Misadventures in License Renewal

Let me just say it. February sucks. It’s a short month. It’s a cold month. It’s the month when I must renew my car tags. Luckily, my county/state has joined the 20^th century and allows me to renew my tags on-line. Unluckily, they are stuck in a 19^th century mind set where they think they must charge for this extra-added service.

Here’s how it works. They mail postcards with the renewal information. At the top of the card is a PIN which you can combine with your plate number on the county web site to renew your tag. Sounds pretty straight forward. So what is the cost? First, they charge $2 per tag to cover their mailing costs. Forget the fact that both my tags (tiny stickers with “2011″ on them) came in the same envelope. Second, the software company who maintains the site for the county is going to charge me another $5.50 to cover the bank charges of the credit/debit card.

So I get to pay an extra $9.50 to save the county the labor costs involved in processing my tags in person at the courthouse or one of their handy satellite offices. Genius! Well, if you know me even from just this blog, you know I’m not one to let idiocy go unchallenged. Fortune smiled on me and gave me the perfect opportunity to mess with these people because the instructions on the web site were convoluted to say the least. Remember, you must use your tag number and PIN (Personal Identification Number to complete the transaction. The PIN has about 4 leading zeros, but I’m not prejudice. Zero is a number, too.

These are the instructions on the renewal site:

The renewal notice will be required so that you have your “ONLINE PIN” to type in to the OnLine Pin field on the renewal form. Your OnLine Pin is case sensitive and must be entered in all capitals.

The bold emphasis is theirs. I’ll let the fact go that they are inconsistent with the use of “on-line” and “PIN”. Now tuck this away. We’ll need it later. Here is the feedback I left after completing my renewal transaction:

Charging a “convenience fee” to use an on-line system that saves the county hundreds of dollars in labor by not having to process transactions in person is counter-intuitive. “Counter-intuitive” is the only polite word I could think of for such a ridiculous concept. Even charging the $2.00 mail coverage fee doesn’t take into account the savings over the more labor-intensive, in-person, courthouse transaction.

I received a very polite, detailed, and lengthy reply from the company who provides the software and service for the county. I’ve changed the company and respondent’s name to protect the innocent. I haven’t changed mine because I’m far from innocent in this whole affair.

Randy,
The convenience fee is not charged by the county nor do they profit any amount of this money from this service. This is charged by us, Milking You For Nickels LLC an online processing company that provides this service for the certain counties. We charge this amount because we pay the bank fees, credit card fees, provide software, telecommunication lines and customer service. This service is just another option of paying for your tag renewal. You could have gone to the county yourself and stood in line, used your car and your gas money to get there and not had to pay this fee nor the mail fee. You also could have mailed in this payment and sat and worried if they received this payment with the mail fee included and guessed at when you might receive your decal and pay the mail fee. This service is simply for the convenience of not having to do this by mail or go to the county office. If we did not provide this service, the county would have to raise taxes on the residents of your county to provide this and I don’t believe that would go over well. I am sorry you are vexed by this fee and hope you understand the concept now. Thanks and have a great day!!

Jane Smilesalot

Sure I understand. I understood where the money was going before I left the feedback. The point that is lost on them is the on-line process more than makes up for the labor involved in processing my transaction in person or even paying someone to sit at the courthouse and open envelopes.

Here’s a recent news tidbit to prove my point. Another Alabama county has laid off so many workers they don’t have enough staff to process their tax collections arriving by mail. They literally don’t have enough money to pay workers to open, process, and deposit the checks that would (you’re ahead of me here aren’t you?) pay for workers to collect the taxes. I think we all see how they could benefit from an on-line tax payment system.

Anyway, back to my exchange with Milking You For Nickels LLC. Let’s pull out those instructions I quoted previously for this one.

Ms. Smilesalot,

Thank you for your reply to my feedback on the tag renewal site.

I see we agree that we are both saving the government money by not overwhelming their facilities in person. I certainly don’t begrudge your company from making a profit from their contract with the State. It seems that the state has forgone their responsibility to collect the tax and simply allowed MYFN LLC to collect it directly as compensation for their services. I actually like that since the more the money changes hands, the less effective it is. I guess convenience and tax are a matter of perspective.

