind of thing doesn't happen around here". Then, there was the last one. Her funny hat and those eyes gave her away to me at once but evidently not to the news crew. She started going on about how brave one must be to be a bank robber and how it was too bad this particular bank had to get robbed because she always thought it was such a pretty bank what with the flowers out front and the colors and the nice people and how they always ...... [fadeout] Oh, God love 'em all.

A mention about the Post Office. They are running this ad (one might ask why the post office advertises in the first place, but that's one for Andy Rooney) where grandma packs up her huge annual gift shipment and mails it off to the grandkids. Full of those white peanut abominations. Then, on the receiving end, they show the kids throwing the things in the air and playing like snowflakes, just having a ball. All with this sweet seasonal music. I've been trying to re-gift those blasted things for years and still can't get rid of them. I think Aint J sends the same ones back. I just wanted to get that one off my chest since there is nothing any of us can do about it.

Men from the "other side" of our family have this habit of naming their firstborn sons in honor of their oldest brother. Furthermore, they are all Jim's and Bob's. The girls are named something with a "K," Kristan, Kathleen, etc. Maybe they can keep it straight, but I sure as hell can't. So, one of the wives calls, Bob died, she tells me. Oh, I'm so sorry. Did he linger? I sympathize, wondering who she is and who she is talking about. I'll have to wait until it hits their paper and go online to read the obit to see which generation he was. Then send a card or something.

I wrote an e-mail to my little nephew about the birth which, according to the sister-in-law's 93rd phone call today, is going on right now. Now, see if you can follow this. My brother has had three wives and children with two of them (the exception was the frequently aforementioned sister-in-law.) My little nephew's mother was #2 for my brother, but she had had children with a previous husband and has subsequently had more with two more, total of 4 husbands and I don't know how many children. Incidentally, my little nephew isn't all that little really. He's 6'4" and skinny and looks almost exactly like I did at age twenty-nine. My brother is uncomfortable with this. With me so far?

The sister-in-law has had three husbands, and the little lady giving birth tonight is from the one after my brother. Here's the question: was I correct in telling my little nephew that he is about to have a new nephew of his own?

Finally, regarding Punishment by ladies in raincoats. Dear searching friend: I believe you may be the only person on earth who has this particular fetish (nothing wrong with that, of course.) You are not going to find anyone through Yahoo, Google or In the Day. My advice would be for you to start your own blog and put all those dodads on so it gets found. Then, type whatever you want, free as a bird. There's a good chance you'll hook up with a lady who is into raincoats and punishment, not together, yet, and the two of you can take it from there. Caution: some nasty boys will leave unkind and misspelled comments. Delete them and never reply. Good luck!!

You seem to know about this. Wouldn't happen to have a perv blog somewhere else, would you? Of course not. All of me is here at In the Day. Just about. Rick Macherat Rick M. In the day. RMacherat


Tuesday, November 19, 2013

Post  #2666.   Regarding this post.    This is a first. It was such crap that I deleted it completely. Sorry if you clicked in here expecting content today.Rick Macherat Rick M. In the day. RMacherat


Wednesday, October 02, 2013

Post  #2665.   The morning car chase.      They've come to be a pleasant little respite from the daily grind of terrorism, war and Congress. Occasionally, the cable channels will generously give us a break and switch to a California or Texas car chase. Such was the situation today. Of course, the Anchor Blonde had to talk over people on the scene and give her own play-by-play and explain the miracle of Spike Strips, but if you turned off her annoying voice you could still enjoy the action to an extent. Anyway, after running to and fro across north Texas, the little car finally caroomed through a gas station and smashed into a Budweiser truck, finishing pretty banged up and with its windshield wipers going. About 87 white Texas police officers emerged from their cruisers and began attacking the little car with nightsticks, trying to pull the perp out. As he began to emerge, you could just hear the police chiefs in about 13 local jurisdictions utter a silent prayer, Please don't let him be black on national television.

