Thursday, March 31, 2022
Not all About Cloyce
Wednesday, March 30, 2022
Reason 58,319 That I Don't Get Government
Tuesday, March 29, 2022
What's so Original About That?
I am not one for noticing things when it comes to what I do not consider particularly important. When it comes to buying basic necessities, price is usually all what matters to me. To be sure, I am leery of costs which are too low. Do not buy razor blades from the neighborhood dollar store, for example. Trust me and my bleeding chin on that one.
Yet when I need something such as laundry detergent, I grab what is cheap. It goes with the clothes I wear.
Anyway, as I was starting a load of laundry yesterday I noticed that the otherwise nondescript label on the plastic bottle said proudly, in bold letters: ORIGINAL SCENT.
The term meant nothing to me. Hopefully it was something nice, such as fresh baked bread or mountain pine or apple cinnamon. But original scent might been an actual eau-de-toilette for all I could know, especially as scent is just another word for odor. So at that point I had to hold the open container to my nose and smell it.
It smelled just like, exactly just like, liquid laundry soap.
Nothing all that original, wouldn't you say?
Monday, March 28, 2022
Hides and Slides
Driving around the Michigan countryside between Pinckney and Hell (there actually is a Hell, Michigan, and Between Pinckney and Hell sounds like it could be a Country song, eh?) Me Mom noticed a sign along the roadside: hidden drive ahead. "Can't be hid too good if they put up a sign about it," she rightly opined.
Indeed.
A while later we were eating our Sunday cheeseburgers at a McDonald's. We sat by the establishment's play place, which had slides and ladders and a ball pit for kids to play in. "Let's go down that slide," Mom said, pointing at the huge yellow tube which spun around three times to the right of the ball pit.
"I'd pay to see you do that," I responded jokingly.
"You'd have to, cause they'd have to pay me to do it," she answered with finality.
We have fun on our Sunday drives.
Sunday, March 27, 2022
To Forgive, and to Seek Forgiveness
Saturday, March 26, 2022
Those Who Wait
I can't wait to make my first trip to Hessel in Michigan's glorious Upper Peninsula.
I can't wait for an upcoming visit to Boston in June to see Fenway Park again, although I don't understand why the Red Sox aren't selling single game tickets for June games just yet.
I can't wait for the weather to warm up for good. Or, at least, for good until November.
What? I have to wait? I can't make the days move faster?
Then I guess I will wait. Whatcha gonna do?
Friday, March 25, 2022
Fear and Loathing in Detroit
I remember a time, I think it was third grade but after yea many years I don't really know, that I got a bad grade on a school assignment. It was the first of many I assure you. But at the time when you received a grade so very bad as whatever that one was, the paper had to be taken home to be seen by a parent, who would sign that they had seen it and you would return it to teacher.
When back at home on the afternoon where I received The Grade, I showed the paper to Mom. She read it, and then slid it back to me across the kitchen table. "Show this to your father tonight," she instructed.
Those were not words young Marty cared to hear. I am ashamed to admit that by nine or ten years old I wasn't as afraid of me Mom's wrath as I ought to have been. Oh, she could still bring it. I had a healthy respect for her anger. But Dad's anger was simply on the next level. Hell, when I was 50 and the old man was upset, I was intimidated. Dad didn't get mad often so that when he did, you knew it was righteous.
I dreaded showing that paper to me Pops. But evening came and he was sitting at his desk, and I decided to get it over with. "Mom says I got to show you this," I said meekly, handing the damning evidence over to him.
Pops sat down the invoice he had been studying and read over that rancid assignment. Then he signed it and handed it back. "Do better next time," he instructed, with the barest glance at me before returning to his work.
The clouds parted and the Angelic choirs sang. That wasn't bad at all. I'm sure it wasn't anywhere near the response me Mom expected or desired. But she wasn't nearby and I was more than willing to leave things be. I never told her, and I doubt Pops did either. It likely was out of his mind in 30 seconds.