From the consumer’s perspective, using the internet to transact business isn’t a convenience. It’s a necessity. Please excuse me for not sharing your “just another option” perspective. Most businesses prefer and promote internet solutions for the simple cost effectiveness. I think you’re selling your service short in that respect.

While we are on the topic of convenience and standing in lines and saving gas, who will compensate me for my inconvenience due to your site’s unusual instructions and requirements?

When I read “Your OnLine Pin is case sensitive and must be entered in all capitals,” (quote from the renewal site) I was confused since PIN (note the proper capitalized form) is an acronym for Personal Identification NUMBER. My keyboard lacked any capital numbers.

I rushed to my local computer store to purchase a keyboard compatible with your site’s capital numbers, but was told there were none in stock. I then visited three other stores until I found the equipment necessary to input capital numbers and complete the transaction. My expenses are itemized as:

1 high-end, specialty keyboard with capital numbers...$74.99
48 miles round-trip travel @ $0.52/mile...............$24.96
2.25 hours @ my customary billing rate of $48/hr.....$108.00
1 bottle of water to prevent dehydration..............no charge
Total expenditure....................................$207.95

As you can see, this was not a convenience for me at all since your site’s software did not work with standard lower case numbers (I say lower case because number entry does not require the Shift key) available on standard computer keyboards. I would deduct your $5.50 fee from my charges, but you’ve already billed me for that so I must insist on the full $207.95 in compensation for the convenience of your services.

This being the internet age and for your convenience, I accept payments via this email address @PayPal.com.

Thank you,
Mr. Randy Barefoot

After giving poor Jane a few days and receiving no reply, today I followed up with this:

I haven’t heard back from you, Jane. How about a barter? I’ll waive my charges if you will change the following paragraph found at www….renewinfo.shtml

“You must have your renewal notice in order to use the online renewal system. The renewal notice will be required so that you have your “ONLINE PIN” to type in to the OnLine Pin field on the renewal form. Your OnLine Pin is case sensitive and must be entered in all capitals.”

Since a PIN is by definition a number, there is no need to emphasize the entry of it “in all capitals.” I know that sometimes the term PIN can be used loosely to apply to a combination of letters and numbers, but in the case of your on-line renewal system, your PIN is an actual number.

Your instructions combined with the fact that your PIN has leading zeros could mislead people to enter the letter O.

Please correct your instructions.

Just to complete the circle of crap, they actually have instructions on the page where you enter the tag and PIN combination that warn against confusing the letter O with zero.

So here I sit wondering where my correspondences went. Did they take it seriously and kick it upstairs for further evaluation? Did they simply stamp it “ass hat” and deleted it? Did they get my snarky point? Are they going to change their poorly written instructions? I don’t expect them to stop charging people for the convenience of doing business on-line. That would be too much to hope for.

Remember folks, someone has to do these things so you don’t have to. As you see, I’m fully willing and able to fall on this grenade for the team. If I do hear back from MYFN LLC, I’ll certainly let you know what their decision was. Until then, keep smiling and hoping that stupid groundhog was wrong. We don’t need to prolong this winter. I don’t know if I mention it, but February sucks.

Five Things You’ll Never See On My Facebook Status

The Weather
If you want to know what the weather is where I live, go to Weather.com and look it up. I don’t post, “33 and snowy. Brrr!” My reasoning is two-fold. One, people only care about the weather where they are. Two, if you are where I am, you know what the weather is like. There are 10,000 places to check the weather and neither you nor I are meteorologists.

If there is a tornado ripping up my town, I might post, “Holy crap! There’s a tornado ripping up my town! If you live in the Greenlawn area, kiss your ass goodbye!” But that’s about the extent of my meteorological expertise.

