There need not be any caution in regard to discerning the meaning of change Mr. Obama plans to bring to America. He stated what it is. He brings precisely the same policy progression as the Bushes, Clinton, Reagan and Carter. He is finishing off "America the Bankrupt" under an expanded spending program. It hardly matters that W. did his injury through war and the funding of a real estate bubble through the very institutions which created the bubble, and Obama plans to fight a new "war on poverty" funded by the banks that created the impoverishment of America through usury and fractional banking (a premier engine of monetary expansion to begin with).
As this form of "money creation" seems to have developed in Babylon (an author write a book he entitled The Babylonian Woe), it is not startling to discover that the primary preservers of this system over the last twenty-five hundred years have been elements of the Jewish population, especially the Sephardim. The twin Jewish gifts to Europe and the world have been money changing/usury and the cabala (the latter being somewhat familiar to all the "mystery religions"). They invented neither but perceived the power available through each and ran with it. The Jews possess good intelligence which over many hundreds of years honed and, where possible, broadened it.
Utilizing these gifts, Jews were able to convert some sharp nonJewish minds to the "mysteries" of the cabala, which, in effect, let loose fecund "termites" to undermine Christianity. On the other hand Jews led elements of the royal and aristocratic establishment in Europe more and more into the practice of accepting adventagiously priced loans on the one hand and relying on Jewish advisers to be "stewards" of increasing portions of their money. This eventually led to the first national central bank in Europe, the Bank of England.
The lessons learned from this experiment in money creation led to the development of other central banks across Europe. As the European Royalty tended to cross-pollinate, news of the great "windfall" of money had by the Royals and some other nobility must have gotten around. One expression around Cromwell's time was "Drunk as a Lord." The inebriated are not known for their discretion.
In the developing expertise of Jewish financiers was the technique of loaning to the sovereign forms of money which were collateralized by the labor of the poor. It is this process which ultimately broke the back of the American Promise to all its citizens. Every citizen of America has an equal share of the national debt but not an equal share of the national wealth. Most American citizens have a negative worth, when the national time-bomb is factored into the equation. The national debt should be tiered, so that rich individuals such as Donald Graham would bear a burden equal to 95% of his gross wealth, while the impoverished would bear the burden of one-half what they can beg on a given day.
Of course, there was never any need to have a gigantic national debt to begin with. Since it is people such as Donald Graham, whose rabbinic ancestors helped to develop the system known as the "Babylonian Woe," and who helped to undermine the Constitutional method by which the federal government spent needed currency into the economy through useful projects, affording gainful employment in the process, and issued under its sovereign power as legal tender. By this means banks are not really required as extraordinary national engines, pumping money into the economy by means of loans. This latter technique requires that the money in circulation can never cover all debts, as the aggregate is issued with an interest burden, and any new money appropriated to cover past debts is itself issued at interest, creating a shortfall by the weight of the difference.
The men behind the "bankers' coup d'etats" included men who were motivated by greed. However, among their banking numbers were men motivated by a sense of destiny to create a "New World Order." Since such men could not openly achieve their desire, as it required the treasonous assassination of the nation (here, U.S.A.) to achieve the world government desired, they operated "by way of deception." Further, since their absolute numbers were small, to attempt to achieve their aim rapidly by violence was very risky. Nevertheless, the Russian Revolution briefly afforded the exhilarating thought of "world revolution, now!"
Saner heads realised that by using central banks, usury, and fractional banking, they would not need armies of soldiers to conquer the world. They would use politicians and economists to gradually, bloodlessly (more or less) create their long-dreamed-of New Order. Using the educational system, youngster could be raised to feel that they had a vested interest in "the system." For most this meant becoming the "collateralized labor." By this means the sovereign citizenry of America, as envisioned by the Constitution, have become "sharecroppers" at best. Their crop is, of course, debt. The holders of that debt are the New American Sovereigns.
The problem with the American economy is the technique by which money is created. It should NEVER be issued through private banks, which have regularly and annually abused their privileged position. The Establishment defends this form of money creation because it is the very means by which they maintain their group hegemony. They created the "science" of economy to be its "Temple Guards."
Money should be spent into the economy by the federal government without any interest burden at all. The money injected into the economy becomes the pool of legal tender. It expands as needful projects are undertaken. Ultimately, the pool will redistribute, as some are energetic and idea-driven and will develop businesses to market these ideas, while others will decline to work much and become the lower class. As Christ noted: "The poor ye will always have with ye." Put another way, "You can bring a horse to water, but you can't make it drink."
