McEmergency

Dear Congressman,

I am sure there are times that you have had to meet and field questions from people that made you wonder how they managed to accomplish the feat of tying their own shoes that morning. Here is another example of such an individual.


ALOHA, Ore. – An Oregon man spent Memorial Day in jail after dialing 911 (999 in the UK) to complain that a McDonald's worker was rude and didn't give him an orange juice he ordered. The individual was accused of improper use of the emergency telephone number.

The Oregonian newspaper reports that the 20-year-old bailed out of the Washington County Jail on Tuesday and could not be reached for comment.

A Washington County Sheriff's Sgt. said the individual ignored deputies who told him the emergency number isn't to be used for straightening out fast-food orders.

A McDonald's employee also called 911 during the incident to complain that the individual and the people with him were blocking the drive-thru lane and knocking on the restaurant windows.


So, we have two identical problems here.

First, the individual who does not understand conceptually understand the true nature of emergency. Just for the record, there are probably very few laws on the books against rude behavior. I personally have been treated abusively by a fast food employee, but being that I planned on consuming whatever they gave me in the bag I thought it best not to upset them further, lest I end up eating something usually dished up on the TV show "Fear Factor".

Second, when did blocking a drive through lane and knocking on a window comprise an emergency situation? He probably would have gotten away with the phone call to 911 if the McDonald's employee hadn't called the same number to complain about their rowdy behavior, so if I was the Police on the scene I would have arrested both callers. Last time I looked, most Police and Sheriff departments have a non-emergency phone number in the local phone book. And if the McDonald's management did not have this number posted somewhere....well.... hey, there's an idea for ya!

Is it really that difficult...

Dear Congressman,

I will be the first to admit that on occasion I will come to this forum and rant on topics that are of absolute no interest to you. This is one of those days....

I would like to address this blog entry to the young man in the noisy bondo-covered Chevy Cavalier who was riding my rear bumper so closely I felt inclined to offer him a breath mint. However, upon reflection, I have serious doubts as to whether this fine upstanding citizen has spent much of his adolescence in pursuit of the expansion of his literary proficiency, except in rare cases where he eagerly dived into his dusty rarely used copy of Websters Dictionary to ensure that his latest tattoo was in fact spelled correctly.

In cases where we are on a highway and Mr. Nascar fan decides to draft my bumper I simply flip the turn signaling device on my vehicle to indicate that I am clearing a path for him to resume his attempted recreation of George Miller's Mad Max/Mad Max 2: The Road Warrior and then continue on my merry way. The problem in this case is we were in a suburban neighborhood where the speed limit was 25 miles per hour. This individual clearly felt that somewhere around 50 miles per hour was an acceptable alternative in lieu of my observation of local traffic ordinances.

To understand my perspective, it is best explained in this way:

If you as a parent or a pet owner let your children or beloved Fido/Mimi play on the freeway/highway/motorway, then Darwin's theories of natural selection apply and I am fully entitled to plow them over with my car, while all the while trying to minmize the damage to my personal vehicle. However, if you allow your childen and/or to play/roam on your local neighborhood street where the speed limit is their for their protection, then the minimum expectation on my part is that I watch for them and proceed at a speed that will allow me to react in time in the case they step out in front of me.

There was a very good radio ad that ran in England last year. It was the sound of a car hitting a kid at 35mph, then silence. Then the announcer states that the next sound is a car hitting a kid at 25mph, with a thump followed by loud crying.

The ending message: if you hit a child while driving at 35mph, there is an 80% chance that you will kill that child. If you hit a child while driving at 25mph, there is an 80% chance that the child will survive.

Your call, tattooed backward yankee cap dude......

A Memorial Day observation

Dear Congressman,

I trust that you had an enjoyable weekend with you family during the Memorial Day weekend. Since my brother served in Iraq I try to take the time to thank the members of the US military who sacrifice so much for our personal freedom.

With that said, I think many war veterans get a raw deal from the country that is willing to give them a day a year but not the medical care they deserve.

In my naivete, I had hoped that Vietnam was the last major conflict that the men and women in uniform would have to suffer from the after effects of the experience of war. However, with the Iraq conflict, their is an entire generation younger than myself or my peers that have just begun their struggle against post traumatic stress disorder brought on by the events of the war that they have shouldered on our behalf.

This weekend, Cathleen Whitley wrote an excellent opinion in the LA Times that drove home this point. I would recommend reading it as, in my opinion, it hits home very directly.

