Twenty Dollars Plus

It was an epiphany.  Just last evening I was trying to watch some inane television – using this medium as a sleep aid.  The hour was not too late but, that day was chock full of excitement that needed quelling.

 

Religiously, after exactly five minutes and 30 seconds, up popped a series of ads that gave me a deep look into my shallow existence.

 

Somehow, my life took a turn away from things critical to my survival and toward austerity.  This had to stop immediately.

 

First up was an advertisement for some sort of knee brace that instantly eliminated back and leg pain.  I was told the brace was absolutely necessary to help my sedentary life turn into one of dancing and field-goal kicking.  The New York Giants should get a couple of these for their special teams players.  But, I digress.

 

They were available for the modest sum of $20, plus shipping and handling.  But wait!  For only the cost of shipping and handling, I could get a second brace.  Shipping and handling amounted to eight bucks, each.  So, for $36, I could get a knee brace for each knee, rather than limping because I only had one.

 

Then we slid into an ad for an electric callous trimmer.  Evidently there is some crisis in the fashion world that dictates women have callous-free tootsies.  Women’s feet are shown with elephant-like skin being magically transformed into baby-bottom soft appendages.  The secret is the 2500 RPM motor that spins the cutting disk.

 

These products have been around for years and could be found in the kitchen gadget department as a cheese grater.  These, too could be bought for another twenty plus eight dollars.

 

Not being done with all the hype, I was introduced to a spice organizer shelf system.  Oddly enough, just last week, I was saying, to Smokey the cat, “I wish I had a spice organizer shelf system.  I wonder why nobody makes one.”

 

Evidently they do.  Smokey and I were glued to the TV to get the details.  It seems as though these shelves are made from durable polystyrene that resist rust, and support barbells.  This is great because I was also thinking of storing my barbells in my spice cabinet.  All this for only the amazing amount of $20, plus shipping and handling.  Smokey had his checkbook handy.

 

But wait, there’s more!

 

Back to programming but, in another 5 ½ minutes, I was treated to more sales pitches.  After all these years, I failed to realize I needed an organically green frying pan.  This pan was guaranteed to prevent anything from sticking to it.

 

That was all well and good, but how did they get the organic coating stick to the pan?  That was perplexing.

 

This $20 frying pan seemed like the ticket to trouble-free cooking for years to come, providing there were no questions asked.

 

In this world of television hawking, I came across fixes for nearly everything, and some things I didn’t realize needed fixes.

 

Brownie pans that cut brownies while they’re baking, special pans to create taco shell bowls, devices that prepare the perfect hard-boiled egg, and special cloths that were reverse-engineered from debris found at the Roswell crash site, guaranteed to soak up the Pacific ocean in seconds.

 

This was a clear bonanza of must-haves and helped me create my Christmas shopping list for this year.

 

America is such a great place.

Not Guilty!

It wasn’t long ago when my sainted wife and I were stopped by a local law enforcement representative.  I won’t tell you who it was but, it rhymes with Maryland State Valise.  The State Valise trooper told me the speed limit was 55 MPH.  I was traveling well above that, at which point he explained the number on the sign represented the maximum amount rather than the minimum.  I stood corrected.

 

Fast-forward to yesterday when my sainted wife and I were watching a COPS marathon.  Nearly every show contained a traffic stop that involved the stopee jumping and running from the vehicle.

Along the way, these upstanding citizens of the community, who clearly fled because they “were scared,” tossed copious amounts of crack cocaine and various drug paraphernalia in an effort to have no evidence on them when they were duly nabbed by the constabulary.

 

Invariably, once caught, these perps would deny knowing anything about that contraband, even though their pharmaceutical littering was captured on videotape.

 

Some even had drugs tucked neatly into the pants they were wearing and explained that away by saying not only did they not realize the drugs were stuffed in the pockets, the pants were not theirs – the britches were simply borrowed from someone unknown.

 

Of course these candidates for canonization were innocent until proven guilty in a court of law.  But I digress.

 

During one the many commercials breaks a conversation ensued about when the appropriate time to flee from the authorities was appropriate.

 

This is a good time to explain that neither of us imbibes in illegal narcotics, legal marijuana, or even listen to Lady Gaga.  Our biggest offense is tipping a glass, or two, of wine or spirits in the form of Crown Royal.  That’s a hint for readers wishing to express their sincerest gratitude for these amusing stories.

 

Finding ourselves perplexed, we tried to conjure up a scenario for taking flight to avoid apprehension by the law.

 

Since we don’t drink and drive, carry illegal goods, tote concealed weapons, smuggle undocumented aliens, or beat up our fiancés inside elevators, there was little in the way of a foot chase for us in which to become engaged. 

