Another one of “those” emails

This came to my inbox today.

It has the earmarks of one of those “unban legends” or “scams,” or something just made up by somebody. But it’s fun, so play along with me, OK. If you’ve already seen this, well... go back and read the post last week abut the fractured English translations. That was funny.

Okay, here goes: This is a psychology test.

Instructions: Read this question, come up with an answer and then scroll down to the bottom for the result. This is not a trick question. It is as it reads. All the information you need is in there.

A woman, while at the funeral of her own mother, met a man whom she did not know. She thought this man was amazing, so much her dream man she believed him to be just that! She fell in love with him right there, but never asked for his number and later could not find him. A few days later she killed her sister.

Question: What is her motive in killing her sister? (Give this some thought before you answer, and be prepared to defend your response).

Now, in the email you were told to formulate your answer and scroll down for more. I don’t want to do it that way.

Please do NOT put your answer in a comment.

Please DO comment if you have formed an opinion and think you can defend it... Just let me know by saying, “I’ve got it,” or something similar. That way others won’t be influenced by your answer. Once I get a decent number of comments (how many would it take to be INdecent?), I’ll post the rest of what was in the email, and a little more information. That may be later tonight or tomorrow morning, depending on how many of you think you’ve figured it out.

And no, this is NOT just a shameless attempt to get you to comment and then come back later. (although, yanno, that COULD work, come to think of it...)

OH!! One more thing. My yucca bloom is on its last, uh... legs(?), and I wanted to show you what it looks like. The lower blossoms have begun to fall off, and the top buds have just about finished opening.

Now I'll try to show you one reason the blossoms look a little scraggly. Here's a close up. What's buggin' my yucca?

Ranting

Before I rant, I want to assure all my wonderful readers that yesterday’s post about doctors and guns was a JOKE!! (I got the feeling that some of you were wondering.)

As some of the comments pointed out, it also gave an indication about how people can use statistics to prove just about any darn thing they want. Which gives credence to the old saying, “Figures don’t lie, but liars figure.”

Now: on to my rant.

As you regulars know, I’m still sending out queries to literary agencies for representation so one lucky agent can make a TON of money selling my novel to a publisher. I’ve ranted before about agents who claim they are “actively seeking new clients,” but then on their web sites state that they may take months to get back to an author regarding a query due to the overwhelming volume of queries they receive every week.

I’ve been sending “thank you” emails to those agents who DO respond promptly, since I’m a believer in positive reinforcement to encourage desired behavior. Today’s rant is about those agents whose supposedly current, up-to-date web site information (as opposed to some other third-party “listing” of agents with profiles) indicates they are “actively seeking new clients.” But then their response (rejection) letter tells me they cannot consider my project because their current client list is just too crowded.

Oh, you poor dears! I’m SO sorry you have more work than you can handle! But yanno, if you’d put on your current, up-to-date web site a note that your current client list is full, I wouldn’t have wasted my time, paper, and postage sending you a query you didn’t want to read.

I know (since I DO read your web site AND your blog, if you have one) exactly what you do and don’t want included in a query. Most of you are very specific about that, and many of you want different things.

Sample pages, or no sample pages. One chapter, two chapters, three chapters, 10 pages, 30 pages, 50 pages... I’ve seen all of those requested. Synopsis? Sure, some of you! You want a one page (max), two pages, or no specified length? Some of you prefer Courier New for a font, others prefer Times New Roman. Most of you want one-inch margins all around.

My point is, I’d be stupid NOT to try to send you what you say you want. So I am NOT just sending out 150 form letters with a synopsis and ten pages addressed to “Dear Agent.” I’m personalizing each query according to your desires.

So it burns a bit when I do all this and get a personalized response that your client list is full.

Since that’s not the usual form response, I assume it’s honest; and I ought to give you points for an honest, personal note, right?

Well, in one case this week, I did give points. The query had been via snail mail with the obligatory SASE. After I received her rejection I emailed the agent, thanked her for the prompt reply, but let her know (as gently as I could) that she would have saved BOTH of us some grief if she had put a note on her web site (maybe updating it each week or two) saying either:

1) “Sorry, I can’t accept any queries now due to a full workload. Check back in a few weeks. I’ll let you know when I can accept queries again.” Or as some succinct listings put, “Not currently accepting unsolicited queries.” Or,

2) “Now accepting queries for my listed areas of interest. Especially looking for __(insert genre)_____.”

A few agents do that. I’m sure it simplifies their lives by stemming the flood of queries when they are NOT wanted, and focusing authors (who read the sites — not all do) on what the agent wants.

Oh, the agent to whom I sent this email actually replied! Her message was terse:

“John,
Good point.
Regards, xxxx”

You think she'll do it? Betcha she won't.

Okay. Rant over. I feel better now.

(Oh, and if any of you wants to forward this to Miss Snark for her snarky, sharp-witted and sharp tongued response, feel free.)

Statistically speaking

Doctors:

(A) The number of physicians in the U.S. is 700,000.
(B) Accidental deaths caused by Physicians per year are 120,000.
(C) Accidental deaths per physician is 0.171.

(Statistics courtesy of U.S. Dept. of Health & Human Services.)

Guns:

(A) The number of gun owners in the U.S. is 80,000,000. Yes, that is 80 million.
(B) The number of accidental gun deaths per year, all age groups, is 1,500.
(C) The number of accidental deaths per gun owner is 0.000188.

Statistically, doctors are approximately 9,000 times more dangerous than gun owners.

Remember, "Guns don't kill people. Doctors do."

FACT: NOT EVERYONE HAS A GUN, BUT ALMOST EVERYONE HAS AT LEAST ONE DOCTOR.

Please alert your friends to this alarming threat. We must ban doctors before this gets completely out of hand!!!

Out of concern for the public at large, I have withheld the statistics on lawyers for fear the shock would cause people to panic and seek medical attention...

...when what they really need is a gun.

(This came in as one of those emails that is forwarded all over the internet, so you've probably seen it. I hadn't, and I laughed out loud at the end. Thought I'd share it with you, though it's very politically incorrect.)

Cable service and lightning

Our internet service provider is our local cable TV company (Cox Communications).

For some reason the cable seems much more susceptible to outages during lightning storms than does our electricity. Today a line of thunderstorms moved through with lots of sound and fury. Unfortunately it moved through so quickly that we didn’t get nearly enough rain. But our drought is the subject of another post.

During the height of the lightning and thunder, our power dimmed once or twice, but never actually went off. We can always tell because the clock on the microwave just shows straight dashes instead of digits whenever there’s an instantaneous interruption of power. Even if nothing else in the house is affected, the microwave tells the tale.

Today the microwave clock still showed the correct time, but our cable signal disappeared. For those of you not on cable internet, when that happens you must unplug and re-power the modem. Also, if you have a wireless router as we do, it too must be powered down and then restarted.

And there’s a trick to it. You must wait about ten seconds between pulling the plug and powering up again. No, I don’t know why. This is just one of those circumstances in which patience is not only a virtue, it is essential if you want positive results.

Even then, sometimes things are still squirrelly (that’s a computer technical term I learned at work) for a while, and the computer(s) have to be re-booted as well. I guess that allows everything to start over fresh, in case some of those little stray electrons running around during the power fluctuations might have scrambled your IP address or your subnet mask.

Occasionally (as in today) even after you do ALL of those things you still have problems. Perhaps you didn’t reboot the various components of the chain in the proper sequence. Perhaps you weren’t gentle enough when you cycled the power switch, or when you pulled out and then pushed in the plug.

Or perhaps, if you happened to be away at the office and your wife was trying all these steps, the dark forces of resistentialism might have reared their ugly heads and laughed at her.

She meanwhile, was probably calling you on the phone every few minutes telling you what she had done, and what still didn’t work, and what she was going to try next. And asking if what she was going to try sounded OK, or if it might possibly do further harm. And getting more frustrated by the minute.

But of course, none of that happened to ME. I was just saying, “Perhaps...”

Besides, even if it WERE to happen to me, Carol reads my blog so I would never post about it.

And in case you’re wondering, our internet service is working very well right at the moment.

I had another phone call...

...from my friend Jay. He’s the one whose vinyl siding was cracked when a vehicle wheel and tire whacked into the front of his house in the dark, wee hours a few months back. No, it wasn't a vehicle — just the tire mounted on a wheel. He doesn't kow if it came off of a speeding car, or bounced out of the back of a speeding pickup.

It hit so hard his bedroom window shattered; and the wheel hit at least 6 feet away from the window.

(By the way, nobody ever came back to claim that tire and wheel. Go figure.)

Oh, and he’s also the one whose neighbors across the street put up a sign that read, “No Trespassing — Will Shoot.”

And he’s the one who ordered a DSL line for internet service and didn’t realize that the DSL modem the phone company provided had a built-in wireless router.

(If you don’t remember that post, he wanted to go wireless, so I bought him a router and went over to set it up for him. I looked at the DSL modem and asked him what he thought the 6-inch long black protrusion was. He said, “Looks like an antenna.”

I asked him what he thought an antenna on a modem might be for. He looked puzzled a moment, and then said, “You mean I already got wi-fi?” Yup.)

Well yesterday he called me again.

“John, my computer’s messed up.”

“What’s it doing?” I asked.

“No, it’s what it’s NOT doing.” (Jay is a great one for forcing me to drag it out of him. )

“Okay, Jay, what is it NOT doing?”

“Well, I was looking at some web sites, and my Internet Explorer toolbars either went away or moved over to one side. Now I can’t get them to... Oh, wait a minute. I just clicked on one and dragged it back where it used to be. It looks like it’s staying.”

I heard some random background noises.

Then he went on, “But my Robot Form tool bar is gone. I use that to fill out all kinds of information on forms, and I don’t know how to get it back if... Oh, wait a minute.” (Long pause. I wait.) “Yeah! There it is. Okay, I’ve got it back. Everything looks good now.”