We as a nation are great at thanking our veterans with a hand shake and a free round at the local bar, but when the fanfare dies down and the soldier is back in civilian life, we fail them at the time of their greatest need, the need to remove the shame associated with PTSD and recognize that it is not a sign of weakness, but an increasingly ignored cry for help.

My dream for Memorial Day in ten years time? That I don't drive by a city park inhabited by homeless vets that we shook hands with and bought rounds of beer for those ten years earlier.

Charge it.... or just shoot it, my good man!

(Please note that this is written in 21st century Victorian, translation is below)

My Dear Congressman,

I send this dispatch with sincere thoughts and prayers that it finds you and the beloved members of your domicile of excellent constitution and of favorable disposition. In reference to my own ignoble circumstances, I would be of dubious manner to make declaration of that matters of social and financial natures were not of an acceptable character in the present juncture, so it is with all vivacity that I report to you the amiableness from which I currently preside.

I feel I would be remiss as your most meek and humble servant if I were not to bring to your attention a concern, though minor in its intrinsic disposition, that raises the question of the willingness of the political establishment for which you honorably serve to dutifully focus upon the veracious requirements of the people of this good and bountiful land. It is but a trivial matter, but no truer its existence does but demonstrate this very inclination toward so vile and deceiving a practice.

During my morning ritual of reflection and contemplation of the various sources of information made available to myself, I have become aware that your accomplished and well-meaning colleagues have rightfully judged it of utmost necessary to curb the depraved and contemptuous practices of the money lending establishments, lest they continue to turn virtuous and wholesome people of this land into mere shells of themselves, only good for chains and drab tides that debtor's prison will so surely bring them. One of your compatriots did not share of this conviction so freely, as they saw opportunity of a selfish and prejudiced denomination. To that of which I speak, already know to you, is the brackish codicil that against good taste and common sentiment would sanction rogues and boors of an unsavory sort to cavort in our most prized National landmarks while ladened with accoutrements for purposes unknown.

I sincerely beg of your Grace, please advocate to your esteemed journeymen with the most expedient tone and strength of heart that the addendum is of a caliber not worthy of consideration of merit that would be due from a celebrated and exceptional assemblage such as the category your peers are presumed to be akin.

I remain your loyal and humble servant,



Translation:

Dear Congressman,

How are you? I am fine.

Got a complaint. Nothing big.

The credit card bill is good. Tacking on a rider allowing firearms in National Parks is crap.

Tell everyone.

Later,

Why I hate looking for lawyers (part 2)

Dear Congressman,

To continue from Friday's search, I called another local Butler county law office to find an attorney to take care of filing the form I need for inventory on probate. Here was the conversation last Friday:

Receptionist: Greade, Greade, and Fehr, Penelope speaking, how can I help you.

Me: Hi Penelope, I found your law firm in the yellow pages and I am looking for someone to file a form I need for my probate inventory.

Penelope: Mr. Wolf handles probate matters in the office but he has left for the day. If you leave your name and number I can have him call you on Monday morning?.

Me: Thanks Penelope.

I look at my watch and notice that it is only 2:45. Must be nice to be able to keep bankers hours.


Lets fast forward to Monday. It is now 3:30 in the afternoon and still no return call from Mr. Wolf. Thus I dial the phone.

Receptionist: Greade, Greade, and Fehr, Penelope speaking, how can I help you.

Me: Hi Penelope, I called on Friday regarding a probate inventory matter and, I believe it was you, referred me to a Mr. Wolf, who was going to return my call this morning. However, I haven't heard from him so I am just following up.

(definite pause)

Penelope: Mr. Wolf is currently at lunch. Would you like me to take your name and number and have him call you after he returns.

Me: (puzzled) Yes, thank you , Penelope.

Now, for the record, I googled this guy. Mr. Wolf is a junior member of the law firm with only a couple years of experience, so I seriously doubt he is still at lunch at 3:30 in the afternoon. That kind of longevity of dining hours is reserved for senior partners only.

So unless I hear from Mr. Wolf sometime this afternoon it is back to the drawing board....

sigh....

Why I hate looking for lawyers

Dear Congressman,

Since your background is not law I will take the liberty of using this forum to vent about something other than your six pack a day smoking habit.

Since the passing of my mother, I have spent copious amounts of time working on the probate of her estate. As part of this I am required to sell her condo, which is being fixed up as we speak and getting ready to go out on an already glutted Cincinnati real estate market.

