Paperboy; best job in town - Stories for my grandchildren

In my post Today I am seventy I mentioned that I had ridden a bicycle 5,000 miles. That was actually a conservative estimate. If you do the math (a 6-mile paper route delivered 312 deliveries a year for 4 years) it comes out to 7,440 miles. That's only the paper route. It does not take into account the fact that at that point in time everybody rode bikes far and near, day in and day out. We lived on bikes. It would not be out of the question to estimate that I have ridden bikes (there were many of them) for a distance nearing 10,000 miles in my lifetime. To put that in perspective, that's New York to LA and back. Then, back to LA, with miles left over! I know, I know. That still doesn't put me in the same league with the real bike riders and besides, the point of this blog is the paper route.

In the day, we were called "Carrier Salesmen" or "Little Merchants." That's because we were not actually hired by the newspaper - rather we were assigned routes - a section of town - and it was up to us to get and keep the subscribers. The newspaper sold us the papers at a discount, sold us the bags to carry them in, rubber bands (or twine) to close them up with, waxed paper to wrap them in on rainy days (Plastic bags? Didn't exist). Then weekly we went out and collected full price for the papers and settled our account at the circulation office. We got to keep what was left.  On a good week, when nobody moved, owing you for the last few weeks, you could make about $15. Good money in those days.

There are few "paperboys" these days. Most newspapers today are delivered by subcontractors set up to handle large volumes of customers (at most, I had 112 customers on my route). The contractors of today are paid by the newspaper, which bills the customer directly. In advance.

If we wanted to make more money, we knocked on doors along the route and enrolled more subscribers. In reality, about the only time this actually happened was when the paper had a subscription drive and offered prizes for the most new subscriptions - usually a trip to someplace nearby.

One trip was an airplane flight - my first - from Breckenridge to Abilene and back. It was on a DC-3, and I don't think they had time to raise and lower the wheels on the flight. While in Abilene, we visited the West Texas Utilities power plant, the Reporter-News plant and, foreshadowing my future, the studios of KRBC Radio, which was downtown in those days.

Another trip was to San Antonio, by way of Abilene, where we met up with a bunch of other carriers from other newspapers before heading to San Antonio the next morning. I recall that that evening we went to the Paramount Theater and saw the John Wayne movie "The High and the Mighty." I was really impressed with the twinkling stars in the Paramount ceiling.  The next morning we boarded a charter bus - my first - to San Antonio to cover the Alamo, the Alligator Gardens, the Buckhorn Saloon and Randolph AFB. I recall that we ate lunch at Earl Ables. I still remember the sign on the wall. "Eating keeps you able; eating here keeps Earl Able."

I also went to the State Fair in Dallas on one of these trips. I don't remember much about the trip itself, but I do remember that one of our party and I swear it was not me, was able to heft a water balloon from our hotel window right between a couple in a convertible on the street below us. Of course, we were asleep in our beds when they came knocking on our door.

But the most memorable trip was to Carlsbad Caverns. Five or six of us in the circulation manager's really small un-airconditioned automobile; the actual distance less than from Austin to Lubbock, but I swear it took us 10 hours to get there and 20 hours to get back.  And the Whites City motel made a lasting impression.

However, none of this - not the money, not the trips - was as impressive as the sheer coolness factor. For proof, I offer this photo:

Folks, you can't get any cooler than this. This, by the way is the official picture that appeared in the paper when I was announced as the "Carrier of the Year." Oh, yes! I'm just sorry that you can't see my turned-up pants cuffs.

But not only do you get the money, and the trips, and the fame, and the exercise, and the coolness... you also get the girls! The American was an afternoon delivery (except Saturday, which was delivered Sunday morning), so every afternoon I would buzz by the houses of a couple of girls that I was sweet on, do a little visiting and let them ride along with me and toss a paper or two. Actually, Ida Jo knew my route as well as I did. And if she wasn't along, I would stop and visit with Evelyn, who I also sat next to in band. Poor Mr. Hagler, up the block. He would come out and stand in his yard and fuss because his paperboy was down the street flirting with a girl. I finally learned to go as far as his house and deliver his paper before turning back to visit with Evelyn.

