In the day
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?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.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 comedyAny 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 dogGroup Two is wandering the empty streets of Seattle. A member of this group spots a dog as well. The group
Catches the dogRick 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."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 go 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 easyand 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, 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, 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.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
Sunday, August 25, 2013
Thursday, August 22, 2013
Post #2654. What is there to say. I came across a new expression today while researching the idea of 20 or 25 people getting married. My question was whether to allow them each to claim all the others as dependents for Federal Income Tax purposes. I was leaning toward a no on that. Anyway, this ..
Fluid bonding is one of the most contentious issues in Polyamory.It went on. As if there was any need to.Rick Macherat Rick M. In the day. RMacherat
Tuesday, August 20, 2013
Post #2653. The little girl. This is a very sad, true story. If you've just had a Monday, do not read it. You don't need any more crap today.
She was a little doll ... and so brave. Her father was a policeman, so naturally there was a huge support group for the family. Probably every officer on the force knew her and prayed for her. That would be "prayed" in the modern sense, of course, which means she crossed their mind sometimes. Hey, that's good enough for these days.
Eventually, the time came. The cancer had advanced to the point, well, she had only a few days left. A party was planned - with all her favorite people and all her favorite things. That was enough of a "wish" for this little angel. It was set up rather hurriedly for Wednesday since she might even be dead by the weekend. But FIRST, she had to go in for the last CHEMO. Yes, there was one session left in this schedule. Her dad took her in, and we heard she was brave and did fine, as always, then threw up all night. She was still a little weak and upsetty during the party, but darned if she didn't buck up just for all the friends and family. Sadly, there was a wait for the cake as she had to throw up again, and she also threw up the cake, but that was pretty much the only low point. Except for the goodbye's. Lots of held-back tears. Then, everyone was gone.
She died the next morning.
I don't go to doctors anymore.Rick Macherat Rick M. In the day. RMacherat
Sunday, July 28, 2013
Post #2652. An Inspector Clouseau moment. There was a heist this weekend at a not-as-posh-as-before hotel on the French Riviera. Fifty-three million dollars worth of jewels was stolen.
In apparently unrelated news, members of a notorious jewel robbery gang have escaped from prison.Rick Macherat Rick M. In the day. RMacherat
Saturday, July 27, 2013
Post #2651. Smoke. It's a fine restaurant, so they say. That's why it is always packed and hard to get into during peak times. Table 21, party of four, came in somewhat later. They were a little loud at first but became quite subdued when the food arrived. It generally had that effect, hence the reputation. After a long while and the last bite all around, the cigarettes came out. Mr. and Mrs. Blond and Mrs. Gray. Mr. was a pipe guy. He didn't pipe at dinner. Waiter saw the three clouds of blue rise, followed by the that *smell*. It would take all he had to keep it zippy and sweet and secure the big bucks he had worked his phony bony ass off for. I make him phony with a bony ass because he's the one. The one what? The non-smoker no-smoking zealot who always ends up getting the gasmask zone.
First cigarette stubbed out in the remains of a baked potato. Nice. This will be a long one. Desert? No, second smoke with second cup of coffee. Minimum wage for waithelp is $5.67. Eleven bucks of my life, he thought.
But our tiny story has a happy ending. Just as the third light-up was to begin, Mrs. Gray, former waitress, noticed the check, slipped in her American Express card and waved the fancy folder. Waiter was at the table in eight seconds, smile-smile-smile-wink/smile, to the cashier, back to table, watching like a hawk, yes! signed, back to table, more smiles, do come back soon, outta there, caught the midnight bus, home.
We'll miss nights like that, great dinner, great company, great waiter, great smokes. No we won't. Don't be so sure. Imagine a world where people finish their coffee, visit for a brief time, then just leave. Yawn. That's how it is now already. I rest my case. Rick Macherat Rick M. In the day. RMacherat
Friday, June 07, 2013
Post #2650. Thumbtacks can fail. Reader advisory: If you are a bit of a neurotic nutcase like me and subject to unreasonable adventures of the mind and resulting behavior over small things, stop here.
I was thumbtacking one time, and the tack wouldn't go in. I pushed harder and then real hard. It gave, only it gave by blasting through the head and knifing deep into my thumb. Shock, horror, pain and blood. Lots of blood. The incident itself, gruesome as it was, got over with. No tetanus. The point of the post is that such an experience lasts FORever. You can never use, see or even think about another thumbtack without getting a full memory visual of the whole violent scene. It's been years for heaven's sake.
