In my last post about the assassination of President Kennedy, I mentioned that my dad and I were in Los Angeles looking for an automobile when we learned the tragic news. It turned out, that because it didn’t seem appropriate nor practical to do business on that bleak Friday afternoon, we came back a few days later to purchase what became, (tah dah,) my first brand new car.
Now, for a New York kid that was only twenty-two, I had already bought and owned four cars, each with money I had saved from jobs since Junior High. One of them was a 1932 Plymouth that didn’t run, and was pretty much ruined when I tried to turn it into a rat rod. The next two were Mercurys, a “hot” 1950 coupe powered by a 352 cubic inch Packard engine, and a 1953 hardtop that ended up blowing a rear end on a trip back from the Adirondack Mountains. My last car before being inducted, was a blue and white 1956 Chevy that was, as we called it then, “cherry.” Rather than put it in storage during my three year enlistment, however, I reluctantly sold it to a close friend.
Obviously, every car I had ever owned was bought “used.” So our trip to Felix Chevrolet on November 22, 1963, was indeed unique. My dad had impressed upon me, that in California a CAR (not a dog) was man’s best friend, and without one that was reliable I might find myself stranded on a busy freeway, unable to get to classes. So between my Army savings, and an unsolicited but generous contribution from him, the decision was made to buy “new.” And buy we did. I ended up driving off the lot in an amazing, fire engine red, 1964 Chevy Chevelle Malibu.
I was SO proud of my new “ride!” I probably washed that car twice a day for the first two months I owned it. And when my Jr. College Freehand Drawing teacher gave us a homework assignment to draw something at our residence, you can guess what I chose as my subject… MY BRAND NEW CAR ! So, for those of you who weren’t around in 1964, or couldn’t pick a 1964 Chevelle out of a lineup, I’ve included those pencil drawings at the top of this post… artistic renderings of my first true automotive romance.
Epilogue: As it turned out, I ended up keeping this car for almost ten years. I would have kept it longer were it not for the fact that it was totaled by a large district delivery truck in my school parking lot. Seems the idiot driver parked on an incline, and forgot to secure the emergency brake, allowing the massive vehicle to roll fifty feet into my “baby,” like a bull charging a bright red, shiny cape. It was an assassination, clear and simple… just like the one on the day we first met!
Forty-nine years ago today, President John F. Kennedy was gunned down in a motorcade through Dealey Plaza, in Dallas, Texas. Bullets fired from high inside the Texas School Book Depository Building as his car passed, not only cut short the life of our youthful and vibrant 35th President, but ripped a hole in the hearts of citizens like myself, shattering for good what was certainly an era of American innocence.
As with most people alive when this tragedy happened, where I was and what I was doing at the moment of that fateful news, is still indelibly etched in my memory. A few weeks earlier I had just been discharged from the Army, and decided to take advantage of the local Junior College system by relocating from New York to California, and living with my dad who I hadn’t seen for almost twenty years. On that Friday, November 22, 1963, the two of us were at Felix Chevrolet on Figueroa Street in Los Angeles, looking for a car I could use for school. Our brief time walking around the huge lot had been more than strange. Instead of being mobbed by hoards of salesmen eager to make a deal, it was absolutely deserted. Even if we had been pushing a wheelbarrow full hundred dollar bills, not one salesman would have been there to notice.
After about twenty minutes we walked toward the showroom entrance looking for someone to answer our questions. The moment we opened the double doors and stepped in, it was obvious that something was very wrong. There were small clusters of people gathered throughout the building, many of them crying and sobbing as others held them close. There was conversation going on, but in such a hushed manner that it was impossible to understand what was being said. At one end of the showroom was a television surrounded by silent spectators, a few sitting on a lounge with bowed heads, but all with postures that indicated they were distraught.
Dad and I walked up to a man who was standing alone, away from everyone else. We asked him what had happened. Turning to us, his answer was tragically simple. With tears still evident on his cheeks, he said, “The President’s dead. They killed our President…!” Dad and I looked at each other, absolutely stunned. In the time it had taken us to drive the freeway from Orange County to downtown Los Angeles, we had lost our national leader.
