Category: satire

Oh, The Heat

It’s hot and I am compelled by Internet Law to write about this heat.

This heat, what, 105, 107? It’s just ruining things. Look what it’s doing to my electric bill when I run my air-conditioning. And the water bill when I water the lawn and plants. Yikes, you should see, you really should. It’s unbelievable.

It’s too hot to do anything but sit. It even affects my Internet connection, can you believe it? I’m serious, when the heat gets over 97, the Internet connection becomes spotty, don’t ask me why, but it really makes it so hard to post anything or find out who’s doing anything. THANK GOD for my iPhone!

It’s so hot, I can barely move. Even when I don’t move, I’m sweating. Look, I’m sweating now, and this is inside, in the shade. We’ve put up awnings and umbrellas on the porches and patios, and there is the pool for a cool dip but even these reliefs are so momentary because you wouldn’t believe the breeze, it’s like fresh out of a pizza oven. Speaking of which, we wanted to grill pizzas tonight but I told them, it’s just too hot for us to do that. Let’s go to a fun restaurant with air conditioning and spoil ourselves with fine food and drinks.

Otherwise, I’m just going to have to sit inside and read in the air conditioning today, and what fun is that? That’s hardly living. We should go away somewhere until this heat wave ends. Like Vegas! You check for some flights and I’ll look for a room. The Bellagio! I love it there!

Road trip! I am literally so excited. I can’t wait until this heat wave ends.

4

Delivery Rules

I know he’s out there. Watching. Waiting, exercising Zen patience. I know the Delivery Rules.

First Rule: inconvenience the customer as significantly as possible.

It’s not about profit and loss or corporate vision and mission statements. It’s about people with power. They have the package. I want the package. So they have the power.

Oh, delicious power, how they love watching me leap up when a truck passes my house. “Is that it?” they mock, imagining my voice, bringing up their super-powerful binoculars to see my disappointment, laughing as they finger a few more drooping French fries into their mouth.

They don’t know that I know the rules. I’m aware of them and their delivery watch. “Keep hidden,” I tell my wife. “Don’t go past any windows.”

“This is ridiculous,” she answers.

“Shhh,” I hiss, pointing up. “They’re listening.”

She stares at me.

I explain, “They’ll know you’re here. We want them to think we’re not home or can’t come to the door.”

Amazement disturbs her gaze. “And why do we care if they know I’m here?”

“Shhh.” I look out the windows. Of course I can’t see a delivery vehicle. They’re not fools. They cloak the van with invisibility so they can stay out there, watching, without being detected, until they believe I’m not home or available and ‘attempt’ delivery. I know how this works.

I move closer to my wife so I can whisper. “They’re out there. They’re waiting for me to leave or take a shower. Then they’ll ring the bell. I won’t hear it so they’ll leave a notice and try again tomorrow. That’s how they get you.”

She stares at me. I don’t know what that look means. “How do I fit into this?” she asks in a Very Normal Tone.

Her refusal to keep her voice down disturbs me. “Quiet,” I hiss. “Come on. What’re you trying to do?” Realizations penetrate my thinking. “They got to you, didn’t they?”

Her eyes widen. “Who?”

But I get it. I understand. “Never mind.” I smile. “I was just joking.” I let slip laughter. “Pretty convincing, wasn’t I?”

She doesn’t seem convinced but I put her behind me and leave the room. Out there, in the living-dining-kitchen great room, I pace and pace, trying to figure out what I can do.

But it doesn’t matter. They have her. They’ve already won the day. Yet, I can’t give up. Not that easily. I’ve been playing the game too long. This isn’t my first delivery. “I’m going to take a shower,” I call, very loudly.

“Okay,” she answers, a mumble.

I go into the master bath and turn on the shower, hoping to fool them, and then slip into the hall to get to the front door to wait. I meet my wife coming down the hall. She looks startled. “I thought you were taking a shower.”

Checking on me. Oh, I get it. I smile. “I am.”

“But you have all your clothes on.”

I nod. “I know.”

Shaking her head, she walks past, saying, “I think you need to relax.”

Relax, oh, they’d like that. Hearing her turn off the water, I run back into the bathroom. “What are you doing?”

“You’re wasting water,” she replies.

Pushing past her, I turn the water back on. She’s talking but I can’t understand her. “What?” I ask. She’s talking again but I still can’t understand her. “What?” I shake my head. “I can’t hear you. You’re talking too low.”

