Thank You Ford Motor Company

So the other day, I docked the Mercury Grand Marquis in the grocery store parking lot right next to a Ford Crown Victoria of the same year, 1996. I thought, thought I, that thanks to Ford discontinuing Mercury, I now drive a Classic Car; and you, Crown Vic owner, just drive a Ford. I laughed: heh.

BRB is Write(and has had classics before; but we won't talk about the Vega.)

In Memory of the West Virginia Coal Miners

This is an old video, but still brings tears to my eyes.

For Bonnie and Lisa, who are coal miners' daughters, and lost their fathers to the dust years ago; we're thinking of you and all other miners' families.

Here are Rita McNeil and the Men of the Deeps.

BRB is Write(and sad at the loss of lives; they were just earning a living)

Some Observations:

While noodling around the net lately I have found:

Many can read, but far fewer can understand; and

Many can write, but far fewer can communicate.

BRB is Write(and still confused)

Not a Crazy Person Moment

But I have had a few moments recently that could have turned into a reappearance of C.P.

Food Lion needs to get rid of their requirement that every employee, upon encountering a customer, has to say in the general direction of every customer,"Welcome to Food Lion!" Most times when I go there it sounds like an echo or reverb. Also, most of the employees are not face-to-face with the customers. It is lip service in the worst way. No one means it; most hope that you will either ignore them or hope to hell you don't ask where the dried fried onions are shelved.

The last time I was in there, I was standing in line when one of the managers said something to the general atmosphere and walked away at the same time. I asked the guy in front of me what she said, and he said she would check me out at #5. I thanked him and went to #5 where manager said, "Sorry for the wait, welcome to Food lion." A prime moment for C.P. to appear. But he did not. I told her that getting a greeting from four employees who had to say that to keep their jobs was annoying, and she said she was sorry. I said "I sincerely doubt that," and left. Perhaps CP. did not appear, but Mr. Grumpy did.


Also, I'm fielding calls from people wanting to look at the car I have for sale. Since I had vertigo a few weeks ago, my hearing isn't as good as it was. Usually when I ask people to repeat themselves I tell them I have a hearing problem, and they comply, wanting to be understood. But the last guy, who has English only as a second or third language, only spoke faster and less clear when I told him about my hearing. I won't bore you with the whole conversation, but it consisted of him asking a question about the car, and my saying "Say again." Over and over and over. The asking price is clearly posted on the web site. ($525) He kept asking if I would take "garbled" dollars for the car. I said how much? Garble, garble. I finally said "Did you say $800? I'll take $800." Then clear as can be he said, "No, I said $300."

I try to not be a bigot, but, damnit all, some people want to be discriminated against. They invite it, and then whine loudly about it. Screw 'em. And I won't give my car away for $300.

BRB Is Write(and has C.P. under control....for now)

Not The Chantays

Found this video while searching for something else on You-Tube.

That site is a time-sink; a black hole for computer time; a look-at-me-and-regret-it site.

Anyway, Dick Dale and Stevie Ray Vaughn really cook. Not sure what's up with Dick Dale's hair, but it was the '80s.

I grew up in suburban L.A. and Dick Dale was the surf music god. Never mind the Beach Boys, Chantays, Jan and Dean. I, personally, introduced my high school to "Miserlou." We had a jukebox in the cafeteria and first one in got first choice. Whenever I was first I played the flip-side of "Let's Go Trippin'": "Miserlou" I was always asked "what the hell is that, it's bitchin'." (Yeah, we talked like that in '63). I had a Dick Dale LP, also, but it got lost in one of our many moves.

My friends used to go to Harmony Park Ballroom to hear him and to dance. At that time I got my drivers' license and went to concerts with future Ms. BRB. We saw Ray Charles at the Shrine, and Peter, Paul and Mary at the Hollywood Bowl. I had many interests at the time, and not much money.

But Dick Dale still has my attention whenever he shows up.

BRB is Write(Surf's Up, Dudes!)

Anger Management...Or Who is that crazy person, and why is he yelling at strangers?

