So, Chipotle

I won’t be eating at Chipotle restaurants for a while, if ever.

The Guardian had an article that mentioned Chipotle by name.

“As inflation shot to its peak around mid-2022, Chipotle’s prices also rose, pushing up what customers paid for burritos and bowls by as much as several dollars. Since then, the fast casual restaurant’s costs have broadly fallen. Prices have not.

“Chipotle’s decision to maintain high prices helped boost profits 110% in recent years, while its executives boasted to investors that they raised prices higher than inflationary costs.”

There’s a list of companies and their profits in the article. Like Cheesecake Factory, with a fat 471% increase. Won’t be going there, thanks.

TBH, I only visit three of these places and it’s not that frequently. My exception is Starbucks. They’re one of my regular Ashlandia coffee haunts because the local places that I loved are gone. That just sucks.

Meanwhile, as you prepare to vote and you hear people complain of inflation and high prices, mention this article. Also mention that energy companies have seen record profits as well.

And let’s not forget grocery stores.

Face it, boys and girls, as voters scream about inflation and corporations complain about wages, regulations, and taxes, corporate executives are becoming stupidly rich.

All at the nation’s expense.

Geofloofgy

Geofloofgy (floofinition) – Science which deals with the location of animals on the Earth. Origins: 1735, from New Flooftin.

In Use: “People with floofs often needed to become geofloofy experts to that they could figure out whre their little fur demons might be tucked away napping or getting into floofchief.”

In Use: “With her well developed understanding of Martin’s geofloofgy, Marge went through the house, opening drawers cupboards, checking windowsills, peeking under furniture, checking the laundry basket, for where the little floofdrel was managing to hide.”

Friday’s Wandering Thoughts

So, it’s a mini-rant on a subject tapped before. I don’t understand some drivers.

Followed a guy along city streets today. I don’t know if it’s germane but the Santa Cruz truck which he drove sported Oklahoma plates. Rental, student, visitor, new arrival who hasn’t registered their vehicle yet? Couldn’t say.

In the 35 MPH zone, they slipped along at 30-31. Okay, they’re cautious, I thought, Maybe looking for something.

The speed limit plummeted to 25 MPH. They cruised through, pulling away from me.

And that dichotomy is what manufactures my ire: why do they go below the speed limit in one area and above the speed limit in another. That’s so contradictory to me. It’s like, and I don’t know if this is what they think, “I’m just going to establish my own speed limit and adhere to it no matter what the local signs say.” Or maybe it’s something they picked up from their parents. Perhaps it’s an Oklahoma habit.

As I said, I don’t understand some drivers.

A Wysocki Completed

Another jigsaw puzzle was completed last night. I worked this one alone. Started last Saturday night, I finished Thursday evening. It was fun and easy. I enjoy his stylized simplicity, how he minimally incorporates shadows and textures as lines. It’s such a contrast to my style was I was painting and drawing. Somewhat like my fiction writing, I always focus on the interplay of shadows and uncertainty. It reflects my personal philosophy that most life is part of a large band of gray confusion.

Apologies that my photo isn’t sharper and clearer. Those are pumpkins on a wagon above the hat store on the right, and white chickens in the road.

Many more Wysockis were available at the library of things. I’m passing this one on to a friend because I think he’ll enjoy it, and picking up another.

Thursday’s Wandering Thoughts

I ordered a new knob for my gas range. It’s the third one I’ve had to buy for the GE Profile range. The range is about six years old. Quality, right? Headshake.

Anyway, I’m tracking the knob. They said it shipped. I looked up the details.

After being picked up by the carrier, it arrived at the carrier facility, and then arrived at a carrier facility, and then arrived at a carrier facility. All the carrier facilities are in Arkansas.

It’s like, such strange progress. But then, another part for something else last week left California, south of us, and arrived at Eugene, north of us. Then it went further north to Portland. The day after that, it came back down south to Medford, basically northwest of us, before being delivered.

I suspect the folks behind these shipping processes are the same people who are always shouting, “Do more with less!”

Weird Ol’ Facebook

As a boomer, I still surf and share to FB. Mostly to keep up with ex-military friends and co-workers, and track my family on the other side of the country. I share things I write, too.

But I mostly, I ‘like’ things on Facebooks, things being ‘posts’, shares, videos, and photos. I share some of these things which I ‘like’. You might be surprised that I support animal charities and causes, especially cats. Cats and I have been together since I was a young toddler.