Let me see some delivery subcontractor match all those benefits!

Monday Meanderings - 6.27.2011

Wandered into the wonderful land of customer service this past week, this time with the bank! A-Plus, the teacher credit union made a big change last Monday to their online services. Big changes almost always mean big problems. This time it was in the file that the bank generates for Quicken import. After a bit of a struggle, I finally got Quicken set up to contact the bank and download the needed file, just as I do with all of the other accounts. That was customer service call #1.

But after importing the bank transactions into Quicken, Barb discovered that 1) they duplicated a great many existing transactions, and 2) the Payee name was in the Memo field, and the Memo information was in the Payee field. Not good. I opened up the bank download file and found:

[NAME]POS W/D: #117515257703

[MEMO]Wal-Mart Super Center AUSTIN 

Yep. The bank has it backwards. That was customer service call #2. The rep took the information and said he would pass it on to the "Quicken Specialist."

Call #3 was when a perky little person called me, all cheerful and upbeat, until I explained the problem and forwarded her a copy of the file. She opened it and after a long pause, Little Miss Sunshine said, "Oh bleep!" She promised to get back with me - "probably on Monday." That would be after some programmer works all weekend to correct the problem. And that would be call #4 and counting.

Women's World Cup began this weekend. Sweeeet! Since the Cup is in Germany and the afternoon game is at 7:30am here, the DVR will get a workout. The German team is the favorite and though it is politically impolite to say so, when they were previewing all the German players before the game I kept thinking of the bad old days when East German athletes appeared very chromosonally suspect. So to speak.

As in the men's Cup, the national anthems are always interesting. Nigeria's anthem is "Arise O compatriots, Nigeria's call obey; unless that is you are gay, and then you cannot play."

And no vouvouzelas in this tournament. Hooray!

Okay, I guess I've contributed my fair share to brotherhood and understanding. I'll quit. For now.

So glad that Summer is officially here and now we can expect it to be hot.

It takes almost a full week each for these blooms to open, one at a time. Thankfully the blooms last a long time.

And this is a handy little guide that should be carried like a driver's license in the wallet of every husband, boyfriend, co-worker or significant other!

DANGEROUS	SAFER	SAFEST	ULTRA  SAFE
What's for dinner?	Can I help you with dinner?	Where would you like to go for dinner?	Here, have some wine.
Are you wearing that?	You sure look good in brown!	WOW! Look at you!	Here, have some wine
What are you so worked up about?	Could we be overreacting?	Here's my pay check.	Here, have some wine.
Should you be eating that?	You know, there are a lot of apples left.	Can I get you a piece of chocolate with that?	Here, have some wine.
What did you DO all day?	I hope you didn't over-do it today.	I've always loved you in that robe!	Here, have some wine.

Just happened to notice...

Here while back I mentioned a wine that we noticed in Central Market. You may recall the label:

 

Now it makes perfect sense that a wine labeled "Mommy's Time Out" would be on display in Central Market. CM is the most Yuppified place in a town so full of Yuppies that you couldn't swing a cat without having 22 people sic the ASPCA or PETA or some other organization on you. If you looked around a little you could probably find a wine called "Mommy's Little Helper" too.

But the other day we stopped in at Merl's Fine Wines and Bait Emporium for some sushi, and right there at the checkout counter we saw:

 

That's right. HMS Rattlesnake! Now that's more like it. There is nothing namby-pamby about a wine with Rattlesnake in the name. But then it got more interesting. Next to this offering was this:

 

Now there is a message here. I'm just not sure what it is. You might say that this was a:

If I didn't know Merle was a man of simple tastes (not to mention mind), I would think he was trying to be funny. But the last wine on display sort of took the humor right out of it. The label is a little hard to figure out, but if you look carefully you will see chains and shackles, and know that the man on the label is called:

 

Me? I'm sticking with coffee.