 

Baffled, we arrived at this scenario:

While traveling on the highway designed for speeds of 70 MPH, we are stopped for exceeding the speed limit of 55 MPH.  As soon as the Maryland State Valise pull over, my sainted wife bolts from the car.

 

Immediately, a chase is on.  Although a humdrum one since my sainted wife has been collecting Social Security for some years, it is a chase, nonetheless.

 

She is sprinting at a blistering pace of two- to three-miles-per-hour, with the police huffing and puffing behind, akin to blue-tick hounds in pursuit of a fleeing raccoon.

 

Enroute to a safe haven, she tosses split-sized bottles of chardonnay and pinot grigio as she makes her Mercury-like escape.

 

Meanwhile, I dutifully complain to the backup trooper that I was stopped because of profiling, all-the-while repeating the sentence, “I didn’t do nothing!  I didn’t do nothing!”

 

Eventually, we both find ourselves standing in front of a judge with our public defender.  Our excuse for resisting arrest?  We were scared and, it wasn’t our wine.

 

“Good enough for me,” says the judge.  “You two are free to go.”

How Much?

Way back when, in 1952, Patti Page sang a song entitled, “My Jealous Eyes.”  The good news is that when you tired of that song, you could turn to the flip side of your ‘45’ to listen to, “(How Much For) That Doggie in the Window?”

 

A ‘45’ is a 45-RPM disc that was originally made of wax, and later of vinyl, eventually being dubbed a “record.”  Kids would go to a record store to buy their favorite record and listen to it on a hi-fi.  But, I digress.

 

For nearly three-minutes, we heard Ms. Page whine about getting a dog from a pet store to keep her boyfriend company in her absence.

 

Most notably is that she never gets the actual price of that dog.  This is a splendid example of why commerce is dying today.

 

Practically every business in the world has a website that touts their wares to anyone and everyone that visits.

 

Websites need the businesses to “rent” a domain name, which costs money.  Once established, they need someone to design and create the graphics of the site.  Often, professionals – with the business’ input – add photos, names, contact numbers, addresses, product lists, corporate information, that makes their product appealing to the masses.  Once again, an important thing to include is the price.

 

Too often, though, businesses omit the price because they want your contact information so that can badger you at a later date.

 

On paper, that strategy sounds great but, these companies never get my info because I don’t want to have to dicker with a salesperson three weeks from now, before I simply hang-up on them.  Suddenly, these clever marketers went from sale to no-sale in just a few seconds, with no chance of my returning to waste more time.

 

Try getting an idea how much new windows will cost.  Window manufacturers will show you frames made from wood, vinyl, or even aluminum, with varying numbers of glass panes, some with tinting, and a few with special gas sandwiched in between.

 

There is a basic cost to assemble these parts at which they must be sold in order for the seller to make a profit, and any extras will merely add to that cost.

 

Rather than simply giving that price, they will note that after a form is completed, a sales representative will call with “more information.”

 

These smarmy strategies can be found on vehicle websites, carpet and flooring sites, and those websites that want to install new bathrooms and kitchens.

 

I’m an adult and realize a new vehicle price is not the price for which I will buy that car or truck.  Added thereon will taxes, license plates, registration, and perhaps a “delivery fee,” whatever that is.  That truck had to be delivered somewhere; I don’t really know if I paid a “delivery fee” on my zucchini and cauliflower in the market. 

 

Besides, did they ship my new truck one-at-a-time or with seven others on a hauler?  Remember that each one is being charged that “delivery fee.”

 

I also expect that any carpeting I buy will cost me money for padding and installation, thereby adding to the advertised price.  I don’t need or expect some telephone clown to try to up-sell me on tack strips.

 

In any case, if you have a company and a website, simply add prices of your products or services if you’d like to sell anything so I don’t have to ask about that doggy in the window.

Random Thoughts II

Do those pokey left-lane drivers realize the “Slower traffic keep left,” signs means them?

 

Why is Brett Favre’s name not spelled F-A-R-V-E, the way he pronounces it?

 

When did the Dallas Cowboys become “America’s Team?”

 

There were no police shootings of blacks in Ferguson, Missouri, yesterday.

 

There were 11 shootings of blacks by blacks in Chicago last week.  No riots or demonstrations occurred.

 

Where is all the puffed rice on The Eastern Shore?

 

It should be illegal to sell stereo speakers in odd numbers.

 

Why don’t guys who mow lawns for a living own calendars?

 

Does anyone grow tomatoes in Accomack County?  I can only find ones grown in China.

 

Speaking of China, why does our fish come from there?  We live on a peninsula, for Gods’ sake!

 

Crabs should not cost $90 per bushel.

 

FYI, I leave the toilet seat up in case Hillary Clinton stops by.

