A Jaunty Little Blog

Another Editor’s Note: The Thanksgiving post-mortem is coming. Be patient my pretties.

Aaarrghh!

The Jeepster now won’t start. But first, an aside, kinda…

My step-father-in-law (if that is appropriate usage. Other-father-in-law seems strained, doesn’t it?) and I were surveying my 1973 Jeep Commando sitting in the backyard under the carport the day before yesterday. He suggested that it might be thought of as a classic. I regaled him with legal technicalia like “in California, any car older than 25 is considered a classic” and “I guess so, they made less than 2,000 of them that year…” He replied with a stunning offer, asking what it might take to restore the thing and offering to bankroll the project.

Meep.

Of course, I have to overthink this. By “restore” what does he mean? Bring it back to original? Bring it back to the state that the first owner—the old prospector—took delivery of it by fixing the dual battery setup, repairing the winch, rebuilding the overdrive unit, repairing the oversized gas tank…

…that’s where my problems are today.

The old prospector used the Jeep to crawl around old mining sites looking for things the original prospectors left behind. Coins, lanterns, photos, anything that would be of interest and potentially worth some cash. He made a decent living of it, I’m told, and outfitted the Commando with the latest and greatest heavy duty kit in 1973. CB? All 24 channels of it. Underdrive? The thing can climb up a wall in first gear in four-low thanks to the gears he installed. Range? He replaced the stock 15 gallon tank with one double the size. Not too custom, just an off-the-shelf item that you might find in the pickup bed of a contractor who regularly needs to refuel a tractor or skiploader.

These big boxes of petrol were never designed to be primary gas tanks for passenger vehicles, but the old prospector managed to make it work for years and years. In fact, it worked until a week ago. That’s thirty years, if you’re counting, but now it has failed.

The tube that collects the gasoline has broken off inside the tank, its float now bobs on a sea of bluish-pink petrol. The mighty Jeep now starved, sadly sits idle.

In the meanwhile, before I realized this, I threw all of twenty five dollars at the problem. New filters, new fuel pump, much gasoline spewed in my face as I tried to blow out the lines (thinking they were blocked).

No joy in Commando Land. Now I have to think of a workaround. Suppose my step-father-in-law might consider that part of the restoration project?

I don’t either.

Your best pal in this physical space,

bob

Oh, The Stories…

You’re going to love this stuff. It’s too early to start on it because, well, we still have our guests in the house as I type this.

Discretion, you know…

– bob

The Yams Were Triumphant!

Would you rather…

each dinner guest is precisely full when the last morsel of food in your house is consumed,

or

voters in the Zagat Guide rate your Thanksgiving dinner as the best in the country?

a) Care for a mint?

b) I’d like to thank Aunt Irma…

Anybody seen the cat?

bob

Read Reader, Read!

Go see Jon. Read Jon’s blogs. Jon is in Australia. I don’t think Jon is standing on his head right now (although that would be a neat trick). Jon is a good guy who likes more readers.

Read his blogs (three!) and be amazed.

Your pal,

bob

P.S. He writes nice things about me there too.

So We Caught Them, Now What?

Would you rather…

invite other people’s in-laws to Thanksgiving dinner in addition to your own,

or

hold a fun turkey round-up on your free range?

a) One set of in-laws wasn’t enough?

b) Git along, little turkey.

Seems a little excessive,

bob

Editor’s Note: This is the first of hopefully a single issue series. Please plan accordingly.

Dear Mr. Lonelyhearts

Dear Mr. Lonelyhearts,

My partner of fifteen years and I have decided to break up. We have decided that we have irreconcilable differences and our couple’s counselor agrees. One of us likes to go out and be active in the community advancing our political agenda, the other prefers to stay at home and maintain a cozy household. You see, our interests have diverged and we feel that we aren’t as compatible as we once were. What do you think?

Very sad,

S. and A. in S.D.

Dear S. and A.

Snap out of it! You’re as compatible as two peas in a pod, you just can’t see it right now. Everybody is going through a bout of crankiness at this time of year. Light deprivation is a well-documented source of mental anguish. Can you honestly tell me that you no longer have anything in common? Just now? Did some karmic switch flip to “off”?

I think not. You’re both sad and angry. You’re clearly not thinking straight because of it. My advice is to fire the counselor and find a new one who can actually help you remain a couple.

Fire the counselor!

Dear Mr. Lonelyhearts,

My in-laws are coming for Thanksgiving, but I’m serving some non-traditional food like tamales. How do I break the news to them?