Inequality is a law of nature. The unnatural people of the New World Order deny this fundamental truth, but Truth will find a way!
Mr. Obama has appointed a rabbi, Rahm Emanuel, as his "chief of staff." He is hastening to add additional Jews, Freemasons, retreads from past administrations, and generally trekking along in the Jimmy Carter "era of change." Incidentally, the rabbi is an elected representative to Congress, and he was a high appointee within the Clinton Administration, prior to that. W. also appointed a rabbi to high executive position, Ari Fleisher, who was the official spokesperson for the president to the White House Press, and others.
This is not to say that all rabbis, or, indeed, all Jews, hold the same views. There is, however, clear evidence from the unfolding of history itself that a powerful force within Jewry has worked consistently to achieve a common, messianic vision.
That Capitalism and Communism were both dominated ideationally, as well as by "chief executives," "supreme councils" and "round tables," by this alluded to element is clear by roll-call and observation of their effect upon policy. All the top leaders of the Russian Revolution were Jews (often changing their names Madeleine Albright-style to conceal their origins). Stalin appointed Jews to head every Warsaw Pact nation, with Tito being "non-aligned." One Jewish family, the storied Rothschilds, were said by their own sanctioned family biographer to be richer than any European nation at the time, and, indeed, specialized in loans to nations. The weren't the only Jewish families operating at the time, as the Warburgs can attest. And The Washington Post Company's Donald Graham would certainly want his ancestral firm, Lazard Freres, to be mentioned, along with its leading family, the Franco-Jewish Davids.
When Ms. Shehan tried to speak to elected officials about the war in Iraq and the death of her son, very few prominent ones made themselves available. Yet, when the American-Israel Political Action Committee [AIPAC] held an annual powwow, over 60 U.S. Senators showed up and struggled among themselves in regard to who got to kowtow first. Jews provide over 50% of the donations to the Democrat Party. Only the ill-educated at the hands of America's educators would fail to realise that "the man who pays the piper calls the tune."
The term "disparate results" has no meaning or application when it comes to Jews. All federal courts and the Supreme Court can be counted on to find a pretext why disproportionate numbers of Jews in government and industry are "Constitutional." Probably the "holocaust."
It is these people who will guide President Obama, whose absentee record as an elected official suggests that he'd prefer the glamour of the job, leaving the policy construction to "his White House staff" and appointed Cabinet secretaries. Hence, the "same crowd" will continue to do what they've done for every president since my birth during the WW II, work to achieve Tikkun olam.
Yav Yo Tim is a man of kidney in a lily-livered world. As a Sage among shadows, many find his visibility threatening. Deal with it!
Sunday, November 16, 2008
Saturday, June 14, 2008
LIFE IS GOOD
I find the "street" a very rewarding place. I can't say precisely when it occurred to me that the "street" was bountiful, but at some point it happened: The Epiphany. The "street" is a "way" by which blessings are provided to those with "eyes to see." I have found folding money on the "street." Maybe a five dollar bill and a few ones. The cash is RIGHT THERE. I need only reach down to pick it up. This is so excellent! Ever since the moment when I realised that something special had just occurred, I have received my "allowance" from the "street." I have never worked in my life. Why work when the "street" provides for all my needs? Dimes and quarters are strewn about the "street" with a generosity that truly moves me. The "street" provides me with bus and subway fares. The "street" feeds me--not after the unwholesome diets of the "bigwigs"--but with the Earth's true bounty. I eat carrots, nuts, berries, milk, eggs, and a variety of green "veggies." I am not married. I have no children. Therefore, I am free to adopt nature and wander this Earth, taking care of my "adoptive children." The "street" offers me my "social security." It is true that a cashless and changeless world would alter my lifestyle. Yet, there have always been "hobos" who have always found a way to "make it." So, I keep my eye lowered--not due to the vanity of false modesty--but to glean from the fields ("street") my daily needs. Life is good!
Sunday, June 1, 2008
The Democrat Race
What is going down with the Democrats?
No one in their right mind can sort out the confusion. It appears that these people want to put a sort of multiplicity of parties, after the French style, incarnated in two people, and then put both people on one ticket. Barack and Hillary? Hillary and Barack? How many minority factions can you squeeze into two people? With Barack Hussein Obama you can squeeze in African, African-American, Mixed, heterosexual, "bi-sexual," Christian, Muslim, husband, father, young, Martin Luther King style orator, JFK style orator, peace politics, friend of Israel, friend of Islamic countries, civil rights leader, and visionary of change.
