Sunday, March 30, 2014

The Sunday Archive or Retort - 3/30/12




Getting Older Is Not a Felony






I wrote this a couple of years ago, back when I thought I was over the hill.

Now that I'm officially over the hill, falling down and can't get up...I thought it would be a good time to revisit it.

I don't think I can say it any better than this...although I'm sure I'll probably try.






From 3/30/12:

Getting Older Is Not a Felony




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Friday, March 28, 2014

Snowing Words





 
 
It’s snowing words…everywhere.

It’s actually worse than the wet, cold stuff we’ve all gotten so used to, this year.

This particular snow can’t be shoveled fast enough…except by the person who is shoveling it on top of you.

I’m talking about the runaround people give you when they’re trying to avoid discussing an issue.

No issue in particular…pick one…any one.

If they don’t want to discuss it or simply don’t have a cogent reply at hand…out comes the snow.

Piles and piles of snow on top of snow pile after snow pile….

You might have a different name for it.

But I think I’ll stick with snow.

I’ll start with lawyers, because in any discussion of this particular brand of snow that’s the first thing that pops into my head.

That and a pair of hip boots, because attorneys can pile it pretty deep.

Last year I spent a great amount of time dealing with a lawyer.

No…it had nothing to do with that incident with the cube steak and the Chihuahua.

This was about something else, altogether, concerning heady financial matters, and if you know me at all…you know that would have nothing to do with me, personally.

Anyway, if the lawyer, or more precisely, the lawyer’s paralegal who actually does 99% of the lawyering, without the credit, much less the money, called me and requested documents and or any sort of information, including my list of currently owned pre-Sgt. Pepper Beatle albums, in order of preference—which, to be honest, I found odd, because how do you not include Sgt. Pepper in that request—I would immediately drop what I was doing…napping is way over rated anyway—scan the requested items and instantly return e-mail the documents.

Then I would wait…and wait… and wait…and wait…sometimes for days…and not hear anything back… from a-n-y-b-od-y…..

But I was cool with that, I figured they were busy, you know, getting someone off for murder or something…or possibly saving some poor endangered species from extinction.

So I would wait about another 6 weeks or so, or at least until I brought all the crops in for the fall, and still nothing.

Finally, I would send a gentle little e-mail wondering what the status was.

Which would be followed by about 2 dozen return e-mails, apologizing for the delay, detailing the many reasons it couldn’t be avoided, along with a “rough” “tentative” time frame of things to expect down the road…as soon as I sent back the completed documents and forms they requested…which I had already returned 6 weeks previous and after the crops…including the list of Beatle albums.

When I would then politely respond that all of the requested material had indeed been returned weeks ago, and I had been patiently waiting for a response as to what the next steps were, I was told that of course they received the material and reviewed it all—twice—but were still trying to decide whether or not they should include Sgt. Pepper.

Ahhhhhhhhhh…I see.

Once all that was cleared up and I dug myself out of the snow pile, I would then move on to call the big important investment company that had asked me to “FAX”— because  most of these places are still stuck in the 90’s when it comes to proprietary technology— several of the legal documents in question, along with several signed releases, or whatever it is big important investment companies require you to send, which the big important investment company’s astute Customer Service Representative told me would be handled, post haste...because, let’s face it, nobody likes to do anything pre-haste, because there’s always a chance you could ruin the whole hasting experience by doing so.

Of course, once again, after waiting another 6 weeks and plowing the fields in order to plant next year’s crops, I still haven’t gotten any confirmation that my request had been granted or even received.

And, as before, I was cool with that, as well. These things take time, especially if you’re busy looking to find a way to take money from one account in order to pay another, without yet another account noticing that their Annuity Fund is now being calculated in penny denominations.

But, really…that’s on me. I guess I should have known that the WWBD on their business cards stood for …”What Would Bernie Do?”

So finally…again…I make a call and once again maneuver my way through the 90 minute maze of Convenient Automated Customer Service “Options” until I finally get to speak to a “real live” person.

So what if it was Hillary, the lady emptying out the office waste baskets…it was a person… a “real live” person.

Of course Hillary is just as flummoxed as I am about the whole situation and tells me she doesn’t know why anyone would have told me to fill out the XK-246-B-R forms, when my situation clearly called for the JHT-753-H short forms.

So Hillary, being the competent office wastebasket emptier that she is, sends me the proper forms and tells me to avoid the office fax machine, because it’s just too swamped and wisely advises that I send all my account information to hear private home Fax, which is less swamped.

So I did, and this time I only had to wait 3 weeks before I called to see what the deal was, which again was met with confusion and an absolute lack of knowledge about my situation.
 

