It’s Called What?

As a child, I remember one project that my father was working on in our home.  My Dad had an entire workshop in the basement with his tools neatly placed in labeled drawers or hung upon pegboards, all polished and sharp.

 

But because we lived in a second-floor flat, the trek to retrieve a simple screwdriver was a job in and of itself.  Dad kept a few regularly-used tools in a Maxwell House coffee can in our pantry.  Therein were some loose nails and various screws, an awl, pliers, adjustable wrench, and a couple of screw drivers.  Lying nearby was a hammer, as it was too large to fit inside.

 

This quick and easy project required only the use of this ersatz tool kit, and I was the gofer.

 

I was a five year-old told to fetch a “Phillips” screwdriver.  I went to the coffee can and brought back a screwdriver, albeit a wrong one.

 

I promptly received a thorough lesson on the difference between flat point and Phillips screwdrivers.

 

It seems as though back in the day, most people used a flat point screwdriver for their screwing needs.  Being a novice, I didn’t know that Mr. Phillips didn’t invent the flat point screwdriver as well as the one with the “x” tip.  Nonetheless, I was made aware.

 

Yesterday, I visited a local hardware store and needed fourteen #10, 1½” long screws with Phillips heads.  I handed my list to the clerk who asked if I wanted “cross point” screws.

 

After spinning nine revolutions, I was able to stop my head from unscrewing and falling off altogether.

 

This pimply-faced turd was a lot older than I was when I got the lecture on the difference between and betwixt screwdriver types.  It was about time he was schooled, and by someone like me.

 

“Yeah, Phillips screws,” I said.

 

“We call ‘em cross points, now,” he retorted.

 

I wasn’t nearly as good at lecturing as Dad was so, I gave up.  The turd won.

 

The trip home was filled with thoughts of other name changes.  Immediately, Christmas came to mind.

 

Do-gooders in Pittsburgh changed Christmas to “Sparkle Days,” so as not offend anyone except Christians.  And, Buttinski’s in Arlington, Virginia changed Christmas to “Winter Holiday,” to honor Hanukkah.

 

Feminists have urged the use of “gingerbread figures,” rather than the uber-offensive “gingerbread men.”  No immediate word on “snowmen” or “man-hole covers.”

 

Still, I will always refer to screws with little x’s on the top as Phillips screws, and Christmas as Christmas.

 

Let’s offend everyone by wishing everyone “Merry Christmas!”  Merry Sparkle Days doesn’t have the same ring.

On a Budget

I have several hobbies to keep myself occupied and out of trouble.  One of my favorite hobbies, though, is saving money.  That sounds ridiculous to the uninformed so, allow me to explain.

 

Most people simply buy things at retail price and are delighted to get what they want.  The price is rarely an issue in the decision making process.

 

For me, it is the thrill of the hunt.  I am usually armed with coupons, sale flyers, and the patience of Job, in order to get the most for the least.

 

For decades I bought used cars to avoid that nasty ‘depreciation’ penalty which amounts to roughly $3,000 to $5,000.

 

But for smaller items I usually turn to one of those on-line want-ad services or the newspapers to find my treasures.

 

To be clear, a newspaper is a regularly printed stack of recycled paper with information printed thereon.  They can be purchased at stores or can be arranged for home delivery.  They contain all sorts of things including news, sports scores, and want-ads.

 

People who advertise in newspapers generally want to quickly unload their stuff to clear out their basements, or make room for their cars in their garages.  Baby items and tools, furniture and exercise, equipment can all be found for sale in these ads.

 

Occasionally you will see an outrageous price for a piece of junk that is being sold as “old.”  Just because something is old doesn’t make it valuable.  I have a 350,000,000 year-old rock in my backyard that no one will give me a dollar for.  But, I digress.

 

In addition to finding bargains in these listings, one can also find great entertainment in the form of amusing ads.

 

Emmett Kelly dolls are a dime a dozen.  Evidently they were big some years back.  One hundred-seventeen bedroom sets were for sale in one issue; are people sleeping standing up like horses?

 

Five dollar blue plastic 55 gallon containers sold as “rain barrels” can be bought for only $30.  “Wheel barrels” can be found, too – whatever they are – not to be confused with “wheelbarrows.”

 

I located two “mirrows.”  And, plenty of broken refrigerators can be purchased for a song.

 

Animals appear in these publications for the rescuer in all of us.  Sugar gliders are $35, red-eared turtles are $6, and hedgehogs $120.

 

“Mixed breed” dogs are code words for “results of a pit bull with an over-aggressive libido.”