Tonight, while looking for a thumbtack, it all came back, as usual, but so also did another thing. I found an empty thumbtack package. Now, who left that, huh? What kind of thoughtless sicko uses the last tack and replaces the empty package? Probably you? Oh, no no no no, not me. Another nutcase issue. I buy two of everything, all the way up to microwaves, to make sure I don't run out. Two of everything? At least. Some items call for four or six. Or 36, especially with free shipping. You're quite old, aren't you? Not Quite Old but, yes, oldish. Why? No reason. Just thinking aloud. It isn't like I'm really here, you know.Rick Macherat Rick M. In the day. RMacherat
Thursday, May 09, 2013
Post #2650. Just for the Search. I've been meaning to type this:
Note: This formula is very useful when writing about Eternity. It is not my own; it belongs to a very smart Canadian. Contact me for his information. Isn't that just a cheap way to get comments? Maybe.Rick Macherat Rick M. In the day. RMacherat
Tuesday, April 30, 2013
Post #2649. Annual Report Tips. This paragraph is from my favorite annual report, favorite because I do have quite a few electrons there. The section:
At December 31, our available-for-sale investments included an investment in mandatorily redeemable preferred stock of ATA. During the second quarter of 2004, our assessment of ATA's continued financial difficulties led us to conclude that the unsecured preferred stock investment maturing in 2015 was other-than-temporarily impaired. Accordingly, we recorded total pre-tax non-cash charge to asset impairment expense of $47, resulting in a reduction of the carrying value to zero.would have been clearer if they had preceded it with:
We were planning on filling up several good-sized wheelbarrows with $47,000,000.00 in 100-dollar bills and rolling them out to the east parking lot and then setting them afire for the Friday BBQ, but instead we did this. Sorry.Rick Macherat Rick M. In the day. RMacherat
Tuesday, April 16, 2013
Post #2648. For the ages. If you're around in the early part of the 21st Century, you know what this expression means. If you are a time traveler, look it up. The .. event ... conjures up so many words: ugh. gross. justice. wow. ironic. dayum. ouch. I've provided all 112 spellings:
•Qaddafi, Muammar enemaRick Macherat Rick M. In the day. RMacherat
Monday, April 15, 2013
Post #2647. Sir Jim. Our perpetual Congressman, Hon. Jim McDermott (D-Seattle) has been knighted by the King of Lesotho. Henceforth, he may add to his list of honors: Knight Commmander of the Most Dignified Order of Moshoeshoe. Since he is congressman-for-life here locally, he is able to spend most of his time in Africa. He is a psychiatrist.
You might remember: Friday, April 20, 2007. In Washington State, we care about the fish and animals, and hang the cost, doggone it. One million dollars per salmon? Yur darned tootin,' whatever it takes. For example, the multimillion dollar project to reintroduce pygmy rabbits to the scrub flats of Eastern Washington is not going to be deterred by the fact that 14 of the first 20 rabbits were quickly devoured by predators. So long as the money and new GPS devices to replace those also apparently eaten holds out.
There's news. Federal officials have approved a plan for the rescue. I read it. There may be news, but I'm afraid I cannot tell you that there's hope. The press release uses the word "managing" three times in quick succession as well as "program," "collaborating" and "developing." Nowhere in the vast scale of the exercise is there any hint of "going outside." So, they're not getting into boots and rugged clothing and crawling around in the sand and sagebrush, looking for tiny rare rabbits? Rabbit. There's one rabbit left. No, I'm so sorry; it's all memos and meetings. In fact, can you imagine what it would take to get a Washington bureaucrat from there to the wild badasslands of Eastern Washington? The best part of the whole plan is this:
As part of the draft recovery plan, federal officials will continue to pursue cooperation with land owners in the rabbit's historic range under a "safe harbor" agreement which allows landowners, after a survey of their land for any wild rabbits, to pay $50 for a permit to be absolved of any harm for violating the Endangered Species Act if they incidentally kill or hurt a rabbit while operating their farm. The remaining rabbit would probably appreciate that.
The new hotel in Dubai, the one with the giant sail ... I checked on a standard room, wife and kids: $4,084.74 a night. "Published Rate is subject to 10% Municipality Fee and 10% Service Charge and is inclusive of complimentary parking and access to the beach." I wonder if we'll get pillow mints?
There was a house advertised in the real estate section which I couldn't believe: 3br/2ba, meticulously remodeled, only $215,000. Then I noticed the address: 17711 - 648th Lane Northeast. A bit out of the way.
Finally, residents were evacuated for about five hours when David Hahn,
the "Radioactive Boy Scout," was caught trying to steal a smoke detector. Once again, ignorant hysteria. Nuclear energy is perfectyl safe when employed properly.Rick Macherat Rick M. In the day. RMacherat
Sunday, April 14, 2013
Post #2646. From the what I should have said file. We were out of town at the spring basketball tournament, having lunch in a cafeteria. I was last to reach the table, and as I started to sit, my coach said, out of the blue, "You know, you have all the sexual appeal of a man or a woman." My teammates' faces were in their food and remained there during this Dickensian moment and for the rest of the meal pretty much. The remark was all the more amazing since Coach rarely spoke to me at all, I was that poor a player.