The rest, of course, is history. But it’s funny, isn’t it? I still get emotional just writing about it. Not only was the life of my President, my Commander-In-Chief, and the beneficiary of my first vote snuffed out that day, so was much of my youthful optimism about the United States of America.
Few have had the occasion to be privy to the blow-by-blow account of a covert Special Operations Mission in progress. The last famous one was the takedown of Osama Bin Laden (see Post #44, January 2012), but even then Americans had to wait until the debriefing was done before any details were divulged. Today I will share with you, the official transcripts of a past Special Ops mission in New Jersey. While it was undertaken in the middle of a suburban neighborhood, it was no less dangerous than the storming of Bin Laden’s compound earlier this year.
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Looks like the Nannycrats are at it again. Here in California, some Pasadena administrators have banned Flamin’ Hot Cheetos on their school campuses. If found on the person of any student, the contraband snack will be confiscated, even if it was part of a lunch that was brought from home.
Many of the reasons for the ban are based on perceived health implications, like Cheetos being a junk food with no nutritional value, and containing too much fat and salt to be anything but a hazard to the kids that eat them. And the ban campaign, gaining traction in two other states, is being nobly characterized as yet another battle in the fight against child obesity.
There are other reasons that bureaucrats want to eliminate these Chastised Cheese Puffs. They include the allegation that when students share them with friends, they pass on germs which can make others sick. It also seems that the bright red food coloring that visually distinguishes this scorned snack, is a burden on custodians who are purported to spend extra time and effort cleaning up tell-tale fingerprints all over school campuses.
Finally, a far more sinister reason has been advanced regarding the subject. In an almost conspiratorial indictment of the processed food industry, some “experts” say that Flamin’ Hot Cheetos are manufactured to be addictive to those who eat them. Labeled a “hyperpalatability” food, its carefully calibrated fat, sugar, and salt content is said to trigger the brain’s reward system causing eaters to crave and consume more and more in an almost addictive manner. In essence, then, the charge is that our kids are being turned into junk food addicts by big business.
Obviously, this whole ban issue is emotionally changed with a host of supporters on either side. My opinion, however, has not changed since I wrote, “Keep Your Fingers Outa My Happy Meal,” in July 2010. If schools don’t want Flamin’ Hot Cheetos on campus, a good start would be to take them out of their cafeteria vending machines. As far as kids bringing them in their lunches, that’s a PARENTAL decision about which bureaucrats should have no say. Instead of acting heavy-handedly, they should inform, educate, and encourage parents to eliminate such food from their kid’s diets, and not presume that being a Nannycrat trumps being a parent.
Finally, to anyone who disagrees with me about this issue, I understand your concern that if the Flamin’ Hot Cheeto “epidemic” continues unchecked, frightening newspaper headlines may become the inevitable result. God forbid we would have to read anything like the following:
- Brisk Underground Hot Cheeto Trafficking Suspected in District Elementary Schools
- Individual Stashes of Flamin’ Hot Cheetos Found In Scores Of Hollowed-Out Middle School Dictionaries
- Flamin’ Hot Cheetos Exonerated: Study Reveals Germ Passing A Result of French Kissing Behind Middle School Buildings
- Teacher Fired After Bribing Students To Pass State Test With Reward of Flamin’ Hot Cheetos
- Fire In School Dumpster Blamed On Flamin’ Hot Cheetos
- Supreme Court Rules That Student Cavity Searches For Outlawed Hot Cheetos Are Unconstitutional
- Area Rehab Centers Overwhelmed With Influx Of Juvenile Flamin’ Hot Cheeto Addicts
- Local Second Graders Overdose on Flamin’ Hot Cheetos: Remain In Frito-Lay Wing of Urban Trauma Center
- Red Stool Sample Of High School Student Proves To Be The Result Of Flamin’ Hot Cheetos, Not Hemorrhoids
- School Graffiti Cold Case Solved After Analysis of Flamin’ Hot Cheeto Fingerprints
- District Drug Sniffing Dog Discovers Cache of Flamin’ Hot Cheetos In School Lockers, Misses Kilo of Marijuana
- High School Students Caught Smoking Flamin’ Hot Cheetos In Gymnasium Restroom
- School Board Upholds Rule That Wearing, “Give Me Flamin’ Hot Cheetos Or Give Me Death,” T-Shirts Is Forbidden On School Campuses
- School District Removes Flamin’ Hot Cheetos From Vending Machines: Loses 80% of Educational Revenue