Weirdness News

If you’re not doing anything tonight and you want to meet one of Austin’s leading weirdness icons, stop by Threadgill’s World Headquarters on Riverside Drive around 7 o’clock or so. The occasion? Leslie’s 60th birthday party, an event billed as It’s Beard, It’s Weird, It’s a Birthday.” According to Statesman humor writer John Kelso, it should be billed “It’s Thong, It’s Wrong, It’s a Birthday.”

In the spirit of Keeping Austin Weird, I have mentioned Leslie several times; here, here and here, for example. Just thought you might want to avail yourself of the opportunity of meeting a true Austin icon (or is that acorn?) up close and personal. I won't be there, as I've already been as close as I ever intend to get again.

I mention Austin's more colorful citizens from time to time as a public service to both my readers, and to promote my hometown as a bastion of, um, well, weirdness. I've mentioned the Thong Guy, and the WalMart Guy, and the Running Man, for instance. Funny thing about the Running Man - I have received more blog hits from Google searches with "running man" or "Austin running man" as the search topic than almost any other subject, and while they come from all over the country, most of them come from San Antonio, and a goodly number of those come from a domain registered to HEB. For a while there, HEB checked in every day to see if people were commenting on Mr. James and his use of the grassy strip beside the North Lamar HEB store.

I'm guessing that some corporate wonk keeps a close tab on any and all references to HEB in the public domain. Sounds like a good business practice. Frankly, I would be just a tetch nervous if I had a guy running up and down beside my store, proclaiming to the world that my life-work was " to inspire others to be bold in their dreams, their thinking, and be who they were created to be."

Let me just take this opportunity to say that I am a fan of HEB and hold them in high esteem. We shop at Central Market almost every week and we really like the place, okay? So if this blog mention brings  a few more hits from HEB.com let me say "Welcome, and I really like those small melons you have featured lately, and by the way you have the best shopping carts in town, and I'm very fussy about my shopping carts." 

Having said that, I haven't seen the Running Man in quite a while, but it has been 100+ degrees for a while and I suspect that even Captain America himself would lay off for a while in this heat. Surely some large unnamed corporation didn't run him off. Nahh.

Monday Meanderings - 6.20.2011

Turning 70 has it's upside - I received all kinds of well-wishes in many different forms; I enjoyed good food with family and friends and enjoyed my day thoroughly. On Friday morning I said, "I guess I'm no longer70." Barb said, "No. Now you are 71."

One of our birthday dining experiences was Pappadoux's. We had forgotten how noisy it is in there, especially at lunch. I thought for a while that the only way Barb and I would be able to communicate was by texting each other!

Speaking of texts. I received this from Julie:

           ()  () ()  ()  ()
       ̥ _̲ ║  ║ ║ ║  ║ _̲   ̥
    {. • _ ❃ _ • _ ❃_ •  .}
 __{• .❋. _ .❋. _ .❋.  •}__
  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
.•*•. հɑԹԹվ ҍíɾԵհժɑվ .•*•.

She claims that she spent hours and hours laboring over her iPhone to produce this. Of course I believe her.

You've all seen the Nike slogan "Just Do It" on shirts and apparel. Nike followed that with "Doing It," and "Still Doing It." However, it is possible to take that last slogan out of context, as evidenced by the man at the mall who, when he saw Barb's shirt, poked his wife and said "See! She's still doing it!"

Angry! Upset! Bad critters, bad critters!  Not only did they eat the ripe ones, they tasted the green ones.

I discovered, while having coffee on the patio (CotP) that not only will Blue-jays and Mockingbirds harass a stray cat, the Cardinals will too. Maybe it is a particularly annoying cat.

I fussed about a particular set of bed sheets being so rough and scratchy so much that Barb came in with a new set - of 600 count! Wow! We need restraints to keep us from sliding out of bed! Really nice. The problem is we will have to stay in bed 18 hours a day to justify their expense. Wait! Did I say problem? Let me rethink that. While I have a nap.

And I'm getting rid of this app on my iPhone. It's obviously broken.

