Category: *heh*

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Dealing With SuckyInternet(and TV)® Provider

Called to remove one of two cable services subscribed to.

CS: I need to verify your account. (This after referring to me by name.)
C: Why? You already identified my account [by name] from caller ID; you know I called from a number that is registered to the account. What else do you need?
CS: I can verify the account with the serial number of one of your devices.
C: ?!? Specify “device.” Which of the fifteen connected devices are you referring to?
CS: [Mentions the ONLY device my network allows them to see]

Downhill from there. But at least it finally got done. Probably. Maybe,

Until just last month, the only other –semi-legit– Internet service has been our local baling wire and chewing gum telco’s “DSL.” Yeh, I watched ’em try to hook up their “fiber” line to our POTS service a few years ago. No. Completely outside standards. Crappy phone service anyway. Dropped their POTS.

Looks like I need to take down a couple of trees [junk elms I do not want, anyway) to effect best placement for a Starlink setup. Then I can cancel EVERYTHING with SuckyInternetCompany®.

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Government Regulation

Government regulation may reduce some risks, but it always makes innovation more difficult, at the very least.

Orville Wright did not have a pilot’s license.

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Appropriate Attire ;-)

So. . . my “summer weight” Propper™ pants aren’t really. Summer weight, that is, at least when the humidity is as high as it is. Trading out for a cheaper pair of pants that are cheaper primarily because the fabric is so thin. Yeh, not great work pants (and four pockets short of the 12 pockets in the Propper™ pants), but the light weight and breathability make ’em more comfortable to wear for yard work. ¯\_(“/)_/¯ Tradeoffs. Oh, well. (And blue jeans? REAL “sweltering sweat catchers.” Just no. *heh*)

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Updated Nursery Rhyme

Itsy Bitsy Spider

Itsy-bitsy spider crawled up the coffee cup;
Take a sip o’ coffee, slurp the spider up.
Gag and spew the coffee into the spinning fan 
And itsy-bitsy spider crawled up the cup again.

(Based on real life fantasy. #heh)

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Throwing Knives as Defensive Weapons? Not So Much

Throwing knives is fun, and throwing knives ARE fun. (So is English. *heh*) First one must concentrate on technique. Spin or no spin? (I prefer thee latter.) Then accuracy. Throwing knives as defensive tools? *meh* Not so much. Accuracy at inflicting disabling (or fatal) wounds is MUCH more difficult than with a firearm, and if a knife wound from a thrown knife is NOT disabling, then one has just handed an attacker a weapon. Not good.

Still throwing knives is as much fun as any target-plinking can be.

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Crossing the “Ts” and. . . Crossing the Bar

Anyone who’s thinking of recording an address for their own funeral/memorial service–will reading, just think of it as your valedictory address celebrating your graduation to the Great Beyond. Ya might concentrate on inspiring people with all the lessons you learned from your. . . failures. (Life lessons usually seem to come from those more than from successes, even if the successes grow from the failures.)

I may resurrect an old (yeh, really old, as compared to my lifespan—currently sitting at 2/3 of my lifespan in the past) composition setting Tennyson’s “Crossing the Bar” to music and suggest that as a closer instead of “Just Plant a Watermelon on My Grave,” since the image of a watermelon plant growing on top of a Folger’s can (at this time, the designated receptacle for my cremains) seems a bit weird. . . ¯\_(“/)_/
¯

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Young ‘n’ Feisty

while waiting in the checkout lane at my fav “Fell off the back of a truck” store the other day, I met a young Island Lady (well, my Wonder Woman’s age—that’s young enough) who shared with me the circumstances of her birth. Yeh, I know. Complete stranger. . . for all of five seconds. *heh* She just HAD to tell me she was “born in a canoe.”

You have NO idea the level of self-control I had to exercise to bite down on the old joke.

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Gig Line

Yeh, yeh, I check my gig line, but shirt garters? *blech* Nah, one line too far. You can just go ahead and call me a messy dresser. I also don’t roll my sleeves “properly,” so?