A cookout to go to? I'm supposed to be happy and excited...

I've been at my latest job for 15 months now, since April 2020. Hired by phone right when Wuhan was kicking in. Since then, I've only been in to the office three times---once at the beginning to meet with my boss and HR lady and get my on-boarding notebook and to pick up computers; once a month or so later after my security clearance to go through security training; and then a final time months after that to pick up a computer camera and Wuhan mask.

In the 15 months I've been here, my group has had two get-togethers (which is two more than we ever had at my old job): In July and October of 2020. The one in July was at a bar about 1 mile from my house, which raised no angst whatsoever! The one in October involved driving 40 miles or so way out in the country; I wasn't quite mentally prepared for it, but I made the trek because I didn't want to be the one unsocial loser who didn't want to meet the co-workers! The getting-there was scarier than the getting-back. I arrived in the afternoon and left at 2am---at the end I was feeling no pain/fear, though I drove very slowly! 

Tomorrow, there's a farewell cookout at the house of my boss, whose last day was this Friday. He's been with the company since 2016, hired me by phone in 2020. I've only been around him in person three times in the past 15 months. I like him---he's the perfect example of the "hale fellow well met" type of guy. Who also knew what he was doing, work-wise (thought not really fully appreciative of what "editing" is!). As per the October gathering last year, Saturday's get-together involves a 30-40 mile trip on highways I'm not really comfortable traveling after years of puttering around only on neighboring streets. And again, after the slightly nerve-wracking trip there, there'll be the also-slightly-nerve-wracking meeting up with people I've barely been around other than our daily online Teams meetings.

Tomorrow's farewell get-together is advertised as a barbecue and pool party... But like hell I'm going to expose my 50+ year-old body in a swimsuit in front of my co-workers! So, the swimming's out (though I love swimming). And I suppose the conversation will be awkward at first, though it will probably soon kick in, like it did last October (especially after a few beers). Sigh. Part of the awkwardness is the fact that it's just me alone. No "plus one" as a buffer.

Many years ago, I really did used to have a comfortable group of friends that I regularly hung out with (and swam/ate/drank with). It's kind of depressing that I have to pump myself up mentally to have what should be a pleasant day. And that the only barbecue/swim day I'm invited to nowadays is with relative strangers.

George Jones: Where Grass Won't Grow (1969)

The dirt was clay and was the color of the blood in me.
A twelve acre farm on a ridge in south Tennessee.
We left our sweat all over that land,
Behind a mule we watched grow old,
Row after row.
Trying to grow corn and cotton on ground so poor that grass won't grow.

There was one old store in the holler we all called town.
It belonged to a gentle old man named Henry Brown.
He gave us credit in the winter time,
So we could live through the cold,
When the winds brought snow.
Trying to grow corn and cotton on ground so poor that grass won't grow.

The one I loved walked through those fields with me.
A hard workin' woman, true as one could be.
But then one year, death was goin' round,
And swiftly took its toll.
Janie had to go.
Now she lies asleep under ground so poor that grass won't grow.

As I stand here looking over this part of Tennessee,
The fields are bare as far as the eye can see.
And over the grave where Janie lies,
There's a beautiful sight to behold,
And no one knows,
Why there's flowers growing on ground so poor that grass won't grow...

George Jones: Right Won't Touch A Hand (1971)

The wind blows Sunday papers at my feet
As I walk down this cold and lonely street
My hands search through my pockets for a dime
While the memory of you eats away my mind
And looking back I see that I was wrong
But the road I'm on don't lead me back to home
And I can't turn back 'cause everything is gone, yes, it's gone
Right won't touch a hand that's filled with wrong

I was filled with so much jealousy
And doubted all the love you had for me
But now I see the kind of fool I've been
And I'll never see the one I love again
'Cause looking back I see that I was wrong
But the road I'm on don't lead me back to home
And I can't turn back 'cause everything is gone, yes, it's gone
Right don't touch a hand that's filled with wrong
Right won't touch a hand that's filled with wrong...

