Author: bob

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BREAKING – Buyout Rumors Unfounded, Says Jaunty

Friends,

I just got off the phone with Mr. Jaunty and he wanted you to know that News Corp. has not made an offer for A Jaunty Little Blog. All of the rumors you’re heard about hostile takeovers, leveraged buyouts, or boardroom coups are not to be believed.

He wishes the rumors were true though, or at least that he was invited to one of the Bancroft family parties. To see him sucking up to Murdoch like this seems shameful and unseemly to me, but I’m not the tycoon that Mr. Jaunty is, so what do I know?

– bob

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This Jaunty House: Suspect Tips For The Handyman

Friends,

My sister has a side job peddling antiquities and sometimes passes down things that don’t sell. This weekend we all met down in the desert for my Dad’s Week Before My Birthday Party and she gave me a real winner. The Better Homes & Gardens Handyman’s Book, printed in 1951. It’s chock full of the assembled knowledge of the Better Homes editors (who, apparently, also had their hands full with their other title, Successful Farming) and offers some great advice. Don’t believe me? Call the wife into the room (click the thumbnails to embiggen) and behold…

The little missus can be handy after all, eh fellas? Give her a broomstick and she can keep that new storm window from crashing to the ground. Put an extra dollar into the kitchen fund why don’t ya? She’s worth it!

…or a brick. This tip is strictly for emergencies. Should Homeland Security move the threat level up to Harvest Gold! then it’s entirely appropriate to wire a brick to a mop handle.

And here’s your dodgy tip for the day. Burning flashlight batteries to clean the soot out of your chimney seems fairly dangerous, but once you put up the screen everything should be perfectly fine. Or your entire family will die. I guess it’s worth it as long as you have a “well kept house.”

Right?

– bob

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Night Of The Purply Ankle

Friends,

It’s now been a week since my tragic badminton accident, and if I can serve no higher purpose on this earth, let it be this this—do whatever you can to avoid an ankle sprain. Between the braces, ice (frozen berry mix, actually), filthy ACE bandages and my brand new cane, I certainly looked the part of a damaged invalid. I was quite a spectacle at work, wincing with every step and gobbling up ibuprofen like mints from grandma’s candy dish.

Not a pretty sight.

Now I can use the stairs again and I’m walking brace-free. Not pain-free, but I’m now working without a net, people. How long will it take for me to give it a another little tweak? Folks do it all the time, I’ve heard. They get cocky and start doing too much, too fast, only to make the injury much worse.

I’ve been hoping beyond hope for some rain in my parched little town. Thankfully, some semblance of monsoonal flow has moved in and it softly rained all night last night. Leave it to me to worry about slippery stairs.

Your (basket case) pal,

– bob

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Genius! – The Greatest Tech In The Known Universe

Friends,

Sometimes the place of my employ is filled with such a high degree of dumbness that I find I’ve become immune. There’s perversity and insane blather on a daily basis, so this one from my folks is intriguing for its over-the-top nature.

The folks arrived home to be greeted by a man sitting in his, um, Horizon service truck in front of the house. Follows is the third party conversation:

  • Tech: “You’re late.”
  • Mom: “Well, not really.”
  • “You called for repair.”
  • “Um, no. My son (that’s me. – bob) has been calling about the DSL.”
  • “Well, I’m here and I need to look at your equipment.”
  • “You don’t need to. Everything’s okay.”
  • “I have a work order…”

    • And so there it was. A short, muscular swarthy fellow, insisting on working in the house. He invited himself into the house and started with tearing down the wall-mount phone in the kitchen.

  • Tech: “What’s this? It’s all wrong…”
  • Mom: “It’s working fine. Everything’s fine.”
  • “This is all wrong, who hooked this up?”
  • “My son did. He knows what he’s doing…”
  • “Well, this is all backwards.”

    • He then pulled all the wiring from the wall, much to Mom’s horror. Then there’s this comment…

  • Tech: “You know, I’m the best technician in the United States. They sent me out here from the East Coast.”
  • “Um, really? Your mother must be very proud.”
  • “Oh yeah, she’s very proud. So, where are your other phones?”

    • He’s now going down the hallway, looking for any other phone with my Mom following…

  • Mom: “There’s just this one, in our bedroom.”

    • He took a quick look at the jack, the DSL filter I installed, and moved on…

  • Tech: “Where’s your DSL?”
  • Mom: “In this bedroom.”

    • He gazed upon the new DSL modem, the last generation Airport base station, and the Blueberry iMac in the corner.

  • Tech: “Gawd, how old is this piece of junk?”
  • Mom: “I’m sorry? It’s perfectly fine. Like I’ve been telling you, everything is fine.”
  • “No problems?”
  • “No, it’s all working.”

    • At this point, the finest Horizon technician starts to wonder….

  • Tech: “Um, hold on a minute.”

    • This is when Mr. Important calls his dispatcher.

  • Tech: “Ma’am, what are the last four digits of your phone number?”

    • She tells him and he starts to rush out of the house with this:

  • “The service call is no charge…….”
  • Mom: “Hey, wait, are you going to put this back together?”