Tornadoes are fairly common in my area. You should fully expect to see me post one day, “It’s coming right fer us! Well, what do you know? It really does sound like a freight train! The house is coming off its…arrrrrgggghhhhhhh!” Yes, in the interest of science, I will take the time to type “argh!” as I’m sucked into the funnel. I’ll upload pictures if time permits.

Only 4 more to go, click here > > >

Almost but no cigar, you malware vermin

Here’s an email I just received. Can you spot the little signs that this is malware?

Dear customer!
The courier company was not able to deliver your parcel by your address.
Cause: Error in shipping address.

You may pickup the parcel at our post office personaly.

Please attention!
The shipping label is attached to this e-mail.
Print this label to get this package at our post office.

Please do not reply to this e-mail, it is an unmonitored mailbox!

Thank you,
DHL Global Forwarding Services.

attachement -> DHL_Label_3819.zip 23.9 kb

Here’s the little things that should clue you in that the attached zip file is malware.

Dear Customer! – Who addresses an email this way? If this were legit, DHL would have my name. Unless English is your second language, you know better than to end your salutation with an exclamation mark, too.

The courier company – Huh? DHL suddenly forgot their company name?

You may pickup the parcel at our post office personaly.[sic] – DHL would not refer to their facility as a “post office.” I would also hope a legitimate source would know how to spell “personally.”

Please attention! – More bad English. ESL is always a good sign the email is bogus.

ZIP – And finally we have the zip file attached. A legitimate email from DHL, FedEx, or UPS would have the tracking number and other details in the body of the email. If we weren’t fully convinced that this was all bogus, seeing the zip file attached should cinch it.

The subject line of the email was “DHL Customer Services. Get your parcel NR.5796″. I’ve never seen a package carrier who doesn’t love numbers. 5796 is a tad bit short. Normally package tracking codes or reference numbers are longer than your arm.

Keep your wits about you. Learn the signs of a malicious email.

• Bad English
• Unnecessary punctuation, often exclamation marks in hopes you’ll get excited, too.
• No reply return addresses. Though some companies use them, customer service contacts usually don’t. Legitimate customer service contacts would usually rather deal with you by email and provide an address.
• Things that just don’t add up like DHL forgetting its company name or referring to their facility as a post office.

Let’s be careful out there in the big scary interweb world, kids.

The Fall and Further Fall of Local Talk Radio

I’ve reached the stage in life where my parents have become pretty smart. One lesson they taught me was “take care of the small things and the big things take care of themselves.” It seems true. They lived their lives that way and retired well. My father (peace be upon him) just didn’t get to enjoy it for as long as he deserved.

Yesterday, I felt the need to share this valuable lesson with someone who happens to be a local disc jockey. He prefers “talk show host,” but we’ll compromise on disc jockey because I know he hates that. It’s also a much milder term than “ass hat” which, though more fitting for his pompous personality, just isn’t polite. Bless his heart.

It all started innocently enough. I tuned my car radio to my local news/talk station in hopes of catching the morning traffic report. You see, during the morning drive-time, the biggest draw on WVNN is the traffic report. In fact, the reasons to tune-in to WVNN’s morning line-up in descending order of usefulness and importance are:

1. the traffic report
2. the weather report
3. the news
4. the commercials
5. the emergency alert test squelch
6. any accidental dead air
7. the Dale Jackson show

Having just missed the traffic report, I was forced to sit through Mr. Jackson blathering joyously about his first show of the new decade. His comments rang my fact-checker bell. When I reached the office, I sent the following email to dale@wvnn.com

Subject: Please stop with the New Decade stuff

Dear Mr. Jackson,

Please stop perpetuating the myth that we are in the second decade of the 21st century. Decades, centuries, and millennia start in year one. Note, there is no year zero on the Gregorian calendar. The 21st century and new decade began on January 1, 2001. The first decade of the 21st century still has a almost a year left. It ends on Dec 31, 2010.

I know your show is an opinion show, but some facts are simply facts. Calendars are squarely in the facts category.

I followed the email with this tweet to @TheDaleJackson: Stop with the “new decade” stuff. The 1st decade of the 21st c. doesn’t end until 31 Dec 2010. Knock it off!