In Hillary one can squeeze lawyer, commodities speculator, Methodist, Jew, Atheist, wife, adultress, lesbian, First Lady, Senator, mother, millionaire, feminist, friend of Israel, hands-on experience, planner, street-fighter, bolshevick, and friend of Hollywood.
No matter how you combine these two on one ticket, you've got the country and world covered.
What in the world could a grouchy antique martinet offer to overcome the Democrat's plethora of incorporated parties within Barack & Obama? Go figure!
No one in their right mind can sort out the confusion. It appears that these people want to put a sort of multiplicity of parties, after the French style, incarnated in two people, and then put both people on one ticket. Barack and Hillary? Hillary and Barack? How many minority factions can you squeeze into two people? With Barack Hussein Obama you can squeeze in African, African-American, Mixed, heterosexual, "bi-sexual," Christian, Muslim, husband, father, young, Martin Luther King style orator, JFK style orator, peace politics, friend of Israel, friend of Islamic countries, civil rights leader, and visionary of change.
In Hillary one can squeeze lawyer, commodities speculator, Methodist, Jew, Atheist, wife, adultress, lesbian, First Lady, Senator, mother, millionaire, feminist, friend of Israel, hands-on experience, planner, street-fighter, bolshevick, and friend of Hollywood.
No matter how you combine these two on one ticket, you've got the country and world covered.
What in the world could a grouchy antique martinet offer to overcome the Democrat's plethora of incorporated parties within Barack & Obama? Go figure!
Sunday, February 10, 2008
CHILI
If America should have a "national food" of record, I believe that chili should be given serious consideration. I fixed a pot this morning and have felt good all day. Chili does that for a man. It is both robust and subtle. As for taste, hmmmnn, hmmmnnn, good!
While many do not feel that they can take the time to prepare a good pot of chili, reaching instead for a tv dinner/frozen entree, I find the preparation enjoyable. My appetite is honed as I add each ingredient. As the food simmers, I enjoy the scent it emits. I even like the bubbling of the brewing chili.
As I cook, I often find myself humming a song or bursting into song. Folks, when you can sing, you don't need a radio--and I can sing!
One of the interesting things about preparing the pot of chili is that the odor changes as different ingredients are added. I never tired of it at all, and the scents worked on my imagination something fierce. Well, there it is! I'm exposed as being an ogre. People, I can put away some food! (I realise that such commentary opens me up for serious criticism from that crowd which is much concerned with global foodstocks.)
I never really get fat. My body is a high-burner, I guess.
Today, I put a very large pot-skillet on a gas stovetop, and began. My first cooking effort had been rice, so, after removing the greater part of that to a container, I left a respectable amount in the pot. After pouring in more water, I added navy and black beans, which I had ground to powder in my coffee bean grounder, and stirred it into the rice & water brew. At the same time as this was happening, I was defrosting a package of frozen , low-fat beef (ground) in a microwave. I put into the pot a good sprinkling of chili powder, black pepper, red "hot" pepper seeds, Italian herbs, garlic (3 cloves-diced)and onion (one-diced). After stirring these ingredients, I added a can of Hunt's tomato sauce, the ground beef, a diced tomato, two small, diced, redskin potatoes, and six diced baby carrots. Now, this wasn't rushed, and I got to savor the scent of each, as it joined the mix. More chili powder was added, as well as black pepper. Another can of Hunt's tomato sauce, and a can of Walnut Acres organic baked beans were added. The latter due to my prejudice that bean-based chili should "show" some whole beans. All these and a bit more herbs and I'm done, but for the stirring into a proper texture and appearance.
As I certainly planned to eat a part of my chili as soon as possible, I prepared a "background" for the chili to rest upon. My choice was four jumbo eggs, which were partially cooked, covered with Sargento sharp cheddar cheese, and reheated. When this base was completed and crowned with chili, I felt like a king. Some may sneer: "a hobo king!" I'm not offended at all. I am a "man of the road." And for me, a big bowl or plate of chili is the American food of record.
While many do not feel that they can take the time to prepare a good pot of chili, reaching instead for a tv dinner/frozen entree, I find the preparation enjoyable. My appetite is honed as I add each ingredient. As the food simmers, I enjoy the scent it emits. I even like the bubbling of the brewing chili.
