Just in Case

After striking a deal to privately sell one of our cars, we faced the daunting task of cleaning it out.  It quickly sold without haggling – an indicator that it looked genuinely good or it was too underpriced.  In any case, the real work was about to begin.

Inasmuch as we were still driving this car until it sold, we desperately needed all the stuff inside.  All of it.  All.

Keep in mind I was never a Boy Scout, whose motto is “Be Prepared.”  I am prepared, nonetheless.

The glove box, besides containing the owner’s manual, dutifully held four-packs of matches, 27 gas receipts, an old lollipop, small pad of paper, wad of dust, calculator, and an inkless pen.  Allow me to explain this compendium of survival gear.  Matches and the receipts could be used to start an emergency fire, the paper pad and pen would ideally be used in case of an accident to exchange information, the calculator for ciphering mileage.  It seems the lollipop was still pretty tasty, and the dust wad was merely a bonus find.

In the trunk, neatly tucked inside an old milk crate was a small air compressor, yellow battery jumper, extra jug of oil, oil filter wrench, three road flares, old CB radio, poncho, and a dull hatchet.  Of course, if you play the ‘what doesn’t fit’ game, the hatchet would be the item of note.  It is there in case we needed to chop kindling for our previously-mentioned emergency fire.  The ‘dull’ part of the hatchet was not desirable.

Under the front seat was a folding umbrella, ice scraper, squeegee, half-roll of paper towels, two petrified French fries, thirty-seven cents in pennies and nickels and dimes, a pen with ink, a birthday card for my sainted wife, and a used Styrofoam cup.  All this stuff makes perfect sense to me, even giving me relief to know that I did buy her that birthday card!

And, speaking of my sainted wife, her biggest fault – and she has many but, she doesn’t read this column so I can expand – is that she collects paper napkins.  Don’t misunderstand, she does not have wall-after-wall covered with lighted shadow boxes containing neatly displayed valuable paper napkins about which she can explain their origin while bragging to friends and visitors.  Rather, each time she visits a fast-food restaurant, she gathers up somewhere in the neighborhood of eight napkins.  Since we only use two each, quick ciphering leaves you with four extra, unused napkins.  Frugally, she saves them for future use either as tissues or even napkins.  These extras are stuffed in map slots on the doors, cup holders, and inside that elastic net thing on the back of the front seats.  I believe she possesses some chipmunk genes.

But, also in those seat net things were maps.  Maps of Virginia, Maryland, North Carolina, South Carolina, Georgia, Alabama, Tennessee, and Florida were located betwixt the napkins.

It’s clear I try be prepared for most road problems but, I became surprised myself when, after removing all this “emergency equipment” from the car that it actually held all this gear and still had room for the whole family.  This may have been the moment of epiphany when I realized we should be driving a moving van.  And, that lollipop was still pretty tasty.  We were prepared.

Hippity Hop to the Hip Hop

No idea who these characters are

Names of certain current music artists provide us with a disturbing, maybe unsettling, view of our youth.  J-Master, Lil Dick, M&M, Lil N, and Doo Fuss, are just samples of the names these clods think are cool.

It seems as though face-painted hair-band rock and rollers, with their long hair, spandex britches, and boots with elevator soles and heels have given way to a form of entertainment called “hip hop.”

Hip Hop “artists” come from all races and can easily be identified by their baggy mismatched clothes, expensive sneakers, and ball caps which absolutely must be worn sideways.  In addition, another accessory is a scowl.

A scowl is a usually good indicator of hemorrhoids but, these musical stars wear this grimace like a badge of honor.  It seems as though you have to look unhappy if you are connected, in any way, with the Hip Hop genre.  These performers and their body guards and their main squeezes – actually the word these gentlemen use to more accurately refer to these gussied-up women rhymes with “witches” – all of whom sport frowns, too.

It is somewhat mysterious why all the glumness because these folks make lots of money.  Lots!  Evidenced by their gold jewelry, oversized timepieces, diamond earrings, and choice of expensive alcohol consumed in their music videos, money seems to be of little concern.