Well of course he was black. And just plain gigantic. More huge in fact than any two of the white policemen. As soon as the swarm of officers saw just how huge and how black he was, they all jumped on him, all 87 of them. I think they call it a Blue Scrum. Another little prayer, Please don't everybody beat on him half to death.

No one hit him. He calmed down pretty quickly after throwing off the first few cops like they were little kids and then getting tackled. The Blonde lost interest, and it was back to gas prices and Congress. Oh yeah, and the war. Rick Macherat Rick M. In the day. RMacherat


Tuesday, September 24, 2013

Post  #2664.   Another quote.      The Good Lord made old age so awful and young people so monumentally annoying that when it comes time to go, we pretty much move along peaceably, and He appreciates that.Rick Macherat Rick M. In the day. RMacherat


Sunday, September 22, 2013

Post  #2663.   Soap.      Try this one,
► Making the very simple complicated is easy
► Making the complicated simple is brilliant
and thus Ivory introduces you to its new version of soap. If that isn't classy enough for you, they even translate it into French. I composed a third line,
► Taking fetid factory and barnyard products and making them soapy and smelling like a warm summer breeze wafting over roses is miraculous.
Aren't you being a little hard on Ivory soap? I wrote to them, you know. Never answered. All I wanted to know was if they stashed any of the old Ivory, the Legacy Ivory, Classic Ivory, True Ivory (for the search) somewhere, so old true users might have just one little innocent lather before they pass on. Money no object, as if that would matter. It's clear to me now, the Top People at Ivory stashed plenty of Classic Ivory all right, in their private vaults two levels beneath their safe rooms at hideaway apocalypse estates far up in the hills. Tons of it, for them and their progeny until the end of time.

Meanwhile, I vigorously rubbed up the last few feeble bubbles of my last bar today. It was so .. soapy .. sweet, and unscented, just like a baby. Or like a baby used to be. From now on you will close your eyes and instead of precious babysmell you'll get a snoutful of China.

Since I wrote this, several years ago, the soap is almost back to normal. They have taken 99/44% of the China out, OR it has a new secret ingredient which causes us to think so. Rick Macherat Rick M. In the day. RMacherat



Post  #2662.   This sounds familiar somehow ..      Starting last Sunday, this has been running in our paper. Since it is the only paper left, just about everyone heard about,
Sunday - Crisis in state adult family homes
Monday - Horror stories from adult family homes
Tuesday - They "fell through the cracks," says state about adult family homes
Wednesday - Families say, "We care so you don't have to," pitch Not True
Thursday - Records show money, felons and other unsavory issues involved
Friday - Governor forms Commission to study adult family homes
Tuesday - Paper wins award for adult family homes report


Monday, September 16, 2013

Post  #2661.   Deux hommes.      What shall we do, Raoul? What shall we do!? Let me tell you what we shall do. We will say the Hell with the Army, the Hell with the Church, forget our friends and families and others who would wish us ill. We shall surrender to our passion and learn to enjoy head-to-foot, in-and-out all that our bodies have to offer. We shall swill our sweat and spittle and other fluids with abandon. And then ...

And then?

And then, my dear Andre, when we are discovered, we shall kill ourselves. Dramatically.

It's Raoul. Sounds Like a plan. Wait a few while I call Mother and tell her I'll be late.Rick Macherat Rick M. In the day. RMacherat


Saturday, September 14, 2013

Post  #2660.   Johnny Cash, Jr.      A boy named Shaquelle. Really. Shaquelle Evans, a wide receiver for the UCLA Bruins. Tough break. From Inglewood, too.

The baby boom generation, moving through the stages of life like a rodent through a Giant Anaconda.

