Stamp of Approval
Hello World,
Greetings again, across the miles and through the miracle of modern technology. Somehow, it still seems so early in the month, and yet this Sunday, anyone who isn't prepared to light the third candle on their Advent wreath would be badly out of step with the rest of the Christian world, for that is what we have come to. On traditional wreaths with three purple candles and one pink one, this Sunday is when you light the pink one, and the day has a special Latin name that means, "Let's have some more eggnog!" or something like that, I'm pretty sure. Of course, in our house, we use whatever old broken and beat-up left-over candles that the cats have knocked out of their holders and fallen behind the furniture, because once they're not decorative anymore, we may as well burn them. So this year, our wreath contains the non-standard arrangement of two pinks, one blue and one green candle, with the blue one standing in for the pink on this special upcoming Sunday. Somehow, I just can't seem to get the cats to break one pink and three purple candles in any one year, I don't know why that is.
Well, that same storm that's been dumping snow and tossing off blizzards all across the Midwest finally arrived here today, in our little corner of the world, and made such a mess of the morning commute that it was pitiful to behold. Of course, everyone already knows what I think about shoveling snow before going to work, but today I didn't even bother, because they said the bulk of the snow was still ahead of us. I had no trouble getting out from in front of our house, but after that, it was one problem after another. The street outside of our neighborhood has a tiny rise, and it was all the Tempo could do to get over that crest. Every time I had to make a turn, I slid sideways through the intersection, even on roads that were perfectly flat. I took the busier way to work, on Route 1, thinking that it would have gotten more attention from the plows and sanders than my usual off-the-beaten-track way to work. I was unpleasantly surprised to find that it had not even one lane clear, and it took everything the poor Tempo had to slog through the snow and slush to get across town to the hospital. When I got to the turn where I go to the parking lot, I couldn't even FIND THE STREET to turn into, because no one had plowed the street or shoveled the sidewalks, and it was just a solid blanket of white, with even the tire tracks and footprints obliterated by the snow and wind. And I never noticed before that there are no distinguishing features along the curb, like a street sign or lamp posts, to remind you where the street is if you can't find it. Luckily for me, the street opposite it, that goes to our Emergency Room, was in better shape and I realized that once I could see that, the turn I was looking for had to be exactly across from it, so that's how I gauged where to go. Of course, I slid sideways through it, but at least I was in the right place when I did. When I came back out from the parking lot later, I saw that a taxicab had lost its traction in the snow and was just sitting and spinning its wheels in the middle of the intersection, right under the blinking light for the Emergency Room entrance, and even though the intersection is perfectly flat with no topological features to cause problems, that cab was simply going nowhere and fast.
The hospital did its usual laissez-faire job of cleaning the streets, parking lots and sidewalks around the campus, which as we all know is part of their nefarious plan to drum up more business for the Emergency Room among the staff and unwary visitors to our area. The fact that I finally got to my office without serious injury, I consider nothing less than a miracle, and chalk it up to divine intervention. Much of the hospital staff lives nearby, so getting people to work in the snow is not really all that difficult, but it was still a quiet day all around for the most part. I had a few people call in and say that they couldn't even get out of their neighborhoods, and as I was watching the snow pelting down from my office, it was easy to believe. When I was using my computer at about noon, and just happened to glance out the window, I noticed all at once that the sun was out and the sky was a brilliant blue with happy little puffy clouds. Naturally, I assumed I was hallucinating (which is something that I consider an occupational hazard) or that there was some sort of strange optical illusion outside my office window, so I walked down the hall to another window on the other side of the building, and was amazed to see the same thing. I admit that I don't like to pick on the dastardly Comrade Mischka and the Kremlin's infernal weather machine, especially this close to Christmas, but I defy anyone to come up with another explanation for that. Thanks nyet!