Diversion, I realize, and then the phone rings. The rules require them to ring the doorbell, but if I don’t hear it or answer in time, they leave – and then they won. “Was that the doorbell?” I run for the door and yank it open as my wife answers the phone.

A notice hangs from the door handle. I rush out to see if I spot the truck, a rookie error born from frustration. They already cloaked the truck. Nobody can hear or see it now.

“Did your computer come?” My wife asks from behind me.

I smile without looking back. “No. They left a notice.” I go back in past her, glancing at her face. They got to her. I see it in her brown eyes. I don’t know how. Probably bribed her with a discount coupon for shoes.

“I’m sorry,” she says, closing the door, but there’s no sorrow in her voice.

“That’s okay,” I answer with false cheerfulness. “There’s always tomorrow.”

Yes, there’s always tomorrow, when we’ll play again. I know the rules.

Someday, I’ll win.

1

When Does Food Go Bad?

First, we must consider, what do we mean when we say Food has ‘gone bad’?

Short of Food killing other Food or leaping out of the refrigerator or cupboard with weapons in their hands or explosives strapped around its jar or box, it’s often difficult to determine when Food has gone bad. Some will consider Food bad much more quickly than others, refusing to eat it because it’s ‘gone bad’, while others, particularly bachelors, will dismiss claims Food has gone bad and eat him anyway. This is often true with Food like Pizza, but not Beer and Wine. When Beer goes bad, it becomes skunky, with a foul taste, or flat. Wine takes on a sour, bitter tone that reminds you of Bitter Ben.

Milk, on the other hand, doesn’t fake it when it goes bad. Beware of Milk that has gone bad. Milk that goes bad can become violent, even explosive, with lingering results.

Also watch out for Fish and Meat that has gone bad. You know what I mean.

Food can go bad for many reasons. Food sometimes goes bad as an acting out mechanism when he’s not getting the attention he thinks he needs or deserves. Sometimes Food isn’t happy with his home life, or he gets left out of activities, locked up and forgotten. He might go bad because of his environment. The temperature might be too low, permitting low life bacteria to affect Food. Or Food is shut up with undesirables who put out gases, pressuring Food to spoil.

But that is the nurturing aspect of Food going bad. Sometimes Food goes bad because he was born bad, co-existing with other materials that negatively affects Food, like when Food wasn’t washed properly after he was picked. Personal hygiene is very important to help keep Food from going bad.

When Food goes bad is like many problems throughout human existence, with multiple facets to consider for dealing with the situation. Constant monitoring and early detection is important to save Food. Sometimes bad Food can be saved by re-purposing it. Some Food can be frozen and used later when they go start going bad. The thing to remember is that every Food is unique, and what you learn about one Food may not apply to other Foods. If in doubt about whether Food has gone bad, ask a cat. If a cat walks away from it, the Food has probably gone bad.

Cats just don’t tolerate bad food. Just ask any cat person.

Note: no food was harmed while I wrote this post, but several cats were annoyed and disappointed. Now they want something else that isn’t ‘Food gone bad’.

0

“I’m hungry”

“I’m hungry”, I type, and click on the magnifying glass.

“I have found growing vegetables can help  if you’re hungry.”

“If you’re hungry, the problem might be that you haven’t had anything to eat. Check to see if you’ve had something to eat recently.”

“Hungry is a country in Europe.”

“Hunger can be caused by not eating a sufficient amount of food. To fix this, you can grow food, go hunting, or go shopping. Let me know how it turns out.”

“Sign this petition to urge President Obama to end hunger in America NOW.”

“Check listings to see when The Hunger Games are playing.”

“Click here to watch The Hunger on your computer right now!”

“Many people who are hungry have found this website and its diets to be helpful.”

“Get deals on hungry at Overstocked.com.”

Those are satire answers to a simple statement to illuminate how I feel while searching for help on the net. Companies have mostly abdicated responsibility, except where they’ve realized that they can charge you to help you and pad their profits. If you do not pay for help, you’re left to the forums, and the forums give advice, like above, satirized as a response to the input, “I’m hungry.” They don’t address the issues but smather suggestions that might or not relate to your query except in the basest or broadest manner.

Looking for why I’m having Windows 7 issues that result in an ever spinning hard drive that sucks responsiveness out of the system, I’m constantly urged to look for malware, update drivers, or turn off my security software. None of them actually provide intelligent tools for why the hard drive keeps running, especially after all of those issues have already been done and eliminated. Using the computer manufacturer’s tools and windows tool, I’ve confirmed that there’s no hardware issues. And it’s depressing, because I thought, if there is a hardware problem, at least  I’ll know what’s wrong. But I can’t find the cause. Don’t tell me to update because I already have.