Tonight, 52 years later, I finally have what I should have said. Remember now that certain word-bombs were rarely used in those days, certainly never by milquetoast me. Coach, thank you. That means a lot, especially coming from you. Now tell me, what the fuck are you talking about?Rick Macherat Rick M. In the day. RMacherat
Wednesday, March 27, 2013
Post #2645. Oh, sure. Things are just fine. Statement came today from a small credit union account I have. About $2500. The interest earned was 17¢. Seventeen cents! It cost them ... heck, I don't know anymore, about fifty cents to mail the statement. I don't know and I frankly don't even care. I order Forever stamps online about once every three years, pay for them online, never see a denomination. I've written exactly four checks in the last three years. My money is all electrons. I shop almost exclusively online. The UPS man comes often, I know, because I hear the bump and find the packages.
Am I even still here? How would one know?Rick Macherat Rick M. In the day. RMacherat
Friday, March 22, 2013
Post #2644. Just one more brief bitch before bedtime?. The little boy, seven years old, who swam from Alcatraz Island to San Francisco? You saw that story? Heartwarming. All throughout the swim, the news kept reminding us that this was ONE of the youngest blah-ditty-blah-blah. Why do they do that? Is it too much trouble to look it up? Chances are the kid is indeed THE youngest person to make the swim, I mean, c'mon. Or why not even throw everything out there, take a huge chance and without even looking it up, announce that this was indeed THE BIGGEST PLANE EVER TO CRASH IN DIPSHIT COUNTY or THE MOST CATTLE EVER TO BURN UP IN A COLLISION ON THE 274 BYPASS or we get it.
We know how he goes on and all, but it should be mentioned that little Angela Carson used to swim from Alcatraz every day to attend kindergarten in San Francisco while her father worked a a guard on the Island. Wow, really? Howcum this never made any news? Well, it would have except she didn't come home that one day.Rick Macherat Rick M. In the day. Jesse Berg would like this story. RMacherat
Saturday, March 16, 2013
Post #2643. The Lesson. Today, Friday, was the day I made a Major Financial Milestone, thanks to the active stock market. It was also the day I Peed In My Pants. Twice. Thanks to thinking I was still twenty-five. What's the lessson here? I'm not sure exactly. It's just that going from Royally pissed-off, literally, to elation of the highest order and then back to pissed-off said something about life that needed to be recorded. Rick Macherat Rick M. In the day. RMacherat
Thursday, January 31, 2013
Post #2642. Just in time. My favorite-of-all-time Seattle picture by Seasun was about to fall off the bottom of the page. From there, I believe it would have been whisked off to the archives, wherever they heck they are, to be lost forever. My offer of $1.00 for anyone who knows how to put a simple "To the Archives" link on this thing is still open. No fancy, sectioned-off page with crazy fonts. Just a link.
Rick Macherat Rick M. In the day. RMacherat
Post #2641. Rick and Kathy and Ted. So, Ted was our Director of Personnel (who should have known better,) and Kathy was the Assistant Front Office Manager (and incredibly hot.) At our inevitably out-of-control office Christmas party, one thing led to another, and Kathy saw Ted’s dick. I know this because Kathy (my closest friend at work) told me in the course of an unrelated conversation that he had a small one. A small what? I asked. Small dick, she replied, quite offhandedly. How do you know? I demanded. So she gave me all the details about the abortive make-out session in the pantry, etc. Quite a bonerific story, actually.
Ted, with whom I was also close, was otherwise pretty doggone hot himself, and now I knew he had a small dick. Strange feeling, you know, sitting there in my office, having a meeting, just the two of us. Me and Ted, Ted with a small dick, me with a normally-sized one. So, you and Kathy.. haw-haw, I leered. Followed was some back and forth where he tried to get at what I knew and I tried to make like I knew more than I wanted to reveal, and so on. Later, he went to see her and wanted to know what she told me. She assured him that she had said nothing and that I must have seen the two of them sneaking out through the kitchen. I had mentioned that as well, so he bought it.
He seemed much more at ease when we met again. But, I couldn’t resist saying as he left, Seriously, Ted, I don’t know anything about it. Gosh but he was fun, and I was so evil in those days. There are more stories about Kathy, Ted and me. And finally, when it was time for us each to move on, I had never actually had either of them. Dang, so sad, thinking back. Course, we're all older than dirt now.Rick Macherat Rick M. In the day. RMacherat
Monday, January 28, 2013
Post #2640. The Internet seems more brilliant every day, doesn't it?
It seems a doctor was shot today. It also seems that some people were sold, as part of their Internet advertising plan, space on pages where the word "Doctor" is used. So, the Southern California shooting references a [ENTER YOUR LOCALITY HERE] shooting which never happened, followed by about 65 ads. I'm not complaining. It's capitalism at its best, and it keeps all money from medical waste, fraud and abuse churning through the economy. Did you know that Internet ads get paid when someone clicks on the link, and the price for that is a lot higher than you would imagine, like $8-$10 per hit, something like that. So, of course, I help business & commerce as much as possible by clicking on lots of ads, especially the annoying ones. Rick Macherat Rick M. In the day. RMacherat
Wednesday, January 02, 2013
Post #2639. New Years is a very long day. Friends, a few posts ago, I made reference to a Dr. Dwarkanath S. Parapurath Kovummal-Rajiv. This name was completely made-up, as least as completely made-up as I could have possibly made it at the time. It got searched. I am not kidding. Guess with a billion people, just about any combination of letters could be someones name. Sorry about that. I'm sure he's an excellent doctor.