George Jones: Someday My Day Will Come (1979)

Someday my day will come and I won't need a thing at all
I can stand proud and tall and say just what I feel
Someday my day will come when dreams become reality
I'll be the one I want to be, someday my day will come

It's a tiring path we travel through
For each step I take, Lord, I'm set back two
We all have roles in life to play
And I'll play a great one someday

Someday my day will come, I'll hold true love right in my hand
I'll touch the pretty rainbow's end and my cup will overflow
Someday my day will come, I'll watch my ship as it comes in
My castles won't be made of sand, someday my day will come
I'll hold true love right in my hand, someday my day will come

Messy Little Cats

While rearranging my living room tonight (and upon moving a CD shelf out from the wall), I was a bit shocked to see all of this CRAP the cats had batted under the shelf! All of the plastic-straw-things and catnip-stick-things and crumpled bits (the tin foil from my cig packs), I'd initially tossed onto the floor for them to play with. How they all ended up in this location below the shelf, I don't know! (And two good pens of mine! THOSE I never gave them to play with!)

In general, the cats do like to bat stuff under something and then try to fish it out. It's initially a challenge for them, but after about 5 minutes, they apparently forget about that challenge!

 

I tried not grocery-shopping for a month...

Until today (July 24), last time I went to the grocery store was in late June. Usually I go every 2 weeks and spend, like, $150, which I started thinking was nuts. At $75 a week, I could be eating out all the time for the same price, I thought, and liking my food more. So all I shopped for in the last month was milk and orange juice and Cokes.

What happened was, I ran out of vegetables, and salsa to snack on. And, lacking for stuff I liked at home, I ended up ordering out for pizza or going to fast-food places. In the last week, I either ate a bunch of greasy crap that made me feel sick (like from Dairy Queen and a local food truck) or I went to bed without eating anything because nothing in either my fridge or cabinet seemed appetizing.

What going supermarket shopping every 2 weeks does is get the fresh avocados and broccoli and cucumber and Romaine lettuce and strawberries, etc. Oh, and ice cream. Plus supermarket-only stuff like salmon/green-bean/mashed potato dinners and salmon patties and California sushi and sliced roast beef from the deli.

It's still gotten very expensive recently, but at least there's a variety of stuff to choose from that is not all grease.

Mendelssohn - Hebrides Overture (1830)

Despite what Twitter and Facebook tell you, you are very small and unimportant.
The place, and the artist able to channel the place and the emotion, are profound.

The Beatles: You've Got To Hide Your Love Away (1965)

The Shadow of Waco | Retro Report | The New York Times

Watching a re-run of the Koresh bio on A&E today: At the end of the Waco standoff on April 19, 1993, I was in a Sociology class at UT Austin. At the time, I was of the general opinion: Well, the government had been sitting there since late February, arguing with Koresh---SURE they should have done something. But one guy stood up in class and said: "The government does not have the right to go in and kill people for no reason." (The residents of the compound had not been violent in any way prior to the ATF firing on them.)

I today see his point. (Government agents fired first; government agents set the place on fire.)

Dolly Parton's 2001 cover of Collective Soul's "Shine"

New boombox, electricity fixed...All good!

 

USA: Poetry Episode Anne Sexton

A half-hour of Sexton.

Patsy Cline: When I Get Through With You (1962)

Patsy Cline: Strange (1962)

Farewell, First Cell!

I used to say that, in all of the USA, only me and my 80-year-old mother didn't own a smart phone. Well, as of 7 hours ago: It's just my mother!

My trusty 3-1/2-inch Nokia phone that T-Mobile gave me for free back in 2007 when I signed up on the eve of moving to NYC just gave out after 14 years.

Anticipating this eventuality (and tired of being mocked as a Luddite), I did buy myself a Google phone back at Christmas... But because I had no clue if a T-Mobile phone number of 14 years would transfer to a Google phone, and other tech worries, I let my new smart phone sit around for 6 months...

At any rate, when the much-mocked Nokia finally died yesterday, I had no choice but to venture into the modern world of smart phones. Completely stressed about the whole process, took my old phone, new phone, and latest T-Mobile phone bill to a nearby T-Mobile store to see about updating... 