M.L. in K.

Dear M.L.

Hey! You’re me! I’m just going to serve tamales and whoever wants them can have them. If they don’t, it’s their loss.

The end.

…and that’s really the end.

Your pal,

bob

That’s A Trick Play, Right?

Would you rather…

bottle pond water as a new energy drink alternative,

or

be a cheerleader for the Air Force Academy?

a) Now with larvae-flavored power pellets!

b) Air strike! Air strike! We’re callin’ in an air strike!

I feel revitalized,

bob

So, Where Have You Been? – Part II

Today was my last day at the Omnipresent Non-Profit Charitable Organization. The vendor has bolted the control boxes to the remaining wall space in already cramped equipment rooms. The lines are getting slowly cut over. The receptionists received brief training sessions.

It’s all happening according to my plans and I won’t be there to see if it works. Does that matter to me, you ask? Only a little. I’d like to see the changeover take place smoothly, but I’d rather not listen to the crabbing on Monday morning when people realize that their old, dear, favorite phone numbers no longer work.

Can anyone tell me why people grow so attached to randomly generated work phone numbers? Is it simply because they feel that it will be too difficult to notify each of their contacts of the change? We set up a disconnect recording that points callers to the new number. We’ve set up a directory system that callers can use. We have live operators who can transfer calls. What else do they want?

They want status quo, that’s what. People clearly hate change—except when they embrace it. Like when the new thing is clearly better than the old thing. In our case though, the vast majority of the people in the office won’t see a noticeable improvement in the quality of their work lives. The new system was designed to be cost-efficient by bringing the switch in-house and cutting most of the copper wires to the big gray box on the street corner, not to add pile of pretty features to everybody’s desk.

SBC takes a hit (aw gee, that’s a shame), the CHARITY saves a ton of money in the long run. And let’s be honest here, the phone company was not giving the charity any breaks on the price of that copper. None.

That’s a beautiful thing (as far as phones and charities go, of course) and I won’t get to see it in action. Or inaction if it goes terribly wrong.

Your best pal,

bob

P.S. It will be a lot of fun for you to send an email letting me know that you’re hiring. For maximum enjoyment, let me know who I need to speak with to apply for that job. I’m giddy just thinking of it!

P.P.S. Post-mortem on my job at a charity coming soon!

I Don’t Think You’re Going To Make It After All

Would you rather…

instruct 20,000 extras how to accurately portray fear for the next Irwin Allen disaster movie,

or

attempt to jump a Vespa over the fountain at Caesar’s Palace?

a) No! Wider! Eyes wider!

b) Gee, I wonder if I left the coffee maker on.

Be afraid, be very afraid,

bob

How Many Fingers Am I Holding Up?

Would you rather…

go to work every day wearing angel wings and perilously high heels,

or

believe that Martin Sheen is really president?

a) It’s tough maneuvering around the cubicles…

b) Okay, what day is it today?

I’m wearing $11 million underwear right now,

bob

That Explains A Lot

Would you rather…

be forced to make your final stand in the Great Pie Fight of 2003,

or

that all of your Powerpoint presentations are written and designed by your cat?

a) Sergeant Major! Let loose the rhubarb!

b) I like the fish and birds theme…

Yep, it was a meringue that got him,

bob

Very Interesting…

Would you rather…

hide out in Sedona, Arizona to avoid holiday arguments,

or

that all the cars in your neighborhood have been stolen except for yours?

a) Don’t forget Winona,

b) I don’t drive by that bus stop anymore.

I hear Glendale is lovely this time of year,

bob

A Low-Key Affair

Would you rather…

bring a giant beachball to the inauguration,

or

be the only one throwing a tailgate party on the steps of the capitol?

a) Hey look! I’m on the Jumbotron!

b) Hot dogs are ready…

Dignified, subdued,

bob

Oh, Excuse Me.

Would you rather…

be a headline writer for the Union-Tribune,

or

a Methane Reclamation Engineer at the county dump?

a) Officer shot, run over by car.

b) I’m working from home today…ooh! pizza’s here!

That’s one angry car,

bob

Welcome Shoe Tying Fans!

Would you rather…

try to account for your time travel experiments to the payroll department,

or

that everything you do today is revered as “The Fall Classic”?

a) If you fold my timecard, then join the top end to the bottom end…

b) It’s a crisp, cool morning as the lanky right-hander selects an oatmeal flavor…

I guess you could call it eight hours,

bob