I must also apologize for everything else, because for some reason this site got really visited all of a sudden. Like 14 hits in one day, my regular tally for six or eight months. And usually most of those are just young men who have mistakenly typed in one or more of my made-up words by mistake and put them with something horny in a neverending quest for p0rn. I would quite likely have been doing the same thing fifty or sixty years ago if we had these contraptions then instead of Kinsey. pitures of women in swetters or petal pushers.
Doctor came by, on my birthday. And that's the only thing which happened on my birthday. I was not looking forward to having to confess stopping one of his meds completely and cutting back on the other since they almost killed me. He thinks I'm a hypochrondriac, but he took it quite well, actually. I think he has some other patients now. Plus a new baby. I laughed at him when he tried to stifle a yawn. A yawn which I interpreted as due to his having been sleep-deprived for the past two weeks and not entirely because I am terminally boring.
We had a little traffic episode in town yesterday which prompted the eternal question, Yeah, well howcum when a car runs away and the driver insists they were standing on the brakes and never touched the accelerator and they slammed it into Park and turned off the key even, it still runs wildly down the street, across the divider and about 25 feet into the pizza parlor and the drivers are always old? Huh? What about that? And we back-atcha, Younger drivers have just as many runaways, only THEY claim that they weren't even in the car at that time and it just leapt from the curb and roared down the street and through the busy intersection and right into the pizza parlor, that's howcum. So it happened in town yesterday, like I said, and the driver was ... oldish, about my age ... only it was a HYBRID. The first runaway hybrid. Turns out the car was only one day old. This might prove to be a bit embarrassing for our side. I can imagine getting distracted say by a passerby, say in pedal pushers, and not hearing any sound whatever from the car, subconsciously assuming, since so much of driving is indeed subconscious, that it wasn't running or moving at all. Yes, I can imagine that happening. This will be solved quite easily by putting a good throaty muffler on all hybrids for seniors.
For some reason, people have the idea that this problem began with the inauguration of President Bush and his signing of an Executive Order mandating substandard facilities and care system-wide to take effect immediately and only now has the Washington Post discovered it. Sorry, but that isn't how it went. For instance, I had a bit of surgery as a child and it still hurts 59 years later. Adhesions. Of course, this was at Roswell, and granted things at that hospital were a little disordered at that particular time. For all I know they took something and grafted it into an alien, or vice-versa.
Point is, military hospitals are crappy, always have been and always will be. Take, for example, your typical small town civilian hospital, staffed by doctors who weren't good enough to get into anyplace big and shiny and who feel put upon having to care for all these dirty, poor people. For free. Worse still, imagine this: you're in medical school, and the military is giving you a full ride in exchange for a few years of treating generally healthy, fit young men and women; it'll be MASH with no war. Whoopee! So, you get there and who do you end up treating? Dependents. Women who seem always to be pregnant and kids, hordes of kids with perpetual runny noses. Think you'll get Mayo Clinic care there? Add to that living in government quarters [instead of the customary fine home by the lake,] wearing rank and generally having to behave officery and working somewhere near 40 hours a week with very little golf and certainly not golf at any of the best links. Then add the bureaucracy, gawd the bureaucracy. Some proportion of these doctors actually find a home in the military, like it or at least settle for it, and then they get promoted. A lot. They are the ones who direct all that paper. Take a marginally competent professional who has been promoted [thankfully] out of doing whatever it is he isn't very good at doing into Administration where he can misperform Administering to his heart's content and at least isn't hurting anyone so they let him be, and there you have the paperwork nightmare. This will never end either, no matter how many commissions are set up.
If you've gotten this far and maybe are getting a little mad because you know better, or differently, the blog should mention the exceptions. There are some EXTRAORDINARY individuals in military medicine. Saints, really. Doing it, and doing it so wonderfully well, just because they love it and they care and actually seem to Have Been Called To It if you believe in that stuff. And if in the course of your career you encounter one or more of these people, well, good for you. Thankfully, quite a number of them happen to be in Afghanistan right now.
Sister-in-law is an inveterate forwarder. If I didn't get some lame thing from her for a day or two I'd have to send the police to check/see if she had died. This afternoon I got that video you've probably seen - the one on technology and how everything is increasing exponentially, accompanied by some annoying Irish folk music. Normally pleasant if you've had a few. Not only does she forward relentlessly, she is a lazy forwarder, the worst kind. She leaves all the previous stuff and pages of email addresses on it. Who are all these people I'm sure I don't want to know and certainly don't want to have my address? Anyway, the email got titled "Check out this technology thing" somewhere along the way, and in the copy I eventually received a lot of people had included comments .. "Wow," "This is so kewl," etc. Momentarily I considered adding, "RE: The technology thingy; we are so screwed," decided against it.