And now I’m hungry. I can either, eat leftover kibble the cats didn’t finish, rummage through the kitchen pantry and refrigerator, or root around the front yard for bugs.

Or, like the cats, wait for someone else to take care of me and offer me a better solution.

 

0

Thrive in the Mud

Hello.

I am the middle person.

The average dude.

Ah, to clarify, the white, late fifties middle income liberal average guy. Black guys, young guys, white guys, females, Libertarians, Conservatives, Jews, et cetera, are all also average guys, the middle person, a consumer, partner/spouse/atheist.

Whoever I am, I’m stuck in the middle of the mud. Facts are being sucked into a heavy, gluey, clinging muddiness that traps light and squeezes out air. For example, search for results about the recent Board of Trustees annual report about the state of Medicare and Social Security in the United States. Refine your search to determine how solvent the system is, and even what is meant by the system. It’s surprising how the report’s points are spun.

Muddiness exists around any subject where facts can be distorted, dis-proven or disregarded. Politics are catalysts to create hyper states of distortion and disregard. It’s a sweet place for writing because this is where creativity ferments. Too often, I try to logically explain a fictional situation, or characters’ positions and actions, trying to establish that they do this because of this, ergo, they will do this next. That’s essentially how I think. I keep trying to break out of that for myself; I over-analyze information. Vacuums are the worse, generating a need to create information that makes sense in the vacuum, and then over-analyzing that information that I created.

But I want characters who are different from me, and different from most, characters (and situations) with a WTF aura that entices readers to press on turning pages. Sometimes that means abandoning ‘my’ logic while establishing ‘their’ logic. To me, their logic is frequently mired in emotions, how they feel about matters, rather than what they think about it.

That doesn’t mean that I don’t have emotions about things, but that I temper, stifle and throttle those emotions (most times) so that I can react intelligently and rationally (all the while reminding myself not to over-intellectualize and compartmentalize). But yes, I have angry, frustrated and bitter WTF!? reactions to too, too many issues and items. Some of them, like other drivers, are enormously petty. I call this ‘drivism’, the tendency to look down upon other drivers because they don’t drive like me, which automatically means they’re not as good as drivers.

This is exactly where such logic lies. Brexit, Trumpism, even racism, sexism and about a dozen categories of other -isms are reminders that sometimes, to create a character’s narrative, I need to step out of my zone. First, think about what I would do. Next, think about what the normal person and the average person would do. These may all be the same, or not. Then decide to have the character do something perhaps by doing the opposite, and then explore those results. It can be head-spinning but it may also be liberating. After a time, I become sufficiently immersed in the character and situation that less and less of these exercises are required.

Okay, that was the fruit of my meditating and walking today. Time to write like crazy, one more time.

Let’s take it from the top.

0

A Little Disappointed

Today is June 14th, Flag Day in America, and I’m a little disappointed.

This is when the Second Continental Congress, in 1777, adopted our red, white and blue national flag. Flags are flying to celebrate, but come on, what kind of American holiday is this? Where are the chocolates we buy and present to one another to show our patriotism? There are no Hershey’s Kisses in red, white and blue foil. No one is saying, “Come on over, we’ve having a Flag Day barbecue.” NASCAR isn’t running a Flag Day 500 sponsored by (insert your sponsor here). Where are the radio ads promoting gigantic Flag Day sales at JC Penny’s, Sears, Walmart, Target, Lowes or Home Depot?

Children aren’t giddy with pleasure that today is Flag Day. Nobody is walking around, pausing to ask, “Are you ready for the holiday? Do you have any special plans for Flag Day?” There’s not a single red, white and blue marshmallow peep for sale anywhere to honor this holiday, no restaurants broadcasting, “Bring the family in for Flag Day. Show us your flag and receive ten percent off.” Fireworks are missing, and there are no parades. I didn’t see Flag Day cakes in the bakeries, or even brownies, cupcakes or cookies.

Really, America, where is your marketing sense? You’re missing out on another area for profit, another reason to celebrate being American with gifts, food, parties and booze. Look at what you’ve done with Christmas, President’s Day, Valentine’s Day, Memorial Day, Father and Mother’s Days, the Fourth of July, Labor Day, Halloween, and Thanksgiving, along with birthdays and graduations. Here is a holiday passing you right by without any show of patriotic consumerism and hedonism.

I am so disappointed.

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