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!
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!
Monday, January 7, 2008
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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