As I cook, I often find myself humming a song or bursting into song. Folks, when you can sing, you don't need a radio--and I can sing!
One of the interesting things about preparing the pot of chili is that the odor changes as different ingredients are added. I never tired of it at all, and the scents worked on my imagination something fierce. Well, there it is! I'm exposed as being an ogre. People, I can put away some food! (I realise that such commentary opens me up for serious criticism from that crowd which is much concerned with global foodstocks.)
I never really get fat. My body is a high-burner, I guess.
Today, I put a very large pot-skillet on a gas stovetop, and began. My first cooking effort had been rice, so, after removing the greater part of that to a container, I left a respectable amount in the pot. After pouring in more water, I added navy and black beans, which I had ground to powder in my coffee bean grounder, and stirred it into the rice & water brew. At the same time as this was happening, I was defrosting a package of frozen , low-fat beef (ground) in a microwave. I put into the pot a good sprinkling of chili powder, black pepper, red "hot" pepper seeds, Italian herbs, garlic (3 cloves-diced)and onion (one-diced). After stirring these ingredients, I added a can of Hunt's tomato sauce, the ground beef, a diced tomato, two small, diced, redskin potatoes, and six diced baby carrots. Now, this wasn't rushed, and I got to savor the scent of each, as it joined the mix. More chili powder was added, as well as black pepper. Another can of Hunt's tomato sauce, and a can of Walnut Acres organic baked beans were added. The latter due to my prejudice that bean-based chili should "show" some whole beans. All these and a bit more herbs and I'm done, but for the stirring into a proper texture and appearance.
As I certainly planned to eat a part of my chili as soon as possible, I prepared a "background" for the chili to rest upon. My choice was four jumbo eggs, which were partially cooked, covered with Sargento sharp cheddar cheese, and reheated. When this base was completed and crowned with chili, I felt like a king. Some may sneer: "a hobo king!" I'm not offended at all. I am a "man of the road." And for me, a big bowl or plate of chili is the American food of record.
Monday, January 7, 2008
MUSIC WARS
This weekend the property owner from whom I rent a small office decided to dispatch some workers to do some repair work. One of the old tenants had moved out of his set of offices to either retire from the practice of law or move to another location. I would guess the latter, as I never heard of a lawyer retiring unless completely disabled--usually by death.
Therefore, there were two sorts of work being done: 1.) renovation of a suite and 2.) hanging new doors to each office on the floor. The workers were all Latinos and numbered between two and six, depending on day and hour.
As I needed to be at my office to do some projects, I spent a good part of Saturday and Sunday at my office. I don't like to work on Sunday, but on occasion there are strong pressures to do so.
What is usual at construction/renovation sites occurred: hammering, sawing, and the like. These tend to be intermittent and I accept them with as good cheer as possible.
The workers were, at their greatest number, five men and one woman. Somehow, they were able to create the illusion of a whole union. I've seen this done in movies, especially war movies. For example, a few men try to create the illusion of being a whole army. Being noisy is a key element in this ruse. However, in this instance, the workers were naturally loud and expressing themselves according to their custom. This wasn't limited to "shouting at one another," which may be a Latino "macho" thing. They had thoughtfully brought their boombox.
Soon, Latin music, including singing, rose to compete with the exuberant shouting. Latin men seem to like to drop their voices into a growling, raspy initiation of some observation or other. Again, possibly a macho thing, or conceivably and expression of solidarity with some beast or other. All these elements blended together to make a merry worksite, according to some points of view.
Call me a "blue meanie" if you like, but I'm not a big fan of Mexican-style music. I applaud some Latin singers for having good voices and being able to sing a melodic line. I am one of the few living Anglos who still appreciates melody. Still, enough is enough!
In my office is a rather good musical device. I play a CD with happy results. I have the power to "uplift" its volume at my ease with my "remote." I have a couple of effective speakers. The decision was made by me to play some of my own music--music which I often find soothing and helpful to continue working, when energy levels begin to flag.
Selecting my favorite "Die grosse Jodellieder" CD, basically a hitparade of Swiss yodelling. putting side 2 in my player first, selecting level 34, I remote-commanded the instrument to begin. It did.
There was a sudden hiatus in the hallway. What is this crazy American up to?
My yodelling hitparade ruled the floor. I felt a deep satisfaction.
