LET ME

There was an old Motts store next door to the Gibson's Department Store for a while. They had 45 records. I bought "Incense and Peppermints" and the pretty older girl behind the counter told me it was a "good choice" and I thought she might want me, like a lover, even though I was only 12 and she had to be at least 16, and every time I went back and bought another .45 I hoped she would be there, and maybe she would want to be my girl, based on my wonderful musical tastes, but she was never there until one day there she was, and I spent a long time looking for just the right records, and ended up with "Snoopy vs The Red Baron" by The Royal Guardsmen which she didn't have a word to say about that one and I was heartbroke.

Thinking back I should have gone with "Let Me" by Paul Revere and the Raiders.

NAKED KITCHEN DREAMS

Over and over it’s the same kitchen dream. I don’t want to go in to work.
The reasons are many:
I don’t like it there.
The job is too hard.
The pay is lousy.
The pressure enormous.
There are no utensils. No spatulas spoons ladles or tongs.
The walk-in doors are many, dimly lit, and its cold in there.
Often, in my kitchen dream I am naked. As naked as the Pillsbury Doughboy. All I am wearing is a cloth chef’s hat and a neckerchief. No one seems to notice, but it’s a very uncomfortable feeling, talking to waitresses and frying bacon, bare-beamed and butt naked.
Last, but not least, are two really good reasons:
One- I’m already 4 hours late.
Two- I’ve been no call no show for several days and they’ve probably fired me by now.

Then there is the sinking feeling where we realize since we have been no call-no show for the last week, we probably won’t be getting a check for some time.
Still,we don’t want to go in.
Its really that bad.
Just as the anxiety level reaches its peak, we begin to sense there is no cause for worry.
Its just a dream. We don’t work in a kitchen anymore. We work in an office. Its well lit, warm in the winter, cool in the summer and never smells like shrimp. The pay is good, the job is easy.
In fact, now that we know its just a dream we are in the clear. We can dream whatever we want!
Besides, we recall now the dream where we asked the waitress if she liked our chefs hat, thinking it would be a good opportunity for her to point out that yes, the chefs hat was fine, but she wished we would put our pants back on. But she did not, so we deduce that she must not notice we are naked.
And its just a dream anyway, right?

Like this:
I come in in the morning, 3 hours late, take off my pants and hang them on the back of my chair. i sit and tap-tap-tap at my computer. In the next room is the Employee Cafeteria and if anyone wants something to eat, I will put my clothes back on, wash my hands, and fix it for them.
But that is optional. I do not have to cook if I do not want to.
Then I will strip back down and start to work at the Computer again. Something doesn’t seem right about working in my drawers but it is quite comfortable, just as it is right now, and I’m not one to complain about everything.
It is a busy day. In fact, Corporate HDQ people are coming through the door. We don't get to see them very often, so this is a real treat.
I stand and greet each one with a warm handshake as they admire my physique. What a fun dream! The women are especially friendly today; I have been taking vitamins and my hair is fuller, or else my head has grown smaller.
Grown smaller? Is that a thing?
The CEO of the company enters, I introduce myself and he asks if I might fix him some breakfast.
’What would you like this morning?’ I inquire.
‘Biscuits” he says.
‘Biscuits it is” I snap back, trying to hide my disappointment.

You see, in the kitchen there, we have everything. And we have a HUGE Freezer where the Biscuits are kept. It is so huge a river runs through it. But I can NEVER, I mean NEVER, find the damn biscuits. It doesn’t matter how long I look.
I get my clothes on and go into the freezer, knowing I am more likely to find Admiral Byrd or Daniel Webster in there than I am to find a single Biscuit. I enter like I’m stepping into a time machine.
Its very cold, and even with my clothes on my balls start to draw up.
Shelves reach a mile high, filled with boxes.
I cannot see the back wall, and the side walls run to the horizon.
Surely this freezer was built by MC Escher.
But just on the other side of The River That Runs Through It I find a box that says “Pillsbury”.
Hallelujah!
I grab it and clutch it to my breast! See? That wasn't so bad.
I make my way back across the Frozen Tundra, past Saint Alphonsos Pancake Breakfast, cheese blintzes, 16/20 Shrimp, and just as I reach the door leading me back to the kitchen and the CEO or whatever the hell this guy is, I look inside the box.
Damn….its Pillsbury Dinner Rolls!
Thats how fast a dream can turn on you.

WASABI

Went to a new sushi place. You sit in the booth and plates of sushi come by on an automated belt. They put two or three pieces of sushi on each plate. Some have four. You grab a plate that looks good to you on its way by. Then you watch the procession, looking for another plate that looks good to you. They charge you $3 a plate. I had four plates worth. It was very satisfying and very good sushi, and a lovely variety. I was skeptical at first, having an aversion to too much tech, but it was FUN!
Plus, they use real wasabi, and serve it up with a silver coke spoon.

This is how the world will end.

A couple of months ago, and for the last several years, when I logged in to FEDEX their header would be two smiling women.
Then about two weeks ago they started putting Avatars of the women on the other side of the header.
One side, real women. The other side, their Avatars.
So today they have done away with the real women entirely and added two men.
Only not really men.
They have added ‘toons” of men. Cartoons.
There is something very insidious about this.
Its just like the phone call “tree” I must navigate several times a day. There are usually three branches before I get to a human. Or four branches before I get to a dead end, and no human available.
And the dozen phone calls I get a day? They are just like ‘toons. They are ‘bots.
I had a call last night from the Tarrant County Health Department. It was a real person. I was so glad to hear from a real person that I spent the thirty minutes answering all sorts of questions. Every time I got a little perturbed about how long it was taking, or how redundant the question was I reminded myself there was an endangered species on the other end of the line, just trying to do a public service and her job.
A human.

Waylaid!

If you want to see the Dolphins vs Chiefs, and Taylor Swift on Saturday night, you are going to have to stream it. Some streaming service called Peacock paid the NFL $110,000,000 for the rights to stream it.
Greedy bastards.
Capitalism. Its what’s killing America. Its supposed to be the right of every red blooded American to watch all the playoff games for free. And get shit faced.
But that’s not what this post is about.
This post is about my prediction that the Dolphins will whip the Chiefs. All because two words…
Taylor Swift.

It reminds me of back in 2008 when Romo was quarterback for the Cowboys and on the way to the playoffs he got tangled up with Jessica Simpson. He was totally distracted, and understandably so.
They were leading the division going into December but lost 3 out of 4. All they had to do was beat the Eagles in week 17 to clinch a wild card spot, but they got creamed 44-6.
You know, something like this happened to that famous old ship, the Bounty. The Bounty. Waylaid in the Cook islands by a bunch of virgins and all the breadfruit they could eat.

My prediction:
Dolphins 31
Chiefs 17