    • …but he was gone. Off to the real job. The guy at, er, Horizon service was intrigued…

  • Service: “Oh, please tell me you got his name.”
  • Mom: “Surely you’ll know him. He’s the best tech in the United States.”
  • “Oh! Really!”

Hopefully, the new tech fixed it today. I’ll update this for some sort of satisfying end when I know more.

Your pal,

bob

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CONTEST! Write The Scariest MLS Listing

Hey there contestants!

Remember the Name This Cabin contest? We had a winner, but the prize has yet to be delivered. Yes, it’s a travesty, but I haven’t designed the sign yet. Fascinating, you say. Well, not really, but can you believe that our publisher Mr. Jaunty is holding yet another contest even though the previous prize hasn’t gone out? What audacity.

Why have a contest? It’s fun, that’s why. Here’s the story, and it’s a sad one. My lovely writing partner and her husband are bugging out of Northern San Diego County for Texas. They’re selling their house and their realtor can’t quite describe it. I’ve seen it and the place defies the stock copy. The house came out of the tract plan book. Seventies hacienda on the medium-sized plan lot. That’d be fine, but with the extensive modifications, including a nutso koi pond, it’s hard to pin down.

Sure, they’d like to sell, but it’s your job to write about the most unappealing house ever. It could be your Mom and Dad’s place. It could be something on teevee. The subject of your pesto-fueled nightmares. I’ll start…

Brutal and severe 450 sq. ft. Bauhaus-inspired flat with strong Norwegian influence. All mod cons—except for heat. Nearly windowless, fresh dark grey paint, with views of neighbor’s roof. Spacious kitchen with new charcoal concrete countertops and all new steel and brushed aluminum appliances. Cabinets refaced in cast iron and glass shards for dramatic and dangerous effect that would make Leni Riefenstahl cry.

Throw your best/worst effort into the comments before the end of July. I’ll take all of the submissions and create one of those newfangled Blogger polls so you all can select the winner. What do you win? Mr. Jaunty has authorized me to award a $37 Amazon gift certificate. How about that! Tell your friends!

Your pal,

bob

P.S. Anonymous commenters might have a hard time winning, since it’ll be hard to know who they are. Don’t put a lot of personal information in there, but let us know who you are to identify your entry. Good luck!

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The Concert To Help Us Stop Exhaling

Friends,

One more thing about that global pity party the other night. Is the contribution of man to global temperature change the tipping point that will “dramatically change life as we know it in the next ten years”? Is anthropogenic global warming a done deal? Have everyone agreed on that? Just asking!

Your pal,

bob

UPDATE: Well, here’s your answer, isn’t it?

An army of bass players? Spinal Tap? We’re surely gonna be eaten by polar bears. God help us all.
ANOTHER UPDATE: Video link fixed (for the third time).

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Night Of The Silent Hash House

Friends,

I punked out on sending a letter to the editor of the Idyllwild Town Crier this morning. Went to the trash bin, actually. It was a little quiz:

In 2007, what day of the week does July 3rd fall? Tuesday.
If an out-of-town visitor was to arrive on time for the morning Fourth of July Parade, when might that visitor arrive in town? Tuesday.
If visitors wanted to visit a local restaurant for dinner before the parade, when would they attempt that? Tuesday.
When do Idyllwild businesses historically take the day off? Tuesday.
When can those Idyllwild businesses bitch about the loss of business and the difficulty of making a go of it on the hill? Sorry, not today. We’re closed.

I received my copy of the paper today and discovered that some local institutions are now up for sale. Listed in order of institutionness…

  • The Rustic Theatre is on the block for about three-quarters of a million dollars. Maybe they’re going under because I haven’t visited since I’ve lived here. Since Friday The 13th was a first-run movie, actually.

  • Oma’s Restaurant and Bakery is for sale too. The owner has health problems and sadly must let it go. She was able to keep her enterprise running for years and years, despite dropping tourist dollars. Oktoberfest at Oma’s is not to be missed, if only for the accordians. (thought you were in to the lederhosen. – ed Dude, that’s not right.)

  • The Fireside Inn is for sale for a touch over one million dollars. Eight mountain-themed guest units, people. When will you make your money back? It might look promising in the summer months, but Winter? Anybody’s guess, isn’t it?

  • Faux Ever After is full of too many angels, gargoyles, candles, and portable water features. I’m barely inclined to mention it, but the guys who own the place do a good job of keeping it up and the architectural gingerbread is some of the first you see when you enter the town center.

  • Cafe Rendezvous has been open for eight months or so after an extensive remodel. We think it’s two double-wide trailers with quite a bit of brick work. The food was good, but way (and by way, I mean much too way) too expensive. The Maple Glazed Salmon is fantastic, so catch it while you can. Or hell, just buy the place.

  • Cripes! I was looking for a Cafe Rendezvous picture, and found on the Coldwell Banker site that Country Farms is on the block! Holy crow! Who knew? Fruits, nuts, and the unwillingness to wait for their neighbors who have been closed to reopen. Bad timing, chaps.