- Elementary Students Caught Snorting Hot Cheeto Residue Through Cafeteria Straws
- Sixth Grader Becomes Sick After Ingesting Counterfeit Bag Of Flamin’ Hot Cheetos
- Eight Year Old Student Arrested As Kingpin Of Flamin’ Hot Cheetos Distribution Ring
- Child Protective Services Presses Charges Against Hundreds Of Parents For Allowing Students To Eat Flamin’ Hot Cheetos
- Paramedics Extract Flamin’ Hot Cheeto From Kindergartener’s Nasal Passage
- Despite Financial Deficit, School District Spends Thousands From General Fund To Post New Signs At Local Schools That State, “This Is A Smoke-free, Drug-free, Flamin’ Hot Cheeto-free Campus”
I absolutely hate elections, and more specifically years when it‘s time to choose a President! Looking back, the first time I was authentically enthused with any of the national candidates, was in 1960 when Senator John F. Kennedy was running for the White House. Being a young, liberal Democrat, I cast my first ever vote for him that year, and when he actually won I thought it was certainly because of ME. In the end, however, he ultimately lost on November 22, 1963.
The next time I was truly enthused about a candidate, was in 1968 when his brother, Bobby Kennedy, was running for the Oval Office. This time my enthusiasm was shattered when he was shot and killed at the Ambassador Hotel in Los Angeles after winning the California Primary. And while my vote had helped him win here, I would never get the chance to vote for him on a national ballot.
As for all the presidential campaigns after that, they simply boiled down to voting for the least objectionable candidate on the ballot, or whoever I deemed to be the best of the worst. No enthusiasm, no real political passion, just a personal exercise in fulfilling my voting franchise as a good citizen. How sad a comment is that?
These days, my readers know I view most politicians as corruptible, feed-at-the-public-trough, special interest ass kissers whose main work ethic is positioning themselves for the next election. And the only thing more distasteful than them, are the surrogate creeps that “spin” their every word in an attempt to stay on whatever script the campaign feels will make them look good, and garner future votes. In this campaign the BS has been going on for well over a year, and it’s either turned most people’s brains into mush, or just turned them off completely.
I could list a page of other things I hate about elections in general, but one stands out as the most upsetting of all. If you’re a moderate or conservative in a state like California these days, the vote you cast on election day is absolutely a wasted effort. I mean, left coast pollsters could accurately predict winners and losers by simply asking ME who or what I just voted for. That’s because I almost always end up on the losing side, whether it‘s for a specific candidate, a bond issue, or a statewide Proposition. Oh, what I’d give to live in one of those “swing” states like Ohio, where I could at least embrace the illusion that MY vote will make a difference. Here, NOT voting left of center is like peeing in the ocean and expecting to see it rise.
So what am I going to do in this election? Obviously, I’ll bike down to my local polling place and vote as I always do. But perhaps if I was smart, I’d service my bicycle, pack a huge lunch, and start peddling my ass off towards Ohio. And were I to make it there alive, coherent, and on time, maybe for the first time in many years I’d feel like my vote was actually going to count for something.
As to who will get my vote this year, let me tell you a story like one I might use in the Elementary classroom:
“Pretend, Boys and Girls, I inherited an old house that was falling apart, and I hired a contractor who convinced me he was SO DARN GOOD, that in four years my old house would be returned to good or better condition. When the time was up, however, the house looked pretty much the same, even though the nice contractor had been on the job every day, and spent more money than I actually had. Beyond that, some of the house looked even worse than it had when he first started, and his only explanation was that the bid he had won turned out to be VERY difficult. Seems like he’d need four more years to deliver on his promises and fulfill the contract.
Now, this contractor was certainly a nice guy, and convincing in his promises to do better. But the fact was, I had had to live in the broken down house during the first four years of his “fixing up” efforts, and that had been very hard on me, my family, and the neighborhood. So the thought of having to do the same for another four years, plus me steadily losing confidence that this man and his company were even able to do the job, I turned to “Angie’s List” to find another contractor who might fix my house more quickly, and do it effectively.