I realize that I may as well just give up on the idea of Christmas, because there is no escaping the fact that I am going straight to Hell, without even the hand-basket, and not passing Go and collecting $200 or anything else. Every week, I would sit in church while the Pastor gave these sermons which were not only interminably long, which I don't mind so much, but also pointless and boring, which I do, until half of the people just nodded off, and the rest of us wanted to pull our hair out. At first, my mind would just wander, and I would make up shopping lists in my head, or think up reminders of things I needed to do later. But then as he droned on and on, I would begin to resent the time that I was wasting there in the pew as a captive audience to his ramblings, when there were so many other things I could have done in that amount of time instead. This is where the little cartoon Devil sits on your shoulder and whispers in your ear, and all of us good Christians are supposed to ignore him and pay attention to the little cartoon angel on our other shoulder, but I didn't. I realized that I could bring things to church with me that I didn't have time to do at home, and do them during the sermon in this block of time when I was otherwise just sitting around and staring at the walls. Interestingly, once I brought something with me to do, I didn't find his sermons too long at all, in fact, they seemed to fly by, while I was organizing my movie list, updating my book reports and balancing my bank statements. In fact, one week when he was winding down to a close and about to say, "Let us pray," I almost waved my hand and said, "Hey, couldn't you just ramble on for another five minutes or so, and let me wrap this up?" Oh, I can see that there's just no saving me at this point.
Recently I was at a web site where I needed to fill out a form, and they assured me that this was the simplest thing in the world. In fact, they couldn't begin to tell me how simple this would be, I would be astounded at the simplicity of it, and nothing at all to be apprehensive about, no, no, certainly not, it was the very epitome of simpleness. All I needed to do was follow the simple instructions, and I would be all finished with no trouble at all, and not to mention in a trice, or maybe even a bice (or whatever is even shorter than a trice) through the miracle of modern technology. So here they come along with their instructions, and honest to God, the very first thing it says is: “Follow these three (4) simple steps.” To say that my confidence in this undertaking was shaken right from the very beginning would be putting it mildly. Needless to say, everything went downhill from there, as the very process of filling out this form caused my computer to repeatedly freeze up, time out, toss off a variety of error messages and finally crash. In fact, rather than being finished in a trice, or even a quice or whatever is longer than a trice, not to mention the simple walk in the park that they promised, I found this turning into one of those long-distance trials worthy of my annual quest for costume parts. So it would appear that this web site and I were definitely of two minds when it came to how simple this form would be to fill out. And thank you so not very much.
It's been a well-recognized phenomenon that every year the Easter Seals people try to outdo themselves in coming up with uglier and uglier seals to foist on an unsuspecting public. It gets to the point where they're honestly so horrific that there's no way that you could put them on an envelope and send them to anyone, even someone you hate, like the cable company. This just bears out that tried and true old adage that you get what you pay for, and I say the Easter Seals people can keep them. I don't like to complain about things people send you for nothing, even if they are hopelessly ugly, but I don't expect to find the Post Office, of all people, doing the same thing. Every year, it's like they have a contest to see who can come up with the most horrible Christmas stamps, and every year you think they can't get any worse, but then they do. If they do wreaths, they're ugly wreaths; if they do toys, they're ugly toys; if they do Santa, they're ugly Santa's; if they do the Madonna and Child, well, who knew there were so many ugly versions of that, too? Honestly, it's like they have a special Ugliness Task Force that picks these things. So last year when they had a very nice collection of cute snowmen in a coil of 100, I snapped it up and thought it would be an ideal accent for our very special Christmas cards that Bill lavishes his time and talents on every year. What I hadn't noticed when I ordered them, but did when I got them, is that they're apparently some peculiar sort of new self-adhesive stamps they refer to as "liner-less," and when you pull them apart, they have no waxed paper backing behind them. Now don't think that I can't hear the wheels turning in everyone's heads out there, and you know I was thinking the same thing, how can this possibly work? If they're self-adhesive and sticky enough to stay on an envelope, then they would stick to the stamps underneath them in the roll. If they don't stick to the stamp below them, then why would they stick to an envelope? I'm no Luddite, but I don't go for this sort of loosey-goosey, whack-a-doo folderol, and you can mark my words that no good can come of it. I did use them for our Christmas cards, but I have to say that I have no confidence in this working at all. So, if you were expecting to receive a seasonal card from me, and didn't get it, at least now we know why. And in the immortal words of Comrade Mischka, "Thanks nyet!"