A Father's Day Remembrance

Still resting up

After all that blogging effort yesterday, I'm too tired to post anything today.

I'm an old man, you know. I need my rest.

Today I am seventy.

I didn't set out to be seventy. It was not a long-standing goal, something on my list of things to do. It just happened. Yesterday I was in my late sixties and today I am in my seventies. I'm a little surprised, to be truthful. It's not that I mind being seventy;  I consider this period of my life to be among the very best I've experienced. But being seventy sets a certain road mark, a personal Rubicon, if you will. A boundary that, once crossed, tends to be more defining than I might like.

At age seventy you acknowledge full well what you have known for some time; that you are not going to be an industrial tycoon, you are not going to find the cure for cancer, you are not going to speak seven languages including Pashto, you are not going to live next to Paradise Falls, and you are not going to write the Great American Novel. Great American Blog, maybe, but the novel is out.

In my youth I entertained thoughts that I might be a famous movie star. Or front a rock and roll band (okay, that thought still crosses my mind). Or be a famous singer. I had no trouble picturing myself trekking to base camp at Everest. Summers in Colorado, winters in Arizona. Maybe life as an ex-pat somewhere like the Czech Republic - when I'm not on the Riviera. Oh, there's a long list unchecked.

Instead, I have become a curmudgeon that treasures - almost above all else - staying at home, venturing out no further than Chuy's, Rudy's, Fran's and the occasional excursion to Port A. I confess I'm torn about trips to see the grand-kids; love the visits, hate the travel.

My parents lived into their nineties. I have no such expectation, so at age seventy, I now begin to look through the other end of the telescope. You know, up until now you have looked in the big end and things are far, far away in the distance. At this age, you turn the thing around to its normal use and suddenly objects are closer than they appear. I can see borders, boundaries, edges, and limits. I see the ends of many things that I never thought had limits; indeed, I have passed some of those ends already and they recede behind me in the distance. Many I don't miss. Going to work is one of them. Mowing the lawn is another. I do wish my vision was better and that my hearing would stick around a while longer, though. And don't get me started about my mind. Where was I?

What once were cliches are now truths -

• For the first half of your life, people tell you what you should do; for the second half, they tell you what you should have done.
• Wisdom doesn't necessarily come with age. Sometimes age just shows up all by itself.
• Old age comes at a bad time.
• The time to begin most things is ten years ago.
• To me, old age is always fifteen years older than I am.
• If I'd known how old I was going to be I'd have taken better care of myself.
• In youth we run into difficulties; in old age difficulties run into us.
• The first half of life consists of the capacity to enjoy without the chance; the last half consists of the chance without the capacity.
• We get too soon old and too late smart.
• By the time we've made it, we've had it.
• At twenty we worry about what others think of us; at forty we don't care about what others think of us; beyond sixty we discover they haven't been thinking about us at all.

But I have no regrets now that I've achieved this dubious distinction. I have enjoyed the company of a loving companion for 49 of those years. Our children and grandchildren honor us with God-led lives. I've been places I never expected to be, seen things I never expected to see, and done things I've never expected to do.

By my count, I've passed through 53 different airports and visited 12 different countries. I've driven to all three coasts and as far north as Wyoming. I've been in 31 of the 48 states. I've walked the black beaches in El Salvador and gathered sea shells on the white sands of Captiva Island.

I've walked on a live volcano; I have reached the summit of 3 fourteen-thousand foot mountains (two of them on foot ). I've been swept down a Guatemalan river; I very nearly let my children sweep down the Perdenales River. I've visited ancient civilizations in four different countries. I've stood on top of the Empire State Building; I've been to ground zero. I've stood in a church (built in the 14th century) that was located on the spot where religious services have been conducted since 925. I have encountered God in a rough tent pitched in a cornfield.

I've met Elvis, Johnny Horton, Brenda Lee, Connie Francis, Peter Paul and Mary, Johnny Cash, Bryan Hyland, and Pat Boone. I was backstage during an Elvis concert and a PP&M concert. I have stayed up all night because I wanted to; I have stayed up all night because I had to. I have spent the night on the State Capitol grounds.

