More Driving Observation by Mr. Wishy-Washy

We humans are creatures of habit. Though I've written about idiots driving on the road, I seldom see their faces.

A short while ago I wrote about types of drivers on the road I've encountered. There's more. After driving on the road, I enter a parking lot. This is an entirely different breed of drivers in these places. I'm sure most went to "dueling banjo" school, the way they drive. These idiots race through the lot, including the 'Turtles', drive across the driving lanes, don't watch out for cross-traffic and do other silly actions. By now I feel as agitated as Lewis Black appears in his comedy routines.

When I enter a food store and pick up a shopping cart, I notice something very quickly. These drivers on the road bring their obnoxious driving habits into the food store, The only difference is the handle of the cart takes the place of the steering wheel. All the other aspects of movement remain the same.

It's 4:00 in the summer, and I enter a food store. This should be easy to cope with. Nope. People move around the store the way they do on the road. Habit, I guess. First, they get a cart. Carts should be outlawed, except by street-dwellers.  (I may have to reconsider that last comment.)

Standing in front of the other unoccupied carts, some go through a complex ritual before the commencement of the shopping trek begins. Some are like Felix Unger, have to check out that all the wheels turn properly, make sure the small basket's hinged backstop works and whatever other fiddling around they can conjure up. Women have to drop their youngun' in the cart and find a place for their purses; and they're off! I always use a hand cart. No wheels to fiddle with.

Now, food shopping is not many peoples most favorite activity. You'd think they would quickly get their groceries and leave to do something more enjoyable. Nope. Most take a slow, casual stroll through the store, like a Sunday walk in the park. I take that back. They move quicker in the park. Many 'drive' down the middle of the aisle; sometimes even sideways. They stop there too, to check out the shelves. Fortunately, most stores split their aisles with a horizontal lane. When I'm about to meet one of these lane-hogs, I go to the next vertical lane. Oops, another one. I try the next lane. ANOTHER one. Those county traffic-control officials must have a part time job with the grocery store industries. I think the store management hire these clowns to clog up the aisles; figuring the longer people spend in their stores, the more they'll buy.

Okay, though it's almost sunset, I'm ready to check out with my seven items. Usually, I can go through the "Express Lane" 'Express' means quick. Right? Nope. First, the store manager ALWAYS assigns the slowest, most inept cashier on this lane. Then, because of its name, tons of people use it. Many, apparently, weren't math whizzes in school. They think 20 items is the same as 12. Probably are the same ones who go through a red light three or four seconds after it changed from yellow. "Hey, close enough." Nowadays, very few pay with cash, even for a few items. They have to get out their credit card, swipe it through the machine. Wait for the clerk to say 'It didn't go through. Try again' Those using a debit card, try to remember their code. Their ice cream is starting to melt on the bagging counter. Check writers are worse. The customer will wait until all items are rung up — then she begins writing the check, starting with the date; instead of having all filled out except for the amount.

Finally, it's my turn. I apologize to the checkout clerk for my stubbled face. "I was clean-shaven when I walked into the store." She laughs, thinking I was joking. I wasn't. I whiz through, paying cash! How many do that anymore. Some people pay by check or card for a $3.78 bill. What's with that? They must like getting bank statements with 400 items of spending on them. I just know these are the same customers I encounter in other stores; shopping cart or not.

Happiness is seeing a grocery store in my rear view mirror.



Death of a Civilization by Mr. Wishy-Washy

After doing such mundane things as inventing the internet and starting a voo-doo program to save Earth  — which is making him lots of money — Al Gore says he's taking some time off to indulge in one of his hobbies, studying the Inca culture of the Quechuan people. Yeah, right. The only culture he knows about is in yogurt.

Instead of reading about it though, earlier this year he packed up an expedition and traveled in a well-equipped ship with lots of air conditioner units, to the shores of Peru. Now comes the hard part. Sloughing through the hot steamy jungles with Peruvian natives cooling him off using hand-held fans. The feathers were from the rare Peruvian Phoo-Phoo bird. Doesn't matter. His comfort in saving Earth is of paramount importance -- even at the expense of making the Phoo-Phoo bird the next dodo bird.

He had a guide and interpretor to sell the natives on "saving the planet". He started out okay, but lost them on the idea of paying for their carbon footprints. Using their index finger circling around their ears to each other, they said, "Why should we pay for them. We leave footprints on the land for free." Al thinks to himself, 'this is going to be a hard sell'.

For five excruciating days, his party cut a swathe through an area of the Peruvian jungles seldom traveled. He wanted to find a temple never before seen by any outsider, including the Conquistadors. "This must be the epicenter of global warming. I wonder if this place ever suffered from global cooling in the 1970s", Al is reported to have said. He lets out with a big laugh. "We should have made this expedition in the 1970s when it was a lot cooler."

On the fifth day, they came upon the site of a temple. There he saw his dream come true. (Imagine the theme of the movie, "2001", playing). "I knew it. I just knew it. That's what really killed off the Inca Empire!", Al Gore said, while looking in awe at the temple. There, on an altar was a pristine SUV. Right next to it a 5-gallon can of gas. "Probably brought here by some aliens from outer space. They must have coated it with a special sealant to keep it in such good shape and keep the pollutants at bay." (End music). He figured if he can have it analyzed, he'll be able to help save Earth....again; and incidentally, make lots of money doing it.