As part of the probate process in Butler County, a certification is required that shows that the property deed for real property in Probate was examined by an attorney. Everything else a lay person can do, however an attorney must perform this task.

Since I have never had occasion to retain council, I broke out the old yellow pages and began the search for local attorneys that advertised handling probate matters. I found several, wrote down there information, and decided to make calls last Friday to see if I could have one perform the task in question.

The first one I contacted was a small local Hamilton Ohio firm that appears to practice in the area that was of my personal interest. Here is a transcript of that call. (the name of the firm has been changed to protect... well.... me!)

Receptionist at Law Firm: Dewey, Cheatem, & Howe, this is Claudette speaking, how can I direct your call?

Me: Good afternoon, I have probate matter that requires a filing of a document with the Probate Court by an attorney and wondered if .....

Claudette (cutting me off in mid sentence in a very icy tone): I'm sorry, we don't give out free legal advice over the phone. You will have to come in to meet with someone. Hold on, let me check next week's schedule.

(Hold music begins to play)

Claudette: Mr. Cheatem has an opening on Tuesday morning or Thursday afternoon.

Me: What time on Tuesday morning as I have to come up from the airport to...

Claudette: (again, not letting me fully finish my thought) that would be at 11:00am.

Me: No, I a meeting that I can't reschedule and by Thursday I was hoping to have this matter completed so I will have to decline. Good day.

Click.....

Soccer Theatre

Dear Congressman,

As you are well aware, my family immigrated to the US back in the late 60's, with my father accepting a job at the General Electric Evendale aviation facility. We have all become naturalized citizens, however the passion for that sport panned in the US but loved worldwide remains with us, as my father and I still regularly try to get together to watch an English soccer match on weekends.

This season in the English Premier League, they instituted a fair play policy that made it a penalizable offense if someone other than the team captain complains to the referee.

However, this rule has not been instituted in the rest of European, so the affect has been that to see some really bad acting jobs you must now tune into the Italian or Spanish leagues. Here is a breakdown of the routine you will see throughout the European Leagues.


The referee has just blown the whistle to signal a foul. There are two common scenarios playing out now:

Offending player: The player who caused the foul at first acts nonchalant as the whistle is blown, stopping to turn and look toward the referee slowly.
Then, in a stroke of true performance, he gazes at the referee with a look of complete astonishment that the foul has been called against him.
After holding the look of incongruity as long as possible, he runs up to the referee to attempt to get him to change his mind. The incongruity is now morphing into anger, as the player stands very close to the referee establishing that 1) the ref has been out to get him the entire game, 2) the opposing team has committed more unrecognized offenses that the player will now list for the referee (not unlike the amazing recollection of events instantly quotable by your wife when you are arguing with her) and 3) that the ref is in fact responsible for everything that is wrong with the state of the economy and is the most despicable person on the planet.
Within 15 seconds of the rant starting, several teammates come in to assist the player with their thoughts and hand gestures for the referee to enjoy, which at this point the whole scene begins to look like a trading pit at the Chicago Mercantile Exchange. In spite of the continued efforts of the player and his teammates, history has demonstrated clearly that these tactics have failed in leading to a reversal of the decision approximately 100% of the time in the last 120 years.
Once this piece of theatre is complete, the team disperses to defend against the free kick, while the original offending player moves quickly into the contempt phase of his performance, choosing to either completely ignore the referee or inform another player on the pitch of the alleged loose morals of the referee's mother.

Fouled Player: This performance, while requiring more physical skills, is actually an easier task then the offending player's role. In this case, whether the offending player lightly tapped him on the knee or shot him with a revolver, his job is to fall to the ground like he has been shot out of a canon and writhe around in agony only surpassed by someone suffering from the effects of the bubonic plague. Once he have done this for 10-30 seconds and the referee has come over to see if he is done acting or, in rare cases, actually does require the assistance of a physician, the fouled player must switch into accusation mode, lashing out at the offending player and explaining quickly to the ref that the extent of your injuries and potential loss of future livelihood makes it an undeniable requirement that the ref show a red card to the offending player and have him escorted off the field immediately.
Once back on his feet, the fouled player must hobble around for at least 2-4 minutes before resuming regular play for proper emphasis.

And you thought playing soccer was easy.....

Evolution - refrigerator style

Dear Congressman,

Could not help sharing the following from this mornings news wire, as anyone who has ever worked in the corporate world has a similar story.

Rotten office fridge cleanup sends 7 to hospital

AP SAN JOSE, Calif. – An office worker cleaning a fridge full of rotten food created a smell so noxious that it sent seven co-workers to the hospital and made many others ill.