One of the factoids in the video was the statistic claiming 20% of the people at any job site are new, and 50% have been there less than five years. Customers would probably reply, "That long?"
While the technology-is-scary-and-relentless video was playing, my eye drifted off to the side of the page to one of the advertisements, promoting
Free Stuff - Free Condoms!!! - Playboy Pics Cell Phone - Free SEXY Ringtones - Free Movie Tickets - *HOT* Rock Ring Tones - SEXY Girls Text Message - Hot NEW Sidekick III - Free Playstation 3 - Free Nintendo Wii - 1000s of Ringtones - Free *HOT* Ring Tones - Cool Blue Phone - Free Laptop - HOT Sexy Neighbors
I don't think that weary, inevitable and ironic juxtaposition of ideas really requires any comment, do you?
You may have noticed that the staff here at In the Day didn't have a Big Party with balloons and bawdiness when the 2,000th post was published. No, we wouldn't do that here. Maybe we'll have some coffee cake and tea when someone comes by and actually reads one. But what about the day you had 14 hits? Sadly, I'm akamai enough to realize that a hit with a presence and elapsed time of, say, zero seconds only means that you inadvertently put in a word or phrase which piqued the momentary electro- curiosity of a search engine which then added your blurb to the results list on someones query. 99.999% of the time they never get to your site. My, that is sad.
Did you know that ringtones are now a billion dollar industry? Think about that as you consider the 6.5 billion of us flailing headlong into the future of an uncertain technological world where most of us can't Fix Anything.
[Added a few moments later.] I got to wondering about the expression, "inveterate forwarder." Did that pop into my head clean or was it simply recalled and passively plagiarized by me from a hundred other places? Doesn't matter. Yes it does. Went to Google of course and guess what? I'm only the second person in the history of typed and searched wordage to use the expression. In honor of the occasion, I should introduce the person who used it the first and only other time, Bill Doskoch [sounds like a made-up name, it isn't. He's a Canadian, writes better than I do, but then he does it for a living.]Rick Macherat Rick M. In the day. RMacherat
Monday, December 31, 2012
Post #2638. More wurds. This blog has always attempted to bring along new things about words and language that readers may not have discovered elsewhere. The word tonight is Xacuabš. It is from the Lushootseed language and means "great amount of water." It makes a good name for a large lake. This is a geographic reference and would not be used for a flood or personal accident. Interesting how native peoples were able to form in a single word an expression which takes an entire phrase for us.
Happy New Year y'all. Rick Macherat Rick M. In the day. RMacherat
Saturday, December 15, 2012
Post #2637. 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 forty-some 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, his father and the two EMT 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
Friday, December 14, 2012
Post #2636. Late night habits. I've become a creature of habit, and one of these is doing the dishes at 1:45 in the morning. I'm not the only one around here fixed at that time.
Our long-surviving rat gets up and takes a dump at that exact time as well. He is amazingly regular. Stinks up the whole house for about half an hour. You wouldn't think something so tiny .. anyway .. eventually I'll get him. I've dispatched two of his relatives in as many days. The second one is dead, electrocuted, in the box with the blinking red light next to the dining room wall. I'm just not up to dealing with it tonight. I'd rather type. The one I caught yesterday was stuck on a glue board. Unsettling. He screamed constantly as I put him in a bag for disposal.
The third character in our 1:45am confluence is the old lady who lives in the house behind me, She gets up, goes outside, lights a cigarette and coughs her guts out non-stop until it's smoked. It's one of those awful, long, wet, old lady coughs like nails on a chalkboard. I've seen her. She's a hag. Looks just like she sounds. She does this every night, even when it's far befow freezing with feet of snow on the ground. I know that some night, eventually, I won't hear her. Wonder who'll go first?Rick Macherat Rick M. In the day. RMacherat
Tuesday, December 11, 2012
Post #2635. Sweatin' like a prize hog. Wonder what rich people do? I mean when they buy a small appliance which is, of course, made in China and broken down so it can be shipped within rectangular constraints. Do they have people for that too? I'm too ingravescent to type out the whole thing. Besides, it's been done. What I want to know is how we got to this point and why we continue to put up with it. Most of the vaunted productivity gains of the past quarter century have been achieved simply by transferring the grunt work to the consumer, and we're thrilled with all the money we save. Some thrill. I'd throw open the window and do a howardbeale if it would make any difference.
On the upside, the small appliance was a fan.
All that was just a distraction. What I wanted to type about was my new book. I have a couple of beginnings begun:
Upon landing on the promising planet, the space survey team quickly discovered a race of sentient beings who typed into their television sets too.Only you have to be in the right mood for sci-fi, so that's as far as I got with Space Bureaucrats. Then,
The dominatrix was cross and impatient tonight. This could spell trouble. The lovingly creepy smile which had so enchanted him before seemed more ominous as he struggled to remember the safe word.Again, going nowhere. They say write what you know, but 260 pages on shrubbery? I know, a shrubbery mystery! I'll get back to you.Rick Macherat Rick M. In the day. RMacherat
Thursday, November 22, 2012
Post #2634. Everyone is counting blessings today. Including our murderers on-the-run community who have to be thrilled at this news. The text of the article (click to expand) says that the cold case squad has run out of funding and will disband at the end of the year.