Got nothing today, case anyone noticed. Just waiting for a football game in which I feel at least some remote connection. Fragments, the fragments of sentences of the days of our lives. Cue music. 99% chance this gets deleted. In the meantime, click on the Archives link above for a couple thousand previous posts which at least involved some mental effort.Rick Macherat Rick M. In the day. RMacherat


Tuesday, September 10, 2013

Post  #2659.   More RIP.      Some more folks got shot around here, yes, two more. The rain pretty much washed away the impromptu gutter memorial for the youngster shot Thursday as well as much memory of him having ever having been among us. These new shootings will probably be remembered for a little longer than usual, perhaps even beyond the next ones which will likely be this evening with it being Tuesday night and all, mainly because the people were somewhat whiter and less poor. That's the way it works. Also, they were standing in the street in a much better neighborhood.

I don't know this for an absolute and true fact but only supposing because of years of experience, but the circumstance of white people getting shot downtown only a few blocks from five television stations managed to draw every Medic One unit for miles in all directions. It didn't matter whether they were CPR'ing some old lady, scooping a bum out of the lake or whatever. So there's that. I'm guessing this yet another thing you're bitter and cynical about? You'd be guessing about right.Rick Macherat Rick M. In the day. RMacherat


Tuesday, September 03, 2013

Post  #2658.   What I started.      My teenaged great-grandson was watching me pay the bills. He is somewhat beyond the typical age where one would be interested in what a decrepit old man was doing, but he is a sweet boy. Little dim. I mused, "You know, Lancelot, back when your great-grandmother used to do this, she tasted like stamps the whole rest of the day." He was interested, "Why was that, great-grandfather?" (Should I? Why not?) "I've never told this to anybody, son, but great-grandmother had a drug problem." His eyes widened noticeably as the weight of it sunk in. I continued, "She was hooked on the glue and would actually lick the stamps before sticking them on her letters. Pitiful, really. Wrote letters day and night to just about anybody."

Skipping forward, naturally they're all doing it now. The neighborhood kids filch thirty-nine bucks from their folks' wallets or purses and slink off somewhere to lick a whole roll at a time. Pretty harmless, actually, and it benefits the post office. My own grandmother would approve since she was always putting on a little extra postage to help out the Post Office.

When I first wrote this, way back in the year 2005, postage actually was 39 cents. Imagine that. And Lancelot is coming up on seventeen now and trying very hard to make me a great-great grandfather. Rick Macherat Rick M. In the day. RMacherat


Sunday, September 01, 2013

Post  #2657.   "some real strange and filthy searches with speling errors"      Mine is still the only post in the history of the world which has this expression. That's actually kind of a powerful thought on a dull evening, and I'm fairly certain it will remain so as long as there are electrons. Rick Macherat Rick M. In the day. RMacherat



Post  #2656.   To-do list (geriatric version)      Now that I'm officially old in every way, physically, psychologically etc., I thought it was time to re-visit my unofficial list, especially since I almost rammed another car while traversing a roundabout today. Who thought those things would be practical and cute anyway? Earlier, while sitting at one of those interminable seven-lane by seven-lane intersections, watching the cars turn left, I was struck by how small, ugly and ridiculous they all are. When we imagined cars of the 21st century back in the 1950's, believe me, this is not what we had in mind. What a huge disappointment.
Go to a rave. This might be fun, except they don't even start until quite late, after The Tonight Show even.

Get drunk and go to a rave, do every drug there, pass out in a park.

Scratch going to a rave.

Express shock at some behavior, e.g., Miley Cyrus. People don't realize that our expressed shock is merely going through the motions. We don't really care. Seen worse anyway.

State an opinion. We are fully aware that the youngsters don't want to hear it, yet we do it anyway. Can't stop.

Explain how something used to be. See above.
Earlier, when I was washing dishes and thinking about some interesting things, this topic came into my head and truly sounded like it might have some potential. Sorry, turns out it didn't. But now that I've typed all this crap, I'm not going to get rid of. So, that's post #2656.Rick Macherat Rick M. In the day. RMacherat



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