In the process I heard about someone who claimed to have strong rebuilding credentials, and confidence in his ability to turn projects like mine around. Realizing he certainly couldn’t do worse than the first contractor, common sense said to let the first one go and hire the replacement… with hopes that he and his workers could accomplish what the first hadn’t, or perhaps couldn’t. In short, Boys and Girls, it was nothing personal. My switch of contractors was a simple business decision based on practical necessity.”
That said, Columnist Hal Lancaster once wrote this line that seems to sum it all up: “Getting fired is nature’s way of telling you that you had the wrong job in the first place.” Based on that, and despite my dismal winning record, let’s just say that this year I’m voting as a serious environmentalist… with a willingness to do what I can to help Mother Nature out!
That’s how the Paisano sees it, lose or win. And, OH, by the way… don’t forget to honk if you pass me peddling east to Ohio!
This post is simply an index of all the things I’ve written since this Blog began. I’m sure there was a more savvy way to do it with direct links and all, but since I’m technically challenged and couldn’t find a “gadget” to accomplish the task, I thought I’d just list every post since the beginning, for those who want to read older stuff on a variety of topics.
The posts are listed from oldest to newest. The last portion of each URL gives the title of the post on that date. Skimming just that part, gives you a pretty good idea of what the post is about. You can go to that specific post by highlighting its entire address, “copying” it to your browser’s address bar, then clicking the “GO” icon.
Of course, if you want to review posts by subject matter, you can just click on a specific heading in the “Labels/Tags” column in the right margin. I hope this helps those of you who haven’t been with me since the beginning, and don’t have hours to plow through stuff that preceded your arrival. And, thanks to my small but loyal band of readers who drop by every now and then! Peace!
Paisano
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http://theprattlingpaisano.blogspot.com/2010/07/what-heck-am-i-doing-here.html
http://theprattlingpaisano.blogspot.com/2010/07/artichokes-who-would-have-known_14.html
http://theprattlingpaisano.blogspot.com/2010/07/safe-harbor-captain-phil.html
http://theprattlingpaisano.blogspot.com/2010/07/something-creative-from-past_18.html
http://theprattlingpaisano.blogspot.com/2010/07/keep-your-fingers-outa-my-happy-meal.html
http://theprattlingpaisano.blogspot.com/2010/07/forgive-me-little-black-sambo-i-let-you.html
http://theprattlingpaisano.blogspot.com/2010/07/happy-birthday-to-my-diabetic-friends.html
http://theprattlingpaisano.blogspot.com/2010/07/mayhem-in-express-checkout-line.html
http://theprattlingpaisano.blogspot.com/2010/08/spam-e-mails-can-they-really-improve-my.html
http://theprattlingpaisano.blogspot.com/2010/08/political-porn-courtesy-of-washington.html
http://theprattlingpaisano.blogspot.com/2010/08/three-things-i-need-to-bag-and-toss.html
http://theprattlingpaisano.blogspot.com/2010/08/another-washington-payoff-another.html
http://theprattlingpaisano.blogspot.com/2010/08/another-creative-bit-from-past-teachers.html
http://theprattlingpaisano.blogspot.com/2010/08/little-kids-highly-underrated.html
http://theprattlingpaisano.blogspot.com/2010/08/elvis-presley-remembered.html
http://theprattlingpaisano.blogspot.com/2010/08/practical-suggestions-for-new-school.html
http://theprattlingpaisano.blogspot.com/2010/08/municipal-bonds-or-voluntary-bondage.html
http://theprattlingpaisano.blogspot.com/2010/o9/what-happened-to-honest-discourse.html
http://theprattlingpaisano.blogspot.com/2010/09/why-I-don’t-tweet-twitter-or-talk-like_07.html