I don't know why he wasn't angrier. Maybe he was too caught up in his paperwork. Maybe my childhood imagination had run too rampant. Maybe he just didn't feel one botched job was all that bad in the grand scheme of things. But I was thanking my lucky stars that night. And it was awhile before my next poor grade.
Thursday, March 24, 2022
Ain't Over Until It's Over
Wednesday, March 23, 2022
Satan's Fiddle
Tuesday, March 22, 2022
I'm Turning Here
Monday, March 21, 2022
Be Still My Heart
Sunday, March 20, 2022
Zeke's Answer for Everything
Saturday, March 19, 2022
Impatient Reader
Friday, March 18, 2022
Being Myself This Morning
Thursday, March 17, 2022
The Green Monster
Fenway Park features a 37 foot wall in left field. It is painted green. As such, for years Red Sox fans have affectionately referred to it as the Green Monster. Are you with me so far? Good.
Anyway, sports teams tend to have mascots, and Boston is no different. Traipsing around the stands and on the field during the pre-game and between innings and what not was a costumed, human sized figure in a Red Sox uniform. He looked like a full sized Elmo or Cookie Monster, the Sesame Street characters. But rather than red or blue, he appeared to be made of up green shag carpet. And I could not figure out who or what he was supposed to be.
Until about the fourth inning, when it finally dawned on me. He was the Green Monster.
At times I really need things explained to me. At least it gave me green to wear on St. Patrick's Day though. And no, I have not been drinking. I have been good about that.
Tuesday, March 15, 2022
Nowhere Near Late
I woke up this morning, and my first thought was panic. 'Shoot! I missed my alarm', I thought.
Only I hadn't missed it. I'm going to Indianapolis tomorrow, not today.
Of all the things that had never happened to me, that was the most profound never had happened. I can't even imagine why it happened or how it even managed to come into my mind.
I knew quite well as I drifted off last night that Wednesday I had a sales trip and that today was only Tuesday. In fact I knew clearly my battle plan for today, mentally reviewing it as I lay in bed. Install a KC-8 shaft in a Model C, rewire a second Model C; there were two machines which needed new cables, and I wanted to email my next order to the factory. A straightforward work day.
Thank goodness today is just Tuesday.
It is only Tuesday, right?
Monday, March 14, 2022
No Need To Imagine
I have said before that, while most things don't bother me too much these days, some things nevertheless instantly infuriate me. The Montreal Canadiens infuriated me, instantly, this past Saturday night. Before their hockey game against the Seattle Kraken, they played John Lennon's Imagine. They did it to show support for Ukraine in its fight against the Russian invasion.
Are you kidding me? There's a joke, a very bad one, in there somewhere, isn't there? Several jokes, I, uh, imagine.
You don't think so? Then allow me to explain.
To begin with, Lennon's song says 'Imagine there's no countries' before a sporting event featuring a team named, for all practical purposes, after a country. That's such delightful irony that it must have been intended as humor.
But let's continue to imagine no countries. There might not be a Ukraine in the next few weeks, so the joke must be that Soviet, er, Russian leader Putin is doing what he can to aid the ringing in of the ex-Beatle's dream world.
Imagine no religion. Well, Putin apparently has none, so there's another of John and Yoko's visions coming true.
Imagine nothing to live or die for. Well, I guess the whole war is Ukraine's fault then. The Ukrainian people dare to believe they have something worth living for, and therefore worth dying for. They deserve to be imagined out of existence. It fits the narrative of the song, does it not?
Imagine all the people living for today. Well, Putin certainly is, while Ukrainians die for today. Another unforced error by Kyiv.
Imagine no hell below us. Well, the Ukrainians don't have to do that. Hell is all around them.
Just so you do get it, and just because I'm mad enough that I want to be a total smartass right now, I'm quoting Lennon's song and offering explanations for the rank stupidly behind it as applied to real world events. Do you understand that?
