This indistinct photo is a garden canopy that is six years too late. It is 10x12, meaning it would have made an ideal tent to display the toothpicks in California. It is hard to see because it is mosquito netting over a steel frame. Replace the net with curtains and presto. In 2003, I could only find tents in the $1,200 range. This made-in-China model is only $250. As I predicted, around 1/6th the price of the same thing made by American labor.
Weiners and beans. I had a craving for Wally’s recipe all day. I made an extra stop at El Presidente to get the ingredients. It was a great day chasing around in Hollywood and Ft. Lauderdale, mostly anti-virus work. That nasty SpyGuard2008 is doing the rounds again. The difficulty (and expense) of removing it is inversely proportional to how long you’ve left in on your computer. I had some people decide to simply keep on using their computers until the virus took over. That too, is a valid decision.Over at Mr. Arnel’s we breezed through the basics of web pages. Everybody wants a web page. Sometimes I come across as the voice of caution because the web was basically saturated by 2005. It is no longer enough to just be there for billions are doing the same. Then again, my blog is the triumph of hope over statistics. But, but, golly, I just know there is not another blog like mine.
Steve the radio dude was in today. That’s a laugh in itself. He called early to cancel our two o’clock since he found some help. I informed him I’d leave the slot open because there was no help. Sure enough, he went to Kinko’s whose whiz kid staff messed things up worse than before. In he came, unlabeled disk in hand, right on time. I had the task sorted out and finished within the hour. In return, I get some free lunch tickets to the Mardis Gras buffet, and he will plug this blog on his radio show.
I’ll be listening this Sunday to confirm that. I printed up a series of short quips that all he has to do is read them if any gaps arise during his hour. For instance, one statement says the blog is not for everyone, “but neither is prune juice”. After scrolling though a few hundred thousand words, I’ve got him convinced this blog lasted a little more than the orthodox two weeks.
Tune in at noon if you can, it is 880 AM in the Miami broadcast area. I get a strong signal that is mostly talk radio on topics that bore me. He’ll be working my angle that this blog is “great for good people”, “just the right amount of blog”, and “authored by a cat”. Do all these part-truths add up to one real truth? Just asking. Maybe he could read a paragraph a week or something. Either way, if my blog makes the radio, it’s neener, neener time to the competition.
I’m having a squawk with my cellular company (Metro PCS). I paid in an extra $5 per month to build up a reserve of long-distance minutes (I had nearly 5 hours). Today when I went to call Wally, the robot demanded a card number. I called to find out what’s going on and the ignorant clerk tried to pump me for information before he’d answer any questions. When I informed him the information I wanted could be given without conducting a major survey, he hung up on me.
It appears these overseas service people have learned the American tactic of using an apology as a defense mechanism. The old “I said I’m sorry, so if you still have a problem you are being rude and I don’t have to take that.” I can’t get a straight answer out of them, but it appears Metro PCS has “changed the system” so that the only way to make long distance calls is to buy a calling card. Don’t we love those things? Don’t we love a long string of numbers in the dark or searching for that card in the rain? They put me on hold for nearly an hour.
This gave me time to read over my own medical record. They state my age as from 32 to 56, and everything else was equally accurate. They word things in a niggling self-favor. Example, I told them I used to smoke but didn’t take drugs. That I smoked became gospel fact, but that I didn’t take drugs became merely a fact that I “denied”. Actually, anything good I said was reworded as a "claim" only.
This was great reading. Look how many doctors got into the act (once they found out I had insurance). I did not see a psychologist in the room yet one was able to record that I did not feel unsafe at home, had not been kicked or slapped in the past twelve months, and had not been forced into any sexual activities. (Sure doc, why not just tell the world I’m boring.) What I found contradictory was page after page of symptoms I did not have, yet all doctors listed my mortality and severity risks as “major”. I guess that’s what happens when you have insurance.
Moments later, Metro PCS came on the line to say they arbitrarily cancelled my international minutes last October 30. Anyway, back to these med records. The standardized forms list an incredible array of conditions I did not have. Upon discharge two days later, I had no restrictions on activities or diet and walked out the door myself. If I’m a major risk, then what would you call somebody that had those 38 pages of conditions? Major dead?
We almost got a set of matching sofas for the living room. If you want good junk, you have to go north of Ft. Lauderdale. But when I called, the furniture was in Jupiter. Too far away. Why, if it was any further, I’d have needed a calling card.
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