http://theprattlingpaisano.blogspot.com/2010/09/conspiracy-theories-about-september.html
http://theprattlingpaisano.blogspot.com/2010/09/something-from-paisanos-e-mail-file.html
http://theprattlingpaisano.blogspot.com/2010/09/kids-view-on-illegal-immigration.html
http://theprattlingpaisano.blogspot.com/2010/09/glimpse-back-at-print-advertising_24.html
http://theprattlingpaisano.blogspot.com/2011/02/its-wonder-im-still-alive.html
http://theprattlingpaisano.blogspot.com/2011/02/my-teenage-escape-from-alcatraz.html
http://theprattlingpaisano.blogspot.com/2011/03/more-stuff-for-bs-bag.html
http://theprattlingpaisano.blogspot.com/2011/03/truth-it-all-depends-on-your-point-of.html
http://theprattlingpaisano.blogspot.com/2011/03/suggestion-for-new-survivor-series.html
http://theprattlingpaisano.blogspot.com/2011/04/cable-television-todays-traveling.html
http://theprattlingpaisano.blogspot.com/2011/05/another-diabetic-treat.html
http://theprattlingpaisano.blogspot.com/2011/05/science-and-religion-compatible.html
http://theprattlingpaisano.blogspot.com/2011/06/fortune-cookie-messages-lets-get-real.html
http://theprattlingpaisano.blogspot.com/2011/06/hardest-letters-I-ever-had-to-write.html
http://theprattlingpaisano.blogspot.com/2011/07/improve-your-mental-health-talk-to.html
http://theprattlingpaisano.blogspot.com/2011/07/one-year-of-prattling-who-would-have.html
http://theprattlingpaisano.blogspot.com/2011/07/when-love-goes-down-drain.html
http://theprattlingpaisano.blogspot.com/2011/07/new-type-of-post-named-after-tiny-pasta.html
http://theprattlingpaisano.blogspot.com/2011/07/with-gratitude-to-mighty-oak.html
http://theprattlingpaisano.blogspot.com/2011/07/living-among-dinosaurs.html
http://theprattlingpaisano.blogspot.com/2011/12/when-life-itself-was-green-movemet.html
http://theprattlingpaisano.blogspot.com/2011/12/diet-that-reflects-times.html
http://theprattlingpaisano.blogspot.com/2011/12/male-and-female-compatibility-another.html
http://theprattlingpaisano.blogspot.com/2011/12/preparations-for-new-year.html
http://theprattlingpaisano.blogspot.com/2012/01/my-theory-on-how-they-found-osama-bin.html
http://theprattlingpaisano.blogspot.com/2012/01/role-model-with-mask-and-gun.html
http://theprattlingpaisano.blogspot.com/2012/01/kids-view-on-dealing-with-world-bullies.html
http://theprattlingpaisano.blogspot.com/2012/02/about-parent-teacher-conferences.html
http://theprattlingpaisano.blogspot.com/2012/02/feeling-at-home-in-ninety-nine-cent.html
http://theprattlingpaisano.blogspot.com/2012/02/success-is-only-signup-away.html
http://theprattlingpaisano.blogspot.com/2012/03/you-cannot-multiply-wealth-by-dividing.html
http://theprattlingpaisano.blogspot.com/2012/03/chopping-away-at-bad-word-choice.html
http://theprattlingpaisano.blogspot.com/2012/03/is-it-authentic-or-high-tech-forgery.html
http://theprattlingpaisano.blogspot.com/2012/03/my-take-on-hbos-game-change.html
http://theprattlingpaisano.blogspot.com/2012/04/abbot-and-costello-discuss-government.html
http://theprattlingpaisano.blogspot.com/2012/04/learning-from-firsthand-experience.html
http://theprattlingpaisano.blogspot.com/2012/04/jaywalking-on-history-street.html
http://theprattlingpaisano.blogspot.com/2012/04/tribute-to-patience-and-love.html
http://theprattlingpaisano.blogspot.com/2012/05/hey-weight-just-darn-minute.html
http://theprattlingpaisano.blogspot.com/2012/05/disappointment-at-30000-feet.html
http://theprattlingpaisano.blogspot.com/2012/05/some-time-ago-reader-said-she-thought-i.html
http://theprattlingpaisano.blogspot.com/2012/06/where-politicians-look-for-solutions.html
http://theprattlingpaisano.blogspot.com/2012/06/gassed-by-our-own-government_18.html
http://theprattlingpaisano.blogspot.com/2012/06/three-cheers-for-duct-tape.html
http://theprattlingpaisano.blogspot.com/2012/07/idiots-among-us.html