In other news, the sixth class of officers will begin sensitivity trainng this week. Officials estimate the entire force will have completed the classes by next summer, and funds have become available for training on Environmental Awarenesss at that time.
You're being silly about the training, right? They aren't really doing this. Are they? Did I mention this is Seattle?Rick Macherat Rick M. In the day. RMacherat
Saturday, November 17, 2012
Post #2633. Raining tonight. In Seattle. The kind of rain where it has rained all day, rained all evening, and now it is getting wired up to rain all night. It will plink on the leaves and tap on the grass and then make that lovely whooshing tire sound when the rare car goes by. Who would want to go anywhere? It is dark as outer space, very chilly, and wet as only it can get wet in this town. Probably somebody heading out for the graveyard shift. I've done graveyard in Seattle. Spooky, cold and weirder than many other places. Oh, and wet.
Anyway, after it finishes raining all day, raining all evening, and finally raining all night long, you will get up and look in the in the morning paper and it will say .01 inch.Rick Macherat Rick M. In the day. RMacherat
Thursday, November 15, 2012
Post #2632. Quiz. Who made the following statement?
WHAT WE ARE FACING IS A PLANETARY EMERGENCY.Rick Macherat Rick M. In the day. RMacherat
Friday, November 02, 2012
Post #2631. Et tu, Prudential? 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. RMacherat
Wednesday, October 31, 2012
Post #2630. About A blog for Peace. There is a kind of funny story to go along with that one.Rick Macherat Rick M. In the day. RMacherat
Post #2629. Sleepy Hollow When I remember being out at night in my wasted youth, sometimes it causes a little shiver. Especially when watching the late news with the sound turned down, in October. If you allow yourself to personalize the stories, some people have had very unfortunate luck and maybe one of their worst days ever. Bullet holes in the car tell one story. So does a picture of another car which evidently rolled over at least once. Imagine finally getting home after everything involved with an episode like that. Most events after midnight involve a car, like being shot at from one even. None of those things ever happened to me. I never got stopped, even with my head hanging out the window trying to remain conscious. Never hit, got hit or shot at. Yes, I am completely aware of the good fortune which smiled and am grateful for it every day.
Some virtual friends of mine have had a rough couple of months - all of 2012 really. Cars, products, sickness. I was going to leave a comment saying that their last illness sounded a lot like the beginnings of the male menopause - decided against. Why ruin their next two decades? Two decades? Yeah, they don't tell you that. The ladies get over it in a few years max, but for us it goes on and on and on with new things one after another for at least 25 years. Then we die. The good thing is that we don't get the moods. All through the entire epic torture, worry and misery we retain the good humor of our normal pleasant selves. Rick Macherat Rick M. In the day. RMacherat
Saturday, October 13, 2012
Post #2628. A blog for Peace. So, what about the Indians, huh? And then there was slavery. Not to mention Texas which we took. We're not always right. In fact we're hardly ever right as we bully ourselves around the world. People just want to be happy and give peace a chance. It looks like the U.S. is going to bomb all the Iraqi children, and one blonde, just so Bush (who wasn't even elected, btw!!) can get the oil. Well, if that happens, I'm not buying any more oil. Nope, just gas for my Mini. Saddam is evil and we need to let the inspectors find all the weapons of mass destruction so the Iraqi people can vote him out. We need to have the UN handle the wars when there need to be wars which shouldn't be very often. We also need to follow what the UN says because all the elected countries are there, even the small ones. What did the Iraqis ever do to us? Nothing. It was the Arabs who caused 911. If we went to any country and bombed it, that would be the one, but we shouldn't because diplomacy is better. Look how few wars the French get into, and it's because they are experienced at diplomacy, something we could learn from. The money we spend over there should be spent on the homeless and the poor. If we took all that money and gave it to the poor, there wouldn't be any more poor. It's that simple. When you keep all the money and take the oil, it's no wonder they don't like us. Peace.Rick Macherat Rick M. In the day. RMacherat
Friday, October 12, 2012
Post #2627. Flatware. Yeah, I know no one comes in here, but just in case .. there is an American company still making table stainless steel flatware, barely. I bought some awhile back and I love it. So shiny.
So, go to Target or Silver Superstore and buy some. The company making the stuff is Sherill Manufacturing.Rick Macherat Rick M. In the day. RMacherat
Wednesday, October 10, 2012
Post #2626. Chase. I got a little taste of how things are for them today, the other half. Our amnemonic mailman, bless his heart, makes his delivery each afternoon and then all the ladies and a few gentlemen from the various houses meet and exchange all the mail back and forth until everyone has what belongs to them. Sometimes this goes awry, as it evidently did when Chase Bank mailed me my last credit card statement. I never received the bill, though no one in the credit world would ever believe such a lame one, or care; I certainly know that. Today I got the zinger, the type of statement that deadbeats get, including a $39.00 late fee and a $4.68 finance charge [with an effective Annual Percentage rate of 16.99% they were kind enough to inform me.] Those readers who know me suspect that this turn of events did not go over well. I had a brief surge of the old me, the indignant, letter-writing gadfly, but I'm just too old for the nonsense anymore. So, I just paid it. Then I cancelled the card, without drama. You have to be kidding. No drama!? Nope, I just called up "Jeffrey" in Bangalore where it was beastly early in the morning, had a nice chat and cancelled it. Didn't even tell him why.