They didn’t even know if a Hillary worked there or not.

Believe me I can’t make this stuff up…too much.

But I’m not that concerned, I’m pretty sure Hillary is on top of things because last time I checked all of my money had been moved out of the account.

So she must be working on something.

Who am I to question what?

So once that’s under control I have to call the credit card company…again…and get another run around from them as to why I’m getting all these charges from that resort in Costa Rica…

Just one more snow pile of words …piles and piles of snow on top of snow pile after snow pile….



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Tuesday, March 25, 2014

Spring Arrives…and Winter Waits






 
 
Spring arrived at 12:47 PM, this past Thursday.

I was outside standing directly in the apex of the little pyramid design I had built into the center of our back deck for occasions just like this. It helps me focus and better absorb the energy passing down from the Universe.

It also makes it easier for the returning, northbound Geese to target me, which I also take as a sign of good fortune…at least for the geese.

And, make of it what you will, I actually did feel a change at just the precise moment when our days and nights perfectly balanced into a pair of equal parts.

A sense of renewal and rebirth overtook me as the warm sun cut through the breeze and spread across my upturned face…along with the goose poop dripping off my ear.

Hey, it’s nature people…nobody said it was tidy.

And it was spring…finally…hopeful, emergent spring, arrived at last to replace a season that, let’s face it, no one really has a use for after the first of the year.

Yet, even so, it sticks around for nearly another 3 months, oblivious to our disdain, not to mention our datdain.

So when spring does arrive, one expects winter to take the hint and for all we care, let the door hit him in the—you know what—on the way out.

Except when I walked back inside to clean off the goose poop, who do I find sitting on the couch, munching on a left over corned beef sandwichon white, no less…with mayobut winter…stubborn, insolent winter…watching basketball.

Apparently, winter’s a big fan.

Who knew?

Shocked, I threw up my hands and said, “Winter…what the hell?  Spring just arrived and you’re sitting here watching basketball?”

Winter turned and shot me one of its patented, coldest stares, “It's the NCAA...duhhh…and if spring’s already on the job, why shouldn’t I enjoy the tournament.  Besides, I’ve got Dayton leading OSU at the half.”

Which, I understood.

Still, I looked right into winter’s dark soulless eyes and said, “With or without the points?”

“Of course, with the points,” winter replied, “You think I’m stupid…?”

“So you’ll be here for a while, then?”

“What’s it to you…what’s it to anybody for that matter?  Will you look at that call…that’s a charge, ref…anybody can see that’s a charge!”

“What’s it to me? What’s it to anybody?  We’re all sick of you…you with your freezing arctic vortexes, icy winds and endless snow storms…and anyone could see that was a block…he never had  his feet set.”

Winter, dead eyes still fixed on the game, said, “Look, I’m not due in the southern hemisphere for a while…at least another few months.  Fall just moved in down there and I’m not in any hurry to run into fall…especially since I still owe fall money. I never thought the Sox would take the Cardinals in six.” 

“I get that, too," I replied. "But you never bet against fall, especially when it comes to the World Series. I mean there’s a reason they call it the Fall Classic, you know.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah...now you tell me.”

“I mean come on…really?”

Winter turned towards me again, and now it was winter's turn to look me straight in the eyes and say,  “Listen, not that it's any of your business…but spring and I had ourselves a little “fling” of our own last March and most of April, and I was hoping to catch up and maybe…well, you know….”

“You and spring?” I said, maybe a bit too incredulously, which seemed to sting winter a little.

“Yes…me and spring…what’s so hard to believe about that?”

“Well, you’re both so different.  Spring is warm and hopeful…and you…you…you’re just cold and…let’s face it…depressing…on your best days.”

“Yeah, well, so what better tonic would there be for a dreary season like me than spring…huh?”

I just stood there, astounded, actually, over what I was hearing.

“Winter and spring…it’s just so—hey, is that why last April was so cold, for so long.”

Winter smirked, “Well, I don’t like to brag but—FOUL…THAT”S A FOUL!”

“Come on, he never touched him….”

“Look, I’m just taking a shot in the dark, here. I don’t think spring is gonna be all that happy to see me…not the way things ended.”

“It went bad?” I asked, feeling maybe just a tad sympathetic towards winter, as hard as that might be to believe.

“Once May came, all spring could talk about was, summer's on the way, I can’t wait for summer to get here…summer this and summer that…summer, summer, summer…”

“Yeah, well…it is summer.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah…everyone loves summer…everyone hates winter…so can you blame me if a misanthropic season like me tries to take whatever solace it can from such a sweet little season as spring?”