http://theprattlingpaisano.blogspot.com/2012/07/which-word-says-it-best.html
http://theprattlingpaisano.blogspot.com/2012/07/no-hassle-corn-on-cob.html
http://theprattlingpaisano.blogspot.com/2012/07/some-geriatric-humor_30.html
http://theprattlingpaisano.blogspot.com/2012/08/the-freebie-frenzy-at-costco.html
http://theprattlingpaisano.blogspot.com/2012/08/e-mail-why-teachers-drink.html
http://theprattlingpaisano.blogspot.com/2012/08/government-subsidized-porn-in-golden.html
http://theprattlingpaisano.blogspot.com/2012/09/more-fuzzy-government-math.html
http://theprattlingpaisano.blogspot.com/2012/09/the-mayan-calendar-and-end-of-time.html
http://theprattlingpaisano.blogspot.com/2012/09/bulge-or-weapon-of-mass-destruction.html
http://theprattlingpaisano.blogspot.com/2012/10/the-bs-bag-is-back.html
http://theprattlingpaisano.blogspot.com/2012/10/more-from-mighty-oak.html
http://theprattlingpaisano.blogspot.com/2012/10/a-way-to-find-my-old-stuff.html
http://theprattlingpaisano.blogspot.com/2012/10/thoughts-on-2012-presidential-election.html
http://theprattlingpaisano.blogspot.com/2012/11/the-attack-on-childhood-by-frito-lay.html
http://theprattlingpaisano.blogspot.com/2012/11/inside-special-ops-mission.html
http://theprattlingpaisano.blogspot.com/2012/11/memories-of-jfk-assassination.html
http://theprattlingpaisano.blogspot.com/2012/11/my-first-new-car.html
http://theprattlingpaisano.blogspot.com/2012/12/if-whales-can-sing-so-can-we.html
http://theprattlingpaisano.blogspot.com/2012/12/a-dental-patients-view-of-mayan-calendar_16.html
http://theprattlingpaisano.blogspot.com/2012/12/santa-cant-so-i-will.html
http://theprattlingpaisano.blogspot.com/2013/01/in-defense-of-dirty-old-men.html
http://theprattlingpaisano.blogspot.com/2013/01/prattling-in-local-newspaper.html
http://theprattlingpaisano.blogspot.com/2013/01/deer-me-another-california-study_21.html
http://theprattlingpaisano.blogspot.com/2013/02/fortune-cookie-messages-for-pessimists.html
http://theprattlingpaisano.blogspot.com/2013/02/get-interested-in-interest.html
http://theprattlingpaisano.blogspot.com/2013/02/to-immigration-reform-advocates-fight.html
http://theprattlingpaisano.blogspot.com/2013/03/get-heck-out-of-my-way.html
http://theprattlingpaisano.blogspot.com/2013/03/confessions-of-energy-vampire.html
http://theprattlingpaisano.blogspot.com/2013/03/let-music-play-on.html
http://theprattlingpaisano.blogspot.com/2013/04/young-paisano-public-prattler.html
http://theprattlingpaisano.blogspot.com/2013/04/oh-how-things-have-changed.html
http://theprattlingpaisano.blogspot.com/2013/04/california-not-so-golden-state.html
http://theprattlingpaisano.blogspot.com/2013/05/the-slippery-slope-gets-slipperier.html
http://theprattlingpaisano.blogspot.com/2013/05/children-and-self-esteem.html
http://theprattlingpaisano.blogspot.com/2013/05/the-instinct-to-get-around-stuff.html
http://theprattlingpaisano.blogspot.com/2013/06/the-death-rattles-of-paisanos-prattles.html
http://theprattlingpaisano.blogspot.com/2013/06/the-famous-feline-got-it-right.html
http://theprattlingpaisano.blogspot.com/2013/07/for-better-or-worse-boys-will-be-boys.html
http://theprattlingpaisano.blogspot.com/2013/07/romance-at-local-park.html
http://theprattlingpaisano.blogspot.com/2013/07/another-attack-on-fortune-cookie.html
http://theprattlingpaisano.blogspot.com/2013/12/woes-of-solitary-man.html
The other night I was flipping through the channels when I came across the last of the Harry Potter movies. Now, while I’m not a rabid fan of the series, I have seen bits and pieces of each movie on HBO. In this final installment, the evil Lord Voldemort raids the tomb of Hogwart’s Head Master, Dumbledore, in order to steal the powerful and sought after Elder Wand. He plans to become its true master, which would make him not only invincible, but give him immortality in the Wizarding World.