“Jay,” I tell him, “close I.E. down and then re-open it. Tell me what it looks like.”

“Okay. There, it’s down. And... there, it’s back up. It looks fine.”

I ask, “Is everything in place like it’s supposed to be?”

“Yeah! Much better. Hey, thanks John. I knew you could help.”

“Call any time, Jay. Always happy to help when I can.”

(Sometimes being a computer expert is pretty easy. )

More on cakes...

Yesterday one of my regular readers (who happens to be a New Englander, right Mike?) mentioned that he’d never seen or heard of a groom’s cake.

I did some extensive research on the topic (meaning I Googled the words “groom’s cake” and looked at the first link that popped up) and found the following very good explanation.

For all you Yankees out there, here’s what a groom’s cake is all about:

“Having its roots in Southern tradition, the groom’s cake has been around for quite some time and is making a fashionable comeback on the wedding scene.

“Traditionally, a groom’s cake was sliced and boxed for the unmarried girls attending the wedding to take home and place under their pillows in hopes that the man they dreamed of would be their future husband. Groom’s Cake has come along way since then. Today the cake is meant to be a reflection of the groom’s interests, whether it be one of his hobbies, favorite sport, alma mater, profession, etc.

“It’s a personal choice when to serve the cake -- either at the rehearsal dinner, as an alternate dessert with the wedding cake, or as a late night dessert for the wedding party. Just because primarily groom cakes tend to be a fruit cake or a chocolate cake shouldn’t dictate what the bride and groom should have. Obviously being named “Groom’s Cake” it should be a flavor and theme that the groom enjoys.”

I hope that helps.

I’m always happy to bring information and knowledge to the culturally challenged. Since I was once a Yankee myself, but have now seen the error of my ways and moved to Texas, it’s my duty to thus enlighten my former countrymen. And citymen. And women.

See how educational it can be to read Romantic Ramblings? And if you miss a few posts, think how impoverished your cultural education might be.

Cakes!

Today we were planning to play golf with our good friend Ruth. The weather was absolutely beautiful, and we were primed and ready.

As you may remember, Ruth is a lady of MANY talents. She is not only a darn good golfer, but she is also a professional-quality seamstress and a wedding-cake-designer extraordinaire!

Last year I posted some pictures of some of her cake creations, as some of you may remember.

Well, this morning she had asked our help in delivering a bride’s and a groom’s cake for a BIG wedding. (Then, unfortunately, she had to go to work on short notice at her part-time job so she couldn’t play golf with us. But that’s another story.)

Anyway, the cakes she created for today’s wedding were simply gorgeous. I just HAVE to show them to you. Here is a shot of the Bride’s cake, complete with edible “pearls.” The white roses are real flowers and thus are NOT edible. Unless you like roses. To eat.


The cake itself is Italian cream.

Check out the detail!

And to me, the piece de resistance is the Groom’s cake. It’s three thick layers of German Chocolate cake with a duck hunting theme. Here’s the full cake.


Isn’t Ruth a marvel? She’s not cheap, but she’s awfully good at what she does.

Can you stand...

...one more post about religion?

“Anything except politics and religion,” I was always told, were acceptable topics of conversation. But after all the reactions I got to yesterday’s mini-rant about Politically Correct words regarding various aspects of different faiths, I want to weigh in once more in a different direction.

(PREACHY POST WARNING!)

(Feel free to disagree.)

Have you read about the trial of the man in Afghanistan? The one who converted from Islam to Christianity?

There was a quote in my local paper this morning, attributed to a radical Islamic (is that a redundancy?) cleric. He allegedly said, “The man must die. We cannot allow God to be humiliated.” (“Humiliated?” God? Hmmm.)

Reminds me of a Bible story.

In the Old Testament book of Judges, chapter 6, we find the tale of Gideon, who tore down the altar of a local “god” Baal. The residents of the town got bent out of shape (that’s my paraphrase — the Bible says it a little differently) and demanded of Gideon’s father that Gideon be put to death for his act of irreverence.

Gideon’s dad refused to bring his son out to them and said, “If Baal really is a god, he can defend himself when someone breaks down his altar." (NIV)

Ooooooo!! Do you think so?! Well, can’t Allah defend himself? Does he need men to defend his honor? Does God feel humiliation?

A related point: What makes Christianity unique among faiths? Oh, okay, probably a lot of things. But think about this one: Christianity is one of the very few faiths that doesn’t require you to earn God’s favor. Without going into the whole argument of faith vs. works, and penance, and all that... The basic requirement of Christianity is that you believe.

People LIKE to “earn” something by their own strength, intelligence or diligence. And guilt is a strong motivator. If you are taught that righteousness is only obtained by DOING something, you’ll want to do it and you’ll feel guilty if you don’t do it. Thus you can be manipulated into doing almost anything in the name of that religion.

Including blowing yourself to bits as a suicide bomber, and other acts of terrorism.

Personally, I’d rather just believe.

End of sermon. (Feel free to take your best shot.)

Tomorrow I’ll be posting on a different topic, I promise. And it WON’T be politics!

Wanderlust and Irreverence

We’re excited! We’re making plans to get out of town for Easter weekend!

Wait... Is it still called “Easter?” I have a hard time keeping up with all the politically correct names for holidays.

In fact, is the term “holiday” still OK? I mean, that’s just a shortened version of “holy day.” Can we still call things holy?

Yeah, I think that word is OK, because we’ve debased it though such usage as “holy cow,” and “holy sh**.” And I still see references in the press to such things as the “High Holy Days” of Islam. But of course that’s okay, because all religions other than the traditional Judeo-Christian branches are part of the cult of “diversity” which we as a nation seem to worship.

Even within that Judeo-Christian belief set, you still have to be careful. We all heard and read this year that the old Christmas tree was now called a Holiday tree to avoid offending anyone, right? Well, there are some fundamental Christians who deplore any reference to a tree during December because the decorated tree has pagan connotations and origins! Horror!

Then there are those (Jehovah’s Witnesses and others) who quote the New Testament scriptures that seem to indicate that the special observation of any day “above another” is not what God wants. They observe no day as special. Or holy.

What do I mean when I say we worship “diversity?” Oh, YOU know what I mean. It’s OK to discuss various “myths” and “faiths” and “religious beliefs” in a detached, clinical way. But if we give any indication that you personally believe any of it, folks tend to take a step back away from you and look at you like you may be contagious. To have a curiosity or academic interest in those beliefs from a “cultural” basis is fine; even encouraged. But if you actually believe those things? My goodness, how quaint!

So, back to my first question: If I speak of Easter in reference to bunnies and eggs and candy, it’s probably all right. Any reference to pagan rites of Spring are marginally okay. But if I mention Christ’s resurrection... Oooo, I think I just stepped over the line.

Had enough of all that? OK, then!

Back to my travel plans. I have a three-day weekend April 14-16, and I plan to take my camper trailer and drive three hours to Kerrville, Texas. We’ll probably leave Thursday afternoon after work and try to set up our trailer before dark.

Why are we making plans NOW, so far in advance? I don’t know — that’s just what we do. For us, a big part of the fun is in the planning and anticipation. By thinking about the trip for weeks, making reservations for a camp site and for tee times at distant golf courses make the trip seem that much longer.

Then, starting on that (Good) Friday morning, it’ll be GOLF, GOLF, GOLF for the rest of the weekend.

I KNOW all of you are excited for us!

(In an irreverent sort of way.)

Loose ends and updates.

Yesterday’s “Foreign Language Translations” post generated a number of comments and emails.

And I gotta tell you this. Carol read that post and almost LITERALLY rolled on the floor laughing. She was laughing so hard at one point that she almost choked. I told her, “Hey I chuckled at a few of those, but they’re not THAT funny.” She just shook her head and kept laughing.

Oh, by the way, when I was trying to “publish” that post Blogger was having server problems and kept giving me error messages. I probably hit the “Publish” button six different times over a period of 30 minutes. The result, as several of you wonderful, loyal readers pointed out, was that the post is on the blog twice.

Yes; I could just delete one of them. And I will in a few days. But there are comments on both, and I hate to delete the comments until you’ve all had a few days to read and enjoy them. I mean, I KNOW you all scrutinize every word on ROMANTIC RAMBLINGS to get full enjoyment, so it’s the least I can do.

Anyway, the post brought to mind some funny misspellings and other errors I’ve seen on job applications and resumes over the years. I passed one of them on to RobotJam (because, after all, he gave me the idea for the post) and he emailed me that it had him chuckling for 30 minutes. Since I would hate to deprive the REST of you of that opportunity to chuckle, guffaw, ROFL, or whatever your style is, here’s what I wrote to him:

A young man was describing his military experience, and on the blank (on an application) asking for "Type of discharge" wrote, "horrible." I don't know to this day if he meant "honorable," or was describing a medical problem.

That’s a true experience of mine, btw. I’ve seen a number of different attempts to spell “honorable.” Most people seem to remember that it starts with an “h” but get bogged down after that. Two that I remember are “horonable” and “honable,” but there were others as well.

Update on the trash pickup: I bunged the lot of it out by the curb last night, and by 9:00 a.m. today it was gone. No doubt it was hauled to the tip. Or put in a large skip — not sure which. (See yesterday’s post for an explanation.)

And finally (do I hear cheering?), an update on my querying of literary agents:
Total emailed: 57
Total snail mailed: 34
Grand total sent out: 91
Total replies: 30 (but some of the emails were sent out over 30 days ago, and I figure that a “no reply” after this much time is the same as a reply of “No thanks.” When you add those in the total becomes 44)
Total expressions of desire to see more, or offers of representation: 0

And the beat goes on.