Because if you don't, keep singing. An attack on your smug self righteousness will surely come upon you someday to explain it more powerfully.
Sunday, March 13, 2022
Fourteen Nineteen
Everyone has a price. My price to make a 100 mile plus round trip on a Saturday morning is apparently $1419. Yep, One Thousand Four Hundred and Nineteen Dollars. That's a chunk of change, Ron.
I took a call around 5:30 Friday afternoon from a customer, I'll call him Cloyce just to give him a name, who made an offer I had trouble wrapping my head around. He said that if I drove to Temperance, Michigan and I brought him $1419 worth of sewer cables and tools on Saturday morning, he would give me money for them.
I had to shake my head at that to clear the cobwebs. "Whoa, whoa, whoa, Cloyce. You're telling me that if I bring you $1419 worth of product,"
"Yes," Cloyce interrupted.
"That you will pay me $1419 for it right there on the spot?" I finished incredulously.
"That's the idea, Marty," he assured me.
A big grin spread across my face. "Let's light this firecracker," I told Cloyce.
So apparently my price to make a two and a half hour drive on a cold Saturday morning is $1419. The sacrifices you make when you worship the almighty dollar.
Editor's Note: This is satire, a prolonged joke. Marty most certainly does not worship the almighty dollar. He does, however, hold it in high regard, to the point of selling things for profit.
Saturday, March 12, 2022
Play Ball!
Friday, March 11, 2022
Breakfast Duelists
Having made fantastic time on my trip to Electric Eel yesterday (Electric Eel: for all your drain and sewer cleaning needs) I decided that I could treat myself to a sit down if inexpensive breakfast. So as I approached the north end of Bellefontaine, Ohio and spied a Waffle House, I parked and went in to eat.
The waitress soon poured and then refilled my coffee before setting my meal in front of me. I dug in.
A couple of minutes later, I sensed her presence. I looked up. We locked eyes as I was about to consume a mouthful of eggs. I heard the eerie, echoing, haunting refrain from Hang 'em High. Her raised eyebrow clearly said, "Draw!"
I set the eggs back on my plate and pretended to check a message on my cell phone which lay on the table next to my breakfast. Her attention was then taken by a couple at a nearby booth.
Raising a piece of bacon to my lips apparently set her spider sense to tingling. As she turned to look at me, in a circular motion I set the bacon down and put the phone to my ear. I hoped she would think I had a call and the ringer was on silent. She went back to work.
A minute later she was behind the counter, staring at me. I put some jam on toast. The triangular end of it was nearly in my mouth; her mouth opened to speak. But I set the bread down, making as though to rub a crick in my neck. She picked up a glass, wiping it out with a towel. We eyed one another closely. This was becoming quite the war of wills.
The waitress turned to face the cook, to give him an order. This, I thought, was my chance. I shoved a forkful of hash browns into my mouth. Yet the Force was strong in this one. She wheeled around and fired at me, "So-how-is-your-breakfast-so-far?"
"Urr, ugh, ah, ehh, um-hmmm," I responded, giving a thumbs up as I desperately tried to chew and swallow that bite of food.
I paid my bill and left a decent gratuity. I tipped my hat to her as I left. Well played, milady. Well played.
Thursday, March 10, 2022
The COVID Insult
Wednesday, March 9, 2022
Lucky Number?
Math, a dear friend of mine who interestingly happens to be a math teacher, says, is life. I don't doubt it. When the numbers in the checkbook (does anyone use one of those anymore?) don't add up, it's a problem. But this is more about numbers than full on mathematics (does anyone use the full word anymore?).
A twice recurrent number in my life is 1104. When you pronounce it eleven-oh-four it rolls nicely off the tongue. It was the address of the house me Pops grew up in and the number of me son's scout troop. That is at least kind of serendipitous, isn't it?
Me Uncle John whom I call Zeke loved the old house. So did me Pops, as I'm quite sure did the rest of their siblings. Zeke used to say if he had the money he'd rebuilt it precisely to spec.