Supposedly this “Wand of Destiny” was made of wood from the elder tree, a member of the Honeysuckle family which is sacred in Magic and Witchcraft lore. I had never actually seen its design before, that is until it was being taken from Dumbledore’s burial vault in the movie. For just a short moment, the camera zoomed in for a close-up of the object. And distinctly apart from the fictional element of its magic, I was immediately overcome by it’s simplistic beauty and artistic craftsmanship.
Now as you might know, I love objects made of wood. (See post #38, July 2011). And oak has long been my favorite from which to fashion things. So seeing the Elder Wand up close prompted me to go out to the workshop and give the whole wand making thing a try. What I ended up crafting was not the Elder Wand itself, but two others that just “emerged” as the wood and I interacted. They’re solid oak, of course, and all you have to do is feel their rugged but delicate smoothness in your hand, to know there’s magic in them somewhere.
You may have noticed that I haven’t gotten the BS Bag out for quite some time. That could seem to indicate that either the sources of aggravation in my life have dried up, or I’m heavily sedating myself so as not to notice. In truth, both reasons are inaccurate. For, some time ago I decided to use this special container for only the most outrageous and disturbing stuff I encounter on my daily trek. And, the incident that “ticked me off” had to cause a blood pressure elevation of at least 180 over 100 before committing it to writing.
Well, today I got my latest property tax bill. Immediately I was hit with a flashback of what made my sphygmomanometer blow up last year when I tried to, (for the first time I must add), pay these taxes electronically. And since I consider what happened then to be bullshit of the vilest vintage, I thought it good therapy to finally exhume the distasteful memory, and give it a proper burial in today's bag.
Here’s what happened. The electronic process forewarned, that if I used a credit card to pay the tax bill, a “Convenience Fee,” (whatever that is), would be assessed and added to the total. Now in my book, any added fee is certainly not convenient. But sometimes one finds himself in a weaken state due to fighting the “system,” and simply not in the mood to quibble over small issues of little practical consequence. I mean, even an unexplained amount of five or so bucks wasn’t going to sabotage my budget for the month. So I filled in the necessary information and proceeded to the “Check Out” page.
This is where the excrement hit the fan !! In the box that represented the so-called “Convenience Fee,” I found a number more odious and ethically immoral than I could have imagined. For someone’s “convenience,” (certainly not MINE), they had the nerve to access a total of THIRTY-FIVE DOLLARS !! Not only that, in red there was a disclaimer that the “convenience fee” would NOT be going to the tax assessor, but to an outside agency that processes credit card payments.
Now, I assume the “outside agency” was the credit card company, itself. And I’m almost positive I know why they wanted to charge me $35.00 up front. It’s because they knew the chances of them making any money on this type of transaction, were questionable at best. It had nothing to do with “convenience” of any sort. They anticipated that I (and others like me who might use their credit cards to pay taxes), would be paying the full balance when it was due, and NOT sending in a “minimum” payment. So they colluded with the bureaucrats to include their service fee up front, as part of the overall tax payment.
Now, if there’s one thing I hate, it’s an opportunist. And if there’s one thing I hate even more, it’s more than one opportunist teaming up to take advantage of me. So the combination of a taxing agency AND a credit card company in cahoots, adds up to appropriate content for anyone's B.S. bag. In the end, of course, I didn’t end up paying my tax bill using a credit card. For MY convenience, I sent them a check which cost me nothing.
I’m thinking that maybe when I pay this newest bill, I should seriously consider showing the assessor’s office how repulsive I find their monetary collusion with private sector Shylocks. It might be as simple as just boxing up and shipping them the amount of taxes I owe… all in those rolls of PENNIES I've been saving over the years. A rough calculation tells me it would add up to about 900 POUNDS of coins they’d have to process in order to call us even. Now for me, it certainly would be a “convenient” way to get rid of all those pennies. And for the tax assessor and his minions, it might be a “hands on” way to learn this concept: One person’s convenience, is another person’s pain in the ass.