Mr. James Dimon became Chairman of the Board of Chase on December 31, 2006, and has been Chief Executive Officer and President since December 31, 2005. Just so you know who runs this thing.
So, my forty-some bucks got added to the assets of J.P. Morgan Chase which, at the end of 2006, stood at $1198942000000.00. [They round amounts off to the nearest million.] In the old days, the company which preceded the Thing which J.P. Morgan Chase has become would have cared about losing a customer. Now that banks have pretty much supplanted The Mob and small time Loan Sharks and become Trillionesque Ongoing Criminal Enterprises, they recognize that 70,000 people are added to the population of the earth every day and they needn't worry about the few who slip off the edge. Like me. Rick Macherat Rick M. In the day. RMacherat
Tuesday, October 09, 2012
Post #2625. This got lost back when it snowed. I kidded around about the weather before, but it is feeling more serious tonight. Once the stories about last night got around, people were shaking their heads with wonder. Those football fans ... some of them didn't get home until morning, 9-10 hours after the game ended. And it wasn't simply because Seatleites are weather wimps. Hills. I would challenge anyone to master one of those hills. We can't even get our paper and mail.
Anyway, the rich part. They interviewed the Dept of Transportation spokesman. Amazing. He exlained, with a completely bland face, you know, the kind a typical oblivious governmnent employee would have, that the reason they had no trucks out is because their independent in-house weather service predicted rain. Later, of course, they could not get the trucks going because the tens of thousands of abandoned cars were in the way.
Friday, October 05, 2012
Post #2624. A sad state of affairs. Two words came to me today. The first one, BITCH used be applied when a very bad woman did or said something very, very awful. Now, it's just a synonym for woman. All women, any woman. The other one, BASTARD, was technically an unkind word used to define a person whose parents weren't married. Believe it or not, this used to matter. More generally, people were called that if they angered someone. Nowadays, if a teacher comes into the classroom and says, "All right, you litle bastards, time to get to work," technically this is very likely to be correct.Rick Macherat Rick M. In the day. RMacherat
Tuesday, September 25, 2012
Post #2623. Touchdown. I usually cut the Christians a break. Some of my friends .. well, Facebook friends anyway, a few of whom I haven't seen in over fifty years. After all, they haven't been admitted to the PC club and even the Muslims who, face it, really don't have a leg to stand on in the over-the-top department, feel free to attack them. Still, after tonight's game, the player who caught the game-winnning pass had this to say,
I feel Blessed to have been in the right position to catch that ball.Yeah. And I have it on good authority that God was so stoked that He leapt to His feet with a sublime shout of approval, spilling His beer.Rick Macherat Rick M. In the day. RMacherat
Friday, September 21, 2012
Post #2622. Or, when taint became a noun. You can look it up on dictonary-dot-com or go to the Urban Dictionary. They each have their perspective. However, Wikipedia wins, again. A complete academic discussion, with illustrations, detailing anatomy, physiology and function.
It's amazing how I am continually distracted by a stray thought when I'm on the way over here to type something for the ages.Rick Macherat Rick M. In the day. RMacherat
Saturday, September 15, 2012
Wednesday, September 12, 2012
Post #2620. We think you might not have cancer after all. Sorry about that. No, that isn't exactly how it went, but it might as well have. The rest did.
"Oo-ee Jake, come and looky at this 'un. Ever see a Melanoma like thet afore?"
"Nossir, I never did for sure."
Me: "Doctor, is that serious?"
"Serious? Serious!? Har-har ... son, yur dead! Oh, we'll still cut it off and do all the fine and expensive medical thangs, but there really is no hope. Now, you just go on home and wait for this here biopsy, y'hear?"
So, over the next TWO WEEKS I call them a couple of times. No word yet. I mention something about how the camel caravans must be getting stalled out of Ouagadougou because of the sandstorms and she says, "Uh-huh."
Finally, I get an e-mail, the understandable portion of which went:
Although atypical or dysplastic nevi and even some seborrheic keratoses and basal cell carcinomas as distinguished from melanoma via the technique of epiluminescence for Prognostic Factors as evidence of nodal metastases ..