I have been a rodeo clown, a grocery store clerk, pumped gas when it was 16 cents a gallon, and worked construction. I've ridden a bicycle more than 5,000 miles delivering newspapers. I've been a disk jockey, a tape duplicator, a motion picture extra, a sound recorder, a salesman, a telephone survey-taker, a computer programmer and a systems analyst. 

I've encountered a Big Horn sheep up close and personal next door to the Garden of the Gods. I've encountered a black bear in a Yellowstone campground. I have bartered for hammocks in Chichicastenango and haggled for jewelry in Cuzco.

I've driven down Route 66 and across the Mojave desert. I've camped in Red River, Grand Canyon, Yellowstone, Mesa Verde, the Tetons, Bryce Canyon, Zion, Lake Mead, Mt. Capulan and many places that don't have names. I have been snowed on on the 4th of July. I have been wet before. I have seen Bald Eagles soar.

I've drunk milk from fresh coconuts in Central America,  I've drunk coffee boiled in a paper bag on a campfire beside a Texas stock tank. I've eaten escargot in Florida (tasted like snails). I rejected the offer of guinea pig in Peru. I've eaten some of the world's best BBQ.

Thinking about all that sort of makes me tired.  I think I'll go rest a bit before starting on the rest of the journey. Ya'll have a good day.

It is the music that I remember

 

Google featured a clever "Doodle" on June 9 to honor Les Paul; you could move the cursor over the strings to strum and pick out music. I completely forgot why I went to Google in the first place, I was having so much fun.

Les Paul and his wife Mary Ford were staples in my adolescent music world. Yes, I know that he practically  "invented" the solid-body electric guitar, and that he was the Father of multi-track recordings, and that after a horrific accident he had the doctors set his now-immobile arm permanently at a 90 degree angle so that he could continue to play the guitar, but it the music that I remember.

"How High the Moon," "Nola," The World is Waiting for the Sunrise," "Tiger Rag," and of course, "Vaya con Dios." Lush, close-miked vocals, literally dozens of instrument and vocal tracks, incredible guitar licks, trills, chording sequences, fretting techniques and timing. It was a totally unique sound. YouTube has dozens of Les Paul and Mary Ford recordings. Help yourself.

That was then. This is now. Looking back at the technology of what he accomplished is staggering. The Les Paul solid body guitar has been a staple in the music industry for more than 60 years! In this digital age, multi-track recording with effects and phase shifting is a yawn. Paul did it with multiple analog tape machines (at a time when they were experimental themselves). The Ampex professional machines that I used in the recording studio were the direct descendants of  Paul's workshop efforts. Impressive.

But it is the music that I remember.

Monday Meanderings - 6.13.2011

This was ROTRALLY weekend in Austin. Republic of Texas Motorcycle Rally. Hard to miss 40,000 extra Harleys in town. It brings in a ton of money and gives the local hospitals and EMS crews a busy weekend. I've mentioned ROTRALLY a number of times before, and I even posted a picture of a couple of maturity on a big trike and claimed that it was of Barb and me leading the parade down 6th Street. Truth be told, I snagged that picture from some other website somewhere and laid claim to it. I know you find that hard to believe. You'll get over it.

Actually, that post and it's picture makes me a tad bit nervous. For some reason, people using Google to search for "rotrally" or "Republic of Texas Motorcycle Rally" or variations thereof frequently find that specific blog in their returned set of sites and come exploring. Go figure. What I fear is that some day some bad biker dude and his tattooed motorcycle momma are going to knock on my front door and say, "About that picture that you claim is of you and your squeeze." Let me just go on record right now as saying, "My, that is a handsome couple and I hold them up as an inspiration to me and my wife."