Foreign language translations

Yesterday one of my loyal U.K. readers (Robotjam) commented:
“Duke, do you not have "the tip" over your side of the Atlantic pond? We have these all over and you just take all your rubbish and bung it in a big skip, usually sorted into material types so it can all be recycled.”

That sent me to my British-American Dictionary for a translation. Here’s what I learned:

1. tip n v : dump, “council tip”, ‘no tipping’ (sign on side of road), “this place is a tip”.
(Thus, “the tip” becomes “the dump.”)

2. bung sl v : lob, throw carelessly, casually toss, “I’ll bung it in the post on Monday”, also n. a bribe, “he bunged him a few quid," “he asked for a bung”.
(Thus “bung it” clearly means “toss it.”)

3. skip n : dumpster.

AH! NOW I get it. My answer is: yes and no. We have recycling centers all over the U.S., and many larger communities actually have separate large skips labeled for “paper” or “plastic” or “glass” or “cans” (aluminum). And people will haul their own trash to those locations and bung it into the appropriate skip. And some cities encourage residents to separate their trash into containers (recyclable and non-recyclable) for curbside pickup.

Victoria is either too small or insufficiently advanced to offer such services. Thus I was happy to learn that the city would pick up all my piles of trash for no additional fee.

ANYHOO, all of that started me thinking about mangled translations I had seen or heard about when some other language is translated into “American” (not to be confused with “English,” a completely separate language. This has been pointed out by George Bernard Shaw and countless others.)

A quick search led me to the list I’ve reproduced below for your enjoyment. No, I did NOT make these up!

Tokyo hotel's rules and regulations:
GUESTS ARE REQUESTED NOT TO SMIKE OR DO OTHER DISGUSTING BEHAVIOURS IN BED.

Hotel notice, Tokyo:
IS FORBIDDEN TO STEAL HOTEL TOWELS PLEASE. IF YOU ARE NOT A PERSON TO DO SUCH A THING IS PLEASE NOT TO READ NOTIS.

On the menu of a Swiss restaurant:
OUR WINES LEAVE YOU NOTHING TO HOPE FOR.

In a Tokyo bar:
SPECIAL COCKTAILS FOR THE LADIES WITH NUTS.

In a Bangkok temple:
IT IS FORBIDDEN TO ENTER A WOMAN EVEN A FOREIGNER IF DRESSED AS A MAN.

Hotel room notice, Chiang-Mai, Thailand:
PLEASE DO NOT BRING SOLICITORS INTO YOUR ROOM.

Hotel brochure, Italy:
THIS HOTEL IS RENOWNED FOR ITS PEACE AND SOLITUDE. IN FACT, CROWDS FROM ALL OVER THE WORLD FLOCK HERE TO ENJOY ITS SOLITUDE.

Hotel lobby, Bucharest:
THE LIFT IS BEING FIXED FOR THE NEXT DAY. DURING THAT TIME WE REGRET THAT YOU WILL BE UNBEARABLE.

In a Leipzig elevator:
DO NOT ENTER THE LIFT BACKWARDS, AND ONLY WHEN LIT UP.

Hotel elevator, Belgrade:
TO MOVE THE CABIN, PUSH BUTTON FOR WISHING FLOOR. IF THE CABIN SHOULD ENTER MORE PERSONS, EACH ONE SHOULD PRESS A NUMBER OF WISHING FLOOR. DRIVING IS THEN GOING ALPHABETICALLY BY NATIONAL ORDER.

(My favorite! Where else but Paris?) Hotel elevator, Paris:
PLEASE LEAVE YOUR VALUES AT THE FRONT DESK.

Hotel, Athens:
VISITORS ARE EXPECTED TO COMPLAIN AT THE OFFICE BETWEEN THE HOURS OF 9 AND 11 AM DAILY.

Hotel, Yugoslavia:
THE FLATTENING OF UNDERWEAR WITH PLEASURE IS THE JOB OF THE CHAMBERMAID.

Hotel, Japan:
YOU ARE INVITED TO TAKE ADVANTAGE OF THE CHAMBERMAID.

Sign in Japanese public bath:
FOREIGN GUESTS ARE REQUESTED NOT TO PULL COCK IN TUB.

Sign in men's rest room in Japan:
TO STOP LEAK TURN COCK TO THE RIGHT.

In the lobby of a Moscow hotel across from a Russian Orthodox monastery:
YOU ARE WELCOME TO VISIT THE CEMETERY WHERE FAMOUS RUSSIAN AND SOVIET COMPOSERS, ARTISTS, AND WRITERS ARE BURIED DAILY EXCEPT THURSDAY.

Hotel catering to skiers, Austria:
NOT TO PERAMBULATE THE CORRIDORS IN THE HOURS OF REPOSE IN THE BOOTS OF ASCENSION.

Taken from a menu, Poland:
SALAD A FIRM'S OWN MAKE; LIMPID RED BEET SOUP WITH CHEESY DUMPLINGS IN THE FORM OF A FINGER; ROASTED DUCK LET LOOSE; BEEF RASHERS BEATEN UP IN THE COUNTRY PEOPLE'S FASHION.

Supermarket, Hong Kong:
FOR YOUR CONVENIENCE, WE RECOMMEND COURTEOUS, EFFICIENT SELF-SERVICE.

Dry cleaner's, Bangkok:
DROP YOUR TROUSERS HERE FOR THE BEST RESULTS.

Outside a dress shop, Paris:
DRESSES FOR STREET WALKING.

Outside a dress shop, Hong Kong:
LADIES HAVE FITS UPSTAIRS.

Tailor shop, Rhodes:
ORDER YOUR SUMMERS SUIT. BECAUSE IS BIG RUSH, WE WILL EXECUTE CUSTOMERS IN STRICT ROTATION.

In an East African newspaper:
A NEW SWIMMING POOL IS RAPIDLY TAKING SHAPE SINCE THE CONTRACTORS HAVE THROWN IN THE BULK OF THEIR WORKERS.

Hotel, Vienna:
IN CASE OF FIRE, DO YOUR UTMOST TO ALARM THE HOTEL PORTER.

A sign posted in Germany's Black Forest:
IT IS STRICTLY FORBIDDEN ON OUR BLACK FOREST CAMPING SITE THAT PEOPLE OF DIFFERENT SEX, FOR INSTANCE, MEN AND WOMEN, LIVE TOGETHER IN ONE TENT UNLESS THEY ARE MARRIED WITH EACH OTHER FOR THIS PURPOSE.

Hotel, Zurich:
BECAUSE OF THE IMPROPRIETY OF ENTERTAINING GUESTS OF THE OPPOSITE SEX IN THE BEDROOM, IT IS SUGGESTED THAT THE LOBBY BE USED FOR THIS PURPOSE.

An advertisement by a Hong Kong dentist:
TEETH EXTRACTED BY THE LATEST METHODISTS.

From a Russian book on Chess:
A LOT OF WATER HAS BEEN PASSED UNDER THE BRIDGE SINCE THIS VARIATION HAS BEEN PLAYED.

A laundry in Rome:
LADIES, LEAVE YOUR CLOTHES HERE AND SPEND THE AFTERNOON HAVING A GOOD TIME.

Tourist agency, Czechoslovakia:
TAKE ONE OF OUR HORSE-DRIVEN CITY TOURS. WE GUARANTEE NO MISCARRIAGES.

Advert for donkey rides, Thailand:
WOULD YOU LIKE TO RIDE ON YOUR OWN ASS?

In the window on a Swedish furrier:
FUR COATS MADE FOR LADIES FROM THEIR OWN SKIN.

The box of a clockwork toy made in Hong Kong:
GUARANTEED TO WORK THROUGHOUT ITS USEFUL LIFE.

Detour sign in Kyushi, Japan:
STOP. DRIVE SIDEWAYS.

In a Swiss mountain inn:
SPECIAL TODAY - NO ICE-CREAM.

Airline ticket office, Copenhagen:
WE TAKE YOUR BAGS AND SEND THEM IN ALL DIRECTIONS.

On the door of a Moscow hotel room:
IF THIS IS YOUR FIRST VISIT TO THE USSR, YOU ARE WELCOME TO IT.

Cocktail lounge, Norway:
LADIES ARE REQUESTED NOT TO HAVE CHILDREN IN THE BAR.

At a Budapest zoo:
PLEASE DO NOT FEED THE ANIMALS.IF YOU HAVE ANY SUITABLE FOOD, GIVE IT TO THE GUARD ON DUTY.

Doctors office, Rome:
SPECIALIST IN WOMEN AND OTHER DISEASES.

Hotel, Acapulco:
THE MANAGER HAS PERSONALLY PASSED ALL THE WATER SERVED HERE.

Information booklet about using a hotel air conditioner, Japan:
COOLES AND HEATES:IF YOU WANT JUST CONDITION OF WARM AIR IN YOUR ROOM, PLEASE CONTROL YOURSELF.

Car rental brochure, Tokyo:
WHEN PASSENGER OF FOOT HEAVE IN SIGHT, TOOTLE THE HORN.TRUMPET HIM MELODIOUSLY AT FIRST, BUT IF HE STILL OBSTACLES YOUR PASSAGE THEN TOOTLE HIM WITH VIGOR.

Two signs from a Majorcan shop entrance:
ENGLISH WELL TALKING HERE SPEECHING AMERICAN

Foreign language translations

Yesterday one of my loyal U.K. readers (Robotjam) commented:
“Duke, do you not have "the tip" over your side of the Atlantic pond? We have these all over and you just take all your rubbish and bung it in a big skip, usually sorted into material types so it can all be recycled.”

That sent me to my British-American Dictionary for a translation. Here’s what I learned:

1. tip n v : dump, “council tip”, ‘no tipping’ (sign on side of road), “this place is a tip”.
(Thus, “the tip” becomes “the dump.”)