 

I’ll wager that Michael Bloomberg is a stupid as he sounds.

 

Why does the Fiat 500E cost $22,000?  It’s only worth $7,000.

 

Does President Barack Hussein Obama still have a golf handicap?  If so, he should quit.

 

Whatever happened to Steely Dan?

 

I applaud Dan Snyder for keeping the Washington Redskins’ name intact.

 

Hardee’s makes the best burgers.  Five Guys are second.

 

Eric Holder sounds like a first-class douchebag.  But, I mean that in the nicest sense.

 

What I listened to as ‘rock and roll’ are now ‘oldies.’

 

Why do the stupidest people think they are smart?

 

Is everyone happy that the LA Clippers have a new owner?

 

The U.S. Navy is spineless to knuckle under to an offended atheist group and remove bibles from base hotels.  How will they be able to fight foreign enemies if they can’t handle these whiners?

 

People in Wales are pressing for a waiting period for knives.  Evidently they are the weapons-of-choice in lieu of outlawed guns.  Who would have guessed that?

 

Why is everyone suddenly on SSI?

 

Is the ebola virus contagious or not?  Please make up your mind and give us an honest answer.

 

I wish RoboCop was real.

 

Come back for more words of wisdom next week.

Still Getting the Shaft, Not the Mine

With my sainted wife out of town, I was forced to do something which I find absolutely deplorable – go grocery shopping.

 

A few years ago I penned a story about the high price of edibles, and even explored the gouging going on in the quaint world of farmers markets.

 

But today we are going to examine the sneaky price-raising that has become commonplace in America’s grocery stores.

 

Time was when you purchased things by the dozen.  Eggs, corn-on-the-cob, doughnuts, and bagels are just a few examples that were commonly sold in twelves.  The rare exceptions were hot dogs and hot dog buns which are sold in packs of ten and eight, respectively.   But, I digress.

 

Today, doughnuts and bagels are sold individually with no discount for quantity purchases.  It used to be that if you bought twelve, you would occasionally get a free one calling it a baker’s dozen.  That implies the last – or thirteenth one – was for the baker to taste to ensure top quality.

 

Corn-on-the-cob was also sold by the dozen.  No longer, though.  Now corn ears are sold by the dollar; three for a dollar, of four for a buck is routine.  With corn being raised in record amounts, the cost should be nearly free, rather it is expensive because so much is being used for export and for ethanol.

 

To divert our collective low intelligence, stores try to make such produce purchases seem as though they are bargains by lowering the amount of product instead of simply raising the price.

 

Along that same vein is coffee.  Coffee was once sold by the pound in bags, cans, or in bulk.  One magical day, the price of coffee changed from buying one pound cans to buying 13 ounce cans.  Three pound cans became 1 pound, 13.3 ounces.  That is quite a difference in sizes.  Three ounces for the pound can, 19.7 ounces for the three pound version, difference in product weight is now the rule.

 

Of course, the price per pound didn’t decrease, the size of the package did, giving the impression your food costs less.
 

Toilet paper is must-use for everyone.  My TP holders used to be full of toilet paper when a fresh roll was installed.  Little or no room behind the roll or side-to-side existed.  Not now.

 

Today’s TP rolls are at least an inch thinner and ¾” narrower, meaning you are getting thinner sheets that are smaller but, likely paying more than you did years ago.  Once again, perception that any price increase was a small one because you didn’t realize the size changes, too.

 

Cucumbers squash, and zucchini were sold individually for 25₵, each.  Yesterday, they were selling for the premium price of 97₵ per pound.  That calculated system means you’ll likely get only three cucumbers instead of four for a buck.
 

Once again, not exactly a jail-able offense but, still another way to sneakily get more money for less from the consumer.

 

Of course, it is not the fault of the grocer or road-side farmer that prices continue to creep up; the blame lies with the consumer who readily pays the price because they merely want the product.

 

Let us not forget we also bring our own bags to the store to “conserve” resources.  I believe the only resources we are saving are those of the supermarkets.

 

Instead of a cheap plastic sack, I would prefer a kiss on the cheek when I get screwed.  I’m just saying…

Knee Slapping

Repeated studies insist women find “a sense of humor” the number one trait that is attractive to them in men.  They actually don’t.

 

And, most people, including my sainted wife, insist they have a good sense of humor, when, in fact, they have none.

 

Here’s a very funny joke:

 

Three guys die and go to heaven. St. Peter says "Listen - we're having a really busy century, so we need to manage admissions tightly. Right now we can only admit people who have died in horrible fashions, and those who have died in a more mundane way will have to wait in limbo, and it could take a decade or two to work you in."