In the event you have never seen a Hip Hop music video, they all begin with the main rapper – lingo for poet who thinks he can sing – sitting on a brownstone step with his homies.  “Homies” are simple minded morons who are mesmerized by this rapper’s ability to put rhyming words together while bobbing his head as if he were searching for pigs feet in a vat of boiling water.

He eventually makes it big and winds up driving to the music venue in a Lamborghini or Bentley, depending on how many lackeys need to jump out of this portable party.  They purposefully strut inside with copious over-made up women, with all the entourage wearing glamorous fur coats and sun glasses.

With the microphone firmly wedged inside his mouth, the bobbing and weaving continues with peculiar effeminate hand gestures.  Eventually, the group heads to their crib, another slang term for where people live.  Posh and well appointed, these cribs all contain a nicely stocked bar replete with Waterford crystal, and an oversized hot tub.

Luckily, the entire group has their bathing suits on-hand and climb into the spa.  The body guards, unfortunately, forget theirs and must stand nearby wearing their black leather jackets along with their shades and frowns.  The busty women take to waving their arms above their heads until a rival of some sort bursts in with their blazing “nines.”  In this case, “nines” refers to 9mm handguns. 

Evidently, these rappers have a nefarious side, perhaps related to drugs or some sort of fashion faux pas, and a score needs to be settled, clearly with firepower and lots of it.  Which begs the question:  Why all the body guards?

It is a blessing that the rapper is unhurt.  It is also a blessing there are so many more busty women capable of waving their arms so that another music video can be made.

This is what is called a “teaching moment.”  Youngsters who gravitate to this type of entertainment should be chastised for laughing at the poodle skirts, saddle shoes, and bowling shirts of yore.

In no way should this be considered a slam against Hip Hop or its fans.  It should, however, serve as a roadmap for anyone older than thirty to one of today’s musical choices.  And you may now call me by my new name, Type A Positive.

Words

Every now and then we hear phrases that give us pause.  Some phrases have worked their way into everyday language.  Here are some that are just plain dumb.

Be careful.  These two innocuous words are ones I often use.  I say it out of concern for my loved ones and after spewing them, is apologize.  People do not cast caution to the wind in my absence.  Climbing a ladder, my friends and family members don’t think, “No one offered any cautionary words so, it’s off to the top rung that is labeled ‘Not a Step’. “

I ran out of time.  This phrase can be heard by people who have poor time-management skills.  Since we all have 24-hours in a day, we all have the same opportunities to accomplish things within those parameters.

If only I had known.  Used primarily as a vehicle to provide an excuse for some sort of shortcoming, this saying is a true gem.  “If only I had known,” I would’ve picked the winning lottery numbers; I would’ve used the correct test answers; or I could’ve taken a cab home.

I found them in the last place I looked.  That’s good.  If you had, indeed, found something missing – keys, wallet, teeth – it would be pointless to continue looking.  So, this statement is truer and more accurate than most, unless you have memory problems.

Ooh, that’s hot!  Knowing food was just removed from the oven – lasagna, for instance – should serve as a clue for everyone older than an infant that it should not be eaten right away.  Keeping food baking at 400 degrees for two-hours generally makes it hot.  It should come as no surprise that it needs time – somewhere in the neighborhood of 45-minutes – to sufficiently cool to avoid serious burns to your mouth.

Ooh, that’s cold!  Akin to “Ooh, that’s hot!” this phrase is heard more often during the winter.  Folks generally rush indoors and, while their eyeglasses are de-fogging, utter a weather report about the icy temperatures outside.  It should come as no surprise to most since we call that time of year “winter” which denotes generally cold conditions.  No one should be amazed.

Did you see this?  These words are often heard and said while reading either a newspaper or book.  The reader traditionally discovers something truly news-worthy and makes the announcement “Did you see this?”  Such an expression is redundant since the asker usually is the first viewing the newspaper, precluding the askee from responding with anything but a, “No.”