Me Grandparents moved out of it in 1965. I remember being there as a small boy. As the second oldest grandchild there likely aren't many of us on my tier of the family that also remember it. It was huge. I recall being in the back yard playing with the dog they had at the time, and being in the basement with me Pops and his brothers as they shot pool.
Then me son Frank ends up making Eagle Scout through Boy Scout Troop 1104. I don't know if Pops realized that, but I have to imagine he did. Some numbers just stick with us and I have the distinct impression 1104 did with him.
There's other numbers which mean a lot to me but that's the only one which appears prominently in my life two times. I may play the lottery with it today. Third time's a charm?
Tuesday, March 8, 2022
Michael's Story
Monday, March 7, 2022
An Old Green Seat
At one time Detroit's Tiger Stadium, the local baseball park from 1896 until 1999, had what were called box seats. They were actually individual padded chairs rather than a connected series of seats as most other ballpark seating was at the time (well, even now in most stadiums and arenas I suppose). They were the most expensive seats in the park, and I never sat in one during a game. But now I can.
I bought one those beauties from a sports memorabilia dealer. What do you think?
Sunday, March 6, 2022
Kung Fu Philosophy
Will worry change the future?
- Kwai Chang Kane
Who says TV isn't educational? It seems that everyone's favorite kung fu master has hit the nail on the head.
Master Kane's words have come back to me of late. The thing is, I can't remember anything else about the episode where he offered those words of wisdom. But I recall the quote exactly. Someone was fretting so bad that they couldn't function in the present.
We all worry. We all fret. That's okay, if it inspires us towards better efforts. But when worry takes a life of its own, well, remember that it does not affect what is unwritten. At least, not positively.
Saturday, March 5, 2022
Memories of the State Fair Coliseum
The Shrine Circus is here at the Coliseum! The Shrine Circus is here!
If you're singing that jingle in your head as you read it, then you're old enough to remember the Michigan State Fair Coliseum in Detroit. I happened by it yesterday, catching the progress of its deconstruction. The picture above is of the now open north end of the stadium.
A lot of great memories came into my mind. We took the kids to the Shrine Circus there two or three times as I recall. During the Michigan State Fair, we would watch the equestrian competitions in it. My son Charlie and I saw ZZ Top at that old barn in 2005; it was great to see and hear them live in a small venue. When I was 10 me Grandpa Joe took me to a rodeo there. Great seats too; we were right by the gate where the cowboys were released riding the bucking broncos.
Ah well. Time marches on. They are saving the front facing to use as a picnic area, which is cool. I'll put a picture of that at the end here.
Friday, March 4, 2022
3 O'clock Non-meeting
Thursday, March 3, 2022
44 Years
Wednesday, March 2, 2022
Ash Wednesday 2022
Lent begins today for a world which didn't feel so dangerous a scant few days ago as it does this morning. This after the travesty that was COVID, which vexed us for a couple years. Yet here we are.
We must remember there is nothing new under the Sun. As the world spins her intrigue we must look past all of it, to remind ourselves that part of the lack of newness is the constant need for personal revival. The dawning of Lent offers us the occasion to be introspective, to recall that if we are to have a better world we need to become better people. As Jordan Petersen says, if your own house isn't in order you cannot better order the world, which is a decidedly larger home than your own. And much less manageable than your person.
Lent gives us the opportunity to manage our person better. Ideally, at the end of it we will be better persons. If we succeed in that, we will have done our small part in making a better world. Get that snowball rolling, and who knows what great good can come of ourselves, of those near and dear to us, and, no doubt in my mind, of the union of nations.
I figure it's worth the risk of forty days personal reflection.
Tuesday, March 1, 2022
Interpretive Joke (Perhaps too easy)
Lent begins tomorrow. Today is Fat Tuesday.
Don't worry, I have it covered.
Rim. Shot.