So St. Peter takes aside the first man, and asks him how he died.
"Well, I'd been suspicious of my wife having an affair for some time now, so today I came home from work early. I just knew the guy was in my apartment, but I couldn't find him. I looked everywhere and was just about to give up, when I went out on the balcony of my 23rd story apartment and there he was hanging over the edge! He was just barely hanging on, there was no way he could climb back onto the balcony. It was a really stupid place to try to hide. I was livid, so I started punching him and clawing at his fingers, but he held on. Finally I went to get a hammer and started pounding on his fingers, and he fell down. But what really angered me was that he landed in some bushes and fell to the ground dazed, but basically OK! I was so mad I grabbed the refrigerator, threw it off the balcony and it landed on him. Unfortunately I was so riled up by the incident I had a heart attack and died."

St. Peter was taken aback, and said "While you did die in a dramatic fashion, I think we need to look at that whole second degree murder before we let you in - off to limbo with you." He then approached the second man and asked him how he had died.

"I was riding my exercise bike on the balcony of my 24th story apartment, when the thing broke and threw me over the railing! I grabbed furiously at the railing and slipped, but managed to catch on the balcony below mine. I tried to climb up but it just wasn't possible. I thought I was going to fall but then someone came out on the balcony. I thought he would help me, until he started hitting me! I held on as best I could, but when he got a hammer and started hitting me I finally couldn't hold on anymore and fell. Somehow, though, I fell in some bushes and fell to the ground dazed, but basically OK! Just as I'm coming around, I look up and BAM this refrigerator lands on me. So here I am."

St. Peter immediately admitted this second man to heaven, and pulled aside the third man and asked him for his story.

"Picture this: I'm naked in a refrigerator..."

 

Most recipients of this bit of levity don’t even smile likely because it is a long joke and their attention spans are limited.  But it is funny.

 

We live in dire times with drought, disease, and poverty, with no end in sight.  How about lightening up and laugh at the funny things and quit being so sensitive to everything.

Nick’s Name Nicknames

American Indians used to name their offspring after the first thing or event witnessed after the child’s birth.  This is where we get names such as Running Deer and Red Moon.  Perhaps this is where the name “Nick” originated; the baby’s dad cut himself shaving.  That’s just a guess.

 

Wading through life, I’ve met a slew of people from various walks of life, and enjoyed the company of most.  That was ages ago and things have since changed.

 

Today’s world is different, though, as nearly everyone has been on television at one point or another, or they have their own television program as a reality show.

 

Way back when, we used our given names to get by in life; now special monikers are used to identify folks, for any number of reasons.

 

Very, very few of my acquaintances had nicknames.  Joe was Joe, Tom was Tom, and Mike was Mike.  Sure those are abbreviated versions of Joseph, Thomas, and Michael, but they are versions of their “real” names.

 

The nicknames to which I am referring are one that are pinned on a person by either family or friends, and are equally cool as they are uncool.

 

Youngsters who are dubbed after their fathers are often nicknamed “Junior.”  This name is not necessarily offensive unless your dad was Adolph Hitler, in which case you’d like to change your name to $#!+head.  But, I digress.

 

Take, for example, Magic Johnson.  In case you didn’t know, his first name is Earvin, not Magic.  These type of namings are evident in much of sports with nicknames such as The Diesel, Bear, Smoke, The Captain, and The Murderer.  That last one is my personal naming of O.J. Simpson however, that nickname hasn’t caught on.

 

In school where everyone’s saintly kids are really mean, nicknames of other kids are issued in the vein of Four Eyes, Geeky, and Freckles.  Those names are meant to boost the egos of the less-intelligent students who will wind-up busing tables or digging ditches for Four Eyes and Geeky.  That is called Karma.

 

But the music world is where the coolest nicknames are given and worn as a badge of honor.

 

Gatemouth Clarence, Guitar Matt, Blues Harp Lou, are just few that one can find in the jazz field.  Then there are people nicknamed The King, and The King of Pop – one was Elvis while the other was Michael Jackson.  “The Queen” belongs to Aretha Franklin, and The Duke belonged to John Wayne, a non-musician.

 

Let us not forget the genre of R&B/rap, where people nicknamed Ice-T, Ice-Cube, and Vanilla Ice, can be located.  It seems as though singers with “ice” in their nicknames are given television show jobs, as per the law.  I never did find people named Ice Cream, Italian Ice, or Ice Cold.

 

Boxers have their own little planet of names usually beginning with the name “Sugar.”  It would appear that creativity is in short supply as no one uses the nicknames Knuckles, K.O., or Eight-Count.  Names like Glass Jaw and Gotta Go should be avoided at all costs.

 

Now I’m in the market for a really cool nickname for myself that doesn’t include the word “clown,” “goofy,” or “super fat.”

 

I’m open to suggestions.  Write to me.