 

And, regional bargains should not be overlooked.  Check for surfboards for sale in Iowa, snow blowers in Florida, and solar panels in Oregon.

 

In any case, bargains abound and should not be overlooked when shopping for that treasure.

 

Now I have to figure out why my picture was listed under “antiques.”

Brainstorm

We’re well amid the Christmas season where people like me are desperately searching for gift ideas.

 

My sainted wife claims she has everything she needs – except a young, virile cabana boy – so, shopping for her is arduous, at best.

 

I, on the other hand, can use practically everything, including a brassier.  My man boobs are often dwarfed by those of acquaintances but, I could still use a training bra.  But, I digress.

 

Watching late-night television the other night caused me to catch an ad for a giant, pajama-type wrap that contained footies to keep your tootsies toasty.  It was sold as “one size fits all.”

 

This 60-second spot showed both men and women lounging about with bowls of food and apparently watching TV.  In essence, these are thin sleeping bags with arms and legs.

 

The Snuggies appear to be geared toward folks who have ample television-watching time on their hands, are too morbidly obese to wear PJ’s, or are simply out of Christmas gift ideas.

 

Some serious thought came to me at this point.  During the last commercial break seven-minutes earlier, an Australian-accented guy was trying to sell me a genuine imitation chamois cloth made from synthetic fibers.

 

It seems this ShamWow! rag is banned from the Great Lakes area.  If it happens to fall in to a lake, it is just too absorbent to be safe and ensure any water will be left.

 

After a thorough wash, the video salesman dried an entire Buick in nine seconds!  He sopped up spilled beverages of all types and after a quick wringing-out, he implied Moses didn’t part the Red Sea.  Rather, Moses used one of these shmatas to do the job and, for only $12.99 plus shipping and handling.

 

Here is where my grey matter kicks-in.  Normally known as “The Idea Guy,” I often come up with really terrific ideas that are the envy of everyone else too lazy to patent them.

 

I enjoy watching hours of NASCAR, football (not soccer) games, and baseball.  The most annoying part of all these events, aside from the relentless commercials, is the bathroom break time.

 

My sainted wife will espy me making my way from the bathroom and immediately recall an inane task that absolutely must be completed RIGHT NOW!

 

She thinks that since I am taking a break from the TV action, I am disinterested in the goings-on in the sports venue from which I just broke.  She thinks wrong.  But, this is not the time for an argument.

 

Now if I could only buy twelve of those super absorbent towels and configure a pattern of sorts, I could sew them into one of those over-sized pajama loungers with the footies.

 

Allow me to explain.  Not only would one of the homemade garments work well for me, allowing me to avoid those pesky bathroom breaks, it would also be beneficial to those folks targeted by the PJ wrap merchants.

 

Of course this is where you are likely trying to figure out how to invest this stellar plan.

 

Sorry, but I work alone and count my money the same way.  Just keep your eyes open for a late-night ad for the “Snug-Wow!”  And, my sainted wife’s eyes will light up with delight when she receives the prototype as a Christmas gift.

 

 

Free-for-all

It came to me in a dream, and this is one of my best ideas ever.  Since times are financially tight, I would take up a cause du jour, and then “go shopping.”

 

Allow me to explain.  Simply find a reason to do something – anything.

 

As a kid we all heard those excuses in school, such as “my dog ate my homework,” “I was too sick to lift a pencil,” and “my mother’s meth lab blew up.”  That’s bad behavior we learned from attending school.

 

Well, we now have a way to not only behave badly, but also get stuff while doing so.

 

Peruse the news and select a story that is rather mundane except for that odd dog-bites-man twist.  It can be about same-sex marriages, or an unexpected death, but it has to be something that is local and can be imagined nationally.

 

It is imperative that you are able to feign outrage, and it would be good to have the ability to manufacture “facts” about your chose event, out of thin air.

 

Now simply text your friends and associates, and tell them about this selected injustice you’ve opted for.  Using social media is a plus as it will find its way to all the losers who don’t have, or want, jobs.

 

At this point you will want to direct all your 300 closest friends and former cellmates to gather somewhere very public.

 

Have them bring legible signs or cardboard.  Be certain to have someone who can spell waiting with a magic marker, and someone with clever sayings show up, too.

 

Imagine if everyone brought 50-or so buddies, Molotov cocktails, matches, ski masks, and baseball paraphernalia in the form of bats.