There is much to say in praise of Swiss yodelling. The sounds can be down-right heavenly. I would not be surprised, when my time comes to enter the "Pearly Gates," if angels on adjacent clouds weren't singing Jodellieder. Therefore, not only did I project a massive wave of pleasant mountain "airs," sharing with all this mighty sound, but completely routed the offending noise.
However, I must say that the Latino workers were a game lot. They put up a very good noise- fight before being forced to retreat to the backroom, where their whimpering boombox was sobbing hysterically. For some other musics the Swiss Jodellieder seems unfair competition. How can we war against singing angels? they wonder.
Indeed!
Therefore, there were two sorts of work being done: 1.) renovation of a suite and 2.) hanging new doors to each office on the floor. The workers were all Latinos and numbered between two and six, depending on day and hour.
As I needed to be at my office to do some projects, I spent a good part of Saturday and Sunday at my office. I don't like to work on Sunday, but on occasion there are strong pressures to do so.
What is usual at construction/renovation sites occurred: hammering, sawing, and the like. These tend to be intermittent and I accept them with as good cheer as possible.
The workers were, at their greatest number, five men and one woman. Somehow, they were able to create the illusion of a whole union. I've seen this done in movies, especially war movies. For example, a few men try to create the illusion of being a whole army. Being noisy is a key element in this ruse. However, in this instance, the workers were naturally loud and expressing themselves according to their custom. This wasn't limited to "shouting at one another," which may be a Latino "macho" thing. They had thoughtfully brought their boombox.
Soon, Latin music, including singing, rose to compete with the exuberant shouting. Latin men seem to like to drop their voices into a growling, raspy initiation of some observation or other. Again, possibly a macho thing, or conceivably and expression of solidarity with some beast or other. All these elements blended together to make a merry worksite, according to some points of view.
Call me a "blue meanie" if you like, but I'm not a big fan of Mexican-style music. I applaud some Latin singers for having good voices and being able to sing a melodic line. I am one of the few living Anglos who still appreciates melody. Still, enough is enough!
In my office is a rather good musical device. I play a CD with happy results. I have the power to "uplift" its volume at my ease with my "remote." I have a couple of effective speakers. The decision was made by me to play some of my own music--music which I often find soothing and helpful to continue working, when energy levels begin to flag.
Selecting my favorite "Die grosse Jodellieder" CD, basically a hitparade of Swiss yodelling. putting side 2 in my player first, selecting level 34, I remote-commanded the instrument to begin. It did.
There was a sudden hiatus in the hallway. What is this crazy American up to?
My yodelling hitparade ruled the floor. I felt a deep satisfaction.
There is much to say in praise of Swiss yodelling. The sounds can be down-right heavenly. I would not be surprised, when my time comes to enter the "Pearly Gates," if angels on adjacent clouds weren't singing Jodellieder. Therefore, not only did I project a massive wave of pleasant mountain "airs," sharing with all this mighty sound, but completely routed the offending noise.
However, I must say that the Latino workers were a game lot. They put up a very good noise- fight before being forced to retreat to the backroom, where their whimpering boombox was sobbing hysterically. For some other musics the Swiss Jodellieder seems unfair competition. How can we war against singing angels? they wonder.
Indeed!
Friday, January 4, 2008
THE LAUNDRAMAT
Every week I go to the laundramat. I don't have to go. The place where I live has a $1000 washing machine and an expensive dryer as well. This being so, why do I go to a laundramat? Why spend at least $5.00/wash-n-dry when the whole thing could be done free? [I still resonate to the old adage: "A penny saved is a penny earned."]
Well, for one thing, the $1000 washing machine starts to act "stressed," whenever I put more than five items of clothing inside it and turn it "on." Further, the dryer goes "belly up"--like an opossum feigning death--whenever it senses that the washing machine has left too much water in the clothing. What a hassle!
Furthermore, this whole process of cleaning and drying a week's worth of dirty laundry on these expensive machines is at least five hours. Who in his/her right mind wants to allocate five hours of good old Saturday to laundry? One would have to be a complete "homebody."
I can go to my favorite laundramat, toss the whole load into one machine, and thirty minutes later, it is finished. I cart it over to the dryers, toss the clothes into two of them, and within thirty minutes they are finished. [I never completely, thoroughly dry my clothes, as the process causes injury to the textiles, hastening the day when worn spots, holes, and thread-faulting occurs.]
