Butt Out

Hello World, Well, I said it would happen, and it's true - you just blink, and suddenly the year is half over already, and that's exactly where we find ourselves this weekend. Saturday is the 30th, and when it comes to June, that's all she wrote, so we'll be ushering in July on Sunday, and more than half of the year gone right along with it. I have no doubt that everyone else is not like me, with nothing to show for it, but it's still a sobering thought, I don't mind saying, especially for those of us going on vacation pretty darned soon, and woefully unprepared for it. At this rate, I'll be camping under the stars with nothing but the clothes on my back - which at least would have the advantage of making it much easier to pack, and a whole lot less dirty laundry when I get back, by golly. Of course, everyone knows that I'm always happy to set the record straight, and maintain that high standard of pinpoint accuracy that we consistently aim for around here, and I ought to know. I have it on good authority (with thanks to our resident research maven) that a person can't just go around and call any old thing a "heat wave" if they want to, no matter how hot it is, because apparently there are very strict meteorological rules that govern such terms, and the ordinary public should be warned off tossing these words around loosely. It seems that in order to be considered an actual legitimate "heat wave," it requires at least 3 consecutive days of 90 degree temperatures or higher, and anything else (fewer days, lower temperatures, or not in a row) simply doesn't qualify, regardless of whether people are dropping dead in the streets, and the air is so thick you could plug a hole with it, thanks not. So we learned something today, which is not to say that my two poor addled brain cells (which I have renamed Miami "Heat" Vice and Amber "Wave" of Grains for the occasion) will have any likelihood of remembering that the next time the issue arises, in spite of good intentions to the contrary - and we all know where that road goes paved with good intentions, after all, and our hand-baskets right along with it. Speaking of pinpoint accuracy, that was something that seemed to be noticeably lacking in a recent broadcast email to the employees at all of our facilities, regarding a prestigious appointment for our CEO, which deserved the highest accolades, but instead was greeted with this startling subject: ============ Congraultations! ============ If you try typing that into your spell-checker, you will find that it doesn't think much of that as a word, and I can't say that I blame it one bit. In fact, if your spell-checker has any competence in the English language at all (and is not saddled with the likes of Miami "Heat" Vice and Amber "Wave" of Grains like I am) it will probably correct that for you all by its little own lonesome and with no trouble at all, to "congratulations" instead, which would have been a handy feature for whoever sent out that email, but was apparently more than could be expected of their computer, alas. In fact, it reminded me a lot of a full-page ad in our local newspaper, from our friends at Brewster Honda for their upcoming holiday sales event, with this blaring headline in screaming 2-inch type: ========================== DECLARE YOUR INDEPENDANCE FROM HIGH PRICES! ========================== That sound you hear is the aggrieved Founding Fathers spinning in their collective graves, and that's not just a lot of e pluribus unum, by George. On the other hand, it's possible that the hipsters at Brewster Honda were planning to do the Indepen-Dance, and party like it's 1776, all over again. Also not saying what they mean (one hopes!) I swear I heard the following announcement last week on the radio - ====================================== Sir Paul McCartney will be appearing at the Summer Olympics in London, closing the opening ceremonies ====================================== Well, if that's not a classic case of going "up the down staircase," then I just don't know what is, and even Sir Paul might not know if he's coming or going, especially if it was after "a hard day's night," I shouldn't wonder. Going in a different, but no better direction, is this vendor listing in our hospital computer, where it seems like the horoscope computer has been running amok - ============================ Johnson & Johnson Hospital Services Bank of America Lock Box Operations 6000 Feldwopod Road College Park, GA 30349 ============================ Frankly, if there's such a thing as "Feldwopod" Road anywhere in this country, much less our peanut-loving friends in the Peachtree state, I'll eat my hat. Also having a little too much over-enthusiasm on the keyboard, we get the following item from a colleague in the Garden State: ================================ On another note, but of the same tune, we have a deli here in Hackensack that sells Sandwishes ================================ Actually, I think that sounds delightfully serendipitous, sort of the "fairy godmother" of food, which is something that I'm sure we could all use now and again. At least it's better than this disturbing image from a review of Property Brokers on HGTV - ================================ A couple must rely on the Property Brokers to help them see beneath their new home's dirt and grim to recognize its true potential ================================ Well, that certainly doesn't sound very appealing, and truth to tell, would not be improved all that much by changing "grim" to "grime," as I'm sure they intended. Meanwhile, a different listing for House Hunters on the same network was another holiday for the spell-checker: ===================================== A military brat wants to settle down in the suburbs, but his girlfriend rather purchase a trendy apartment in the city ===================================== No, the spell-checker can't help you if you just plain leave words out, like "would" in this sentence, that could have gone a long way to helping it make a lot more sense. That is, if you didn't want to sound like Tarzan, or maybe Tonto, leaving out words on a regular basis, like English was not only a foreign language to you, but enemy territory to boot. And speaking of The Lone Ranger's faithful companion, even a perfunctory search of the legendary warrior turns up this lightning bolt out of the wild blue yonder - ============================================ Jay Silverheels was born Harold J. Smith on the Six Nations of the Grand River First Nation, near Brantford, Ontario, Canada, the son of A.G.E. Smith, a Canadian Mohawk Chief and military officer. ============================================ Well, that was certainly a horse of a different (paint) color that I wasn't expecting, and I dare say, would have thrown Clayton Moore for one heck of a loop, right off of his Hi-Yo Silver Bullet Band besides, in a speedy crowd of lust - er, that is, a speedy cloud of dust. Also not resting on their laurels (one supposes) I found the following full-page ad on the back of the current issue of CFO magazine, and if anyone can make any sense out of this in any way whatsoever, well, you're a better man than I am, Gunga Din. It says things like this in bold print: ========================================= Client success. Custom built by Macquarie. [ Here it has the names of some clients, such as AIG, Osmose, Cumulus, VDOT, Encompass and Sonneborn - plus their logo, which looks for all the world like a giant life saver candy ] We fit solutions to clients. Not the other way around. At Macquarie, we recognize there's no single blueprint for success. By custom-building transactions for each unique situation, we're delivering innovative, client-centered solutions. macquarie.com/blueprint FORWARD thinking ========================================== I have to tell you that I wish our friends at Macquarie much continued success, but the fact is that I'm not even in the ballpark with what their company does, for heaven's sake. I mean, to say that they're "custom-building transactions" and "delivering innovative solutions" is just a lot of gibberish, and in no way identifies whatever the heck it is that they actually do for a living, or even what industry it is that they're having all this client success in to start with. Do we possibly think they might be consultants? Perhaps architects? Or maybe financiers? Who knows! Heck, they could be their clients' cosmetologists or astrologers for all we know, and these so-called client-centered solutions could be hair extensions, nail wraps or pierced eyebrows, for all anybody can tell from this ad. In fact, if their "life saver" is any indication, they might actually be in the business of treating hemorrhoids, which would certainly give new meaning to the "custom-building transactions" part of their message, and that's not just a well-deserved kick in the old scuttlebutt, believe me. Anyway, it was not the greatest week in the history of high-level communications, and that's putting it mildly, so that it would make even Miami "Heat" Vice and Amber "Wave" of Grains look good by comparison, and that's saying something, let me tell you. Now, in the interests of speed, I'll just ..... out ..... words ..... and there ..... congraultations and grim ..... sandwishes in Feldwopod ..... independance from ceremonies ..... dirty laundry, so that's my story and I'm sticking to it, or my name isn't - Harold J. Smith