 

Soon, the police will arrive as they are pretty curious folks.  A megaphone would be useful to begin the crowd chanting, “No justice, no peace.”  It could be, “No cold ice, no peas,” too.  Either one is pretty catchy.  For future reference, “Hey, hey, ho, ho, [fill-in-the-blank] has got to go,” is always a crown pleaser.

 

In any case, as the throngs grow and noise escalates, keep your fingers crossed for some tear gas to be dispensed by the police.

 

It is at this point you and your comrades should throw your Molotov cocktails, and run in varying directions.

 

This is where that sports equipment comes in handy.  Breaking into businesses to get fifteen pairs of size 7 EEE sneakers, or three magnesium car wheels is the crux of this brilliant plan.

 

Of course entering a smoldering beauty supply to get away with nine bottles of hair gel or a couple of jugs of that blue juice they put combs in, is an opportunity that should not go wasted.

 

I can’t stress enough that it is imperative to plan the “shopping,” well.  Your protest needs to begin near your favorite merchants.  Remember that display cell phones in those wireless stores always make great Christmas gifts, as do 22 pairs of the wrong-size jeans.

 

Sure, other non-progressives might call this behavior “looting.”  I call it “justice for peace.”  A rose by any other word is still a rose.

Thanksgiving Day Festivities

Once again we are quickly approaching that time of year when we are inundated with an abundance of spare time on our hands because of holidays.

 

We just finished with Labor Day, Armistice Day, and are looking Thanksgiving Day in the immediate days.  Unlike Christmas, this is a secular celebration meaning that people of all religions can get into the celebration mode and fight and argue like us Christians.

 

Thanksgiving Day was established so that we, as both a society and individually, could take time to reflect on our lives and give thanks for all we have.

 

That day, we are expected to gather as a family and grin and smile and nod to one another as we overlook Aunt Edith’s false teeth lying next to the sweet potatoes during the Thanksgiving dinner, or Dad’s ability to belch during the quietest moments of the meal.

 

We are also expected to watch football on television.  For our international readers, that is not soccer.  We are expected to see the Detroit Lions win; they won’t.

 

No, the turkey will be especially dry because Mom wants it to be “safe” so, she leaves it in the oven for an extra hour, or so.

 

Gravy will be lumpy, the green bean salad will be gone first, the sweet potatoes with those little marshmallows will be overly sweet, and the mashed potatoes will be cold.

 

All those pumpkin pies will be store bought, and the coffee will be bitter from sitting so long.  No one drinks coffee on Thanksgiving Day.

 

Rather, we rise in the morning to rattling pans and spoons and join the rest of the family for Bloody Marys during the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade.  In fact, that is no longer a parade but has turned into three hours of ads with a few marching bands sprinkled therein.

 

By the time the Santa float arrives, we have switched to beer and are ready for discussions about how poorly our favorite football teams are performing.  We’re still not talking about soccer.

 

Eventually, those discussions become louder until it is time to eat.

 

Dad carves the turkey with everyone oohing and ahhing adding comments about how great everything looks.  At this point, we’re all so hungry we could devour broken glass soaked in used motor oil.  But, we are forced to tell the others what we are thankful for.

 

By the way, I’m thankful for not contracting the Ebola virus.

 

It isn’t long before all that preparing, cooking, ironing table cloths, and polishing flatware has come to an end.  The guys are tired as the tryptophan and booze kicks in.  Those who have a greater tolerance will likely start arguing about something – anything – and still be doing so while the police arrive.

 

Folks eventually leave, some of whom will return for Sunday’s meal, a few will not be seen until next year, others will disappear until their bail is paid.

 

In any case, think about what you can give thanks for.  And don’t argue.

I’ve Got You Covered!

In case you just arrived on this planet via spaceship, you likely have heard of Judge Judy.  Judge Judy is a grizzled, but somewhat pleasant, adjudicator of interesting legal cases. 

 

Some of these cases involve folks who have had entertaining traffic mishaps, most of them centering on the lack of auto insurance.

 

Today, I just paid my flood insurance for my home in Virginia.  The bill was nearly high enough to reach the International Space Station but, it is because my home is in a “flood plain.”

 

It is called a flood plain because it is a plain that floods.  Typically, high tides, the occasional nor’easter, and fairly rare hurricane can make things pretty, well, flooded.

 

To grease the skids for the insurance companies, they charge those exorbitant rates to protect themselves from us trying to protect our stuff.

 

I also have a small bungalow in God’s Waiting Room, also known as Florida.

 

This place also is insured against flood with flood insurance, wind with wind insurance, hurricanes with hurricane insurance, fire with fire insurance, and something unique to Florida – sinkhole insurance to protect against your home vanishing into the ground.