There are ancillary benefits to using laundramats. In modern America the laundramat is the heart-n-soul of cultural diversity. Therefore, one is often afforded an opportunity to "brush up" on one's English, Chinese, Indian, Spanish, Vietnamese, Korean, Russian, Arabic, Swahili, Rastaman, and an array of others.
The laundramat I favor is presently owned by a Korean couple. The previous owners were a Southern couple, who were Scott-Jewish, as I recall. The present owner has a large television. He typically keeps it on the Cartoon Network. I suspect that this was his attempt to create harmony, as the frequent use of a Spanish-speaking network must have engendered complaints from the numerous people who speak some English but no Spanish. How this sits with the large population of Latinos, who also frequent the laundramat, I can't say. As is often the case in such situations, the blandest or least challenging television network fares best. Also, children are somewhat distracted from their usual, "high-speed" play by the Cartoons--always a plus.
One can easily appreciate how laundramats not only do a good job washing-n-drying clothes, but they also offer unexpected diversions almost every time.
Well, for one thing, the $1000 washing machine starts to act "stressed," whenever I put more than five items of clothing inside it and turn it "on." Further, the dryer goes "belly up"--like an opossum feigning death--whenever it senses that the washing machine has left too much water in the clothing. What a hassle!
Furthermore, this whole process of cleaning and drying a week's worth of dirty laundry on these expensive machines is at least five hours. Who in his/her right mind wants to allocate five hours of good old Saturday to laundry? One would have to be a complete "homebody."
I can go to my favorite laundramat, toss the whole load into one machine, and thirty minutes later, it is finished. I cart it over to the dryers, toss the clothes into two of them, and within thirty minutes they are finished. [I never completely, thoroughly dry my clothes, as the process causes injury to the textiles, hastening the day when worn spots, holes, and thread-faulting occurs.]
There are ancillary benefits to using laundramats. In modern America the laundramat is the heart-n-soul of cultural diversity. Therefore, one is often afforded an opportunity to "brush up" on one's English, Chinese, Indian, Spanish, Vietnamese, Korean, Russian, Arabic, Swahili, Rastaman, and an array of others.
The laundramat I favor is presently owned by a Korean couple. The previous owners were a Southern couple, who were Scott-Jewish, as I recall. The present owner has a large television. He typically keeps it on the Cartoon Network. I suspect that this was his attempt to create harmony, as the frequent use of a Spanish-speaking network must have engendered complaints from the numerous people who speak some English but no Spanish. How this sits with the large population of Latinos, who also frequent the laundramat, I can't say. As is often the case in such situations, the blandest or least challenging television network fares best. Also, children are somewhat distracted from their usual, "high-speed" play by the Cartoons--always a plus.
One can easily appreciate how laundramats not only do a good job washing-n-drying clothes, but they also offer unexpected diversions almost every time.
Thursday, January 3, 2008
TECH PEOPLE
I went to my computer this morning, thinking that I'd make a quick circuit through my business email before going out into the "field." The first thing I checked came up a "cropper." There was the grey, somber notice that "Internet Explorer" could not find the website. I tried other "favorites" from Verizon Business to MSN to eBay to Google, always resulting in the same grey notice. What gives?
I checked my modem lights, and they all indicated that I was connected to the internet. I decided to reboot the computer. After going through the restart process, I again hit the favorites line-up. Darn! There was that same grey notice that Internet Explorer just coudn't connect.
Now, my "thing" is not deep study of computer science--no, not even shallow study. I'm sort of a "toe in the water" type. Therefore, I knew that I wasn't going to solve the problem myself. Still, male aggression exerted itself just enough for me too scan the Internet Options setting on my Tools dropdown button. Looked ok to me.
I knew it was time to turn to a "pro." I dialed up Verizon Business. A woman's taped voice welcomed me into the mysteries of--of--sex? Of course not! I was asked to verify this and choose that, finally ending up at the DSL tech-support niche. After about 7-8 minutes of waiting, at which time I whiled away my time observing my messy office and wondering how it could have gotten to this state of absurd clutter, I was awakened, so to speak, by a woman who identified herself as "Laurie."
That name always brings into my mind the actress, Piper Laurie, and then, soon after, the movie, CARRIE, also starring Sissy Spacek. Still, although a little apprehensive, I got a "grip" on myself, using such thought support as "Steady lad!"