© 2007 by James M. Britvich All Rights Reserved

Joys of Owning a Dog by Mr. Wishy-Washy

I haven't had a dog since my early teens. We had three or four. They either died or ran away from home; without taking their favorite toys. I've known several people since then that insisted on torturing themselves by buying one, either for themselves, or a child. Let's go through the phases of torture.

Acquisition: Most get them at the local S.P.C.A. Why would anyone want to listen to 20 - 30 howling dogs. During a full moon, it must be even worse. It almost always gets down to a choice of three. Never just one. After deciding on the new addition to the family, all express their joy; except, maybe the one footing the bill.

The Initial Costs: The cost of the dog. The required shots. The doghouse, maybe. The dog's sleeping basket and blanket. Toys. Initial stock of dog food..... Of course, the bigger the dog, the higher the cost. You're finding out early that your new resident is going to be very high maintenance — like having Paris Hilton for a girlfriend.

The On-going Costs: A constant replacement of food. I've often wondered, how long do those 25-pounds bags of kibble last with a Great Dane or St. Bernard? A week? Three day? Three hours? Other costs include more shots, visits to the vet, haircuts and nails clipped, obedience school, possible replacement of furniture and/or carpets.....

Regrets: Your female dog gets pregnant (out of wedlock). More costs for birthing. You can sell them; won't get much money for them though, because you bought a mongrel. You may end up with a constant barker. The smaller the dog, the closer to a guarantee it is. "Exercising" your dog while holding a plastic bag. Did you ever have a dog you just couldn't house-train? We had one. Pissed on the furniture all the time.

If I was forced to make a choice between getting another dog or another wife? ....Gads, I hope I'm never caught in that predicament.

All in all, it may have be worse. You could have decided on a cat.

© 2008 by James M. Britvich All Rights Reserved



No Experience Needed by Mr. Wishy-Washy

I was looking in the want ads last week. I do that occasionally as an exercise, in case some day I may actually have to do it for real. I usually only go through the 'trades' and 'technical' sections.

Imagine my excitement at seeing a "no experience needed" listing in the technical section. You almost always need a BA, if not a Master's Degree for these jobs. I read on. Though university schooling is required for this job, this TV station rescinded this requirement. It surprised me at first; then I considered the 'correct' to 'incorrect' ratio in this industry, and saw the logic.

If your financial advisor had this bad a record, you'd fire him. Depending how you bet, you'd go broke at the roulette wheel. But radio and TV stations let them hang around. This station in the ad figures: get someone without any schooling, and save lots of bucks in salary and benefits. Anybody off the street can't have any worse a record. They couldn't have a worse record than American Indians who whooped it up with flailing tomahawks dancing for rain. (I remember that from cowboy and indian movies). Even if it didn't work, the chief's wisdom was never in question. If it failed, Chief would say, "We try again tomorrow".

How many times have you seen a 7-day forecast with no rain all week. By Wednesday, several of your neighbors are feverishly hammering away building an ark.

Looking back at the ad again, I see the pay is decent, and it's an inside job. Great for the hot, sticky summers. I put in my application for the weatherman's position. I may have a new job by the end of the week.

© 2008 by James M. Britvich All Rights Reserved



A Ghost of a Chance by Mr. Wishy-Washy

How many times have you prayed to the Lord for something mundane, like lots of money in one swoop, only to be, apparently ignored. Admit it now. Lots of times. It probably has greatly dampened your belief in God. You ask for a handout, and you expect one — you deserve it! We have a human organization, called the federal government, that does gives out handouts, like candy at Halloween.

So, why doesn't God do so. Even with the much needed help given by televangelists, many of your prayers go unanswered. Ask yourself — Why? I took it on myself to find the answer. I concentrated on the problem. As I raised my arms to the heavens, angelic music fills the air. The solution bounced off my head, dazing me for a minute. I saw stars. That's logical. The answer came from the heavens.

The evangelists pray to the Lord Jesus Christ. Logical. God the Father doesn't get many requests, because He is too busy doing the important stuff, like keeping the Universe in order. The Lord is so overwhelmed with beseeching pleas though, that He just can't handle them all — and yours are the ones getting ignored.

Here's where my revelation comes in. Remember the third Person, (if you can call a ghost a person), in the triad. Everyone prays to the Father or the Son. The Holy Ghost is left out in the cold, given very little attention. Imagine His excitement when He finds all this new attention He's getting. He'll gladly give all the attention needed to get your life in order. Be sure you act quickly though. When others, especially those televangelist, catch wind of this, lots of competition for your wants will develop. Good luck to you.

P.S. If the Holy Ghost grants your wish, and you feel compelled to thank me with some, preferably lots, of money, e-mail me, and I'll tell you where to send the contributions. If you're related to Scrooge, meaning you're a cheapskate, at least send me a note of thanks in the 'comment' box. Thanks.