I went to the dump yesterday; not one of my favorite activities. I loaded up the old Corolla with six-seven bags of house-hold garbage and rubbish and had to pay 7 bucks for the privilege of dumping it in the land-fill. We don't have garbage pick-up out here in the rapidly developing sticks. Also I pay just as much as the guy next to me who has a cargo van that could carry my garbage and my car with ease.

Already in a good mood, I pulled into a convenience store/gas station to get a soda and parked next to two guys that have a newer Honda. (The parking is on the side of the building out of sight of the store entrance and windows and most of the pumps.) As soon as I got out of my car one of them starts a sob story about needing gas money to get to Gastonia. Why anyone would want to get to Gastonia is beyond me. I looked at him and saw a young guy fairly well- dressed in shirt, shorts, nice shoes, smoking and has a tattoo on his ankle.

Then I hear a voice that sounds like mine: "Look at you; you have a better car, better clothes, you're smoking and have a tattoo, and you want money from me. Fuck off."

And I went into the store. Bought a soda. Realized that I just told two younger, larger strangers to fuck off. The manager asked me if I was all right. I told him about the pan-handlers and he checked and told me they had left. Not one of my prouder moments, not wanting to go back to my car.

I read somewhere that as we age our frontal lobes begin to shrink and that the filter between brain and mouth doesn't always work. I can testify to that.

So on the way home, I think a lot about this and resolve to try to keep myself in check. I tend to honk at asshole drivers and do other foolish things from the sanctity of my car. Not good. I was hungry, and thought maybe low blood sugar had something to do with it.

I headed for a favorite diner and so took an off-ramp I seldom frequent. It used to be patrolled by a few homeless folk, but not so much in the summer. Damned if it wasn't full of professional beggars. (I've posted on this in the past) I hate these guys. But, as I rolled to a stop I said to myself, "Self, you will not yell at these folk. They are trying to help youth or their church or something."

And then someone is rolling down my window and a crazy voice is yelling "Stop begging. Run a car wash, have a bake sale; you're begging; I don't care what the cause is!" Thankfully the light changed to green and I didn't have to hear that crazy voice anymore.

I am sure I must be on you-tube somewhere under the category of crazy person goes off on convenience store clerks. When I was buying beer on a daily basis, QM stores needed my date of birth to record in the register. This is really stupid in my case; I stopped looking twenty forty years ago. I finally lost it one day and told the clerk to put in her birthday. That didn't work, and I left, but I didn't get personal or swear. Progress of a sort.

So these latest relapses have me worried. But not too much, 'cause I have these frontal lobes for an excuse.

BRB is Write(and may randomly go off on the innocent.)

There's something about April in North Carolina that always makes me think of these opening lines of The Canterbury Tales:




Whan that Aprill with his shoures soote
the droghte of March hath perced to the roote,
And bathed every veyne in swich licour
Of which vertu engendred is the flour;
Whan Zephirus eek with his sweete breeth
Inspired hath in every holt and heeth
The tendre croppes, and the yonge sonne
Hath in the Ram his halve cours yronne,
And smale foweles maken melodye,
That slepen al the nyght with open ye
(So priketh hem nature in hir corages);
Thanne longen folk to goon on pilgrimages,
And palmeres for to seken straunge strondes,
To ferne halwes, kowthe in sondry londes;
And specially from every shires ende
Of Engelond to Caunterbury they wende,
The hooly blisful martir for to seke,
That hem hath holpen whan that they were seeke..

Thanne longen folk to goon on pilgrimages describes me to a tee (or fare thee well). I'm always ready to go, perhaps not on pilgrimages, but to just get in the car and not stop 'til I reach the ocean, or mountains, or desert.

But Chaucer never saw the April-green here in NC in contrast to the dogwood, dark boles and blue sky. We get this shade of green only at this time of year. Each leaf is reaching for the sun as it newly unfolds and displays a green that is new and fresh; it's a green that seems saved only for this moment. I'll try for a picture; my words cannot do it.

BRB is Write(and needs a fully annotated version of Chaucer)