Well, as things turned out, this Laurie was a most excellent representative of the Verizon techie team. After describing my problem and stating the attempts I had made to overcome the problem, she calmly went through the steps needed to check out the problem, beginning with the modem. I must say that Laurie used clear instructions as to the things that I should do to help her help me. Nevertheless, even step-by-step and color-coded guidance can engender in me the "duh" response, or the utter non sequitur response, followed by a wildly impulsive, primitive-male attempt at repair work.
I will say this much: Laurie never lost her calm, reasonable explication of what should be done and why. Except perhaps that one time. It was a sort of inborn female trait, which allows mothers to usually keep their children from disastrous steps, which caused a certain up-tempo exclamation: "No, don't do that!" Fortunately, I had shared with her my intention, and she was able to cause a quick cessation.
Well, the upshot was that my techie guide was able to get the old computer "rocking" again, and I was left thinking, once again, that Verizon has a good group of tech support people. [This was not my first cry for "help" by any means.] This is something worthy of comment.
Behold! Here it is: A blog salute to the tech support people at Verizon. Well done, people.
I checked my modem lights, and they all indicated that I was connected to the internet. I decided to reboot the computer. After going through the restart process, I again hit the favorites line-up. Darn! There was that same grey notice that Internet Explorer just coudn't connect.
Now, my "thing" is not deep study of computer science--no, not even shallow study. I'm sort of a "toe in the water" type. Therefore, I knew that I wasn't going to solve the problem myself. Still, male aggression exerted itself just enough for me too scan the Internet Options setting on my Tools dropdown button. Looked ok to me.
I knew it was time to turn to a "pro." I dialed up Verizon Business. A woman's taped voice welcomed me into the mysteries of--of--sex? Of course not! I was asked to verify this and choose that, finally ending up at the DSL tech-support niche. After about 7-8 minutes of waiting, at which time I whiled away my time observing my messy office and wondering how it could have gotten to this state of absurd clutter, I was awakened, so to speak, by a woman who identified herself as "Laurie."
That name always brings into my mind the actress, Piper Laurie, and then, soon after, the movie, CARRIE, also starring Sissy Spacek. Still, although a little apprehensive, I got a "grip" on myself, using such thought support as "Steady lad!"
Well, as things turned out, this Laurie was a most excellent representative of the Verizon techie team. After describing my problem and stating the attempts I had made to overcome the problem, she calmly went through the steps needed to check out the problem, beginning with the modem. I must say that Laurie used clear instructions as to the things that I should do to help her help me. Nevertheless, even step-by-step and color-coded guidance can engender in me the "duh" response, or the utter non sequitur response, followed by a wildly impulsive, primitive-male attempt at repair work.
I will say this much: Laurie never lost her calm, reasonable explication of what should be done and why. Except perhaps that one time. It was a sort of inborn female trait, which allows mothers to usually keep their children from disastrous steps, which caused a certain up-tempo exclamation: "No, don't do that!" Fortunately, I had shared with her my intention, and she was able to cause a quick cessation.
Well, the upshot was that my techie guide was able to get the old computer "rocking" again, and I was left thinking, once again, that Verizon has a good group of tech support people. [This was not my first cry for "help" by any means.] This is something worthy of comment.
Behold! Here it is: A blog salute to the tech support people at Verizon. Well done, people.
Tuesday, January 1, 2008
01/01/08: "7/11"-RESTAURANT PRO TEMPORE
If one is ill-prepared, January 1, can "do a body harm." This is going to be the last year I ever look in my refrigerator and see nothing to eat. What to do? Everything seems closed on New Years Day.
Whoa! Wait a minute! What NEVER closes, even when everyone's been killed in a stick-up?
A 7-Eleven Convenience Store never closes. Godzilla, terrorists, perfect storms--no problem! So, I took my hunger there. Drat! Hordes of people had hit my favorite 7-Eleven before I could make it there. Sleeping late on New Years! I made every error in the book. You never sleep late on New Years, if your refrigerator is empty. My bad!
Still, I managed to pick up two quarter-pounders, a kielbasa, a banana (not squishy), and a bag of Cheetos. Oh, and a 24 oz. cup of fresh coffee (regular). [Do I seem a little hyper? What are you looking at?]
Retiring into my mini office, I set my "feast" on an adjacent table, turned on the tv expecting to see a little "run left, run right, run up the gut, etc.," and to my bitter surprise, I find myself watching a news program about a nearby so-and-so who had won millions in the lottery. Frankly, I prefer lottery winners to be far away. It sort of reenforced my notion that January One was not my day.