 

None of these insurances are cheap and all must be paid annually.  My last bill demanded money plus my first born male child.

 

To get to and fro, I have a car that requires insurance, too.  This insurance is really special inasmuch as I get to select how much insurance I cover plus I get to select my deductible rate.

 

Allow me to explain how this works.

 

After using the same auto insurance carrier for nearly three decades, someone slammed into the back of my car while stopped in the Chesapeake Bay Bridge.  The little tart driving the other car was fumbling for a CD under the passenger seat and blamed me for not simply driving through traffic stopped ahead of me.

 

My insurance company, whose identity will not be revealed – but their name rhymes with “Wallstate,” was delighted to collect nearly $25,000 in premiums from me.  Now, they were hesitant to talk with me about paying me for any damage.

 

As luck has it, tart-girl’s insurance company delivered a suitcase full of twenties to our door, about the same time our insurance agent disconnected his phone.

 

This adventure was eye-opening since I can only imagine trying to collect for my homes which could be damaged by a storm.

 

“We’re sorry, Uncle Paul.  Your hurricane insurance doesn’t cover the wind damage that caused your roof to blow away.  By the way, we found it in Ames, Iowa.”

 

“But what about my wind insurance?” I would query.

 

“This is rain damage I’m talking about,” claims the insurance clown.

 

“How can the rain get in there without the wind?” is my next question.

 

And so, this circular debate is akin to one I would have with Smokey the cat.

 

That, Judge Judy, is why I don’t have insurance.

Gotta Have It

Every few years a new fad arises to tantalize folks of all walks of life.

 

Remember the hula hoop?  That was a fad for nearly everyone except Hawaiians.  How about the Frisbee and whiffle balls?   Also fads.

 

Superballs, slime, Slinky, pogo sticks, Razor scooters, ape-hanger handlebars and banana seats for bicycles, are all examples of fads, too.

 

A fad is a form of behavior that becomes obsessive to a large number of the population, and can be found virtually everywhere.

 

Throwing a Frisbee on the beach and in school quads was unavoidable in the 1960’s.  Some folks were good at passing a flying disc to another person, others not so much.  The good ones developed tossing a Frisbee into a sport of ersatz golf, still being played today.

 

Whiffle balls and bats – once found near every toy counter – were used to aid actual organized Whiffle ball tournaments, likely for frustrated baseball players such as myself.  They are constructed from plastic, with the balls containing large perforations making them less-than-aerodynamic, thereby precluding extended flight.

 

My sister had a hula hoop as a kid, only to see it mysteriously vanish one trash-collection day.  Otherwise, it could be found lying in the yard, unused.

 

Tons of kids my age had old bikes that needed freshening for the age.  Rather than tossing them into the dump, they were retrofitted with tall handlebars and elongated seats.  These accessories made them appear more modern and added a few more years of use for just a couple of dollars.  Another fad.

 

Each child in America had to have a Razor scooter at the turn of the last century.  These aluminum foot-powered devices came with just enough accessories to introduce kids and their parents to their local hospital emergency room personnel.

 

These things were no more dangerous than those steel roller skates that my sister also had.  Her skates needed a wrench called a key to fit them to your saddle shoes.  These skates were endorsed by the Orthopedic Association of North America.  Please include skateboards in this list of potential widow-makers.

 

Let us not forget Beanie Babies.  This was akin to the Enron scam that bankrupted much of America.  BBs were small stuffed animals that appealed to adults as well as children.  They came in various designs, and an entire set was needed to make them worth anything.  To complete those sets, people were spending their trailer rent to acquire that stuffed red crab, only to realize another Baby was just released to create more economic drama.  These Beanie Babies can be found today at yard sales and thrift stores, nationwide.

 

But, the rich are not immune to fads.  A handful of years ago, everyone with a pulse suddenly bought an SUV.  Not sure why, gas companies delightedly raised the price of a gallon of fuel by $1.50 as a way to say, “Thanks!”

 

Today, 11 people do not have SUV’s, and those people are blind and cannot drive.

 

The latest fad is to stay Ebola-free.  Not exactly sure how it is transmitted or treated, the hemorrhagic disease has the population on edge.  Meanwhile, our national leaders are sure no one will get it in America.  Unfortunately, hundreds of Americans are being treated for it, and the president wants to bring additional infected Africans to America to prove he knows what he is doing.

 

This is irresponsible coming from a hapless leader.  Let’s let this fad stay overseas and create a new toy.