Feeling somewhat admonished, now, I said, “No…not at all… guess we all want the same thing from spring. Listen, can I make you another corned beef sandwich?  On rye this time, with a little smear of mustard…I think you’ll actually enjoy it that way, a little more than the mayo.”

“No…I’ll stick to the mayo on white…don’t try to tell me how I like my sandwich.”

And that was winter… stubborn and insolent, right to the end…

TRAVELLING…are you blind!  He walked a mile before the shot…and bring me a beer, will ya. The good stuff, you drink. Not that cloudy water you serve your guest…”

And with that, I just walked into the kitchen, shook my head and reached for the white bread.  "Two weeks...you're outta here in two weeks...!"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah...shoot it...shoot the ball...!

 
____________________________________________________
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Sunday, March 23, 2014

The Sunday Archive of Retort - 3/23/12

Aries Season




Here's a post from a couple of years ago that celebrates my favorite astrological sign...Aries.

What...it's not yours?

What's wrong with you?

Note the balmy temperature we were experiencing in March of 2012.

How soon we forget...

So there's hope people...but probably not a lot.



From 3/23/12:

click click    "Aries Season"    click click



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Friday, March 21, 2014

Daylight Optimism


This is a column I wrote last week for my local newspaper, The Westmore News. That being the case, as you might expect, it's mostly about some current hometown issues—most notably a well-intended, but badly executed, homeowner amnesty program, designed to “protect” homeowners from potential penalties and fees, due to some past, sloppy building department practices, dating back 75 years or more. So, basically, if you're not currently from my hometown these issues will mean nothing to you. However, seeing as most hometowns have their own specific issues to rail against, at any given time, feel free to insert the name of your own town and issues in place of mine, and hopefully it might make some sense.  Most likely it won't...but why should this story be any different from any other. If you can't relate, and would rather just skip it, feel free to head on outside and enjoy the first full day of spring. I know I would, if I didn't have to stay here and talk inside people's heads. Just try not to make too much noise on your way out. Thanks....

__________________________________________________________





Ahhhh…it’s nice to be on the right side of world, again.

The clocks have spun forward, spring has arrived, and now…let there be light, wonderful, spectacular daylight right through 7 PM, and beyond, stretching a little bit further, every day by spring day.

How’s that for optimism?


Z and I have already begun our early evening bunny counting walks through Rye Brook, again…although there’s not a bunny to be found, right now. I think they’re waiting until “Dancing with the Stars” has wrapped for the season before emerging into the world…pretty much like my cousin Herb.

Being from PC, of course, we had to procure all of our required papers and shots from the Rye Brook offices in order to stroll along our designated walking paths.

I have to say the whole process was pretty painless this year, especially now that they’ve cut the quarantine period by a third.

This year we’re even allowed to speak to people, although only 2 per any given mile.

Of course, I’m kidding…the Rye Brook peeps are the best and welcome us with open arms anywhere we happen to wander.

And I have to admit, it’s pretty cool having that nice police cruiser riding right there behind us, watching out for us the whole time. We even know most of the guard dogs by name, now.

The snow is finally disappearing, little by little. I figure by June…July latest…it should be pretty much a memory.

I’m goanna miss all that weird black, pot hole patching residue, that’s been speckling the snow on the sides of the road, though.  You know the stuff that shouts out…“WELCOME TO A NORTHEAST WINTER!” 

And speaking of pot holes, I have to remember to get back up to that massive one on upper King Street that just reopened and try to fish out the old VW Beetle I lost in there, back in 77.

I keep forgetting.

And speaking of forgetting, I have to remember to apply for some sort of PC “Amnesty”. 

I’m not exactly sure what it’s all about, but it’s been in the news a lot…and besides, for someone like me, if I hear the word amnesty, for anything…I’m right there…especially if there’s a deadline, which means it’s important...I think.

I guess that makes sense…if I want to protect myself, there should be a deadline.  I mean, especially if I’ve followed all the rules and done nothing wrong…why not sign up ahead of time for a little “Amnesty”, as well?

Not that I’ve been worried about anything in the past. I’m pretty sure all those lawyers and Title Insurance guys I paid a bushel of money to did their jobs correctly and verified that everything in regard to the new house I was buying, more than a decade ago, was on the up and up. I mean those guys go right to the source for their information, don’t they?

Can’t get any more accuracy than that when sealing the deal…right?

So I guess it makes sense I should be a little wary and want to apply for “Amnesty”…especially if everything went through so smoothly…twice. 

I mean it’s not the Village’s fault that a long, long time ago the only apparent requirement the building department had was a proficiency with Legos…is it?

