Everyone reading this is old like me, right? So lemme ask, am I the only old-timer who gets sticky faster that I used to?
Before my wife cleaned me up in the late 1990s, I often skipped showering, even for days at a time. It make me stink, but not sticky. Getting sticky took several days.
Now I get sticky before stinking. It takes about 12 hours, whether I’m horizontal in my recliner or vertical out in the world. I’m showering twice daily, and that’s nuts!
And what about these two hairs in my eyebrows, both on the left side, that grow at a phenomenal rate? If I went two months without scissoring those two hairs, I could braid them.
Old, man. Why would anyone want to get old?
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Spotted this sign, professionally engraved and mounted on the wall of a Wells Fargo Bank, right next to the night deposit slot:
“Important: NIGHT DEPOSIT IS FOR BUSINESS DEPOSIT AND PAYMENTS ONLY. All other deposits and payments will be returned unprocessed.”
What a flagrant fuck-you from a bank, or any business, to a customer! Sure glad I was only walking past; I wouldn’t bank there.
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Which reminds me — I’ve switched credit unions, because my new webhost is in England, and “my” credit union made it impossible to pay them.
There’s a hiccup any time I make an international purchase, but in the past and at other institutions, a phone call quickly cleared it up. Not this time. Thrice my credit union rejected the transaction, thrice they cancelled my card, and each time they told me they didn’t know what had gone wrong but the charge would go through if I tried it again. It never did, and I ended up paying by PayPal, and signing up at a different credit union.
The same thing will happen there, of course. All banks and credit unions have outsourced their debit/credit card business to the same company. There’s no real choice.
Only thing that’ll be better is, my new credit union is a shorter bus ride from home.
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I am refusing to let Trump 2 get me down. Ain’t nothing we can do to stop what’s coming, so I am going to watch it, mock it, speak out against it, laugh about it when possible, and hope for the best but brace for the worst.
We’re only half a day into it, but already my mantra is to shrug and say, “This is what America wants.” Que sera sera.
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One last story about the election:
My brother Dick believes anything Trump or Fox says, and seems to know nothing further. My brother Clay watches the same channel, but says his voting decisions are based on prayer, which always leads to the same Republican positions. My nephew George agrees with my brothers on everything, but he’s the least patient about it, always on the verge of fury over immigrants and the price of gas (the only two issues he’s ever mentioned to me).
In the opposite corner, my Mom still says she’s a Republican, but she sees through Trump and votes straight-ticket Democratic. My sister Katrina is somewhere on the left, but sensibly doesn’t talk much about it within the family. Me, un-sensibly, I’ll respond to anything abhorrent anyone says, so there were a few feisty text-exchanges in the last days before the election.
“Trump’s policies he stands for follow the Bible more closely than his opponent. I really don’t want to live in a communist, Marxist country.”
—Dick
“I’ve decided not to vote for the lesser of two evils. Instead I’m going to vote against the more evil choice, which is, obviously, the woman who favors killing babies.”
—Clay
“When they put a refugee camp in your neighborhood, it means they’ve failed to secure the borders. Thanks Biden. I work hard and don’t need to see the world’s worst despairing dropped in my city.”
—George
I responded to all of it and more, trying and mostly succeeding in staying calm, while also trying to piss them off. But it was Marky Mark Twain, or maybe Bertalicious Russell, who said you can’t win an argument using facts and logic against people whose beliefs aren’t based on facts and logic.
Gotta love the family, almost as much as you gotta love America. My brothers and nephew are the American electorate, 2024, and here we are.
11/6/2024
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