2. bung sl v : lob, throw carelessly, casually toss, “I’ll bung it in the post on Monday”, also n. a bribe, “he bunged him a few quid," “he asked for a bung”.
(Thus “bung it” clearly means “toss it.”)

3. skip n : dumpster.

AH! NOW I get it. My answer is: yes and no. We have recycling centers all over the U.S., and many larger communities actually have separate large skips labeled for “paper” or “plastic” or “glass” or “cans” (aluminum). And people will haul their own trash to those locations and bung it into the appropriate skip. And some cities encourage residents to separate their trash into containers (recyclable and non-recyclable) for curbside pickup.

Victoria is either too small or insufficiently advanced to offer such services. Thus I was happy to learn that the city would pick up all my piles of trash for no additional fee.

ANYHOO, all of that started me thinking about mangled translations I had seen or heard about when some other language is translated into “American” (not to be confused with “English,” a completely separate language. This has been pointed out by George Bernard Shaw and countless others.)

A quick search led me to the list I’ve reproduced below for your enjoyment. No, I did NOT make these up!

Tokyo hotel's rules and regulations:
GUESTS ARE REQUESTED NOT TO SMIKE OR DO OTHER DISGUSTING BEHAVIOURS IN BED.

Hotel notice, Tokyo:
IS FORBIDDEN TO STEAL HOTEL TOWELS PLEASE. IF YOU ARE NOT A PERSON TO DO SUCH A THING IS PLEASE NOT TO READ NOTIS.

On the menu of a Swiss restaurant:
OUR WINES LEAVE YOU NOTHING TO HOPE FOR.

In a Tokyo bar:
SPECIAL COCKTAILS FOR THE LADIES WITH NUTS.

In a Bangkok temple:
IT IS FORBIDDEN TO ENTER A WOMAN EVEN A FOREIGNER IF DRESSED AS A MAN.

Hotel room notice, Chiang-Mai, Thailand:
PLEASE DO NOT BRING SOLICITORS INTO YOUR ROOM.

Hotel brochure, Italy:
THIS HOTEL IS RENOWNED FOR ITS PEACE AND SOLITUDE. IN FACT, CROWDS FROM ALL OVER THE WORLD FLOCK HERE TO ENJOY ITS SOLITUDE.

Hotel lobby, Bucharest:
THE LIFT IS BEING FIXED FOR THE NEXT DAY. DURING THAT TIME WE REGRET THAT YOU WILL BE UNBEARABLE.

In a Leipzig elevator:
DO NOT ENTER THE LIFT BACKWARDS, AND ONLY WHEN LIT UP.

Hotel elevator, Belgrade:
TO MOVE THE CABIN, PUSH BUTTON FOR WISHING FLOOR. IF THE CABIN SHOULD ENTER MORE PERSONS, EACH ONE SHOULD PRESS A NUMBER OF WISHING FLOOR. DRIVING IS THEN GOING ALPHABETICALLY BY NATIONAL ORDER.

(My favorite! Where else but Paris?) Hotel elevator, Paris:
PLEASE LEAVE YOUR VALUES AT THE FRONT DESK.

Hotel, Athens:
VISITORS ARE EXPECTED TO COMPLAIN AT THE OFFICE BETWEEN THE HOURS OF 9 AND 11 AM DAILY.

Hotel, Yugoslavia:
THE FLATTENING OF UNDERWEAR WITH PLEASURE IS THE JOB OF THE CHAMBERMAID.

Hotel, Japan:
YOU ARE INVITED TO TAKE ADVANTAGE OF THE CHAMBERMAID.

Sign in Japanese public bath:
FOREIGN GUESTS ARE REQUESTED NOT TO PULL COCK IN TUB.

Sign in men's rest room in Japan:
TO STOP LEAK TURN COCK TO THE RIGHT.

In the lobby of a Moscow hotel across from a Russian Orthodox monastery:
YOU ARE WELCOME TO VISIT THE CEMETERY WHERE FAMOUS RUSSIAN AND SOVIET COMPOSERS, ARTISTS, AND WRITERS ARE BURIED DAILY EXCEPT THURSDAY.

Hotel catering to skiers, Austria:
NOT TO PERAMBULATE THE CORRIDORS IN THE HOURS OF REPOSE IN THE BOOTS OF ASCENSION.

Taken from a menu, Poland:
SALAD A FIRM'S OWN MAKE; LIMPID RED BEET SOUP WITH CHEESY DUMPLINGS IN THE FORM OF A FINGER; ROASTED DUCK LET LOOSE; BEEF RASHERS BEATEN UP IN THE COUNTRY PEOPLE'S FASHION.

Supermarket, Hong Kong:
FOR YOUR CONVENIENCE, WE RECOMMEND COURTEOUS, EFFICIENT SELF-SERVICE.

Dry cleaner's, Bangkok:
DROP YOUR TROUSERS HERE FOR THE BEST RESULTS.

Outside a dress shop, Paris:
DRESSES FOR STREET WALKING.

Outside a dress shop, Hong Kong:
LADIES HAVE FITS UPSTAIRS.

Tailor shop, Rhodes:
ORDER YOUR SUMMERS SUIT. BECAUSE IS BIG RUSH, WE WILL EXECUTE CUSTOMERS IN STRICT ROTATION.

In an East African newspaper:
A NEW SWIMMING POOL IS RAPIDLY TAKING SHAPE SINCE THE CONTRACTORS HAVE THROWN IN THE BULK OF THEIR WORKERS.

Hotel, Vienna:
IN CASE OF FIRE, DO YOUR UTMOST TO ALARM THE HOTEL PORTER.

A sign posted in Germany's Black Forest:
IT IS STRICTLY FORBIDDEN ON OUR BLACK FOREST CAMPING SITE THAT PEOPLE OF DIFFERENT SEX, FOR INSTANCE, MEN AND WOMEN, LIVE TOGETHER IN ONE TENT UNLESS THEY ARE MARRIED WITH EACH OTHER FOR THIS PURPOSE.

Hotel, Zurich:
BECAUSE OF THE IMPROPRIETY OF ENTERTAINING GUESTS OF THE OPPOSITE SEX IN THE BEDROOM, IT IS SUGGESTED THAT THE LOBBY BE USED FOR THIS PURPOSE.

An advertisement by a Hong Kong dentist:
TEETH EXTRACTED BY THE LATEST METHODISTS.

From a Russian book on Chess:
A LOT OF WATER HAS BEEN PASSED UNDER THE BRIDGE SINCE THIS VARIATION HAS BEEN PLAYED.

A laundry in Rome:
LADIES, LEAVE YOUR CLOTHES HERE AND SPEND THE AFTERNOON HAVING A GOOD TIME.

Tourist agency, Czechoslovakia:
TAKE ONE OF OUR HORSE-DRIVEN CITY TOURS. WE GUARANTEE NO MISCARRIAGES.

Advert for donkey rides, Thailand:
WOULD YOU LIKE TO RIDE ON YOUR OWN ASS?

In the window on a Swedish furrier:
FUR COATS MADE FOR LADIES FROM THEIR OWN SKIN.

The box of a clockwork toy made in Hong Kong:
GUARANTEED TO WORK THROUGHOUT ITS USEFUL LIFE.

Detour sign in Kyushi, Japan:
STOP. DRIVE SIDEWAYS.

In a Swiss mountain inn:
SPECIAL TODAY - NO ICE-CREAM.

Airline ticket office, Copenhagen:
WE TAKE YOUR BAGS AND SEND THEM IN ALL DIRECTIONS.

On the door of a Moscow hotel room:
IF THIS IS YOUR FIRST VISIT TO THE USSR, YOU ARE WELCOME TO IT.

Cocktail lounge, Norway:
LADIES ARE REQUESTED NOT TO HAVE CHILDREN IN THE BAR.

At a Budapest zoo:
PLEASE DO NOT FEED THE ANIMALS.IF YOU HAVE ANY SUITABLE FOOD, GIVE IT TO THE GUARD ON DUTY.

Doctors office, Rome:
SPECIALIST IN WOMEN AND OTHER DISEASES.

Hotel, Acapulco:
THE MANAGER HAS PERSONALLY PASSED ALL THE WATER SERVED HERE.

Information booklet about using a hotel air conditioner, Japan:
COOLES AND HEATES:IF YOU WANT JUST CONDITION OF WARM AIR IN YOUR ROOM, PLEASE CONTROL YOURSELF.

Car rental brochure, Tokyo:
WHEN PASSENGER OF FOOT HEAVE IN SIGHT, TOOTLE THE HORN.TRUMPET HIM MELODIOUSLY AT FIRST, BUT IF HE STILL OBSTACLES YOUR PASSAGE THEN TOOTLE HIM WITH VIGOR.

Two signs from a Majorcan shop entrance:
ENGLISH WELL TALKING HERE SPEECHING AMERICAN

Small town life

(Alternate title, “Who Knew?”)

I’m sure this will be of little interest to anyone. But I’m going to post it anyway.

Heck, it’s been a slow day for post topics around here.

(Ahem.) I called the City of Victoria Solid Waste Department (trash pickup) this morning. A very nice lady answered. I explained about my garage-ful of trash from the attic cleanup, and asked if there were limits to how much volume or weight the garbage men would collect on a given pick-up day.

Without answering my question, she began to ask her own questions to get a better idea of the volume of trash, the weight of individual pieces (“Can our men lift it, or do they need power equipment?”), and what the pieces consisted of. I got the impression that they would haul away just about anything from boxes to appliances to automobiles.

After I described the trash in detail, she decided she’d better schedule a special pick-up date rather than “bog down” the haulers on their regular pick-up day. She asked me if I could have all the trash out by the street in a big pile by 8:00 a.m. Wednesday.

As in the day after tomorrow?! (I figured they would “schedule a pick up” sometime in April, if I was lucky.)