I figured even though Mr. Jackson’s show bears the disclaimer “opinion,” some things are not open to interpretation. The fact the Gregorian calendar starts with year 1 (there is no year zero) is a small, but important thing. I figured if someone was going to talk about weighty topics like politics, my wasted tax dollars, the state education budget, or the joys of owning a pet ferret, he’d want to get the little facts right. This would increase his credibility when he began pontificating on the flammability of his own farts. I figured wrongly.

My first clue that things were not going well was Mr. Jackson’s reply to my first tweet where he simply makes fun of my name. Even before kindergarten I learned that name calling served only one purpose – to deflect attention from the real problem. My less-than-common and slightly unusual name is a perfect springboard for those who have no other defense, especially wit.

Here’s how the Twitter exchange spiraled out of control after the initial contact.
@theRealBarefoot: Indeed. I am the real and genuine Barefoot and the decade still doesn’t end until 31 Dec 2010. Get a calendar. Get a clue.

@theDaleJackson: you seem very serious about this decade stuff. Doesn’t seem like a good way to start the new decade.

@theRealBarefoot: If you can’t get the small things right, people question the big things like thinking Doc Griffith ain’t all that bad. (Doc Griffith is a reference to Congressman Parker Griffith (R) 5th District, AL for whom Mr. Jackson has a real bad boner.)

@theDaleJackson: You were the guy that was screamin “THIS ISN’T THE NEW MILLENIUM”in 2000 weren’t you? Aren’t you special. (I think that was meant to be a question though it lacked proper punctuation.)

@theRealBarefoot: It’s useless to argue with someone like yourself who just wants to argue and belittle. What’s this on my radio, NPR? *click*

@theDaleJackson: Sure thing pal. You are listening right now just liek [sic] you were yesterday. Welcome to the new decade.

@theRealBarefoot: No. Not listening, but I did look at your website long enough to notice the giant ego that is your tag cloud. (“Dale Jackson” is by far the most dominant phrase in his site’s tag cloud, lower right of the site. Oh, and I honestly was not listening to his radio show at this point.)
@theRealBarefoot: Next time you have someone on your show who brings up education in AL, ask them how to read a calendar.

@theDaleJackson: You are really irrationally upset about this decade thing. Huge ego on a talk show host? That is a phenomenal observation. (I would have gone with the classic “Dr. Obvious” quip here, but no one claimed Mr. Jackson came armed to what is turning into a battle of wits.)

@theRealBarefoot: The calendar doesn’t upset me. Your response to a simple fact check does. Is “can’t be wrong” in your contract?

@theDaleJackson: Actually it does. It also says I must put up with idiots and crybabies. Keep in mind you are mad I said it was a new decade (To clear your confusion here “Actually it does” would have been the proper response if I had said “Does it say in your contract, “You can’t be wrong?” He seems to be reading his own thoughts into my tweets.)

@theRealBarefoot: If I’m mad about anything, it’s chowder heads who perpetuate any type of error even when faced with simple facts.
@theRealBarefoot: Thank you for your correspondence. It’s been your pleasure to have someone pay attention to you for more than 6 minutes. (The “6 minutes” quip refers to the need for morning drive-time radio to repeat itself about every 12-15 minutes due to its revolving audience.)

@theDaleJackson: If only I had an outlet to talk to people and tell them what I thought. Don’t think your [sic] important because I engaged you.

Here I let Mr. Jackson have the last moronic word in our Twitter exchange. It was obvious to me that he was no longer reading my tweets. Apparently, 140 characters is a bit too much information for him to ingest in one sitting. Anyway, the response necessary to such a malicious salvo requires more than 140 characters.

No, Mr. Jackson my brief sullied encounter with you does not make me important. My worth as a human being is not measured by your warped yardstick. I’m important because I’m a loving husband and father. I matter because I have a brain and think rationally. I count because I provide for my family and am a faithful friend. I’m important because I’m a productive member of society who produces tangible goods and services and not just something slightly more distinct than arrogant belching for sleepy coffee swillers.

