Feels like a victory

There's a rail strike looming, and many people think of railroads as a quaint colloquialism, but trains are still how a lot of things get from there to wherever you are. This might be a good time to stock up on long-term necessities. For me that means canned corn, peas, and cat food. Maybe paper towels and wet wipes.

Sept. 15, 2022

Chances are, the strike won't happen, or Biden will (outrageously) order the workers back to work. If a railroad strike doesn't get us, though, something else will. First the pandemic, and then constant 'supply chain issues', with all the big companies using the stupid "Just In Time" philosophy for ordering everything they need, the entire system that stocks the grocery seems precarious to me.

Nah, I'm not becoming a prepper, but instead of a week's worth of everything, my new minimum is a month. Sooner or later, things that aren't stable tend to collapse. It doesn't hurt to be ready. 

My mom is mad at me —  which is wonderful!

After I told her half a dozen times on Saturday that I wasn't going to attend the memorial service, I then proceeded to… not attend the memorial service. Well, she called three times on Sunday, leaving one message, and twice on Tuesday, leaving another message.

The messages were both basically the same —  about a minute each, telling me that she's so disappointed that I'd refused to come, "refused to say thank you" for all that the dead man had done for me and my family. 

I didn't call back, of course, and this will sound incredibly childish, but it feels like a victory. Many times I've been mad at my mom, for her repeated intrusions into my space, mental and physical, and my life. Never ever, though, can I remember her admitting to being mad at me. When she mad at me, she simply smiles her biggest smile and says nothing.

That's the routine, so this feels different, and delightful. And she hasn't texted me since Saturday, which frees up ten or fifteen minutes every evening, time I'd usually spend replying to her texts.

Wasn't sure what to type next, so I laughed instead, which means literally, I am laughing about this. Guess I'll see her on Saturday, or perhaps she'll decide to boycott breakfast, to get back at me? 

More laughter.

Dean isn't my only talkative flatmate. Robert can talk too, but it's less oppressive, because Robert doesn't tell the same stories all the time, and he'll let me walk away.

It is a little strange, though, that he sometimes sits on the chair in the kitchen, not while anything's cooking, not scrolling through his cell phone, not waiting for someone to finish in the bathroom, but just sitting there, like he's waiting for someone to talk to.

If that's what he was doing, I was the nominee. Needed to pee and empty my pisspot, but instead I stood in the kitchen and listened while Robert told me about his CPAP machine. He'd been missing a flange or a hook or a bolt or something, and been sleeping without the CPAP, but not sleeping well. Whatever piece he needed came in yesterday's mail, though, so he slept a sold 6½ hours last night.

I offered my congratulations, and then stepped into the john to do my business. Unlike any conversation with my other flatmate Steve, Robert did not suddenly have something else to say and delay me, and he did not continue talking at me through the door as I peed.

The Mrs and I always visited museums at least a few times annually, cuz she had culture oozing out of her pores. We regularly went to a few museums in San Francisco when we lived there, three in Kansas City, and there were two museums we visited often in Madison, and sometimes we drove or bused to Milwaukee's big museums.

Since she died there's been no culture but yogurt in my life, but when I saw her in a dream a few nights ago, she suggested that we go to a museum.

When I woke up, I said why not? Sitting in my recliner and occasionally busing to breakfast or lunch is getting monotonous, so I've googled around and found Seattle's free museum, the Frye.

After I've prepped and published this page, that's where I'll be busing. Looking forward to it, but I'll miss hearing my wife's softly-spoken opinions on which art is art and which art is rubbish.

And now, the news you need, whether you know it or not…  

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Corporate America goes all-in on Dr. Oz 

The U.S. Chamber of Commerce, a group that represents virtually every major American corporation, is throwing its support behind Mehmet Oz, the Republican nominee for U.S. Senate in Pennsylvania. The Chamber told Axios it was donating $3 million to support Oz's campaign against Pennsylvania Lt. Governor John Fetterman (D).

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Rape victims can face huge hospital bills if they seek help 

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'Make Guatemala Great Again' assholes are destroying Guatemala 

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Louisiana woman carrying unviable fetus forced to travel to New York for abortion 

California launches website promoting abortion services 

Concern grows around billionaire Peter Thiel's period-tracking app 

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Insurers force change on police departments long resistant to it 

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Still selling floppy disks

When people ask me: "Why are you into floppy disks today?" the answer is: "Because I forgot to get out of the business." 

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Appeal raises $150,000 for girl ordered to pay family of accused rapist she killed 

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Dude, why are you eating frogs? 

Skip the first section, I'd suggest, and start with the sub-headline, "You are not a piece of trash."

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Supermarket turns down checkout beep sound, and other strange marks of respect for Queen Elizabeth II 

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Hanazono Room 

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One-word newscast, because it's the same news every time...



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The End

Martin Barker
Frank Franzia
Clayton Jacobson II
Mable John

Cranky Old Fart is annoyed and complains and very occasionally offers a kindness, along with anything off the internet that's made me smile or snarl. All opinions fresh from my ass. Top illustration by Jeff Meyer. Click any image to enlarge. Comments & conversations invited.
Tip 'o the hat to Linden Arden, ye olde AVA, BoingBoing, Breakfast at Ralf's, Captain Hampockets, CaptCreate's Log, John the Basket, LiarTownUSA, Meme City, National Zero, Ran Prieur, Voenix Rising, and anyone else whose work I've stolen without saying thanks.
Extra special thanks to Becky Jo, Name Withheld, Dave S, Wynn Bruce, and always Stephanie...


  1. You know I like your writing but where do you get the memes and illustrations? It's always a good selection, do you create them yourself?

    1. I get the memes at Memes-Я-Us.

      Some of the memes I find and swipe from the internet, and some I make myself. Glad you like.

  2. Tell your Mom that that dead motherfucker must have masterful hearing to appreciate a "thank-you" after his heart stopped beating. Embalming is also an audio depressor. A better idea would be to find somebody who has the capacity to hear who has helped the family, and call him or her and say thank-you to someone whose vascular system isn't filled with poison. Just a thought.


    1. Embalming is an audio depressor... Your entire reply is perfection. Sa-lute!


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