I told her, “Sure! We’ll have it ready.” Then I asked, “Is there a fee or a charge for this special pick-up?”

You see, Carol had not wanted to wait for weeks to have the garage cleared out and had called a local hauling business to ask how much they wanted to haul our junk to the dump landfill. They told her, “We charge $150.00 per load.” She thanked them and told them we’d let them know.

Ah, but my friendly lady at the City of Victoria Solid Waste Department informed me, “No, there’s no charge. It’s a service we provide.”

Well, all right then!

So tonight we rest, but tomorrow night before bed we will drag all those boxes and other containers out to the street and line them up. I leave the house for work by 6:00 a.m., and I sure don’t want to be dragging all that stuff out there before I drive to the office. (Besides, Carol wouldn't be up then to help me!)

Hopefully, by the time I get home Wednesday evening the pile will be gone.

I wonder if our larger cities do this, or if it’s unique to smaller towns.

Regardless, it’s pretty nice to see my tax dollars at work like this!

More chores today (Arrgh!)

You know how some people joke about how nice it is to go back to their job after a vacation, because THEN they can finally get some rest? This weekend had that kind of feeling to it.

Today was really not that bad. The only chores I did were yard work, and THAT was limited to mowing, trimming around the fences and the house (where the mower can’t reach), and edging along the sidewalk, driveway and back patio.

I kept waiting for the sky to lighten so I could get a good picture of the yucca, and of the pile of trash in the garage. That never happened. The heavens were cloudy and dreary all day, threatening (promising?) rain which we badly need, but never delivering on the threat.

Before I show you the pictures, I need to respond to a few comments from yesterday:

1. Hale “Pointmeister” McKay (a.k.a. Michael Ashley) mentioned that a similar fate awaits him. Yeah, Mike, but you’re in Massachusetts, and spring doesn’t happen there until July as I remember, so you have a long wait.

2. Jennifer, at least YOU have some hope of either financial gain or of helping someone with your “crap.”

3. Finally, I have to assume that RobotJam is NOT married. If he WERE married, he’d perhaps understand that all of those chores could shout, “ME FIRST!” for weeks on end and I would neither care nor necessarily respond to them. However, my wonderful wife Carol both hears them and is sufficiently annoyed by them that when SHE can’t play golf on a weekend those nasty chores get her attention. And Carol is not a fan of pool, billiards or snooker.

Yes, (sigh), the sacrifices I make to please my wonderful wife! (I’ll be in trouble when she reads this, but...)

Okay, here are the promised pictures.

First the pile of trash in half of the garage. Trust me: there's a LOT you can't see in this shot! Tomorrow the first pieces of that pile will be dragged to the street for the garbage pick up folks to haul away.

And here’s the yucca.

I just wanted to show you the whole plant and the effect of the bloom on our landscaped area in the back yard.

Too bad they just bloom once a year. But at least the plant looks really pretty for a few weeks.

Spring Cleaning

(Also known as, “Sh*t happens.”)

This weekend our local public golf course is closed. That’s where we almost always play golf on weekends here.

Why? Well, because even though it’s a public course, they let folks “join” for $420 per year. In return you can play golf all year long for free. Oh, if you want to ride in a cart you have to pay more, but we always walk, so that’s all we pay.

And we’re too cheap to pay to go play someplace else unless we go out of town for a weekend or other trip.

Big deal, you say? So what, you demand?

Well, if we can’t play golf, all the chores that we routinely put off when the golf course beckons begin to shout at us, “ME FIRST, ME FIRST!!” This weekend the one that shouted the loudest was “Clean out the attic.”

We moved in to this house almost exactly 20 years ago. The boxes from that move all went into the attic. So did all of our kids’ home-school books and records and tests and “homework.” (I should say “assignments,” because they went to SCHOOL at home, so how could they have “homework?”)

Also into the attic went the boxes from computer and printer and monitor, because you never know when you might have to send something back for service or warranty replacement, and you might need that original box and packing!

Tax records and receipts, outgrown toys, and lots of “stuff” we didn’t use much any more but might want to use again. An artificial Christmas tree (no, NOT a “holiday tree!”), Christmas decorations, and boxes. And MORE boxes. We had boxes that were full and boxes that were empty. We had boxes that were stacked, boxes that were just tossed in a pile, and boxes that had been flattened out.

It took HOURS!

Once we had tossed or carried all the STUFF down out of the attic, we began to sort through it and consolidate all the trash (mostly, guess what... BOXES!!) We had to stop emptying the attic twice just to make more room in our two-car garage to hold all the STUFF.

Then, once it was all down in the garage, I spent three more hours just flattening boxes and putting little ones into bigger ones until only HALF of the two-car garage was full.

We now have one vehicle in the garage. The other one has been banished to the driveway until we can get all the piled up trash hauled away. The trash pile is HUGE, over 6 feet high, taking up most of one “bay” in the garage. There’s WAY too much to just drag out to the street on garbage pick-up day and expect the trash men to haul off for us. It’ll likely take WEEKS of dragging out 4-5 big boxes each trash day (Monday and Thursday in our neighborhood).

Then there’s a smaller pile of stuff that’s still good, but we don’t want any more. That we will either give away or donate to a local organization that helps the needy.

I’m tired, and I will probably be sore in the morning. Tomorrow I’ll try to take a picture of the trash pile so you’ll get an idea of what we did. Oh, and I’ll try to get another picture of the yucca. The bottom blooms are all out now and will soon begin declining and dropping off, but the top buds still have several days to go before they’ll open. Tomorrow will probably be the last day before the bottom starts to look scraggly.

So, what did we accomplish today? Well there’s not much left up in the attic, but we seldom go up there anyway so what difference does that make?

Ah! NOW there’s room to start storing NEW stuff up there!

Since you asked...

...about MY opinion on the quitting employee...

I didn’t want to bore everyone (TOO much) yesterday. I’ve been informed, politely in most (but not all) cases, that my posts about work are often neither interesting nor amusing. Since my goal is to be both of those, I try to limit such posts.

In a nutshell (HAH! I know how wordy I can be,) here were my hints:

1. Mr. Quitting Employee is 61 years old, was laid off two years ago from an electric power generating plant that was closing, and told me that he just intended to work here until he was 65 and could retire.
(My read: There was never any long-term commitment to “success” here.)

2. During the interview, Q. E. let it drop that his retirement investments had been doing VERY well for the last few years.
(My read: he no longer felt he NEEDED this job from a financial perspective.)

3. Q. E.’s tone turned bitter every time he mentioned “computers,” or “computer-based training.” He spoke favorably about the training methods at his former job, at which training was of the mentoring, show-and-tell variety. (Fine at that plant, possibly. Here we must prove to OSHA and others that not only was the employee trained, but that learning occurred. How do we prove that? We have the computer logs of the time spent going through the lesson, and there’s a test at the end. Perfect? No, but better proof than most.)
(My read: he was not comfortable with and did not like computers. That was confirmed by his co-workers.)

4. In the past Q. E. had worked as an electrician, and recently obtained a Master Electrician license. The grapevine tells me that he is currently wiring homes under construction at three different locations.
(My read: same as number 2 above. Plus, house-wiring is not a rotating shift job, can be done on his own schedule, no computers to deal with, no chemical or other hazards besides electricity.)

So, my take is that Mr. Q. E. truly didn’t like the computer-based training that was required, but left primarily for other reasons.

As I said, I’ll never know the WHOLE story.


AND ON A MORE INTERESTING NOTE...

Carol took our digital camera out today to record the current status of our blooming yucca. Since I KNOW that you are ALL interested and amused by THAT topic, I will not only include one photo here:


I will also provide you with a link to a web page with more photos including close-ups.

Enjoy! Then click “BACK” to get back here.

A curiosity? (Another workplace rant.)

(By the way, if you read yesterday’s post and didn’t “get” the reference at the bottom, mushrooms are typically grown in a dark, dank environment and covered with a compost of manure. I had several questions about the topic. Clearer now?)

Today’s post is about a curiosity. To me.

My plant enjoys very low turnover of personnel. Which makes my job much easier than it otherwise would be.

Why the low turnover? Well, some factors are good pay, very good benefits, and a small plant environment where everybody knows everybody else.

But last week we had an employee of just under two years quit. At his exit interview with me, he told me that he’d “had it up to here with all the training.”

Say WHAT? The training?

Yeah. He is a “production technician” (plant operator) who works a 12-hour shift that rotates between days and nights. It’s a tough schedule with 8 hours of built-in overtime every other week. But people work it because it pays $25 per hour (base), and employees are scheduled to be off work for seven consecutive days once every four weeks.

So this guy was telling me that he found it so odious, so burdensome, sitting in front of a computer screen taking computer based training courses for sometimes several hours per shift, getting paid $25 per hour (or $37.50 on overtime), in a climate controlled room, that he just couldn’t take it any more.

Can you see why my “bullshit” antennae were twitching?

Now these guys and gals on shift really earn their high pay. Among other things they have to know the plant processes well enough that if there’s a “process upset” (a problem) they’ll know enough about the process to quickly figure out what’s wrong and fix it. Before we make a big batch of bad product that nobody will buy. Or, worse, before the plant sustains damage.

When there’s a fire, a spill, or other emergency, these same shift employees are the ones who respond, put out the fire, clean up the spill, and so on. So they are DEFINITELY worth their pay!

But all of those skills require training. Frequent training. With lots of refreshers. And most of that training is mandated by OSHA and other law enforcement agencies. We have no choice. And this is the first time I’ve heard anyone claim to dislike it with such intensity, much less quit!

So, why did he really quit? I may never know for sure, but I have a couple of ideas from hints he gave during the interview. (So maybe it’s not a curiosity to me after all.)

I’ll likely never know all the reasons. But I’d be surprised if “too much training” was chief among them.