So, will you buy? Will you stay open on Tuesday? There are new ads in the paper for businesses in town bragging that they’re now open SEVEN DAYS A WEEK.

Seriously, it’s a tourist town and those folks who hope to last in retail or hospitality really need to do basic things. Stay open when people are here. Stay open later, when people are taking their after dinner walk, hoping to spend money on tchotchkes. Have regular hours (looking at you, Rendezvous). Apparently, it actually IS that hard.

Your best pal,

bob

UPDATE:

  • I completely forgot about Two Babes In The Woods until it was brought up this evening. A former log cabin company model home, it’s currently an art gallery and antiques shop. The sale’s pending at $679,000. What will it be next? A german pancake, unicorn painting, movie theatre and dried fruit emporium? The mind reels.

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Night Of The Litigious Snake

Plaintiffs,

This lawyer stuff is driving me nuts. I guess I understand Travis Corcoran’s problem with Robert Tourtelot. Mr. Tourtelot esq. seems to be a little addled. Mr. Corcoran has halted his email war with the elderly barrister for just that reason, and that was surely the right thing to do. Where Mr. Tourtelot seemed to be uninformed on copyright law, America’s other geniuses seem to have missed the boat on trademark law.

I bought a bag of chips this afternoon and the legal team at Frito-Lay seem to think that their service marks are in danger. What do you think of when you hear Doritos? Chips? Well done. But not with them. They would like for you to be sure that you’re sure. The invigorating copy on the back of the bag references “DORITOS brand” this and “Cool Ranch brand” that. Brand, brand, brand. Yeah, we get it. It’s a brand.

They have a new flavor and they’re holding an online contest to name the flavor of X-13D. Naturally, I asked Jaunty Blog staff member Chuck Petrovitch to investigate. Here’s what he found:

It’s really fun. They have a Doritos city with some really neat music that has a map you click on to go to the secret X-13D site. I guess it’s not real secret because it’s there on the city map in real big letters. XBOX 360 is there too, but I don’t think they make chips. Anyway, you register and name the flavor. I haven’t tried the chips, so I used the name you told me. DORITOS brand BRAND Chips brand. I hope I win something big! I am going to win something, aren’t I?

Of course you are, buddy. You’ll win the satisfaction of knowing that our three readers love and respect your journalistic credentials. That should be enough.

I’ve had this particular nit to pick with the former Chrysler Group division of the former DaimlerChrysler’s Jeep Division. I guess they’re Chrysler Corporation again, but this was surely written before their divorce from the Germans. The only reason I think that is because the “brand, brand, brand” business is missing from their more forward-facing pages. Look, we’re a long way away from being confused over a Willys ‘Jeep’ Universal, a Ford GPW, and Popeye’s pal. Jeep toilet paper? Scooters? Deck screws? Chrysler legal will surely be all over them in a heartbeat (heartbeat? doesn’t chevy own that? -ed Only when they put a bowtie on my EKG.).

Can’t we all be cool? I mean, schools are ripping out playgrounds because they’re afraid of getting sued. Ladders, sleds, sun visors, they’re so covered with CYA stickers that you can hardly see the underlying product. I spent the morning working on my 1973 Jeep Commando. Lap belts, people.

Sue me.

– bob

UPDATE: Wow! I botched the first paragraph in a huge way when I first posted this thing. It’s fixed now, but Jeebus H. Chrysler!

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Night Of The Persistent Hectoring

Dear Fellow Travelers,

Remember how I mentioned my new toy in a previous post and how one of its requirements is that I turn on this site’s RSS feed? Well, since I did that, you can now actually subscribe to this mess. Just scroll all the way to the bottom of this page and click on the Atom link.

Your worst fears. Realized.

– bob

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Night Of The Magnetic Postman

Friends,

I stopped by the post office with the car insurance payments and knowing that the lobby doors are usually locked, I was going to put the envelope in the box outside. The Jeep was running, wallet and cell phones in the center console but I tried the lobby doors anyway, and they were open! What luck! No worries about my precious cargo getting stuck to some errant ice cream bar stuffed down the box.

Figuring that my payment was less likely to get lost, I went inside and the doors clicked shut behind me. What’s this? Magnetic locks! I dropped the envelopes in the slot and tried the doors…

Locked!
Trapped!
No way out!
Running out of oxygen! (okay, I made that last part up)

So I was shaking the doors back and forth to see if I could wiggle through the gap, looking around for some way to break the glass, maybe a tool to pry them apart. But while looking for a tool, I saw to the right a tiny (1/2 inch square) lit green button that said EXIT. I pressed it and the locks de-energized. I let go, thinking that there might be a time delay, but the locks re-energized. So I played that game for what seemed like a month until I realized through the fog of panic that the button had to stay pressed while the doors were opened.

I hopped in the Jeep—which was still running, with the driver’s door wide open—and sped away, wondering if my adventure was caught on the lobby cameras. Surely the staff at my little USPS outpost are having a good laugh reviewing the tapes.

Pure evil.

– bob