I started in with the quarter-pounder, followed with the kielbasa, continued with another quarter-pounder (all of these with mustard only), knocked off the Cheetos (after struggling about ten minutes opening the plastic bag), and then finished the banana for desert.
I felt a little "piggy" already. My heart was working hard. [Possibly the coffee at work, I thought. But who knows?]
Still, there was some sort of surge, allowing me to propel myself into hours of pointless activity at the keyboard of my computer. My fingers didn't seem to be functioning with their usual dexterity. Was it some sort of new syndrome? I hear about new syndromes nearly every day on radio and television news programs, as well as info-mercials.
I am NOT a hypochondriac. It's just there are all these things going wrong, doncha know? Do ya?
I don't point the finger of guilt at 7-Eleven. My own doings. I feel bloated though. The coffee helped anyway.
What are you looking at?
Whoa! Wait a minute! What NEVER closes, even when everyone's been killed in a stick-up?
A 7-Eleven Convenience Store never closes. Godzilla, terrorists, perfect storms--no problem! So, I took my hunger there. Drat! Hordes of people had hit my favorite 7-Eleven before I could make it there. Sleeping late on New Years! I made every error in the book. You never sleep late on New Years, if your refrigerator is empty. My bad!
Still, I managed to pick up two quarter-pounders, a kielbasa, a banana (not squishy), and a bag of Cheetos. Oh, and a 24 oz. cup of fresh coffee (regular). [Do I seem a little hyper? What are you looking at?]
Retiring into my mini office, I set my "feast" on an adjacent table, turned on the tv expecting to see a little "run left, run right, run up the gut, etc.," and to my bitter surprise, I find myself watching a news program about a nearby so-and-so who had won millions in the lottery. Frankly, I prefer lottery winners to be far away. It sort of reenforced my notion that January One was not my day.
I started in with the quarter-pounder, followed with the kielbasa, continued with another quarter-pounder (all of these with mustard only), knocked off the Cheetos (after struggling about ten minutes opening the plastic bag), and then finished the banana for desert.
I felt a little "piggy" already. My heart was working hard. [Possibly the coffee at work, I thought. But who knows?]
Still, there was some sort of surge, allowing me to propel myself into hours of pointless activity at the keyboard of my computer. My fingers didn't seem to be functioning with their usual dexterity. Was it some sort of new syndrome? I hear about new syndromes nearly every day on radio and television news programs, as well as info-mercials.
I am NOT a hypochondriac. It's just there are all these things going wrong, doncha know? Do ya?
I don't point the finger of guilt at 7-Eleven. My own doings. I feel bloated though. The coffee helped anyway.
What are you looking at?
DESTROYA (IT MAKES YA PARANOIA)
Many observers of the American scene express relief that our troops and swat teams are only practicing "urban warfare" in America. Why? Because it means that the Top Cats in the highest bunkers in our federal government don't think it is necessary to "nuke" one of our cities. At least not yet. It sort of depends on the vicissitudes of warfare in the Middle East. If Jorge W. Arbusto is presented the opportunity to "nuke" Iran (or some other member of the Axis of Evil--a membership which may grow as 2008 progresses), then the likelihood of dropping the Big One on an American city recedes greatly. But as a lame duck president longing to be notice by historians, urged on by Daddy and high executive advisers, and jealous less brother Yeb should enter the White House and achieve greater acclaim than he, Jorge's itchy finger must be twitching above the "red button." Like some satellite Israel (sic), Jorge appears to be trying to surround his Crawford, Texas, ranch with nuclear missiles-- on the sly. Wags calls it: The ultimate Alamo defense--it's such a potent offense! Xs & Os. Stay low & keep your feet moving!
As long as I can remember, there have been mushroom clouds in the background, mushroom clouds in the background, just as long as I can remember!
When did it all start? I can't say, because:
As long as I can remember, there have been mushroom clouds in the background, mushroom clouds in the background, just as long as I can remember.
Say!? Are you a cop?
Who are you?
As long as I can remember, there have been mushroom clouds in the background, mushroom clouds in the background, just as long as I can remember!
When did it all start? I can't say, because:
As long as I can remember, there have been mushroom clouds in the background, mushroom clouds in the background, just as long as I can remember.
Say!? Are you a cop?
Who are you?
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