RANT

At 8:02 PM yesterday my phone rang. I didn't answer it. They left a voicemail ..., well, my voicemail recorded a portion of an automated schpiel. "... dot com. Simply log in to your account to redeem your thirty one dollars. At Verizon we care about you? Thank you and have a nice day." I put the question mark there because that's the inflection. Appropriate?

Of course, I'm not a Verizon customer. So I knew it was a scam. I am actually thinking about BECOMING a Verizon customer when I retire, but this has me rethinking that. Why? Here's my RANT:

This is a known scam. It is not the only one. How many of you have not had a similar call or email over the last year? What bothers me is that they have a phone number: 800-922-5555. I googled it:

http://www.onlinethreatalerts.com/article/2013/6/5/bogus-verizon-automated-phone-calls-and-phishing-website-mybonus130-com/

Anyone who operates a telephone scam has a commercial account with a telephone carrier. They have a number. It's not like they can't find them. I'm sure they pay their phone bill. Perhaps that is why the phone companies don't do anything about this.

"Oh, we can't do anything about this." "This sort of thing is impossible to track." BULL! They know exactly who is behind these scams, and what they're doing. They CHOOSE not to put a stop to it. The article above has been online for over a year.

I have much more to gripe about but I'm already late posting this.

I can retire in 163 days, so as soon as that guy in Nigeria puts that money in my account I'm outta here. But until then....

GET OFF MY LAWN!!!!!

Six Months

Six months from today I will be retired.  That's still over fifteen million seconds, but it's getting close. Still not sure I'm gonna make it.

It's been a busy couple of weeks.  If I had started on this a couple of days ago I had something to say.  Not now, of course.  I did actually have a request (from one of the two people who read this) to elaborate on the creepy billboards.  I probably will.  Not now, of course.

I wrote the above last night.  I was going to clean it up and post it today, but I had killed google drive sync on my laptop so I couldn't get to it.  I started to recreated it, but today was a busy day.  At least I think I'll get it posted by midnight.

It seems like I also had a picture to include in this post.  But I can't think of it now.  (Of course.)  Maybe I will before I post it.

Oh, yeah, I think this was it:

(That was my first Kickstarter investment, btw.)

Anyway I can retire in 184 days, so get off my lawn!

200

It's Wednesday, and the online calculator says I can retire in 200 days. Since I plan to post this at closing time, the widgit will say I have 199 days, 7 hours and 15 minutes. Close enough.

I've been thinking about the creepy billboard I blogged about a few weeks ago. It was replaced last week (by another that I also find creepy in a similar but more subtle way.) I may have to say more about it later. Right now I want to eat lunch.

But since I can retire in 17,280,000 seconds, you kids get off my lawn!

Happy Independence Day.

I started the week with thoughts of blogging about something serious.  But I got over it.  Maybe later. Maybe not.

Today is a day to celebrate our independence as a nation.  As a nation founded, perpetuated and run by human beings, it is not perfect.  But in my opinion, and I don't think I'm alone in this, it is still the best ever devised by humans.

And while I'm spouting my opinions, let me share this one with you:  the greatest weakness of any democratic government, whether it is a representative democracy (or Republic) like ours, or direct democracy (ridiculed as "mobocracy in days gone by,) is that its continued existance depends entirely upon an educated and informed electorate.

Okay..., take a deep breath now.  I didn't say we're doomed.

I know that, with the seven people who actually read my ravings, I'm preaching to the choir here.  It's the other 299,999,993 we have to worry about.  But they're not all registered voters, so you can cut that in half.  We can do what we can.

Allow me to digress for a moment.  MANY years ago, shortly after I finished college in 1979, I was talking to a friend who related a conversation he had recently had with one of our high school classmates.  He had asked her who she was going (at this point I think "hoping" would be more accurate) to vote for in the 1980 Presidential election.  She replied that she hadn't made up her mind between George Bush and Ted Kennedy.

Another deep breath here.  In retrospect there really isn't as much difference between those two choices as there appeared to be in 1979.  But it still doesn't indicate a strong command of the issues.

But we can do what we can.  We can't rely upon the educational system or the media to educate or inform the electorate.  What we first MUST do is educate and inform ourselves.  We can't change anyone else's opinion through argument.  What we CAN do is encourage those who appear to be less informed to educate and inform themselves on the issues.  You can lead a horse to water.