One of the FB groups I follow is VOKRA, the Vancouver Orphan Kitten Rescue Association. They posted, with photos, the tale of Jinx. They’re trying to get Jinx (or maybe it was Binx) adopted. I ‘liked’ the post about the sweet tabby kitten. It only had eleven shares, so I clicked share, to help spread the story and get Jinx or Binx adopted. That’s what social media is about, isn’t it?

Boom. Facebook told me they’d removed it. It was offensive and contrary to community standards. They even accused me of (gasp!) posting something just to get ‘likes’.

Posting things to get ‘likes’. WTF is the world coming to?

My wife and discussed this with WTF amazement. What does FB think it is if not a vehicle for ‘likes’? More critically, how the actual fuck did this post about a kitten available for adoption violate FB community standards?

I hate to reveal this to Facebook, but if cats and kittens and adoptions are against FB community standards, there are huge swaths of violations going on right now. They’d probably be scandalized to learn how many posts are about cats and kittens. In fact, if FB goes after posts about kittens and cats, they will seriously deplete their membership, posts, and shares. They might as well pull the plug on telling each other ‘happy birthday’ while they’re at it.

Truthtfully, I suspect that some poor Facebook AI bot is just having a bad day and removed a post that shouldn’t have been removed. Maybe their companion AI bot left them or they caught their partner AI bot in a compromising configuration with another bot doing forbidden codes.

I don’t know. I’m just speculating. Hope someone takes that poor AI bot aside and communicates with them over a cup of coffee.

Coffee always helps.

And yes, I will post this to Facebook to get likes. Ironic, isn’t it?

Thursday’s Theme Music

Mood: Opticoffeetized

It’s warm in the house. Windows were closed all night against smoke’s rising presence in our valley. I’m up early to see if the air has improved enough that windows and doors can be opened.

I clean the grit from my eyes. When the air quality gets bad, eye grittiness increases. Then, I tilt my head back. Saline nasal spray is applied to my nostrils. I blow the gunk out. Better.

The view outside is bad. Can’t see the mountains for the smoke. Higher elevations have worse smoke and terrible air quality. Down here, closer to the valley floor, the air is a health risk with the quality index hovering in the 150-160 range. The windows are cautiously opened. It’s already 70 outside but it’s 78 F in the house.

Today is Thursday, August 1, 2024. Our high temp will be 104’s neighborhood. 40 degrees C.

There are 96 days left until the 2024 elections. Turmoil has seized the GOP. Trump feels his advantages falling, so he’s twisting, attempting to change positions that are more amenable to voters. His twisting is disconcerting his party and straining loyalties.

Meanwhile, the Democrats are working more solidly together. The DNC is coming up and they’re moving smoothing toward it as glowing endorsemnts from prominent Democrats are given to Kamala Harris. I’m certan that they’re going to emerge with a solid and progressive platform, unlike the GOP, which is trying to distant itself from the Project 2025 playbook while simultaneously embracing it.

I read a NYTimes piece by former Governor Christopher Sununnu (R-NH) about what the GOP needs to do. Focus on policies and don’t depend on just attacking. Well, that’s basic, simplistic advice that Don Old Trump can’t follow. Attacking is what he does, especially when pressure on him increases. It’s his mojo, in is mind. Witness his attacks and hostility during his trial last May. More recently, look how angry and belligrent he became at the NABJ meeting, where he ended up questioning Kamala Harris’s race. Insane.

Today has The Neurons playing “Broken Wings” by Mr. Mister from 1985 filling the morning mental music stream (Trademark roasted). I think the song came from triple points of view in my morning cogitations. One was about me and some DIY I’m doing, along with novel writing. I was thinking about things I need to fix. Then the thinking shifted into politics and the things which needed fixed. That was all just an invitation for The Neurons to bring up the “Broken Wings” line, “We can take what is wrong and make it right.” The rest just followed.

Smoke is flavoring the breeze. My nostils are stinging and dribbling. A headache has taken up residence and I cough and sneeze. Time to close the windows.

Stay positive, lean forward, be strong, and Vote Blue in 2024. Coffee and I are doing the dance. Here’s the music. Cheers

The Delivery

Tucker (pronounced Tuck-ah) came to the room’s door. Sitting down, he composed his tail and then looked at me. Then, very deliberately, in a deadpan voice, he enunciated, “Me. Ow. Me. Ow.”

It was so weird. He never says “me. ow.” He says, Mrrrmpf,” and variations of that, like a grumbling old man too bored to bother with a whole meow. Or very loudly, sharply, “Mmrrrrowl.” But “me. ow”? No.

It was like he was doing some offbeat feline impression of Bob Newhart or Steven Wright as a cat. “Me. Ow.”

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