Greetings again, across the miles and through the miracle of modern technology. Somehow, it still seems so early in the month, and yet this Sunday, anyone who isn't prepared to light the third candle on their Advent wreath would be badly out of step with the rest of the Christian world, for that is what we have come to. On traditional wreaths with three purple candles and one pink one, this Sunday is when you light the pink one, and the day has a special Latin name that means, "Let's have some more eggnog!" or something like that, I'm pretty sure. Of course, in our house, we use whatever old broken and beat-up left-over candles that the cats have knocked out of their holders and fallen behind the furniture, because once they're not decorative anymore, we may as well burn them. So this year, our wreath contains the non-standard arrangement of two pinks, one blue and one green candle, with the blue one standing in for the pink on this special upcoming Sunday. Somehow, I just can't seem to get the cats to break one pink and three purple candles in any one year, I don't know why that is.
Well, that same storm that's been dumping snow and tossing off blizzards all across the Midwest finally arrived here today, in our little corner of the world, and made such a mess of the morning commute that it was pitiful to behold. Of course, everyone already knows what I think about shoveling snow before going to work, but today I didn't even bother, because they said the bulk of the snow was still ahead of us. I had no trouble getting out from in front of our house, but after that, it was one problem after another. The street outside of our neighborhood has a tiny rise, and it was all the Tempo could do to get over that crest. Every time I had to make a turn, I slid sideways through the intersection, even on roads that were perfectly flat. I took the busier way to work, on Route 1, thinking that it would have gotten more attention from the plows and sanders than my usual off-the-beaten-track way to work. I was unpleasantly surprised to find that it had not even one lane clear, and it took everything the poor Tempo had to slog through the snow and slush to get across town to the hospital. When I got to the turn where I go to the parking lot, I couldn't even FIND THE STREET to turn into, because no one had plowed the street or shoveled the sidewalks, and it was just a solid blanket of white, with even the tire tracks and footprints obliterated by the snow and wind. And I never noticed before that there are no distinguishing features along the curb, like a street sign or lamp posts, to remind you where the street is if you can't find it. Luckily for me, the street opposite it, that goes to our Emergency Room, was in better shape and I realized that once I could see that, the turn I was looking for had to be exactly across from it, so that's how I gauged where to go. Of course, I slid sideways through it, but at least I was in the right place when I did. When I came back out from the parking lot later, I saw that a taxicab had lost its traction in the snow and was just sitting and spinning its wheels in the middle of the intersection, right under the blinking light for the Emergency Room entrance, and even though the intersection is perfectly flat with no topological features to cause problems, that cab was simply going nowhere and fast.
The hospital did its usual laissez-faire job of cleaning the streets, parking lots and sidewalks around the campus, which as we all know is part of their nefarious plan to drum up more business for the Emergency Room among the staff and unwary visitors to our area. The fact that I finally got to my office without serious injury, I consider nothing less than a miracle, and chalk it up to divine intervention. Much of the hospital staff lives nearby, so getting people to work in the snow is not really all that difficult, but it was still a quiet day all around for the most part. I had a few people call in and say that they couldn't even get out of their neighborhoods, and as I was watching the snow pelting down from my office, it was easy to believe. When I was using my computer at about noon, and just happened to glance out the window, I noticed all at once that the sun was out and the sky was a brilliant blue with happy little puffy clouds. Naturally, I assumed I was hallucinating (which is something that I consider an occupational hazard) or that there was some sort of strange optical illusion outside my office window, so I walked down the hall to another window on the other side of the building, and was amazed to see the same thing. I admit that I don't like to pick on the dastardly Comrade Mischka and the Kremlin's infernal weather machine, especially this close to Christmas, but I defy anyone to come up with another explanation for that. Thanks nyet!