I'm going to treat myself to another digression down memory lane.  Another second hand story, from another friend.  It was during the Savings and Loan scandal of the early eighties.  Phil Donohue had a very popular talk show.  In that bygone era, talk shows operated a little differently:  when the host asked a question, he allowed the guest to answer ..., and actually LISTENED to the answer.  Even if he DISAGREED.  That doesn't really apply to this instance, but if you can find any Donahue interviews on YouTube, particularly of conservatives, you can see this quaint custom from time immemorial.

But on this show about the Savings and Loan bailouts Donahue was in the audience allowing them to ask questions.  One guy stood up and asked "Why should the taxpayers pay for this?  Why doesn't the Government do it?"  As I say, I didn't see the show myself, but I am told that Donahue, for once, was speechless.

So, when we can, lets lead those horses to water.  It looks like I got serious anyway, but this is nothing near what I started the week with.

And I'll be able to start drawing retirement in 226 days.  So until then you kids ..., what the heck, it's Independence Day. You can stay on the lawn but keep away from the barbecue pit.

Is it just me?

Or is this:

the creepiest billboard of all time?

The one (there may be more) in Baton Rouge is slightly different ..., I'm not sure about the number of faces (not to mention mouths) but this is the first image I could find on google.  I know the one(s) I've seen specify HIV testing, while this one appears to be less specific.

I guess on this subject creepy may be good ..., I'm not sure what I think about that.  Nor am I sure what that says about the world today.

Neither am I sure whether I have anything else to say today.  I guess we'll see.

Apparently not.

Anyway I can retire in 233 days, so get off my lawn.

Feeling older still

On December 7, 2012 I posted a blog that I titled "Gettin' Old."  (I didn't even mention that it was Pearl Harbor Day.)

Of course, gettin' old is inevitable, if you live long enough.  Feelin' old ..., that sorta comes in waves.  There are a lot of things that can make you feel old.  When you think about something that was just the other day, and realize it's been 30 years ..., it sorta makes you feel old.  It's just the amount of time that has elapsed since yesterday that increases.

Some people feel old at 30, some at 40 ..., for me it was 36.  Thirty six and a half (or thereabouts) actually.  I was driving down the road and heard the Alice Cooper song "Eighteen" on the radio..., and realized that it had been 18 years since I was 18.  (And all the other statistics that entails, which I won't inflict on you now.)

This past weekend Cheap Trick played a water park in Baton Rouge, Louisiana.  I feel old.

I was just looking at one of the articles I read for last weeks blog.  Last Friday was the sixth full moon to fall on Friday the Thirteenth in my lifetime.  I just realized that on the next one I will be 92 years old (in the unlikely event that I'm here at all.)

I can retire in 240 days.  I know I had more to say, but I can't think of it now.  Maybe next week.  Until then, GET OFF MY LAWN!

Full Moon

You saw me standing alone.  (That's "Blue Moon," I know, but this one doesn't happen once in a blue moon.)

It's Friday the Thirteenth.  I feel compelled to blog today, because the next Friday the Thirteenth will be my last day of work.  Today is the only Friday the Thirteenth this year.  There will be two next year, in February and March.  (Except in leap years, if February has one, so will March.)

It is also a full moon.  The article on this page:

http://www.vox.com/2014/6/12/5801196/tomorrow-is-friday-the-13th-and-a-full-moon-that-wont-happen-again

calculates that "the odds of a year having a Friday the 13th full moon are just 5.81 percent. That means it happens, on average, every 20 years or so."  While the conclusion is correct, the calculations are bunk. They start with one chance in seven that any given day will be a Friday.  Fridays don't occur at random. They occur in a fairly regular succession..., about one every seven days to be exact.  Likewise, full moons occur in regular succession, as does the 13th of the month.

But at least they gave me the Friday the Thirteenth Full moons for a couple of centuries.  The reason I went looking is that I remember where I was on Friday July 13th 1984.  I was Scoutmaster of the Troop I grew up in, and we were at Summer Camp that week.  I had 3 boys from my Troop and 3 from another Troop in the same town, and we combined.  Since I was chronically unemployable (I called myself "Self Employed") at the time, I could stay the whole week, with other adult leadership switching out as needed.

The Scoutmaster of the other Troop..., I'll call him "Bob," went with us, swapped out with an Assistant from his Troop, and came back Thursday.  (I may have some of the details off, but HEY, it's been THIRTY YEARS!)  One of the boys from the other Troop was the Scoutmaster's son..., I'll call him "Bob, Jr."