Or even high on the list.

Communications and mushrooms

Communications. When they are working well in the workplace, things are usually pretty good. When they break down, chaos results.

On Monday I was asked by a co-worker, “John, did you put out a press release recently about expansion plans for us?”

I couldn’t give a simple “no,” because about a month earlier I HAD sent a blurb to the local paper (at their request) updating a story they run annually about our plant for a Chamber of Commerce tabloid. So I explained. The co-worker listened.

Then he asked, “So you didn’t tell the paper about some $25 million expansion with new jobs happening soon? That’s what the headlines say.”

HUH?

News to me! (Pun intended.)

And the calls began coming in, each asking for details I didn’t have. I felt like the typical embattled and indicted politician being asked to refute the legal charges against him. I had to answer, “I’m sorry. I haven’t even seen the article, so I can’t respond.”

This at a time when some plant employees are unhappy anyway, and have complained that they never know what’s going on. Well, I could relate.

I DID know we were planning to invest some significant money in plant projects to increase production and improve quality. But that was to be spread over the next 5 years. And we’d never (to my knowledge) quantified the total investment, or talked about new jobs.

It turns out that our owner and his lawyer had approached the local County Commissioners Court applying for some property tax abatement, and justified the request with a 5-year plan of capital investment. In addition it was mentioned that additional personnel (employees) might be needed if conditions continued to improve.

Once the Commissioners met and discussed the application it became “public record.” The local reporter picked it up, and they put it on the front page.

(Yeah, it was a REALLY slow news day.)

Then I had to call back those folks who had asked for details and explain what was going on. I also sent out an “all hands” email to employees to let them know what the article was about.

It sure would have been nice to know that the application was being made and thus that the public might read about it in the paper.

But you know why many compare their workplace to a mushroom farm, right?

Not to beat a dead horse...

...but I STILL think we’re being lulled right now by the forces of resistentialism.

Last month I had new struts installed on my Mazda commute-to-work car. It’s getting up there in both years and miles (156,000 and counting), but the power train seems good and I hate to get rid of it now that it won’t depreciate any more. And it IS economical to drive.

But we all know how cars of a certain vintage can begin to “nickel and dime” you to death with constant repairs. Also they become unreliable, which for a work car can be even worse.

I thought for a while before agreeing to the $500 “upgrade,” but opted to go ahead with the new struts. So it was with a severe sinking feeling that I heard the right front wheel begin to “thunk” and “pop” when I drove over a slight rough spot in the road a few days ago.

My hope that it would “go away” was a vain one, as those almost always are; it only got more pronounced.

At the same time the gearshift lever (manual transmission) began to rattle and felt loose.

My diagnosis: front-end suspension or steering linkage problems, and a failing transmission. At BEST I figured the shifting linkage was loose and getting ready to fail.

Well, DAMN! I just wasted $500 on struts because now I was going to have to replace the car, and new struts do not increase the value of a vehicle with 156,000 miles on it. Especially one that on a test drive will lead the test driver to believe it’s coming apart!

Knowing the odds were 100-1 against any chance of success, I took a look at the car’s right front wheel area to see if I could find anything obvious. Well, DUH! Just by pulling and bumping around on things I quickly found a BIG nut on a BIG bolt that was barely finger tight! A couple of turns with a ratchet handle and socket, and the “thunks” and “pops” disappeared!

Then I looked at the floor-mounted gearshift lever. Well, the rubber “boot” around the base of the handle had pulled out of the plastic floor fitting. I used a screwdriver to force it back into place. It is thick and heavy enough that it helps support the lever and keeps it from vibrating and rattling. That problem was also solved!

Total time to repair: maybe 15 minutes!

No, I am NOT saying I’m a great mechanic! That would be tempting, but would fall right into the... well... “hands”(?) of the resistential forces! Very soon, I predict, I and many of you as well will be hit with MAJOR failures that will NOT go away so easily!

There’s a huge sign on I-70 west of Denver as the highway descends out of the mountains heading east towards Kansas. It screams at you, “TRUCKERS — DON’T BE FOOLED! 6 more miles of steep downgrades!

Well, likewise, I implore you, don’t be fooled!

Our so-called “inanimate” objects are gathering their forces, and when the strike comes, it’ll be a beauty!

Resistentialism. (Don’t lock your doors.)

You’ve all heard of existentialism, right?

An online dictionary defines “existentialism” as:

“A philosophy that emphasizes the uniqueness and isolation of the individual experience in a hostile or indifferent universe, regards human existence as unexplainable, and stresses freedom of choice and responsibility for the consequences of one's acts.” (Emphasis is mine.)

Okay, so what is “resistentialism?”

(Are you ready for this?)

“Resistentialism” is defined as:

“The theory that inanimate objects display malice towards humans.”

(By the way, this word was pointed out to me by regular reader and phenomenally talented artist r.e.wolf. Check out his site to see some of his work! Thanks, r.e.!)

Anyway, my point is: I did NOT make up this word, and this “theory” (pretty darn much proven fact, by now) has been acknowledged by many for decades!

Need MORE proof? Read the following article, made available to you through the marvels of Google:

The Clark-Trimble experiments

A convenient point of departure is provided by the famous Clark-Trimble experiments of 1935. Clark-Trimble was not primarily a physicist, and his great discovery of the Graduated Hostility of Things was made almost accidentally. During some research into the relation between periods of the day and human bad temper, Clark-Trimble, a leading Cambridge psychologist, came to the conclusion that low human dynamics in the early morning could not sufficiently explain the apparent hostility of Things at the breakfast table - the way honey gets between the fingers, the unfoldability of news-papers, etc.

In the experiments which finally confirmed him in this view, and which he demonstrated before the Royal Society in London, Clark-Trimble arranged four hundred pieces of carpet in ascending degrees of quality, from coarse matting to priceless Chinese silk. Pieces of toast and marmalade, graded, weighed, and measured, were then dropped on each piece of carpet, and the marmalade-downwards incidence was statistically analysed. The toast fell right-side-up every time on the cheap carpet, except when the cheap carpet was screened from the rest (in which case the toast didn’t know that Clark-Trimble had other and better carpets), and it fell marmalade-downwards every time on the Chinese silk. Most remarkable of all, the marmalade-downwards incidence for the intermediate grades was found to vary exactly with the quality of carpet.

The success of these experiments naturally switched Clark-Trimble’s attention to further research on resistentia, a fact which was directly responsible for the tragic and sudden end to his career when he trod on a garden rake at the Cambridge School of Agronomy. In the meantime, Noys and Crangenbacker had been doing some notable work in America. Noys carried out literally thousands of experiments, in which subjects of all ages and sexes, sitting in chairs of every conceivable kind, dropped various kinds of pencils. In only three cases did the pencil come to rest within easy reach. Crangenbacker’s work in the social-industrial field, on the relation of human willpower to specific problems such as whether a train or subway will stop with the door opposite you on a crowded platform, or whether there will be a mail box anywhere on your side of the street, was attracting much attention.


Well, I could go on and on, but those of you who are interested can conduct your own Google search and read as much as you like.

Murphy or no Murphy, resistentialism is alive and well.

And locking your doors won’t help.

Apology

I'm sorry. Really. That wasn't fair.

I'm talking about my posting (on Friday) that first page of a new story I'd thought about.

But thank you very much, all you who chose to comment, email me privately, or even call me on the phone(!). You were uniformly supportive, and I appreciate it.

Trouble is, many of you are wanting to know what happens next. And although I'd LOVE to tell you all my whole story outline (if I had it ALL worked out, which I don't -- it's just kind of a bare-bones outline at this point) I really don't want to reveal my core idea on this public blog.

Why -- am I afraid someone might steal it?

Well... Yeah, a little.

I REALLY like the idea, and I don't think it's been done, exactly. I'm going to need some help with the technology; but it's not science fiction, so anybody could use it the way I'm planning to.

I've learned that I'll need a good first page that grabs the attention of (first) an agent, and (then) an editor at a publisher. Books that don't grab you until page ten have little chance these days of ever getting past an agent's slush pile.

Why? Well, selling books is a business. If people pick up a book at a bookstore while browsing and flip to the first chapter, they're going to put it right back on the shelf if they aren't interested in the first page or so.

At least, that's the theory. Under that theory, a LOT of classic, good literature would NEVER have been published. But it's the way things are today.

So, that's my excuse for Friday's post. And my excuse for not posting the next pages, and then the next, is that I hope to offer a finished book for sale (or for representation by an agent) by the end of the year, and if it's already been put "out there" for public consumption on my blog, it's not considered sellable.

So, readers, I apologize. I won't "tease" you like that again.

Well... Maybe I will tease you with OTHER stuff, but not with something I can't later offer you gratification on.

Deal? Apology accepted?

I hope so.

Yucca update

The last two days have been partly sunny, partly cloudy, but with temperatures in the 80s. Plants around here all seem to think it's spring.

Our ash trees are in leaf, the pecans are budding, and the cottonwoods are going crazy.

We played golf today in shorts and short sleeved shirts, and sweated! (I shot 88, since I KNOW you're all interested. It's the first time I've broken 90 in months, so I was pretty happy.)

What's that? You want to know what Carol's score was? I don't think I remember. I DO remember that she complained that she wasn't playing very well today.

You want me to ASK her??

OKAY!! She shot an 86.

I hope you're happy now!

What, you ask, does that have to do with our yucca?

Absolutely nothing.

The yucca's central blooming stalk is now a good four feet tall above the leaves, and is showing the individual stalks that the buds and flowers will appear on. Here's today's status:

I may have been optimistic in thinking that it would be in full bloom by the middle of this coming week, but we'll see. I'll keep providing photographic evidence of its progress until it's in full bloom, which is really quite impressive.

Stay tuned.