We enjoyed a "no technology evening" the other night, thanks to Time-Warner. When you bundle your cable, telephone and Internet all with the same provider you run the risk of being dumped back into the 1950's from time-to-time, back when the family sat quietly after dinner, reading, sewing, pondering the days activities. If that had not been the night of a Mavs/Heat game and the championship of Women's Collegiate Softball we might have been more philosophical about it. Actually, with iPhones, you are not bereft. It just feels like it.

Saw a bumper sticker that said "I (heart) my toaster." Gotta love this town.

Do you have any bulletin boards in your church foyer? I looked up the other day and realized that we don't at our church. There used to be a number of them for different ministries and such. Now there are flat-screen monitors mounted on the wall. We have half-a-dozen of them, each looping through spiffy, professional-looking pages promoting the teen classes, or the Father-Son Camp-out, or Peru Orphanage VBS. Nobody cuts out letters or pictures anymore. I guess now you boot up graphic design programs and e-mail the finished product to the server. No more bulletin board parties. How long before our children won't remember what a church bulletin board was? Does Jon Acuff know about this?

Shady Grove - a local eatery that is part of the Chuy's empire -  has a chicken fried steak smothered in - wait! Not cream gravy, but Hatch green chili sauce & melted Monterrey cheese, served with a twice-baked jalapeno potato. I'm trying to decide if that is an abomination in Bubba-land, or the greatest thing I've ever heard of! I'll let you know after I try it.

And I need your help. Take a look at my shoes. Go ahead, this is not Smellavision.

Notice the dark spot on the right shoe? I can't figure out what makes that. The spot shows up on my other shoes as well. My first thought was the car - maybe the floor mat. Nope. Fabric floor mats. Hooked under the brake pedal? No. So I guess I sit with my right foot curled under me and rubbing on... what? Carpet throughout the house. Plastic mat under the computer desk (and awkward to get the toe against, to boot). Chairs? Recliner? I walk like Igor and drag my foot behind me? I mean, I don't even wear shoes most of the time anyway! What causes the dark spot? Winner gets a pair of old sneakers. Second prize is two pair.

And, you can't make this stuff up.

HOQUIAM, Wash. —
Police say a man was carrying a dead weasel when he burst into a Hoquiam apartment and assaulted a man. The victim asked, “Why are you carrying a weasel?” Police said the attacker said, “It’s not a weasel, it’s a marten,” then punched him in the nose and fled. The attacker was apparently looking for his girlfriend and had gone to her former boyfriend’s apartment Monday night where the victim was a guest. KXRO reports he left the carcass behind.

Police later found the suspect arguing with his girlfriend at another location and arrested the 33-year-old Hoquiam man after a fight. He said he had found the marten dead near Hoquiam, but police don’t know why he carried it with him.

I think I've got it now!

You may recall that I was inspired by the activities of the Interactive portion of SXSW to recast my blog into a new, powerful force in the world of social media (not to mention a money making machine).

I did note that Food, Arts and Crafts, and Political commentary had been done to death, so I was looking for a new meme - one that would spread like wildfire and bring me fame and fortune. I think I've found it. I'm going to become the Great Ombudsman! The Consumer Advocate for the little man! You're welcome.

What brought this to my attention are the increasing number of news items that tell of some corporate giant being brought low by the power of social media. In fact, the July Kiplinger's magazine features an article entitled "How to Complain and Get Results" which highlights, among other things, using social media as a weapon in the battle for customer satisfaction. The article recounts how someone named Derek Torrey had broken his pick trying to struggle through Comcast's impossible automated phone system and indifferent customer-service reps. He finally gave up and tweeted Comcast with a very public plea for help. Within 10 minutes a representative responded and the problem was resolved to Derek's satisfaction.

You may have seen Dave Carroll’s viral video "United Breaks Guitars." It seems that while Carrol was flying from Nova Scotia to Nebraska on United Airlines, somebody broke his $3,500 Taylor guitar. Carrol spent more than a year trying to get redress from United, to no avail, so he and his band wrote a little ditty, recorded it and put it on YouTube. To date, more than 10 million viewings of that video have delivered more than 10 million not-so-subtle jabs to the reputation of United Airlines, and will do so for years to come!