Firefighters had to evacuate the AT&T building in downtown San Jose on Tuesday after the fumes led someone to call 911. A hazmat team was called in.

What crews found was an unplugged refrigerator crammed with moldy food.

Authorities say an enterprising office worker had decided to clean it out, placing the food in a conference room while using two cleaning chemicals to scrub down the mess.

The mixture of old lunches and disinfectant caused 28 people to need treatment for vomiting and nausea.

Authorities say the worker who cleaned the fridge didn't need treatment — she can't smell because of allergies.


With that said, our frig here in the lunch room has never reached the epic standards set by San Jose's ATT office. Normally, after space runs short, someone will step forward, analysis the contents of our unit, and sanitize it for good measure. We have occasionally found items in plastic containers way in the back that are attempting to evolve into higher life forms, but never has a Friday afternoon frig cleaning lead to the a visit from the Fire Department or the EPA.

And for the record, those are some pretty impressive allergies if 28 of your co-workers were blowing chunks and you did not even grimace....

Miss California survives to pose another day.

Dear Congressman,

In a day that was fairly light on news, I noticed the following that hit the AP wire:

NEW YORK – Miss California USA can retain her crown even though she failed to reveal she had posed in her underwear as a teenager, pageant owner Donald Trump said Tuesday.

Carrie Prejean appeared by Trump's side as he made the announcement at New York's Trump Tower.

Trump also defended the answer that Prejean gave at last month's Miss USA pageant when she was asked her view of marriage by judge Perez Hilton, a celebrity blogger. She said she believes marriage is between a man and a woman.

Only a couple of small issues here.

1. Who cares? She did not win the Miss USA pageant, most likely because of the scores given by the scorned Perez Hilton, and unless her boyfriend/dad/uncle/obsessed fan decides to "gillooly" the actual contest winner, the highlight of Carrie's year will be smiling and waving for hours on end perched on a float in the New Year's day Rose Bowl parade and making personal appearances in skimpy clothing at County Fairs all across the state. And lets face it, who can name the actual winner of last three Miss USA pageants anyway....

2. Kudos to Ms. Prejean for creating a whole new category of marriage. In her answer about her views on marriage, she separated gay marriage from "opposite marriage". Personally, I think some compromise is good in a marriage, but if you treat your relationship like one of you is a Republican and one of you is a Democrat, then ...well... let the bickering commence!

3. How on earth did Donald Trump get his hands on the rights to the Miss USA pageant? This guy gets on my last nerve as it is, but to see him making moral judgements (see Tara Conner fiasco) at highly staged press confereences on behalf of the American public to the world at large has a nausea factor higher than anything ever directed by George Romero. There is nothing quite like "the Comb-over" standing at the microphone passing sentence on 19 year olds and their behavior as if he is the shining Saint of virtue.

4. Perez Hilton????? Your real name is Mario Lavenderia... that has a better ring to it then a parady on an over hyped shop-a-holic and party girl....

There... I feel better now...

Big Love - South African Style

Dear Congressman,

This weekend, between yard duty and running errands, I took time to scan the headlines of several of our countries beleaguered newspapers. One article stood out above the others from the Washington Post:

Which Mrs. Zuma Will Be South Africa's First Lady?

By Karin Brulliard
Saturday, May 9, 2009
JOHANNESBURG, May 8 -- To the rarefied ranks of first ladies such as Michelle Obama and Carla Bruni-Sarkozy, South Africa will add Sizakele Khumalo. Or will it be Nompumelelo Ntuli? Or Thobeka Mabhija?

Though South Africa's recent general election featured all the mudslinging of a fierce political battle, it was long expected to result in the victory of ruling party leader Jacob Zuma, who is to be inaugurated as president Saturday. The real mystery -- one that has intrigued South Africans for months -- is which of Zuma's wives will be the nation's new first lady.

Zuma, a 67-year-old Zulu traditionalist, is about to become South Africa's first polygamist president. Confronted with the first lady question, spokesmen for his party, the African National Congress, have typically declined to respond or noted that the constitution does not touch on the issue, thus allowing Zuma to choose or alternate. The party, in fact, had stayed mum on just how many wives and children Zuma has -- figures that even his biographer could not nail down.



An interesting problem for the diplomatic corps, don't you think. I can just see the receiving line at the next Johannesburg soiree, Mr. Zuma, followed by the first lady, the second lady, and the third lady, depending on which order was determined by a previous ballot. Or will they be collectively introduced as the "First Ladies"?