It’s raining outside.  Traditionally it does rain outside making this statement anticlimactic.  If the true news is supposed to be that rain is actually falling, your wet umbrella or damp clothes may be a hint.  If it’s raining inside, you need a roofer or plumber.

How do I look?  This one needs no response.  No matter what your answer is, it is wrong.  If you say they look nice, you are lying.  If you say awful, you need to be ready for a fight.

Are you serious?  Another example of crazy words can be found when these three are assembled together.  Most people don’t normally joke about your house being on fire.  Create your own crisis and try them by inserting them in the sentence, “I must tell you that______.”  Now follow with “Are you serious?”

How are you?  No one really wants to hear the true answer to this inquiry.  This is a casual greeting  between individuals with an anticipated reply of, “Fine.”  The person who tossed this line out does not want to hear about your sick aunt, dead dog, or unexpected case of dandruff.

Speed Kills.  This is my personal favorite.  If this statement were true, all NASCAR drivers would be dead.  They’re not.  ‘Nuff said.

This list is only the beginning of more to come.  Thanks for reading and come back next week for a new story.

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Under Water

The Commonwealth of Virginia uses as its slogan “Virginia is for Lovers.”  After watching hurricane Isaac make its way toward the United States, I figure Virginia’s slogan should be “We Listen to Civil Engineers.”

For hours on end, reporters dripping water and peppered with beach sand, from The Weather Channel, broadcast seemingly endless stories from various locations along the Gulf of Mexico about what they perceive to be the beginning of the end of sunny Florida.

But, as a bonus, this year is special because the Republican National Convention was scheduled to be held in Tampa, Florida.  Tampa is located mid-way up the west coast of Florida, and the only reason to hold anything there in August is the fact the snow birds are gone.  Otherwise, Florida in August can best be described as hot, humid, geriatric, and miserable during the summer months.  I know; I’ve been there.

Pictures from those weather reports show one bay after another, full of yachts and Red Cross workers, dotting the landscape awaiting the next significant weather report form the Hurricane Center.  In the background is a large building where this convention is to be held except for the delegates and speakers that cannot, or will not, attend due to the weather which may, or may not, be inclement.

Yes, originally anticipated to make shore – calculated with the help of scientific algorithms – near Tampa, many attendees have chosen to remain absent from the festivities.  This is not a slam against Republicans, who need to get their hands on a good almanac.  Rather, it is a slam against the people who thought it would be a brilliant idea to build this convention center on the water, at water level.

Woes of flooding this venue caused hand-wringing rarely seen before in history.  All of this angst could have been prevented if only the Tampa, Florida, planners has taken a page from the Virginia Book for Civil Engineers.

Actually, there may not even be a book with that title but, rules for building on The Eastern Shore come from somewhere.  And that somewhere now appears to be pretty valuable.

The Eastern Shore, like Florida, is a place you either love or hate.  The Shore, however, consists of a major road – Route 13 – surrounded by homes and farms and swampland.  Already pretty wet and pretty low-lying, this territory is prone to flooding under the best conditions.

Maps in the Accomack Planning Office are color-coded red to denote areas that are inclined to be affected by some high tides, nor’easters, and hurricanes.  For your information, most of those maps are entirely red.  Therefore, building anything new – other than an ark - in those areas require the living structure be elevated high enough off the ground to accommodate most kinds of water damage.  Period.  End of discussion.

But, it seems as though similar rules don’t apply to similar areas in Tampa.  If a hurricane flood surged eight-feet four years ago, so what?  No need to take any precautions in case another storm meanders through the general vicinity.

Just as with The Shore, I like Florida, although Florida doesn’t have nearly enough mosquitos.  And based upon Florida’s penchant for building at levels predisposed to flooding, their civil engineers would do themselves a favor by visiting Accomack County, Virginia.

I’m just sayin’.