Long short, when you tell your blog you have cancer, something which I never thought I would do - oh, I figured I would get cancer all right but would certainly not tell the blog not after all the things I've said about people who do that - and then you end up not having it after all you kind of feel obligated to do an Emily Litella, you know .. never mind.Rick Macherat Rick M. In the day. RMacherat
Tuesday, September 11, 2012
Post #2619. You need a grabber beginning. My new book came this morning, and I opened it to Page One just now. It didn't do anything for me. It seemed obvious that the author wadded up quite a few pieces of paper (or deleted a lot of lines) getting there. Oh, I know what it's all about, so it will deliver eventually. Got me to thinking though. You really do need a good start. Can’t beat It was the best of times, but that one is taken. So, I started with,
Slow going only few blocks from home, the a full stop-and-go routine. Nope, not gonna let it bother me this morning. There will be peace and contentment throughout this vehicle. "Hear that boys?" I said, checking the three of them in the mirror. I needn't have worried. They were great car kids. A few slow minutes pass, then we come up on the problem. Not fifteen feet away on the right they are pulling the disaster of a former car out from under the rear end of the semi. Holy shit, the whole top of the car is missing. Also missing are the tops of the people who were in the front seat.That's as far as I've gotten. Next, we arrive at the park. With 100,000 other people. Rick Macherat Rick M. In the day. RMacherat
Monday, September 10, 2012
Post #2618. Is this the end? It hasn't rained in Seattle for about 45 days. They say that will be changing very soon, perhaps tomorrow, with the "onshore push," "the low dipping down," whatever contrivance Mother Nature has planned for us this time. Good thing, because people are starting to get a little strange around here. Make that stranger. Some have started saying things, things just short of, "What if it never rains again.." See, they all love their Seattle weather, however much they complain about it. Without the relentless rain, we would just lay about in the sunny warmth and abuse all sorts of things we weren't meant to. The rain was responsible for grunge, all the music actually, Boeing, Nordstrom, Amazon, Microsoft. People would never have the ill will and grumpiness to get up at 3:30am to get to work in time to do London and Tokyo were it not for the perpetual gray and gloom.
I stuck my head out the door a few minutes ago. A typical Sunday evening, like no one even lives around here but me. Dark as pure evil, first chill of the season, a nasty little breeze cutting corners. Spooky, headless horseman night. I love it. Rick Macherat Rick M. In the day. RMacherat
Sunday, September 09, 2012
Post #2617. A pause for amazement. I do stop once in awhile, count blessings, and consider. Just finished the grocery order for Tuesday morning. With a few tiny movements of my hand, I selected all of this week's items and then proceeded to the payment page. Oh how nice - they already have my information entered so I don't even have to reach for my card. Just compare that with what it took my great-grandparents to do to fill a pantry. They were the last generation to farm. My mom was the last generation to push a cart. Me, I click, eat and surf weight-loss infomercials.
A young man of my father's generation might have a wonder, then hop on his bike and go down to the modest library to look it up. Time: ~an hour. Distance: ~a mile each way. Probability of finding a concise answer: low.
Me .. I groan if I have to get up and walk CLEAR across the room to do Google. If I can just get this network set up and use my smartphone, I won't ever have to get up. I can just search from over here to find weight-loss websites. What I need now is an app for that.Rick Macherat Rick M. In the day. RMacherat
Friday, September 07, 2012
Post #2616. More stories from the front. Now, I certainly don't want to be unkind, but from what I'm told, this is pretty much what you settle for ..
.. if you can't land yourself a boy.Rick Macherat Rick M. In the day. RMacherat
Sunday, September 02, 2012
Post #2615. A sick story (it's very late) I told you I might come back and delete this one, and now I have. Since the googlebot saw it, however, I fear it may linger in their basement for eternity. Rick Macherat Rick M. In the day.
Saturday, September 01, 2012
Post #2614. 41... Imagine this: people who haven't been out of doors for fifty or sixty years without being clad head to toe in GORE-TEX® have suddenly taken to running around with scarcely nothing on! Grossest thing you've ever seen. Yes, it has failed to rain in Seattle for 41 days. Not a driz. I am not kidding - who would kid about such a thing? You practically need two pair of dark glasses, one for the great scary shiny thing and a second for the skin, all that blotchy rolling pasty blazing skin. I expect when this is ends, and it Will End, surely, that some new laws will be enacted without delay.Rick Macherat Rick M. In the day.
Wednesday, August 29, 2012
Post #2613. Trying it again today. I usually check back with Frank Pilhofer at this point. Like me, he never throws anything away. Neither does Daniel Boese, smartest man in Canada. Also, it has to be this time of night. Doesn't seem to work when the world is awake. The reason we're re-visiting is that I watched a program on Chaos the other night, dumbed down for us ordinary folks, of course, and I had a reverse one-of-those-moments. See, I want to believe there is some Reason for it all, but dang ... they seriously made some thoughtful points.
Anyway, we know that our sun shoots out a trillion, trillion, trillion neutrino's every hour. Mark that number. Next, multiply it by 24, then 365. Next, add up the number of stars in the universe and multiply by that. Finally, multiply your result by d (or 3.15564768 x 10157; you know why,) where d comes from datapackrat, out of infinite respect. Finally, make a list to designate in three-dimensional space (while there still is space,) where each neutrino is. Sorry, was. Save. Rick Macherat Rick M. In the day.