The transition couldn't have been easier. The guy at the store was super-nice and knowledgeable. Got to keep the same number. Got a new SIM card. Got a plan where I'm paying about what I've been paying since 2007 (discount for being over 50!). And, as a bonus, the guy showed me how to make calls and add apps, etc. 

Farewell, First Cell!

p.s. I can't tell you what a psychological weight off my mind this is! Seriously---most days for the past 6 months, I've woken up and asked myself: Are you getting the new phone done today?

How many electricians does it take to change a light bulb?

About a month ago, a few electric sockets started acting up in my apartment. Three in the kitchen (a light, and the sockets where my microwave was plugged in), and two in the nearby dining area (where I have my stereo plugged in). The "acting up" messed up my microwave and old boombox, though moving them to new sockets helped the microwave, at least.

Upon putting in a repair request, I've so far had 3 different maintenance guys come in. All have said, incorrectly, re the light: "It's just the light-bulb." And 2 of 3 have said, incorrectly, re the sockets: "You just need to re-set" and "It's working fine---see?" (pointing to their chargers). Upon which I told them to look at what I had plugged in as an example---which wasn't working.

Incompetence is tedious.

But, hey---At least I don't OWN this place and don't have to pay for all of this BS!

Sotheby's auction touted by Frieda: Sylvia Plath and Ted Hughes (2021)

Frieda Hughes is actually offering up her parents' wedding rings at auction. 

https://www.sothebys.com/en/buy/auction/2021/your-own-sylvia-sylvia-plaths-letters-to-ted-hughes-and-other-items-property-of-frieda-hughes

For shame, I say.

I had the same reaction when the Twin that Joan Crawford liked most (Cathy LaLonde), and left her belongings to, also sold off her mother's belongings, including her Oscar, in 1993, at Christie's auction.

Are these ageing kids THAT desperate for money? Desperate enough to actually sell the wedding rings of Plath/Hughes and Joan Crawford's Oscar? There's no sense of connection or closeness with your parents? No important representative of them that you'd like to keep close? (In Frieda's case: You're really selling all of those family photo albums? You're truly a hard case.)

Oh, OK. Hope you enjoy your new car or home furnishings.

The Beatles: Paperback Writer (1966)

George Strait: All My Exes Live In Texas (1987)

George Strait: Amarillo By Morning (1983)

I didn't ask for a sub-woofer...

...I don't even know what a "sub-woofer" is. (Looked it up online; apparently it "helps the bass.") But I got one!

After both my Panasonic and JVC CD-players gave up in the last year, I ordered a better boom-box after reading reviews online. This thing is insanely loud! Most online reviews tout how loud it is in their garage, or out on their patio. While I don't need it to be as loud as in a garage or on a patio, it's definitely better than what I had (for the same couple of hundred dollars).

Crowded House: Don't Dream It's Over (1986)

Crowded House: Better Be Home Soon (1988)

Split Enz: History Never Repeats (1981)

Split Enz: I Hope I Never (1980)

Split Enz: Six Months In A Leaky Boat (1982)

The tyranny of distance didn't stop the Cavalier...

Split Enz: I Got You (1980)

When is vandalizing a statue a "hate crime"? And when is it not?

 

An MLK statue in Long Beach, CA, was vandalized over the holiday weekend. The vandalization will be investigated as a "hate crime," according to Long Beach officials:

https://nypost.com/2021/07/06/california-cops-probe-graffiti-on-mlk-statue-as-hate-crime/

That's odd. I've been looking at vandalized statues of Lincoln, Washington, et al, constantly for the past year and more. Only, none of those vandalizations were ever investigated as "hate crimes."

Courtesy Of The Red, White And Blue: Toby Keith

Star Spangled Banner (Full Version)

F-You Gwen Berry. If you don't like your country, or lyrics from this song, then don't compete as a member of the United States Olympic team. You're an ignorant embarrassment to your country.
p.s. Nice false eyelashes and lipstick, "athlete." You're an embarrassment to athletes everywhere, especially female athletes.

Happy Birthday, USA!

Oh, wait---according to the "1619 Project," our nation was born not in 1776 but rather in 1619 when the first slaves were introduced to Virginia.