For the record, polygamy is still illegal in South Africa, except in cases from a 1998 law that allowed men of tribes that had traditionally participated in multiple marriage partners to continue the practice.

So now we can greatly anticipate Michelle Obama's dilemma during the next official visit from the South African President.

"Good morning, Thoebeka..... oh you're Sizakele.... no... you're Nompumelelo" You're Sizakele's assistant? Can't you gals wear nametags or something????"

The extent of my morning dialogue..

Dear Congressman,

It has been a hectic day here working on the financial records of CVG, so I thought I would take a minute to share with you a few snippets of the numerous fascinating interactions I have had this morning with my fellow co-workers.

7:05am While walking in the above ground tunnel from Terminal 2 to Terminal 1.

Me: Good Morning!

Unidentified member of the Housekeeping department: Hi.... (mumbled in a low tone without making eye contact.)

7:15am In the administrative lunch room.

Female member of Planning Department: Good morning Rich, how are you?

Me: I'm fine thanks. How are you, Connie?

Female member of Planning Department: Good, thanks for asking. (as she walks out of room)

8:07am On the way to the copier.

Male member of Information Technology: Hey Rich.

Me: Hey John.

9:36am In the hallway on the way to the men's room

Me: How are you today, Kim?

Female member of Government Affairs: Good Rich. TGIF huh?

Me: Oh yeah.

10:12am Back in the lunch room again.

Male member of Purchasing: Hi Rich. (never taking his eyes off the TV in the corner of the room)

Me: Hi Mike.


Well, that's about it. I must admit I think I probably dropped a few IQ points this morning....

No really....

Dear Congressman,

As my recent trip to England has demonstrated, I am not eligible to ever be elected President of the United States due to my place of birth being outside these shores. Even though I am a naturalized citizen, I still follow English soccer as an avid fan, as this is one of the few sports that runs August - May of every year with National team tournaments (Euros 0r World Cup) in the even numbered years during the summer. Can't say that about the NFL, can you.

Oh wait, we are both Bengals fans thus we would probably not be able to handle the type of suffering, humiliation and self loathing that would come from watching the Cincinnati Bengals continually lose games for 9 months on end.

But I digress...

I came across an article that demonstrates that disingenuous team management is not strictly a United States phenomenon. As follows:

"Sunderland chairman Niall Quinn has rubbished reports that Craig Gordon is not being picked to avoid paying a bonus of £330,000 to Hearts. The keeper has played 49 times for the Black Cats following his £9m move from Hearts and the bonus payment will be triggered when he plays his 50th game."

Now Craig Gordon is Scotland's starting goalkeeper and could be an asset to most teams, but it takes someone with a world class poker face to stand up to the media and say with a straight face that one of their team's best players is "riding the pines" because of a hangnail rather than the other $495,000 (£330,000) reasons.

So kudos to Niall Quinn and his straight face...

Link to NY Times

Dear Congressman,

This morning I read an interesting article from the NY Times website by Allison Arieff entitled "Searching for Value in Ludicrous Ideas" For now I will just post the link, but I should have some thoughts for you later once I get caught up at work.

http://arieff.blogs.nytimes.com/2009/05/04/searching-for-value-in-ludicrous-ideas/?th&emc=th

Enjoy...

Back from the UK

Dear Congressman,

I wanted to reassure you that I have not stopped blogging but just took a week off to go to England and scatter my mother's ashes on my uncle's farm in Dorset. I have attached a few pictures from the trip for your viewing.



















It is amazing how the parking garage in Bath knew that I was coming to town as they renamed the top deck in my honor!



















And the Bath traffic authority was keenly aware that Melody was in the process of re-evaluating certain aspects of her life.

















For the record we went 50 yards down the road and there was no one down there having intercourse that we could see....



















After drinking copious amounts of beer in the local pub, I woke up the next morning with my mate Burt still hanging by me. He assured me that nothing untoward happened between us in the wee hours of the night....

















This is not a trick photo... the road is only slightly wider than the car I am driving. A little later up the trail we came across a tractor, thus we had to back up about a quarter mile until we could find a turn out and get out of the way.

Word to the wise: if the GPS on your UK rental car wants you to turn on to an "unnamed road"... don't.

















These were stocks were in the yard of the church in Creech St. Michael where my mum and dad were married many moons ago. Gives a whole new meaning to "with this ring I thee wed"....