United sat up and took notice. As a result of the publicity, it finally offered to pay the cost of repairing his guitar and flight vouchers worth $1,200 but Carroll told the airline to donate the sum to charity. "They definitely want this to go away," he said. Carroll garnered so much publicity he now has a second career as a keynote speaker, lecturing corporate America on customer service.

Or how about when Southwest Airlines bumped movie director Kevin Smith because he was too large to fit in a single seat on a full plane?  One little tweet informed 1.65 million followers of the situation and Southwest gave itself whiplash remedying the situation. That worked so well, when Virgin Airlines refused to let him board (they said he was too late - he said he was not) a few months later, out came the iPhone and this time Smith heard from Virgin founder Sir Richard Branson himself.

Or how about Delta airlines just this week stiffing a bunch of soldiers returning from duty in Afghanistan by charging them extra-bag fees?  Yep. A YouTube video got them satisfaction and new rules for Delta in just hours.

Okay, you get the point. So how does all that figure into my amazing new blog? Simple. I'll take on all your consumer complaints and do battle with corporate America with the power of social media! That's right. I am your new Captain Justice! Highlighting your humiliating treatment at the hands of robber barons, I'll fight for truth, justice, and airline vouchers. So, send me your sad stories, and as soon as I get 1.65 million followers on Twitter and a few million blog followers, I'll take up the battle.

Let's see, now. How does this Twit thing work? Hmmm. I may need to call customer service here.

Growing older in Austin

This blog entry is intended for those whose level of maturity qualifies them to relate.

1960:     Long hair
2011:     Longing for hair

1960:     KEG
2011:     EKG

1960:     Acid rock
2011:     Acid reflux

1960:     Moving to California because it's cool
2011:     Moving to Arizona because it's warm

1960:     Trying to look like Marlon Brando or Liz Taylor
2011:     Trying NOT to look like Marlon Brando or Liz Taylor

1960:     Seeds and stems
2011:     Roughage

1960:     Hoping for a BMW
2011:     Hoping for a BM

1960:     Going to a new, hip joint
2011:     Receiving a new hip joint

1960:     Rolling Stones
2011:     Kidney Stones

1960:     Disco
2011:    Costco

1960:     Begging your parents to let your hair grow
2011:     Begging your hair to grow

1960:     Passing the drivers' test
2011:     Passing the vision test

Here's a bonus.  Each year the staff at Beloit College in Wisconsin puts together "The Mindset List" to try to give the faculty a sense of the mindset of this year's incoming freshmen.  Here are some items from the list for the class of 2011:

 What Berlin wall?
 Humvees, minus the artillery, have always been available to the public.
 They have grown up with bottled water.
 General Motors has always been working on an electric car.
 Nelson Mandela has always been free and a force in South Africa.
 Pete Rose has never played baseball.
 Rap music has always been mainstream.
 Women have always been police chiefs in major cities.
 Eastern Airlines has never “earned their wings” in their lifetime.
 Wal-Mart has always been a larger retailer than Sears and has always employed more workers than GM.
 Being “lame” has to do with being dumb or inarticulate, not disabled.

 They never found a prize in a Coca-Cola “MagiCan.”
 Being a latchkey kid has never been a big deal.
 Thanks to MySpace and Facebook, autobiography can happen in real time.
 They learned about JFK from Oliver Stone and Malcolm X from Spike Lee.
 High definition television has always been available.
 Time has always worked with Warner.
 Tiananmen Square is a 2008 Olympics venue, not the scene of a massacre.
 The purchase of ivory has always been banned.
 They never saw Johnny Carson live on television.
 Chavez has nothing to do with iceberg lettuce and everything to do with oil.
 The World Wide Web has been an online tool since they were born.
 Chronic fatigue syndrome has always been debilitating and controversial.
 Burma has always been Myanmar.
 Dilbert has always been ridiculing cubicle culture.
 Food packaging has always included nutritional labeling.



Yep. Had a good day today.