I realize that I may as well just give up on the idea of Christmas, because there is no escaping the fact that I am going straight to Hell, without even the hand-basket, and not passing Go and collecting $200 or anything else. Every week, I would sit in church while the Pastor gave these sermons which were not only interminably long, which I don't mind so much, but also pointless and boring, which I do, until half of the people just nodded off, and the rest of us wanted to pull our hair out. At first, my mind would just wander, and I would make up shopping lists in my head, or think up reminders of things I needed to do later. But then as he droned on and on, I would begin to resent the time that I was wasting there in the pew as a captive audience to his ramblings, when there were so many other things I could have done in that amount of time instead. This is where the little cartoon Devil sits on your shoulder and whispers in your ear, and all of us good Christians are supposed to ignore him and pay attention to the little cartoon angel on our other shoulder, but I didn't. I realized that I could bring things to church with me that I didn't have time to do at home, and do them during the sermon in this block of time when I was otherwise just sitting around and staring at the walls. Interestingly, once I brought something with me to do, I didn't find his sermons too long at all, in fact, they seemed to fly by, while I was organizing my movie list, updating my book reports and balancing my bank statements. In fact, one week when he was winding down to a close and about to say, "Let us pray," I almost waved my hand and said, "Hey, couldn't you just ramble on for another five minutes or so, and let me wrap this up?" Oh, I can see that there's just no saving me at this point.
Recently I was at a web site where I needed to fill out a form, and they assured me that this was the simplest thing in the world. In fact, they couldn't begin to tell me how simple this would be, I would be astounded at the simplicity of it, and nothing at all to be apprehensive about, no, no, certainly not, it was the very epitome of simpleness. All I needed to do was follow the simple instructions, and I would be all finished with no trouble at all, and not to mention in a trice, or maybe even a bice (or whatever is even shorter than a trice) through the miracle of modern technology. So here they come along with their instructions, and honest to God, the very first thing it says is: “Follow these three (4) simple steps.” To say that my confidence in this undertaking was shaken right from the very beginning would be putting it mildly. Needless to say, everything went downhill from there, as the very process of filling out this form caused my computer to repeatedly freeze up, time out, toss off a variety of error messages and finally crash. In fact, rather than being finished in a trice, or even a quice or whatever is longer than a trice, not to mention the simple walk in the park that they promised, I found this turning into one of those long-distance trials worthy of my annual quest for costume parts. So it would appear that this web site and I were definitely of two minds when it came to how simple this form would be to fill out. And thank you so not very much.
It's been a well-recognized phenomenon that every year the Easter Seals people try to outdo themselves in coming up with uglier and uglier seals to foist on an unsuspecting public. It gets to the point where they're honestly so horrific that there's no way that you could put them on an envelope and send them to anyone, even someone you hate, like the cable company. This just bears out that tried and true old adage that you get what you pay for, and I say the Easter Seals people can keep them. I don't like to complain about things people send you for nothing, even if they are hopelessly ugly, but I don't expect to find the Post Office, of all people, doing the same thing. Every year, it's like they have a contest to see who can come up with the most horrible Christmas stamps, and every year you think they can't get any worse, but then they do. If they do wreaths, they're ugly wreaths; if they do toys, they're ugly toys; if they do Santa, they're ugly Santa's; if they do the Madonna and Child, well, who knew there were so many ugly versions of that, too? Honestly, it's like they have a special Ugliness Task Force that picks these things. So last year when they had a very nice collection of cute snowmen in a coil of 100, I snapped it up and thought it would be an ideal accent for our very special Christmas cards that Bill lavishes his time and talents on every year. What I hadn't noticed when I ordered them, but did when I got them, is that they're apparently some peculiar sort of new self-adhesive stamps they refer to as "liner-less," and when you pull them apart, they have no waxed paper backing behind them. Now don't think that I can't hear the wheels turning in everyone's heads out there, and you know I was thinking the same thing, how can this possibly work? If they're self-adhesive and sticky enough to stay on an envelope, then they would stick to the stamps underneath them in the roll. If they don't stick to the stamp below them, then why would they stick to an envelope? I'm no Luddite, but I don't go for this sort of loosey-goosey, whack-a-doo folderol, and you can mark my words that no good can come of it. I did use them for our Christmas cards, but I have to say that I have no confidence in this working at all. So, if you were expecting to receive a seasonal card from me, and didn't get it, at least now we know why. And in the immortal words of Comrade Mischka, "Thanks nyet!"
posted by El Tango Fandango @ 8:16 PM
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