I mean rules are rules and what’s a little amnesty between neighbors. I always offer to sell my friends amnesty when they walk into my house…you know…just in case they break one of the house rules I make up throughout the night.

Kind of like the rules I made up for kickball in my back yard, back in the day—not sure which day…maybe a Thursday. If I kicked the ball, anywhere, it was automatically a home run.  If you kicked the ball anywhere, it was an out…and if you kicked the ball over the fence you automatically lost…plus you owed me a new ball.
The ruIes were pretty simple actually.

Of course if I kicked the ball over the fence, I automatically won, but you still had to buy me a new ball, plus pay a fine and a replacement fee for not making sure I kept the ball in the yard in the first place.

And if I forgot to tell you the rules ahead of time…or made up new rules later…well…what’s past is past and all we can do is move forward, at least according to the rules I just made up now, which may not apply tomorrow...if I change my mind again. 

Not very fair…I know. But for a quarter, I did offer everyone a chance to buy amnesty, just in case…as long as they signed up a month before we decided to play.

Anyway, daylight has now returned to our evenings, along with the optimism of brighter days ahead.

Which is good because I’ve been a little concerned that this investigation into the Fire Department is going to interfere with the investigation into the Police Department, which definitely interfered with the investigation of the Building Department, which didn’t help the investigation into the Public Works Department….or vice versa.   I’m also having trouble understanding this whole new sewer tax thing I’m going to have to pay soon.  I’m trying to set up a schedule to use my toilet sparingly in order to save money, so I have to get up to speed. 

I’m thinking of Tuesday and Saturdays to start…and of course holidays, just because they’re special. Of course I can always sneak into the school at night and use theirs because I hear they’re only going to be paying a flat flush fee, so who would notice….

And did I mention I’m looking forward to the concerts in the park.

Love the daylight…love the spring.

They always bring out the optimist in me….

_____________________________________________________
If you enjoy the Retort, do me a favor and click on the "Like" button, up top on the right, and "Like" the FLR Facebook Page. Things have picked up considerably from a week ago and now with a few more "Likes" I'm hoping to cash in on the Telescope. 

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"Like" is much too much of a commitment—



Tuesday, March 18, 2014

Facebook loves Cats





I’m pretty sure without cats, Facebook wouldn’t exist.

Yep…cats….

Everyone loves a good cat video.

Especially cats that terrorize dogs…or people…or whatever else walks into the room.

One night, a week or so ago, I was sound asleep in my bed—as opposed to behind the 7-11, where I usually sleep during the day—and I was startled awake by the most god-awful sound I had ever heard.

For a second I thought a raccoon had dropped out of the ceiling and was wrestling with Z…again.

Z is prone to making a similar sound whenever wildlife drops down from the attic.

I immediately jumped up out of the bed, ready to grab the baseball bat I keep hidden in the closet, behind the plastic container of old clothes, under the pile of less old clothes and Reader’s Digests I keep on hand, you know, just in case I have to do some sort of DIY work, that requires I wear clothes that are routinely rejected by the Salvation Army.

Of course this container of old clothes and all the rest is also buried under a box that contains all of my discarded phone wire, and cable connections, not to mention my old Mulder and Scully Star Tac phone from 1995...so it's not all that easy to get to.

But, nevertheless, I was prepared to grab the bat...no matter how long it took me to dig it out…

I was that concerned.

Turns out there was no need.

The Thunder Dome/Death Match squeals I heard were merely originating from one of those, 5 gazillion “Likes”, 20 bazillion “Shares” whimsical Facebook videos that someone put together, complete with music, of cats torturing dogs…merely by passively sitting on the stairs or in a narrow hallway and daring the dog to pass, with only the threat of a pointed cat swipe hanging between them.

Which you might think is silly, and not a threat at all…but you would be wrong, because the passive implied threat is ten thousand times worse than the actual act itself, which is at least something you can deal with and move on. Plus I do feel for the dogs, because I have to deal with a similar passive implied threat situation, every Saturday and  Sunday morning any time I try to enter the kitchen, while Z is cutting out coupons.

Yeah….

So there’s Z, in the middle of the night, chuckling at these howling cats and dogs acting like…well cats and dogs.

“Don’t you know it’s the middle of the night?” I say in the kindest, gentlest of tones. “Can’t you do that someplace else?”

“Oh you’re so 1990’s!” is the response she gives me in return.

So, what choice do I have?  I just rollover and suffocate myself with my 1990’s buckwheat pillow in the useless attempt to muffle the cat screeches and dog howls.

But I also know Z is right…I am so 1990’s.  A time when folks actually had to open a book or at least a magazine for short term amusement.