I started this post with what I feel is one of life’s important lessons. Being a man who hates stagnation, I like to find something new in whatever life sends my way. I’ve struggled to find something lasting and good from this brush with Dale Jackson. These are the diamonds I’ve squeezed from this rough patch of coal.

Lessons Learned
Having a microphone and 50,000 watts does not increase one’s intelligence. Mr. Jackson is the self-proclaimed “smartest of the dumb.” Having a radio show only ensures that his ignorance is heard by slightly more people than the crazy homeless man who shouts at traffic.

Some people have a face for radio. Not only does Mr. Jackson typify this old adage, he also has a voice for newspaper. His abrasive, caustic bark, some say the result of undescended testicles, is only over shadowed by his striking resemblance to a 5 foot 4 inch penis with a barely distinguishable human face.

If you expect the worst from people they will live down to your expectations. When I asked, “Is ‘can’t be wrong’ in your contract?” Mr. Jackson’s reply was, “It also says I must put up with idiots and crybabies.” It takes only a few minutes of listening to his show to hear Mr. Jackson’s opinion of me extends to his entire audience. This speaks volumes about Mr. Jackson lack of real character and maybe just a little bit about his audience.

I liken this attitude to the cop who, after dealing with criminals all day, begins to see only the criminal in everyone. This is a sad outlook on life. I’ve always found when you expect and encourage the best from someone, more often than not, you get just that. However, the very existence of this blog posts proves the converse is true, too.

Take comfort in your radio. There are dozens of stations from which to choose. I shall thank the most benevolent God daily for NPR, classic rock, and even the CD player in my car. Any alternative to the befuddle bemoanings dripping out of WVNN every weekday morning is welcomed. If by some weird twist of karma, my radio becomes locked on WVNN, I pray my windows still roll down so I can drown out the snivelly whining and erroneous prattling of Mr. Dale Jackson with the rushing drone of the wind.

Merry Xmas 2009

Here’s a new carol for those who are still shopping on Christmas Eve. It’s set to the tune O Holy Night. Sing it with feeling.

O holy crap! I forgot to buy a present,
It is a night that I soon will regret.
I drove to the mall only to find no parking.
I had to park all the way cross the street.
The stores are full, old ladies hitting children,
They are sold out of everything I need
Fall on your knees! Begging for a discount!
O night unreal, The night when I screwed up.

O holy crap! Did I just punch that store clerk?
I better run from mall security
Forget this crap, I think I find a bar.
A bar where they still all know my name.
Now I’m so drunk, I don’t remember why
I came out on such a bitter night
Run from the cops! I can’t afford the ticket.
O night unreal. The night I went to jail

O holy crap! My cell mate’s name is Bubba
He thinks that I have a real pretty mouth.
The bail bonds are closed. I even miss my in-laws.
I wish someone would come bail me out.
I’m so drunk Bubba is looking cute
This ain’t right. I really should be home.
Fall on your knees! On second thought that’s bad
O night unreal. The night when I screwed up.

Merry Xmas everyone! Here’s to another great year to come.

Chore Man Creeps Neighborhood Kids

For the wife and me, one of the selling points of our home was the neighborhood. There’s no thru-traffic and it has sidewalks, honest-to-God sidewalks. It also has plenty of children sprinkled about its 200 homes. We can count on about 50 kids on Halloween. That equates to 30 or 40 rings of the door bell that drive my dogs insane. To keep some peace in the place, I’ve taken to sitting outside and meeting the kids in the driveway on Halloween night.

This year, I sat for about three minutes before the fallen leaves and pine needles started calling me. I figured I was going to be out there for a couple of hours and had plenty of time to rake between the attacks from the little goblins so I grabbed a rake.

This seemed to throw the little costumed buggers off their candy scam. They didn’t know what to make of creepy chore man raking his yard by floodlight. Obviously, kids want to get as close to chores as they do to flesh-eating zombies. When I would catch a gaggle of them debating whether to approach the house, I’d shake my rake at them and tell them the trick was they had to put a handful of leaves in the trash can for their treat. One group of older girls (older in Halloween terms means about 12), surprised me while I had my 40 gallon trash can in tow. I promptly thrust the can in their direction and said, “Trick or treat! My bag is bigger than yours so fill it up!”

