Tuesday, February 14, 2017


I wish I had a valentine today. I was one of "those" husbands who always forgot this stuff, so in the grand cosmic scheme of things, it's probably that I don't deserve this to be anything other than what it is--a mid-week sort of chilly day, slightly overcast, and looking forward to a few more weeks of winter according to filthy Phil, the Punxatawny prognosticator.

I'm getting along in the new apartment pretty well. I have to admit I am most likely the oldest person in the building, maybe on the whole block--I have seen two of the other three tenants here. In the building next to me there is a young man whose assigned parking spot is to the right of mine, and he seems incapable of parking his car any closer than three or four feet from the concrete wall. This is diagonal parking, so that means when I back out of my space, I must back up an additional three or four feet in order to clear the rear end of his car, which means I nearly back into the building. I park with the front bumper of my car anywhere from one foot to three or four inches from the wall. I never thought of the ability to do this as any kind of super power, but I suppose over the years we get better at judging distances--maybe this guy just got his driver's license. In truth, it looks like he couldn't have been driving for more than a few years now, unless he was raised on a farm and got his license when he was eight, which would then explain his less than critical use of parking real estate anyway.

My cats, the un-identical twins L-bot and Umal, seem to be good. They have their routines which intersect only occasionally when they tear back and forth through the apartment chasing each other. Otherwise they are sleeping. L-bot is somewhat of a maniac, and really doesn't sleep enough through the night, choosing instead to tear around the apartment--by herself--because each morning I can see the throw rugs all inched up or half flipped over and far from their proper positions. Plus, I mentioned once that a single 8 lb cat, when running across hardwood floors, sounds like a tiny basketball game in progress.

Yesterday I ran into the downstairs neighbor, a girl young enough to be my granddaughter, probably, and asked if I made too much noise, living right above her and all. Thankfully, when I mentioned my cats, she said she had a cat who did the same thing. I remember from the old days: when living in an apartment, knowing what a noise is tends to quiet it, as if your perception had a volume knob. So, good deal.

I keep waiting for Jackson County to build a new bridge, or a highway, with the tax money I gave them. So far, nothing.

So, anyway, happy Valentimes. Eat some chocolate.

Friday, February 3, 2017


Not coffee.  Coffers.  I visited the Jackson County, Missouri, tax assessment office this morning to get proof that I didn't owe them any property tax, so I could register my vehicle in Missouri now that I live here again, and I helped fill them up.  The coffers.  They found that I neglected to pay my property tax for the years 2001 and 2002. This was because I moved, and normally property tax is collected or verified when you register your car, which of course I did not do, because I registered it in Kansas. An oversight. My bad.

So, the tax was about $400, and the late fees and interest brought the total up to $1,800.

Your heard me.

Probably overflowing.  The coffers.

Yes, it took this to get me to do another blog post. But don't worry. I vowed to myself to refrain from doing Trump posts.

Saturday, January 14, 2017


Hip young people at the Apple Store, along with a few tragically old people.
It's the new Apple Store. They moved from a smaller location two blocks away that had a much smaller front. This is on a corner, actually, so the glass wall is sort of wrap-around. It's always been a little weird, walking into one of these places, but now it's really weird. It feels so alien inside that I felt myself acting differently, trying to fit into a new protocol that is somehow imposed by the architecture. Is this what it feels like to by young, now?

I feel so out of place, I will not go back in there, even though I do get an interest in a new laptop once in awhile. However, now you can buy Apple stuff in lots of different places. And, truth be told, the geniuses at Apple really aren't smarter than the clerks at Best Buy. And, more truth, you or I could spend half an hour in front of Google and easily leave all of them in the dust if we wanted to. You can tell when you ask them a question about a product and they grab the box and start reading the back real fast.

Even more truth, do you even want a Mac anymore?

Saturday, December 31, 2016

WWWW16: What Was Wrong With '16

Remember Disco?  Remember how it was around for awhile and then the grown-ups thought it was cool and started doing it and then it died? Why CAN'T THAT HAPPEN TO TWEETING!!??

Astronomical "events" that are not really events, but just juxtapositions of some sort that happen regularly, but no so often that we remember it, like "super moons" and various alignments, are not really events. A comet crashing into a planet would be an event, but a full moon that happened to occur when the moon was at one of its closest cycles to Earth is really not. Also, the fact that something is not going to happen again for 87 years does not make it important. If you think about it, something that happens every two hours or once a day, or whatever, is actually much more important to us. Because, duh. Like, hey, the sun is going to come up tomorrow!! Yay! This is important.

You know how when you think you're a nice person but you're rude to clerks in stores actually makes you an asshole, even though you don't really think you are?  Stupid misleading headlines designed to get your attention and click on something are actually part of the story, so if they are lies, then the article is untrue, and the publication should issue a retraction and an apology.

CNN crawl still riddled with grammatical and spelling errors.

I will give 2016 credit, though, for some things. For example, I think people have finally quit worrying about how many spaces other people leave after periods.


The tendency is to think there is a magic number--a magic date, some meaningful duration of time, as if there is a formula to which we may refer to gauge our progress. Not true, but when the round numbers like New Years roll around, we like to think so anyway. It's certainly been an abrupt, well-defined year for me, with no time for evolution or adaptation, as if I was simply tossed into 2016 with no real regard for how I might emerge from the sea of time and events on the other side.

Then again, if I may swim into a metaphor and walk out, like that little fish a billion years ago who thought he'd see what that other pond over there was like, you just put one foot in front of the other, careful not to look back for too long at a time, lest you start floundering.

So when I say "happy new year," it's with a bit more sincerity than usual. The dinosaurs are coming, but that's another story.