If you’ve come to this story via Facebook or Patch, then I applaud you, not to mention praise your sensibilities and good taste in fine, wholesome, educational entertainment...despite the occasional lapse in judgment, which also brought you here

You obviously have more than the 10 second attention span that most people on Facebook have.

You’re willing to use the mouse that God gave you in the way that it was intended to be used.

Not just as a device to scroll through 4 line inspirational quotes and 2 line captioned photos of….

“Like if you think Cottage Cheese is the answer!”

The answer to what?
What was the question?

“Share if you Love Peanut butter!”

With or without jelly?

“Check out what happens when these hamsters decide to reprogram the family remote…hysterical!”

Not if it’s ever happened to you, now…is it?

Of course that’s not to say there isn’t anything of value on Facebook. 

I mean you’re here aren’t you?  And once you realize you're mistake, your bound to find something of redeeming value somewhere nearby.

And, if you do happen to “Like” what you see, and you haven't already— you know, because of the cats—please make sure you click the little “Like” button on the top of the page, just to the right of the title.  I’m pretty close to winning a football with another dozen “Likes” or so.

Okay…I know that’s self-serving and pretty obnoxious...more so than a dozen cats and dogs.

And I’m pretty sure now all the dog and cat people are mad at me…not to mention all the inspirational, funny quote people.

Sorry to have held you up…please get back to scrolling down the newsfeed.

Keep it moving, keep it moving.

And if somewhere down along the way, you should find a funny cat video, make sure you share it with Z.

Someone’s got to keep the entertainment train rolling…..


_____________________________________________________

If you enjoy the Retort, do me a favor and click on the "Like" button, up top on the right, and "Like" the FLR Facebook Page. It’s kind of sad right now but if I get 14 more I think I can put in for a football....

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Sunday, March 16, 2014

The Sunday Archive of Retort - 3/16/12

Is Everyone Really Irish on St. Patrick's Day?






Ahhhhhh....St. Patrick's is upon us. 

It's a great day for the Irish and anyone else who owns a green sweater...or is just prone to turning green under certain conditions....




From March 16, 2012:

Is Everyone Really Irish on St. Patrick’s Day?

 ____________________________________________________
If you enjoy the Retort, do me a favor and click on the "Like" button, up top on the right, and "Like" the FLR Facebook Page. It’s kind of sad right now but if I get 14 more I think I can put in for a football....

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Friday, March 14, 2014

Not Complaining…but





I don’t like to complain…too much.

I like to complain way too much.

That’s just how it is.

That’s just how I am.

What…now I should complain about that too?

Complaining is one of life’s great pastimes.

“Why does it have to snow…on a Tuesday….”

“Look how flimsy this shovel is….”

“The sun is way too bright in the morning….”

“These eggs are too runny….”

“This bacon is too crisp….”

“That waitress looks at me funny….”

Of course one could make the argument that I’m not really complaining at all.

I’m just sayin….

Just observing the miserable situations and conditions I have to put up with every single day!!!!

You know?

Just sayin….

Of course the opposite of complaining is to take some sort of action—any action—to correct the intolerable situation.

One could accept that the weather and short order cooks are beyond their immediate control.

They could move to Florida or, even better, Hawaii.

Buy a cool pair of sunglasses.

Change diners….

Or complain…which I suppose is an action unto itself…one would say.

The thing about complaining, though, is that it doesn’t take as much effort as all the other choices.

I can complain in my sleep…and I’m told I often do.

“I can’t believe someone put cats in my suitcase!  This is the worst dream I’ve ever had!”

Can you blame me?

But I also have a right to complain about other people complaining…all the time.

Who wants to listen to that... all the time?

Again…I’m just sayin….

I mean have you listened to the quality of other people’s complaints.

Pretty poor if you ask me.

Just sayin….

And that’s the thing…if you complain all the time…about EVERYTHING… you devalue your legitimate complaints…like the one about that woman on the local news who talks through her nose.

Or— too many of my Mallomars are lopsided!

Or—too many people on TV wear purple!

Or—too many trees are too tall...and have way too many leaves!

All legitimate complaints.

All important issues that hopefully will be addressed by the people I wrote those letters...to.

So I’m not just sitting here complaining…I’m doing something about it.

I’m waiting for the other people to do something about it…if they ever take the time to read my letters…which they never do.

Just sayin….

___________________________________________________


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Also, if you enjoy the Retort, do me a favor and click on the "Like" button, up top on the right, and "Like" the FLR Facebook PageIt’s kind of sad right now but if I get 14 more I think I can put in for a football....

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