I did almost have one taker on my offer to work. I little five-year-old boy was feeling pretty tired and sat down in my driveway. While his dad was trying to perused him to move on, I told him if he stayed he’d have to help rake leaves. He said, “OK.” I gave him an extra piece of candy for his willing spirit.

The thing that impresses me about Halloween, at least around these Southern parts, is that parents use it to teach kids manners. There is a prescribed formula here when begging for candy which includes a cajoling parent in the background saying, “What do you say?” at the end of the sweet transaction. Without fail, every clink in a plastic pumpkin is met with a mask-muffled, “Thank you.”

One additional lesson taught this year was English. The Hispanic parents were not only teaching their kids manners, but English, too. Or maybe the kids were teaching the parents. I’m not sure how that went, but they all had great costumes. After all, Mexico goes all out for el día del muerto. Hispanic dad had full-on, movie-worthy skeleton make-up like he was an extra in a Tarentino film.

God, I love America. Bring us your tired, your poor, your huddled masses and we’ll all dress up, eat candy, and get drunk together. Next year, when a little Mexican kid shows up at your door with a made-in-China plastic pumpkin, begging for candy in the finest Anglo-Saxon tradition, give of your chocolate freely. There’s nothing like a good holiday to give us a common touch-point and remind us all to say, “Thank you.”

For Everyone Who Ever Knew a Dog

Canis fidelis

When my toes are not exposed
On my fingers you do linger
With your little lapping tongue.

When my door is not ajar
With your paw you make a scar
An echo of your tiny “Let me in.”

When my day is not the best
In my lap you ask to rest.
Tell me all is well my warm and furry friend.

If you could you’d crack a grin
Instead, your leg begins to bend
As you roll and ask to have your tummy rubbed.

And when the day turns into night,
You don’t bark nor do you bite.
You know exactly where to lie and be on guard.

You were my fine and faithful friend.
We were together in the end.
I hope the same is said of me when I am gone.

For God’s Sake, Don’t Google That

My three-day bout with some sort of nasty bacillus-er-other has come to a close. Thank y’all for the many get-well wishes. What ever this thing or things was, presented a new symptom every day. I won’t go into the gory details, but to say, “For God’s sake, don’t Google your medical symptoms.” I did and it really messes with your head.

The body’s natural defenses have to get rid of all those nasty bugs so it’s natural that things smell differently at some point. I plugged in “odor” into Google and its handy “I’m guessing what you’re thinking based on things other people searched” feature filled out all sorts of weird guess. Just a side note, people who use Google, and that means everyone, are curiously dreadful people, including me.

After visiting a couple of the the top hits, I determined that I have one of the following:

• Celiac Disease though I’ve never had it before and it’s a genetic disorder.
• Advanced, Stage 3 liver cancer though you’d think I’d have noticed some other symptoms before now.
• Any one of several heavy metal poisonings from eating large amounts of certain fish which I don’t eat.
• Am possibly pregnant. Call the National Enquirer.

For now, I’m going with “it’s just my body getting rid of all the nastiness.” But all this got me thinking. It sure would be helpful if there were people out there who could make heads or tails out of all this mess. Sure, it might take a little more college to learn this stuff, possibly four years or more. In the end, these people would be able to help us figure out what’s ailing us and maybe even help us get well. They could even dress up in funny costumes like white coats and whatnot. Yeah, probably a pipe dream. Besides, when you’re sick, you don’t feel like getting out to see people anyway.

So kids, learn from my mistakes and stay off the Google for medical advice. If you believe everything you read on the internet, you’ll be doing surgery on yourself with a power drill and Swiss Army knife in your garage out of the fear that some ganglionic mass has taken over your pituitary gland. All because WebMD said you may have Nakajo syndrome. Well House, if you do have Nakajo syndrome, your parents were siblings and no amount of warnings will dissuade you from your self-surgery.