What an odd (and intellectually stupid) claim---that any nation's history began when slaves were introduced. The entire world has a history of slavery dating back to 3500 BC. And in each of the major nations since that time, slavery was an ill, but hardly the main focus of any country.

As far as US slavery goes: Warring tribes on the West Coast of Africa captured each other in battle and sold their enemies to white Europeans in the slave trade.

Before you blame "evil whitey," read/learn your own African history. 

(Similar to how, today, police are being blamed for killing blacks in the US----yet, BY FAR, most blacks are murdered by other blacks. Read the crime stats. And hold your next BLM march and riot in Chicago, the very seat of black-on-black murders. Give black leftist Mayor Lightfoot a visit, while you're at it.)

Street Hair

Back in March, when I couldn't get scheduled for my regular hair-dresser, I went for the first time to a hair-dresser operating out of a bus parked on my street. (I wasn't totally crazy---he used to have a regular salon on the same street, and only since Covid did he de-camp to the bus.)

His haircut in March was very good. But, because I like walking into an actual building and being offered temple massages at my usual salon, I went back to my usual hairdresser in April---unfortunately, she gave me a very bad cut.

So I went back to the bus-guy a couple of days ago. Again---a very good haircut. BUT: Aside from being in a bus and not getting a temple massage... Do I really want to discuss the value of Ketamine and LSD mental treatments when I go to my stylist? I kinda do, but then I mainly don't! :)

The semi-good thing about this guy is when he told me about the alleged virtues of Ketamine, I then said, "God, no, NEVER would I mess with my mind like that! Are YOU subjecting yourself to that treatment?" As it turned out, he said he didn't think he had mental problems that required "Ketamine treatment"! (Ah---so it's good for other people, but not for yourself!)

Sigh.

So I kinda like the interesting guy who gives good haircuts. And won't go back to the salon where the girl gave me scalp massages but crappy haircuts. But surely there's a happy medium somewhere----between an untalented nurturing girl and a talented annoying/crazy guy....

Percentages

According to ads that I see on cable TV, about 50% of the US population is (must be) either black or gay or trans. Especially black: Seriously---every single ad that I see on cable TV has mainly black people in them. Based on the actual population of the United States, why the overtly heavy black population in ads? (Or at post offices, come to think of it. Every post office that I've been to for the past 10 years has been 90% staffed by black people. Why is that? Is it really that whites are failing at the federal civil service exams to such a large degree?)

I started getting confused, so had to go look up some stats about population in the US:

Blacks: 13.4%

LGBTQ: 5.6%

Trans: 0.6%

Oh, and while I was at it, had been wondering since Covid started why every single government announcement had a really bad, overdramatic "deaf interpreter" hanging around on the stage. (For decades, there have been captions on TV for deaf watchers. Why is the government paying these live-action sign-language drama queens?) Percentage of deaf people in the US: 5%.

George Jones Conversation

Yesterday, went to my local supermarket for the first time sans mask.

Although part of the Wuhan-masking culture was still in place: My hair wasn't done, I wore no makeup, I just had on a raggedy T-shirt---this time, the below George Jones T-shirt.

(Yeah, pre-Wuhan, when going to the supermarket, I did make sure my hair was washed, I did put on makeup, and I did put on a collared shirt!)

The bagger this time asked me what I'd been doing all day. I hesitated because sometimes the store hires retarded people to bag the groceries: Should I just say "Oh, nothin'" out of politeness?

This time, maskless for the first time, and not yet sure if the bagger was retarded or not, I said honestly: "I've been sitting at home all day because my company's not yet back at the office. It's good to get out and grocery shop!"

As it turned out, I don't think the bagger was retarded. He then said, like many guys would, because I was wearing the George Jones T-shirt: "I bet you've been listening to George Jones all day!"

Me: Ha-ha. Well...

Bagger: What was that song...

Me (pretty sure which one he meant, the 1980 Big Song): "He Stopped Loving Her Today"?

Bagger (suddenly belting out across the store at the top of his lungs, sounding uncannily exactly like George): "He stopped loving her today..."

Me (impressed with his audacity and beaming as I wheeled my cart on out): You sing great! You sound just like him!

Isn't that why we all really wear T-shirts with emblems of whatever sort on them? To connect with someone, anyone.