I send price lists to five overseas accounts and one domestic. Times are bad when Americans can’t buy useless things for their pets. What’s more, the National Geographic article will be in a the version “for Kids”, and not the real thing. What’s more, the copy is already written and it won’t be published until August. So meanwhile stock up on lots of junk before they cancel your credit card.If you want to find out what really hurts, try selling something overseas these days. There was a time when American articles were desirable both for quality and price. Although labor was cheaper elsewhere, that is all they had, while we had the machines that mass-produced. And machines cost money. Now it must seem American goods are crappy. Everything produced here seems outrageously overpriced. The doggie wigs are an exception, because the only competing products are modified human wigs which are not really suitable for animals.
I’d almost forgotten what it was to drive a half-hour to work in the morning. I’m certain if I don’t do it ever again, I will be able to completely blot it out. Jerks on the roads, drawbridges, it’s no wonder people get road rage. My favorite locals are the ones, when there is one lane blocked up ahead on a two lane road, they pull out from behind and speed up beside you so you’re trapped in the blocked lane. I stopped at Borders on the return leg and stayed there until the traffic died out.
Two hours at the bookstore confirms they have switched their inventory model to only stock what sells. Aisles of cookbooks and travel guides, but nothing on North Carolina for me to browse. Even the clientele has changed and kind of looks like me some fifteen years ago. The coffee is still $1.75 for a small with no refills. One book was a survey of the top 100 albums (not songs, albums), this time based on a poll given only to professional musicians, thus getting my attention. Do professional musicians think the same as Florida guitar players?
As expected even fifty years after the fact, the Beatles still held top count with five albums. All five were in the top twenty, including “Revolver” with at numero uno. Since I have a point to prove, I glanced down the entire list. The majority were bands, but there were a significant number of solo artists. (I suspect if the list was adjusted for the effect of today’s larger music market, the Beatles would hold the top ten slots. And remember, I only like about 30 tunes they ever did, so I’m no Beatles fan.)
What I was looking for was any mention of Clapton, because his worshippers call him “the greatest blues guitarist of all time”. Nope, he’s not there. I think he played with “Cream”, which came in near the bottom at number 88. I find his music to be the opiate of the audience. He is only called great or blues by people who have never heard of BB King.
The general blog rule is to discuss the immediate day and hold the actual flashbacks to a minimum. While watching the “Sopranos” tonight, a beach scene reminded me of an incident when I was a teenager. I’ll give you the facts; you can decide whether you want to read anything into it. (Note that because of the 15-year rule, I can use real names.)
I was dating Judy Minty. There was this jerkface, Apollo (actually Paulo) who was twice my weight, so there wasn’t much stopping him from hitting on her in front of my face. Judy would encourage him by “being polite”.
I’d often asked her not to practice this sexual brinkmanship while we were on a date. The slimy Apollo went so far as to make friends with my buddy, Medha, who was dating Judy’s best friend, Nora. Medhat planned a double-date campout to Lake Sylvan. Came time to leave, there is Apollo in Medhat’s car, with no date of his own.
At first I balked, but Judy said I was being silly. She sat between us in the back seat. I was trapped in that car for the hundred-mile drive listening to that inane idiot and his 1930’s pickup lines. Worse, Medhat and Nora seemed to think this all was pretty funny.
We got to the beach and lit a fire. I cannot remember the precise point, but no way was I putting up with another moment of this sick situation. I told Judy I was leaving. I walked off into the forest in the middle of nowhere. I was only going away to think this thing away and come back. Fate intervened.
Barely 100 yards into the bush, I stumbled into the next campsite. I stepped out of the solid bush and right into a group of my old computer university buddies, Tex and Warren, with their girlfriends. By pure chance, they were also at the lake for the day. I rode home with them. Judy showed up a few hours later playing the innocent.
Still, Judy remained predisposed to this outrageous behavior right up to the time we split a few months later. Tonight brought this memory back crystal clear, that beach scene was the trigger. Ah, I just remembered the final straw. We only had two tents. As far as I was concerned, Apollo was sleeping with Medhat and Nora, they invited him. But that greasy Apollo had the gall to get Judy to ask me to invite him to share our tent. Over my dead body.
No further comment.