P.S. Faith commented (see below) that yuccas are not fazed by ice and snow. We tested that theory on Christmas Eve, 2004.

Proof? Well, it never snows in Victoria, and when it does it's never more than maybe a fraction of an inch at most. I've lived here 20 years, and never seen snow on the ground.

That Christmas Eve just over a year ago was pure magic! We awoke on Christmas morning to a full FOOT of snow on the ground!

Yeah, it was all melted in two days, but it was magical while it lasted. Here's that SAME yucca that's blooming now, with the foot of snow on it!

Whaddaya think?

“So, how’s the king of porn promoters this morning?” The female voice behind him dripped with disdain.

Derk didn’t bother to turn his head. He was reclining on the campus lawn in front of the Admin Building under the shade of an ash tree that seemed to think mid-March was early summer, based on the full canopy of leaves it sported. His ever-present notebook computer was open in front of him, its “network connect” icons blinking in a rapid, steady flicker.

The voice came again. “Any idea how many hundreds of young people are being corrupted by the shit you spew out?” Anger had now crept in and threatened to override the disdain. “Or are molested by the adult creeps who look at it?”

He was used to this. Still, he rolled his eyes. Often they just went away if he didn’t react. But something told him this one might be different. Occupational hazard, I guess, he thought. It was beginning to grate, though. He waited motionless for the next volley. Not for long.

“Asshole! Are you just going to lie there and ignore me?” Punctuation came in the form of a prod in Derk’s upper thigh from what felt like the toe of a sneaker.

He rolled over on his back and squinted up. Her face was obscured by long, brown hair blowing around it in the steady southeast breeze, and by the dazzling effect of the alternating sunlight and shadows from the fluttering leaves.

“Good morning to you, too, miss. Or ma’am.” He shaded his eyes with a hand but it didn’t help much. He essayed a smile. “I don’t know what you’ve heard about me, but it sounds like most of it’s wrong. I’m not into porn.”

To his surprise she plopped down cross-legged beside him on the grass, set her backpack beside her and pointed to the laptop’s screen. “Oh, and I guess you’re just downloading music right now, huh? Are you going to tell me you DON’T initiate most of the spam we get every day? And that some of that spam promotes porn sites?”

“I think you mean ‘adult entertainment’ sites,” he said without rancor. He sat up himself and reached out his hand, intending to pat her shoulder in what he hoped would be a reassuring gesture, not a patronizing one.

Before he made contact she hissed, “Don’t you DARE touch me!” with such vehemence that he recoiled as if stung.

Now that her head was on a level with his, he could see that she that she was pretty. No, make that stunning. He guessed she was an undergraduate. Brazen, he thought, but maybe worth a little effort. Even a significant effort.

He cocked his head to one side as if thinking and said, “I... seem to remember... that your foot touched me first. Or doesn’t that count?”

She flushed; something he didn’t see very often. It brought out delicate facial features he hadn’t noticed before. Yeah, this might be worth a LOT of effort.

Then she put her hand into the open backpack. It came out holding a hammer.


That’s a first draft of the opening for a story idea I had this week. Are you “hooked?” Do you want to find out what happens?

Would you turn the page?

What men really mean

Carol saw this in an email once and thought it was funny.

I don’t know why.

She then told me that the fact that I don’t think it’s funny makes it even funnier. Since I’m now totally baffled, I’ll let you decide.

“I’m going fishing.”
Really means: “I’m going to drink myself dangerously stupid, and stand by a stream with a stick in my hand, while the fish swim by in complete safety.”

“It’s a guy thing.”
Really means: “There is no rational thought pattern connected with it, and you have no chance at all of making it logical.”

“Can I help with dinner?”
Really means: “Why isn’t it already on the table?”

“Uh huh,” “Sure, honey,” or “Yes, dear.”
Really means: Absolutely nothing. It’s a conditioned response.

“It would take too long to explain.”
Really means: “I have no idea how it works.”

“We’re going to be late.”
Really means: “Now I have a legitimate excuse to drive like a maniac.”

“I was listening to you. It’s just that I have things on my mind.”
Really means: “I was wondering if that red-head over there is wearing a bra.”

“Take a break, honey, you’re working too hard.”
Really means: “I can’t hear the game over the vacuum cleaner.”

“That’s interesting, dear.”
Really means: “Are you still talking?”

“It’s a really good movie.”
Really means: “It’s got guns, knives, fast cars, and beautiful women.”

“That’s women’s work.”
Really means: “It’s difficult, dirty, and thankless.”

“You know how bad my memory is.”
Really means: “I remember the theme song to ‘F Troop’, the address of the first girl I ever kissed and the Vehicle Identification Numbers of every car I’ve ever owned, but I forgot your birthday.”

“I was just thinking about you, and got you these roses.”
Really means: “The girl selling them on the corner was a real babe.”

“Oh, don’t fuss. I just cut myself, it’s no big deal.”
Really means: “I have actually severed a limb, but will bleed to death before I admit I’m hurt.”

“Hey, I’ve got my reasons for what I’m doing.”
Really means: “And I sure hope I think of some pretty soon.”

(This one is Carol’s favorite. ?? Go figure.)
“I can’t find it.”
Really means: “It didn’t fall into my outstretched hands, so I’m completely clueless.”

“What did I do this time?”
Really means: “What did you catch me at?”

“I heard you.”
Really means: “I haven’t the foggiest clue what you just said, and am hoping desperately that I can fake it well enough so that you don’t spend the next 3 days yelling at me.”

“You know I could never love anyone else.”
Really means: “I am used to the way you yell at me, and realize it could be worse.”

“You look terrific.”
Really means: “Oh, God, please don’t try on one more outfit. I’m starving.”

“I’m not lost. I know exactly where we are.”
Really means: “No one will ever see us alive again.”

“We share the housework.”
Really means: “I make the messes, she cleans them up.”

Our yucca’s response to warm sun

Last week I mentioned that what little winter we were to experience in South Texas had already limped out of the area, shoved and prodded by the surging warmth of spring.

As proof I offered a photo of a yucca in out back yard landscaped area that was thrusting up a center shoot in preparation for blooming. Here’s the shot, taken last Wednesday, one week ago.

I know it’s difficult to tell the height of that shoot, but I’d guess it had risen about 8 inches above the topmost leaf spike. Here’s the same plant on Monday:

And here it is, from a slightly different angle, today:

At the rate it’s growing and putting out buds, I’d imagine that within one more week it will be fully covered in brilliant white flowers. Stay tuned (or come back from time to time) for additional photographic progress reports.

Telephone calls

Sometimes the best defense is to jump to the offense. Other times it’s better to be humble. Two stories:

1. Yesterday a letter came to my home. The envelope identified it as coming from Enterprise Rent-a-car. When my van’s transmission was being rebuilt in Denver we had driven an Enterprise car, so I figured this was a “customer satisfaction” survey or some such.

Wrong.

The terse letter enclosed asked me to call them and cooperate in their investigation of the damage to my rental car! WHAT damage?!! I knew that when I turned in that car there was no damage.

In righteous wrath and ready to do battle I punched in the long distance number. There was no way they were going to con me into paying for damage! Snort. Fume.

I got the outgoing message of the person’s voice mail. At the tone I identified myself, read the reference number from the letter and firmly informed the machine that although I would be happy to talk to someone about this, I could assure them right now that there was NO DAMAGE to the car while it was in my possession. I left my phone number and hung up. HMPH!

A half hour later, my phone rang. It was a lady from Enterprise. I was polite, but mentally gearing up for the argument.

But no. She was meek, and informed me that after receiving my voice message she had gone farther back into the records, and had found that the damage in question had been recorded earlier, before I rented the car.

I exhaled. She apologized for any inconvenience and thanked me for calling.

Whew!

2. Today a letter came to my office at the plant informing me that due to my failure to file some kind of employment tax return with the State of Mississippi for October and November of 2005, my company was being penalized almost $900.

Now this didn’t make sense. We had hired an individual in late 2005 who lived in Mississippi, and we had been sure to withhold state taxes from his pay. But he wasn’t hired until November 28, and didn't get his first paycheck until December!

I called the number in Jackson, MI indicated in the letter, and requested help. A polite but firm state employee informed me that our records indicated that we should have been filing tax returns there since October.

My demeanor became deferential. I explained that I was from Texas, and since we didn’t have a state income tax I was woefully ignorant of the requirements. I asked what I needed to do, and could she help me? Please?

She became MOST helpful indeed! After some checking she ascertained that since the returns were to be filed quarterly and we had hired the individual during the last quarter of the year, the records must have been entered incorrectly to show that returns were due for the whole quarter instead of just December.

Again I asked what I needed to do to make it right. She asked me to wait for just a minute, and then came back on the line to tell me that SHE had changed our records, corrected the error, wiped off the $900 penalty, and we were now in full compliance!

I thanked her profusely, stopping just short (I hope) of obsequiousness. (Look it up. It’s a good word.)

So, sometimes it’s best to come out a-charging, and other times you need to lay back a bit.

Wisdom (or sometimes luck) is in knowing the difference!

Attitude (Reprise)

A few posts ago, Jennifer commented (about my refusal to accept rejection as personal), “I think your perspective here is a brilliant one, and you are quite lucky to own it. What seems a cruel world really is as you've laid it out here. It's NOT personal. But dang if it isn't hard to remember that sometimes. Keep the faith, man. Your attitude is golden.”

Jennifer is one of my favorite daily reads in the blogosphere. She tends toward introspection (as I sometimes do), but her take on events in her life is described in a matter-of-fact and brutally honest form.

Last June I wrote a post on “Attitude” (which is why I put “Reprise” in today’s title). And Jennifer commented on THAT one, too. In it I made the point that we each can choose our own attitude, and I just prefer to be positive about most things.