As an aside, I'll mention a tale that my Scoutmaster told me (or it might have been another adult leader he was telling when I was a kid, and I was just eavesdropping.)  He had a boy in the Troop once who was epileptic.  The kid was probably self conscious about it (since kids that age are self conscious about EVERYTHING) but his parents didn't inform the Scoutmaster about the condition.

In case you are not aware, if you're going to send your kid off into the woods camping for any length of time, it's probably a good idea for the adults in charge to be aware of ANY medical conditions.  I promise you, they won't make your kid wear a Scarlet "E," or line 'em up "Bedwetters over here, sleepwalkers over there."  They just need to know.

Anyway, my Scoutmaster's story ended, of course, with a seizure and a trip to the emergency room, but it could have been much worse (especially if there had been a less experienced Scoutmaster in charge.)

But back to 1984.  July.  12th.  Thursday.

This camp had a nice variety of "overnight hikes" for the Troops.  That's where you take the Troop and spend the night away from your "regular" campsite, in a more remote (or at least different) area of camp.  Two in particular were the Swiss Family Overnight and the Huck Finn Overnight.  I scheduled us for the Swiss Family on Thursday and the Huck Finn on Friday.

Bob came back to camp on Thursday.  I think I may have mentioned these two overnights before he left.  Anyway, he probably seemed to be a little nervous about 'em but I didn't really notice.  (I was pretty green back then.)  This camp has a pretty good sized lake, and the Swiss Family overnight involved canoeing across and spending the night in a treehouse.

So we're up in the treehouse, bedding down for the night, and Bob seems nervous (but again, I don't notice until I look back on things later.)  He says, attempting nonchalance, "I hope nobody sleepwalks," and puts his sleeping bag down right in front of the opening to the ladder "just in case."  I figure that's a pretty good idea, but don't give it much further thought.

A little later I'm awakened by a sort of startled "Huh?  What's that?"  (Or words to that effect.  It's been 30 years.)  I get up and Bob Jr. is standing at the railing with his flashlight, looking down at a possum on the ground.  (I know the proper name is opossum, but I'm from the south.  Deal with it.)  Anyway, I say "it's a possum, go back to bed."  And I assume he does.  The rest of the night is uneventful (but Bob didn't seem to get much rest.)

Friday.  I was already aware that I would have my Troop in camp on the first Friday the 13th Full moon in 14 years.  I figured it would be a great night for ghost stories (but I don't remember if we told any or not.) And the Huck Finn overnight was spent on a raft in the middle of the lake.  Full moon.  Friday the Thirteenth. Does it get any better?

Bob seemed a little frazzled (but of course I didn't notice, until later.)  The treehouse had a railing.  The raft had a lake.  Bob did a good job of arranging sleeping bags (not Bob Jr.'s tho') around the perimeter.  Mine and his were at the edge, and maybe one or two of the older boys.  Bob Jr. was near the center tho'.  We all went to sleep, the moon was full, there was plenty of light (for the middle of a summer night in the middle of a lake.)  I'm usually a pretty sound sleeper, and I was even worse back then, but I was semi-aware of someone getting up.  I think I might even have realized it was Bob Jr.  I figured he was getting up to take a leak.  (We were all males on a raft in a lake ..., I'll let you figure out where the urinal was.)  Anyway, the boy approached the edge, near me.  I figured that nature's call would be answered.

Then I heard a splash.  And an alarmed voice ..., even more so than it had been at the possum.  But I was near the edge, and he went in close to me.  I rolled over and extended my arm, grabbed his and pulled him back onto the raft.  (This is called a "reach rescue," or at least it was when I was a Scout.  I never got Lifesaving Merit Badge, but ever since I have bragged that I can do a reach rescue in my sleep.  I really still can't believe I was able to do that.)

Anyway, I got him back on the raft, Bob got him a towel, got him dried off and back to bed.  And I still didn't realize Bob Jr. was a sleepwalker.  I was kind of dense back then.

I gained a little more experience with sleepwalkers in Scouting, but I know one of them reads my blog (or has in the past.)  I'll wait for his permission to tell any of those stories.

Anyway, I can retire in 247 days (and in 245 it will be Friday the 13th.)

So you kids get off my lawn!