Monday Meanderings 6.6.2011

Been watching a lot of collegiate women's softball of late. Last week, in one of the regionals, we saw a girl hit a monster home run that blasted a car driving down the street behind the stadium. I've seen windows knocked out and dents on hoods before, but this was the first time to see a driver's side rear-view mirror knocked right off of a moving vehicle.

Tomatoes on the patio are doing nicely, so I was really, really hacked to find some critter had been munching on them the other night.  I may have to initiate a nightly shotgun patrol. Of course, I might end up like a friend who one night blasted away at what he thought was a snake on his patio, only to discover the next morning that his garden hose was in about 4 pieces.

An Austin man was out geo-caching in a remote part of a greenbelt when he was injured by falling rocks from a cliff face. He was able to call 911 on his cell and when they asked if he could describe where he was in the greenbelt he could only gave them the GPS co-ordinates. Unfortunately the 911 system is not set up to input GPS co-ordinates, but an off-duty emergency worker, also out geo-caching, heard the radio conversation and called in the injured man's location.

You remember the "Live Nude Fish" sign that keeps disappearing? After the 3rd sign disappeared, the owner of the fish place put out a new sign that says, "Spawn Safely." So far, it has remained un-purloined.

Serve out

Is it because all this good stuff keeps coming my way? Or is it that I'm too lazy to write a real blog entry. You be the judge.

 

Can't decide. Hedge Hogs or Badgers?

I guess it encourages them.

I'm guessing the book is The Wizard of Oz

You know those plastic bottles full of water? This is ever-so-much better.

And after a few of the above, you just want to hitch a ride.

Speaking of public transportation.

Don't know about you, but I would be a little self-conscious in this tub.

Just because it's interesting.

"I've got to tell her. It's over."

And I leave you with a little attitude.

One of these things is not like the other one

It all started when I got a bill in the mail from the Texas Tollways people. It seems that one of our vehicles was spotted exiting one of the toll plazas, and since we didn't have a TxTag, they sent me a bill (and added a service charge to do so). I never use the toll roads and Barb assured me that she had not been slipping around running up toll fees, so I set out to deny, refute, challenge, and negate this bill. According to the invoice, a car with license 368DPF was the offender. Aha! Barb's license is 369DPF; close, but no cigar. Obviously, this is a clerical error.

So I call Texas Tollways and they listen to my righteous protest and say, "Well, Mr. Anderson, let me look this up." After a minute or two of a jingle about why we should all rush right out and drive up and down the toll roads, the lady came back and said,
"Mr. Anderson, do you own a white Honda?"
"Why no," I respond. "A red Honda. License 369DPF."
"Well the picture is of a white Honda," she says.
"All red," I say.
"Let me do some more checking," she says. And after more music, she returns.
"Uh, Mr. Anderson, license 369DPF is not registered in your name. 368DPF is, but not 369."
"I just looked at the license and it's 369DPF. I can send you a picture."
"Let me look at the front of the car in the picture. Uh Oh."
"Uh oh? What is Uh Oh?"
"Mr Anderson, go look at the front of your car."

Okay, here's the back.

And here's the front.

 

Do you see a problem?

Five years we have been driving this car and no one has noticed this! Not only that, there's a white Honda running around with the same problem, only with the numbers reversed. Since they are both Hondas, it's pretty obvious that the guy at the dealership who attached these plates on the new cars mixed them up. Let's go lay this problem on 1st Texas Honda's doorstep!

"Well, yes. we see that you purchased your car here, and I guess we did attach two different plates, but the other car was not purchased here, so we could not have mixed them up. You need to go see the County Tax Collector."

So we hurried over to the Tax Collector's office and explained in great detail everything we had learned, and the clerk said, and I quote, "It happens. That will be $6.35 for a new set of plates."

"But what about the other guy? He's running around on the toll roads and I'm getting the bill?

She didn't come right out and say it, but the expression on her face clearly said. "This is the Tax office. This is not the Toll office. Take it up with them."

Clearly, the only thing to do is go drive up and down the toll roads. The bill is going to go to the owner of a white Honda.