People ask if my glass is half full or half empty. I tell them, “Neither. My glass is always at LEAST ¾ full.”

“Oh, but you’re just being a Pollyanna!” “Yeah! A REALIST would admit that life often sucks, and you gotta take the bad with the good.”

I hear those comments. And I reply, “Bullshit.”

(Preachy post warning!)

People who feel that way often end up with a “victim” mentality. Nothing that happens to them is their fault, they have no control over the random events that life throws at them, and they should be pitied and helped.

Well, okay, sometimes life DOES throw random events at us and we can’t control all aspects of them. My philosophy is, don’t fret over what you can’t control. But control what you CAN. And one of the things you CAN control is your attitude towards, and your reaction to, those events.

You can lament and bitch and moan and complain about how bad life is and what a victim you are. OR, you can say, “Well, THAT sucked. I hope I can avoid anything like THAT in the future.” And then you can focus on ways to avoid that in the future!

People say, “Those people look down on me and treat me like I’m nothing.” Who are “THOSE PEOPLE?” Do they matter? To Whom? Why do they matter to you? People are going to think what they think, and you can’t change them. Just convince yourself that they’re WRONG, and what they think doesn’t change the FACT that you’re not so bad! To HELL with “those people!”

If you don’t like the way things are under the circumstances, climb OUT from under those circumstances and change some of them!

End of preaching. For now.

Oh... Well, on further thought... I WILL admit that there is ONE thing that truly victimizes us. And that we have NO control over.

And that ONE thing is the CONSPIRACY I keep writing about!

But don’t bemoan it. Keep fighting against it. It’s the only chance we have!

A few “writing” thoughts.

First, robotjam of the U.K. asked me, “Ever thought about just publishing it (your novel) yourself?”

Sure, rj. And that might be an option, but a difficult one. First, though, I’d much rather go the traditional route and be published by a house with a publicist and marketing department to help me sell the book after it’s “out there.” I plan a heavy marketing campaign, the details of which are too long and boring to go into now. Why do I plan that? Because if the first book doesn’t have impressive sales figures, it’ll be twice as hard to sell the second one.

But what if no agent is interested, and no publisher will buy the work? A second problem is getting permissions to quote the songs that are an integral part of the story. Oh, I’ve written off to the copyright owners (did my homework on that!) and asked for details of getting permission to quote their lyrics (as in; “How much $$?”)

The answer is always, “It depends.” Then they ask a BUNCH of questions:
1. Name of your publication
2. Retail selling price of your publication
3. Estimated print run
4. Territory of distribution
5. Name of the publisher
6. Is your publication hardbound or softbound?
7. Total number of copyrighted titles to be included in your publication
8. Please supply us with a copy of the material in context.

Those become hard to answer (some of them) for a self-published book, or e-book, or POD (Print On Demand). So I can either change the whole story (start over from scratch) or offer long explanations to each copyright owner and see what they want me to pay them. I’m guessing (since lawyers are involved) that the cost would be prohibitive.

I know, I know. ALL writers say this: (insert a gushy tone here) “EVERYbody who has read my book just LOVES it!!” Well, dammit, alMOST everybody who has read mine (even total strangers with NOTHING to gain) have been very positive. Most end up with tears in their eyes at the end. (No, NOT from pain!)

Call it sappy, but it has a “feel-good, happy ending.” That makes you cry.

So, I’m tempted (if it doesn’t sell) to just put it out on a personal web site for free and let people read it. Why? Because it’s a neat story, and I want people to read it (if they want to) and enjoy it. Call it ego; or whatever.

I’m a long way from making any final decision on that topic.

I may be influenced by a few comments from agents who are NOT interested in it. One told me that she couldn’t sell (and didn’t know of anyone who COULD) another book about (or with a story that takes place in) the 1960s. Gee. I didn’t know that. Apparently there have been SO MANY books written (by baby boomers like me) about that era that “nobody wants to read them any more.”

Strike one!

Then there came a rejection note just a few days ago that read:

“Sorry I cannot sell love stories. If I could I'd be a millionaire. I only represent genre romances, good ones, of which I can rarely find or am queried about. Every man on earth has experienced unrequited love and wants to write about it. I have an unsold one under my bed also. Good luck.”

Wow! Strike Two! I’ve written a love story that takes place in the 60s.

(“Unrequited love?” Not hardly! But he didn’t even see a synopsis, so that was an assumption. I wrote him back saying that if he thought my query letter was for a story about “unrequited love,” I needed to rewrite the letter!)

I KNOW! THIS BUSINESS IS SUBJECTIVE! (Sorry. Didn’t mean to shout at you.) And yes, it only takes one agent who reads it and likes it to make this whole process work.

But after those two agents’ opinions about the genre and the time frame... Well, I’ll just say that IF those opinions are widespread, you may be seeing this novel on a free web page near you for your browsing pleasure.

And damned if my next novel isn’t a sequel that’s set in the early 70s!

(Strike THREE?)

A little golf-course bathroom humor

I TOLD you it was spring in South Texas. Carol and I and our good friend and golfing buddy I’ll call Naomi (which is a biblical reference to her real name — think Naomi’s daughter-in-law... who married Boaz... Oh, go look it up!).

Anyway, out on the public course we always play in Victoria (it’s called Riverside, for an obvious reason) are a couple of restrooms. No, not just inside the clubhouse. There are two fairly nice little buildings out on the course with both a “Men’s” and a “Ladies’” room in each.

Now a lot more men than ladies play golf on any given day, so one typical “problem” (to some) is that often the men will use BOTH sides of the restroom facility. This would be okay if they’d also us a little common courtesy and: 1) clean up after themselves, and 2) put the seat down.

But that’s not today’s topic.

No, today’s topic is toilet tissue.

If you don’t remember (or didn’t know), toilet paper is an area of particular interest and expertise to me. I (ahem) remain the only Olympic Gold Medal winner (and thus I am the current Undefeated Reigning Champion) in the sport of toilet paper unrolling!

Do I detect a hint of doubt in your mind? I have several copies of a Newsweek Magazine article to prove it! And if you would like more on this story (along with pictures!) please see the following posts from several months ago: FIRST, then SECOND, then THIRD.

HA! See? I told you!

Okay, back to my story. Carol and Naomi went into the ladies’ room in one of these outbuildings. When they emerged, Naomi took out her wireless phone and punched Directory – R for Riverside. The following conversation ensued:

“Hello”

“Yes, I’m calling to report that the ladies’ rest room out on the White Nine by hole number four is out of toilet tissue. I wonder if you could bring some out, please.”

“Well, yes, I can come out there in a little while, but it may take me some time.”

“Okay, then. That’ll be fine. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

What? You don’t think there’s anything wrong with that? Well you’re right. But a minute later Naomi’s phone rang. She answered it to learn it was a call from her good friend Robert F. who works part time at the local bowling lanes. Robert was laughing so hard he could hardly talk.

He wanted to know why Naomi thought HE ought to bring toilet tissue to the ladies’ restroom out on the golf course? She didn’t understand for a second, and then she blurted, “I THOUGHT that sounded like you on the phone, but I thought I’d called Riverside!”

Then the two of them were laughing so hard neither one could talk for a minute. Finally Naomi told him in as stern a voice as she could muster between giggles, “Robert, if you EVER tell ANYONE about this, I’ll CHOKE you!”

She figures that when she hit the Directory – R, she must have somehow bumped the “scroll down” button once before hitting “dial,” since Robert’s was the next name in the directory.

I told Naomi that by this evening the whole story will likely be posted in the lobby of the bowling lanes where many of her friends bowl.

But she got even with me. The last hole we played today was a par 5. I was pleased and excited to get a par on that hole. Naomi hit a booming drive, a 3-wood second shot that rolled up onto the green and stopped two feet from the cup!

We MADE her put that shot (although usually in our friendly round a short putt like that is considered a “gimme.” She rammed it home for an eagle 3! (Carol made a birdie 4). My par looked pretty pathetic in contrast!

Soft enough yet?

I fear the “softening up period” may be over. For some of us, at least.

But maybe not! Allow me to explain...

It was about a year ago when I began documenting stories of appliance and plumbing problem that seemed too sequential and too conniving to be simply random failures.

You know about my recent van transmission failure, and that afterwards that same van began to make the most God-awful noises that sounded like ball joints or other front-suspension components that were failing, right? And you know that it turned out to be nothing more than a loose dipstick? (Yes, dipstick. I KNOW that sounds like a joke, but it's not.)

Then I documented Christina’s seemingly MAJOR computer malfunction, which later corrected itself. Remember that?

Those instances convinced me that the conspiracy was just softening us up, pretending to inflict us with serious, expensive problems, but then allowing them to “go away” with no expense. Thus we’d be lulled into that famous “false sense of security.”

Well, last week I ordered an external computer hard drive from Amazon.com. They sent me the wrong item! No problem, right? I had plenty of documentation about what I had ordered, and Amazon apologized and expedited the process of exchanging the item for the right one.
MORE softening up!

Today, our house drain plumbing (sewer) backed up. AGAIN! (I’m NOT making these up!)

That was one of the first indications of this conspiracy that I chronicled a year ago! This time, though, the problem did NOT “fix itself.” It required replacement of a piece of underground PVC drain pipe. A plumber was called. There was a lot of digging, sweating, cursing, and angst. And THEN the plumber arrived. His total bill? $600!!

This was NOT "softening up!" This was SERIOUS.

Well, not as bad as the $3,000 transmission overhaul, but still!!

Why am I not sure whether or not the softening up period is over or not? Well, this might be just a continuation of the problems of a year ago, and not part of a new major attack. How does on know for sure?

Rest assured, though, that I am working hard on the problem and will keep you well-informed of my conclusions once all the evidence has been collected and the analysis complete.

Soft or hard? Ready or not, here it comes.

(Maybe.)