As for the rest of you, be well.

Oh, and if your armpits smell like tacos, the cure for that is “take a shower.” That’s a freebie from me to you.

Well, We’re Movin’ On Up

I’ve bemoaned my crappy digital camera for about as long as I’ve had it. The whining didn’t fall on deaf ears, either. My wife is a good listener and when she saw a good deal on a Kodak M420, she thought that would make the perfect “that’ll shut him up” Xmas gift. I’m glad she told me about it because I was about to buy a new camera for Xmas.

I was concerned that this one would be a piece of junk, too. You see, the one we have is one she got a really great deal on, too. So Xmas came early when it was delivered today. We needed to take if for a test spin so we would know whether to return it during the 30-day trial period.

In just four snaps, I was convinced to keep it. Not that any camera would have to do much to be better than the crappy Mustek we have, but this Kodak M420 takes pretty decent pictures.

It has:

• about 20 pre-set modes for various situation
• a tight/wide toggle under the right thumb
• a 27 second video w/ sound recorder (sound isn’t great)
• a big 3.5 inch (diagonal) LCD screen
• and best of all, a motion/blur stabilizer

The blur stabilizer is the feature I like best. With the old Mustek, I had to hold my breath for 5 seconds to get a decent shot. Plus, the Kodak takes much better close-ups than my old camera. Getting a good close-up is invaluable when putting pictures of items for sale on the web, which I do for my daughter’s craft site.

For a comparison here is a shot of my then-newly planted Angel Trumpets shot with the Mustek from about 4 feet away.

Angel Trumpet

Here is one of the Angel Tumpets today shot with the new Koday M420 using the zoom from about 18 feet away

Angel Trumpets in Bloom

Keep in mind, this was the third picture I took with my new camera, but I can already tell it’s going to take better pictures than my old one. Obviously, it’s not a professional’s camera or even a great personal piece of equipment, but when you’ve struggled for as long as I have with that Mustek P.O.S, anything is a step up.

I wish I had taken some before pictures of my chimney repairs, but here’s the after. You have to look closely to see that the side, which was what was replaced, isn’t exactly like the old siding (on the left and under the light). Much thanks to my cousin who gave me a family discount on the job.

Chimney Siding

Where Does the Crap in My Head Come From?

Seriously.

I woke up this morning with song lyrics in my brain. Woke up, mind you. I did not acquire these from my recent environment. I haven’t heard this song in years. Yet, there it was spewing out of my mouth as I made coffee, as I read my email, as I showered. It wouldn’t stop.

This brain worm would be understandable if it were something recent, but this song was released in 1968. It got jammed into my cerebellum sometime in the 1970s, probably from an album (yes, vinyl) I inherited from my sister. Why did it decide to produce itself fully formed this morning?

Now here’s where you laugh. The song is Tapioca Tundra. Never heard of it? I’m not surprised. It was written by Mike Nesmith. Yes, that Mike Nesmith of the Monkees. So I still have to wonder, why is there a Monkees’ song stuck in my brain at 6:40 AM?

Maybe because it’s really good poetry. Maybe because I was exposed to it as an impressionable youth. The specific lyrics I woke up with are:

And softly as I walk away
In freshly tattered shoes.
It cannot be a part of me
For now it’s part of you.

Sunshine, ragtime
Blowing in the breeze.
Midnight, looks right
Standing more at ease.

That’s all I could remember until the shower water hit my head. Then suddenly the first verse started gurgling out from under the water:

Reasoned verse, some prose or rhyme
Lose themselves in other times
And waiting hopes cast silent spells
That speak in clouded clues.
It cannot be a part of me
For now it’s part of you.

I was sure that no one else in the world remembered that tune. I had to be the only one who ever heard such an obscure song. So I went to our modern repositories of all things cultural, Google & YouTube. There were the lyrics as big as day on multiple lyric’s sites. YouTube is devoid of any original Monkee’s recordings, but a few covers exist there.

I’m not alone in my insanity. That’s comforting.